Two Old Friends, Two Nights

My name is Julie. I am a 45-year-old married woman, 160 cm, 50 kg. Small, neat breasts, narrow waist, good hips and a round ass. In everyday life I look calm, domestic, quite respectable. At home, however, I haven't worn underwear for many years. Especially under short sheer things.

When Alex and Sergey wrote that they would be in the city for two days on business, I immediately decided I wouldn't change clothes.

The First Day

From the very morning I put on a short white chemise made of thin pointelle cotton -- with small holes through which the skin showed very clearly. The length barely covered my buttocks. Nothing underneath. My nipples immediately showed as dark circles.

They arrived around noon. I opened the door myself. Both of them held their gaze lower than my face for a second. I pretended not to notice, turned around and walked into the kitchen. With every step, the chemise fluttered on my bare buttocks. I could feel their eyes on my back.

We sat down at the table. I crossed one leg over the other -- the thin fabric immediately sank deep between my thighs. Through the pointelle holes it was perfectly clear there were no panties. I sat calmly, drank tea and listened to them talk to my husband. Inside, pleasure was already starting to pull at me.

I got up often. To pour more tea. To take cookies from the top shelf. To pick up a dropped napkin. Each time I found a way to bend a little deeper or stretch a little further. The chemise rode up. Cold air touched my buttocks and my sex. I deliberately lingered a second or two longer than necessary. Then I slowly straightened up and returned to my seat as if nothing special had happened.

I liked it.

I liked being almost naked in front of them and pretending it was just comfortable housewear. I liked catching how Alex looked openly while Sergey tried to be more careful but still kept slipping his gaze to my nipples and to the place between my legs where the fabric completely outlined my shape. By evening I was already wet. The fabric was slightly sticking.

The Club

In the evening we went to a club. I changed into a very short red dress -- the kind that rides up almost immediately with any movement. Under it I put on thin nude pantyhose without a crotch panel. Completely open. No panties.

The club was crowded and loud. We took a table not far from the bar counter. I drank two cocktails rather quickly. When the music became especially good, I said, "I'm going to dance," and climbed onto the low bar counter.

The dress immediately rode up.

I danced for a long time. Without any restraint. With my hips, in waves, sometimes squatting slightly. Every time I moved, the dress rode higher. The crotchless pantyhose clung but hid nothing. From below I knew perfectly well that my entire vagina was visible -- the pink lips, the clitoris, even the entrance. Especially when I placed my foot a little wider or arched my back.

Alex and Sergey stood right under the counter. Looking up from below. But not only them. Several other men had gathered around. Someone just froze with a glass in his hand, someone stared openly. I saw their faces. I saw where their eyes were directed. I liked it to the point of trembling. I was drunk, aroused, and completely gave myself to the moment. I danced even more openly -- slowly running my hands over my thighs, lifting the dress even higher, sometimes almost to the waist. The cold club air touched my wet lips. I felt the pantyhose become damp.

When I finally climbed down, my legs were shaking. Alex gave me his hand. His palm rested for a second on my bare thigh above the edge of the dress. I didn't pull away.

The Night After the Club

We got home long after midnight. I was drunk and very aroused. My husband almost immediately dragged me into the bedroom. He pulled off the dress, stripped off the pantyhose and fucked me hard, face down, holding my hips. I came quickly, with a cry, and right after that I seemed to collapse -- naked, wet, legs spread, never having covered myself with the blanket.

I was almost asleep when I heard him leave the room. Voices in the kitchen. A few minutes later the bedroom door quietly opened wider. I didn't move. I breathed deeply and evenly, completely pretending to be in a drunken sleep.

My husband returned. I felt him lie down behind me, lift my leg and slowly enter. I was still very wet and open. He began to move deeply and measuredly. They were standing in the doorway. I felt their heavy gazes on my back, on my buttocks, on the way his cock went in and out, spreading my swollen lips.

My husband whispered something. Footsteps came closer. Now they stood at the very edge of the bed. I felt their breath. My husband pulled out of me, spread my buttocks with his palms and let them look. Strange fingers carefully touched me. Spread my lips. I felt them examining up close my swollen, red, glistening vagina.

Then the quiet sound of unfastening trousers. A warm, hard head slid along the entire length of my slit -- from top to bottom, collecting moisture. Then a second one. They rubbed their cocks over me slowly, coating the heads. Alex was the first to press his head more firmly and begin to enter slowly. I was so open after my husband that he slid in almost without resistance. He moved carefully, shallowly, as if he really was afraid of waking me. I only whimpered quietly in my sleep. He came deeply, pressing close. I felt every pulse.

As soon as he pulled out, Sergey entered right away. He slid in more easily -- I was already flooded with Alex's cum. He moved a little more rhythmically, holding my thigh. He also came inside.

They still stood over me for a while. I felt the thick cum slowly leaking out and running onto the sheet. Then they quietly left. My husband lay down beside me, ran his hand over my back and stayed. I lay with open eyes in the dark and felt full, used, and strangely happy.

The Second Day

In the morning I pretended to remember nothing. I put on short silk shorts -- cut so that with any movement the fabric slipped and completely exposed my vagina -- and a tiny strapless top. I walked out into the kitchen barefoot.

When I bent to the refrigerator, the top immediately slid down and my breasts fell out completely. The shorts slipped. I deliberately lingered, rearranging the bottles. Then I sat at the table, pulled one leg up, and calmly drank coffee. The shorts completely exposed me. I sat in front of them with my vagina visible and pretended I had simply made myself comfortable.

All day I walked around only in that. Every step, every bend -- everything on display. I liked watching how they were already almost not hiding their gazes.

The Second Night

In the evening after dinner I sat in the living room in the same shorts, legs on the sofa. The fabric had slipped completely. My husband began stroking me under it in front of them. I spread my legs wider. Soon the shorts were thrown on the floor. I took Alex in my mouth while sitting on my husband. Sergey stood to the side -- I gripped him with my hand.

Then they started fucking me properly.

They laid me on my back, on my stomach, put me on all fours, sat me on top. They fucked me in turn and at the same time. They came in my mouth, deep inside, on my breasts, on my face, on my back, in my hair. I took everything. Cum ran down my thighs, dripped onto the sheets, stayed as sticky trails on my skin. They poured over me and filled me again and again. I came until I was shaking, until tears came, until my body became too sensitive. Toward morning I lay completely broken, covered in cum, legs wide apart, and could not even close my thighs.

Morning of Departure

They were getting ready to leave. I came out to see them off in just a T-shirt. In the hallway I stopped Alex, dropped to my knees right on the floor and took him in my mouth. I sucked deeply, looking up at him. He came on my tongue, on my lips and on my cheeks. I didn't wipe myself. I immediately turned to Sergey on my knees and did the same. He also came in my mouth and on my face. Warm cum ran down my chin onto my neck.

I remained on my knees, covered in their cum, and looked up at them.

Alex, fastening his trousers with trembling hands, said hoarsely:

"Thank you... for everything. This was one of the strongest nights of my life."

Sergey added quietly:

"If there is ever a chance again -- just write. We'll come. Anytime."

They went out to the car. Before getting in, Alex looked at me once more -- at my face wet with cum, at my bare legs. The gaze was heavy, dark and grateful. Sergey raised his hand in a short farewell.

The car started and disappeared.

My husband closed the door, lifted me from my knees, ran his fingers over my lips, collecting their cum, and pushed those fingers into my mouth. I licked them clean.

"Good little slut," he said quietly. "You saw them off properly."

I only exhaled, feeling their cum still running down my face.

They left.

And I stayed standing in the hallway with my face covered in cum and with a body that would long remember how they fucked me all night, filled me and poured over me.

And I already knew that someday they would return.