Snowed-In Hotwife

The moment I saw her standing by the roadside in that tight white sweater and short ski skirt, my cock twitched with raw want. Her husband’s car had broken down two miles back, and she was flagging me down in the middle of a sudden blizzard. By the time we reached my isolated mountain chalet, the snow was already knee-deep and the power lines were down. Her name was Lena, thirty-two, married five years, and the hunger in her green eyes told me she wasn’t thinking about her husband right now.

“My name’s Marcus,” I said, kicking the heavy wooden door shut behind us. The chalet smelled of pine and woodsmoke. “You’re stuck here till morning at least.”

Lena brushed snow from her long dark hair, nipples already stiff against the damp fabric. “Good. I’ve been so fucking bored lately. My husband… he’s safe. Predictable. I need something that makes me shake.”

Her words hit me like a slap. I stepped closer, smelling her perfume mixed with cold mountain air. “You telling me you’re a hotwife, Lena?”

She bit her lower lip, eyes dropping to the obvious bulge in my jeans. “Tonight I am. He knows I play when the mood strikes. Right now my pussy’s already wet just thinking about a stranger’s cock stretching me.”

We didn’t waste time on more talk. I grabbed her by the waist, pulling her against me. Our mouths crashed together, tongues sliding hot and urgent. She moaned into my mouth as my hands slid under her skirt and cupped her firm ass, fingers slipping beneath her soaked thong.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” I growled against her lips.

Lena’s breath hitched. “Because I want you to ruin me. Touch my clit… yes, like that.”

I shoved two thick fingers into her tight pussy right there in the living room, curling them while my thumb circled her swollen clit. She rode my hand shamelessly, skirt bunched around her hips, moaning loud enough to echo off the rafters. Her juices ran down my wrist.

“Bedroom,” she gasped. “Now.”

We barely made it to the big king bed before clothes flew. I pushed her onto her back, spread her legs wide, and buried my face between her thighs. My tongue licked long stripes up her slit, sucking her clit between my lips while she grabbed my hair.

“Oh god, yes… eat my married pussy,” Lena whimpered, hips bucking. “My husband never does it like this.”

I sucked harder, two fingers pumping deep inside her until her thighs started to tremble. She came fast and hard, crying out, pussy clenching around my fingers as fresh wetness flooded my tongue.

Before she could catch her breath I flipped her onto all fours. Her juicy ass looked perfect in the firelight. I rubbed the fat head of my cock up and down her dripping slit.

“Beg for it,” I said, voice rough.

“Please, Marcus… fuck me with that big cock. I need it so bad.”

I thrust forward in one smooth stroke, burying every inch inside her tight heat. Lena’s back arched, a sharp cry escaping her throat.

“Fuck, you’re huge,” she panted. “So much thicker than him.”

I gripped her hips and started pounding her hard, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the chalet. Each thrust made her tits swing beneath her. I reached around and pinched her nipples, making her moan louder.

“Harder… please, fuck your hotwife harder!”

I gave her what she wanted, slamming into her so deep my balls slapped her clit. Her second orgasm hit suddenly, pussy rippling around my cock, milking me. I didn’t slow down.

Pulling out, I flipped her onto her back again, hooked her legs over my shoulders, and slid back inside. This angle let me watch her face twist in pleasure as I drove into her over and over. Sweat slicked our bodies. The scent of sex hung thick in the air.

“I’m gonna cum inside you,” I warned, feeling my balls tighten.

“Yes… fill my married pussy. Give me your cum!”

I buried myself to the hilt and exploded, thick ropes of hot cum pumping deep into her. Lena came again with me, nails raking down my back, screaming my name.

We collapsed in a sweaty tangle, breathing hard. After a minute she smiled lazily, tracing a finger over my chest.

“My husband is going to love hearing every dirty detail when I call him tomorrow,” she whispered. “He always gets so hard when I describe how a stranger stretched and filled his hotwife.”

I kissed her again, already feeling my cock stir for round two. The storm raged outside, but inside the chalet the heat between us was only getting started.