Just Like Anne
As told by Lara Wilder
I'm Lara, a naughty, teasing hotwife with a serious craving for attention, and this is how it all got started. Just a quiet night in, a favorite movie, and a little too much touching under the covers... but what happened next turned fantasy into something very real. Let's just say watching wasn't enough anymore.
We have this ritual, my husband and I. You may have one too, or a version of it. Ours happens late at night, when the house is quiet and the duvet is warm and pulled up.
"Want some help?" I'll ask with a naughty smile as the projector screen glows to life. Sometimes we finish the night looking at pictures of me -- the kind you
definitely
don't frame (but would appeal to a very appreciative audience). And then, like clockwork, the movie flickers on, glowing like some kind of holy sacrament.
Tonight's title?
Pool Boy And The Pizza Guy Fucks Ebony Anne Amari
.
I know. The title isn't exactly subtle. But it's a classic -- and yes, we've watched it
dozens
of times. At first, it was just background noise, something to play when you're already half-naked and ready to go. But somewhere along the way, it became
a thing
-- because Anne? She's exotic, brown-skinned, a total tease in that ridiculous bikini. There's something about her -- the way she moves, how she
knows
she likes being on screen -- that just
clicks
. She's a little like me.
It opens with Anne walking around a pool in the tiniest pink slingshot bikini. You know the type -- barely-there, a thong that somehow disappears between her cheeks, and stretchy pink straps that make it a walking wardrobe malfunction.
She sits by the pool. She stretches. She arches. She knows she's being watched. And she puts on a show.
And that's where I always start to feel my husband's fingers drift. Slow circles over my butt, slipping lower, sometimes parting me just a little, like he's warming up for something he hasn't even told himself he's going to do yet. His other hand? Already in my hair as I rest my head on his thigh. And if I'm not already gently stroking his cock by then, I'm about to.
I told you -- it's a ritual.
Last night, it got... more intense than usual.
Anne was teasing the pool boy, her bikini
almost
giving him the full view. My husband's hand slid a little deeper between my cheeks as we both inhaled.
"You love watching this," I teased, my lips brushing over his length. He was already semi-hard. Just watching her
tease
did that to him.
He stroked my back, that same lazy hand still tracing over my ass with maddening patience. "Mmm. You in that bikini would be better."
That made me pause -- not because I didn't love hearing it, but because I
could
see it. Me. In the pink slingshot. Walking out by the pool, knowing someone was watching me. Knowing the whole show was for them.
I dipped my head down and took him in -- slow, wet, deep. His breath caught.
