The moment Sarah crossed the threshold of the club, she was swallowed by a living, breathing beast of sound and shadow. The air thrummed with a relentless bassline, a deep, primal pulse that reverberated through her chest and rattled her bones. Dim, flickering strobe lights sliced through the haze, painting the scene in jagged bursts of neon electric blue, hot pink, and a sickly green that made the sweaty faces of the crowd glisten like they were caught in some fevered dream. The atmosphere was thick, heavy with the mingled scents of spilled liquor, musky cologne, and the sharp tang of perspiration. It was a chaotic symphony of excess, and Sarah felt it awaken something wild inside her.

The club sprawled before her like a labyrinth of temptation. The dance floor was a churning sea of bodies, limbs entwined, hips grinding in a hypnotic rhythm that matched the music’s seductive growl. Couples or strangers pretending to be pressed against each other, hands roaming with shameless abandon. Along the edges, shadowy booths harbored whispered promises and fleeting glances, while the bar glowed like a beacon, its mirrored shelves reflecting the kaleidoscope of lights. The energy was raw, electric, a current that buzzed through the air and set her nerves alight.

Sarah adjusted the hem of her dress a black, skin tight number that hugged her curves like a second skin, the neckline plunging low to tease the swell of her breasts. She felt eyes on her as she moved, a predator stalking through the herd. Her heels clicked against the sticky floor as she wove toward the bar, the beat of the music syncing with her stride. The bartender, a wiry guy with a pierced eyebrow and a smirk that suggested he’d seen it all, caught her eye and slid a drink her way an amber shot that shimmered under the lights. She didn’t ask what it was, just tipped it back, letting the fiery liquid sear her throat and stoke the heat already pooling low in her belly.

Tonight wasn’t about sipping cocktails or small talk. Sarah had a mission, a craving that pulsed louder than the music. She wanted a man with a cock so big it would leave her breathless, someone who could stretch her wide and fill her until she couldn’t think straight. Back home, John was waiting, his own twisted thrill hinging on her return, used, dripping, ready for him to claim her in his own way. The thought sent a shiver down her spine, her thighs clenching as she scanned the crowd.

She slipped into the throng, the heat of bodies pressing against her as she began her hunt. Her eyes darted from one man to the next, assessing, discarding, always searching for that telltale sign. A lanky guy in skinny jeans caught her attention first, his frame swaying awkwardly to the beat. The bulge in his pants was noticeable, a decent ridge that hinted at potential, but his boyish face, all smooth cheeks and nervous smiles, killed the vibe. She wanted grit, not innocence.

Further in, a broad-shouldered man loomed near the DJ booth, his shaved head gleaming under the lights. His tight shirt strained over his pecs, and his jeans clung to thick thighs. She lingered, letting her gaze drop. The outline was there, a solid swell that promised something, but it wasn’t enough. Not bold, not brazen. She needed a man who wore his size like a challenge, not a secret.

The crowd parted as she pressed deeper, the air growing hotter, stickier. A group of guys laughed near a high top table, one of them catching her eye a wiry dude with a cocky grin and ripped jeans. His bulge was prominent, the fabric worn thin enough to hint at serious girth, but the way he pawed at his giggling date told her he’d be too distracted to deliver what she craved. She kept moving, her senses sharpening, the anticipation building like a coil tightening in her core.

And then she saw him.

He stood alone near the far wall, a shadowed figure carved from the chaos. Mike. Tall, with a messy mop of dark hair that fell into his eyes, he leaned casually against the chipped paint, a beer dangling from his fingers. His posture was relaxed, almost indifferent, but there was a quiet confidence in the way he held himself a man who didn’t need to prove anything. Her gaze dropped, and her breath caught. The jeans he wore were snug, molding to his legs, and there, unmistakable even in the dim light, was the most massive bulge she’d seen all night. It strained against the denim, a thick, heavy outline that promised everything she’d been hunting for. Her pulse quickened, a flush creeping up her neck. This was him. She knew it in her bones.

Sarah adjusted her stride, letting her hips sway as she closed the distance. Up close, he was even better sharp jawline, a faint scar cutting through one eyebrow, and eyes that flicked over her with a lazy curiosity. She stopped a foot away, tilting her head to meet his gaze.

“Hey,” she said, her voice cutting through the noise, smooth and warm like honey. “I’m Sarah.”

He straightened slightly, his lips twitching into a half-smile as he took her in her dress, her curves, the way she stood with purpose. “Mike,” he replied, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver through her. “Didn’t expect someone like you to wander over here.”

She laughed, a soft sound that carried a hint of mischief. “Someone like me?”

“Yeah,” he said, tipping his beer toward her before taking a sip. “You look like you’re on a mission. Most people here are just stumbling around.”

“Maybe I am,” she teased, stepping closer, the space between them shrinking. “What about you? You don’t exactly blend into the wall.”

He shrugged, but his eyes sparkled with amusement. “Not trying to. Just taking it all in. Gets wild out there.” He nodded toward the dance floor, where a guy had just tripped over his own feet, spilling his drink on a shrieking woman.

Sarah grinned. “Yeah, it’s a zoo. You come here a lot?”

“Enough to know the good nights from the bad ones,” he said, setting his beer down on a ledge. “Tonight’s shaping up alright, though. Especially now.”

The compliment was subtle, but it landed. She felt a spark, a pull. “Glad I could improve your evening,” she said, her tone playful but edged with intent. “So, what’s your deal, Mike? You don’t strike me as the type to waste a night like this.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning in just enough for her to catch the faint scent of his cologne, something woody, rugged. “Guess I’m just waiting for the right reason to make it worth it. You?”

She held his gaze, letting the moment stretch. “Looking for something worth leaving for,” she said, her voice dropping slightly, testing the waters.

Mike’s smile widened, a glint of understanding in his eyes. “Sounds like we might be on the same page.” He paused, then added, “This place is loud as hell, though. Have you ever thought about getting some air?”

Her heart skipped. This was it, the opening she’d been nudging toward. “Yeah,” she said, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “There’s a hotel just down the street. Quieter. We could… talk more there.”

He didn’t hesitate, his hand brushing her lower back as he stepped closer. “Lead the way, Sarah.”

They wove through the crowd together, the heat and noise fading as they hit the cool night air. The promise of what lay ahead hung between them, unspoken but electric, as they headed toward the hotel.

The hotel room was a gritty little haven, a stark shift from the thumping chaos of the club they’d just left. Dim light spilled from a single, flickering lamp on the nightstand, throwing jagged shadows across peeling wallpaper. The air hung heavy, stale, tinged with cheap cleaner and a musky undertone that hinted at past debauchery. The bed dominated the space, its frame rusted and creaky, the sheets rough and worn, promising a raw, unpolished night ahead. Outside, the city’s hum droned faintly through cracked windows, but in here, it felt like they’d stepped into a bubble cut off, primed for something filthy.

Sarah’s pulse hammered as she crossed the threshold, Mike right behind her. The door clicked shut, sealing them in. He didn’t waste a second, his eyes glinting with a hunger that matched hers. “We’re not here to fucking talk, are we?” he growled, voice thick and rough.

She smirked, heat pooling low in her belly. “Hell no.”

Her hands shot to his shirt, yanking it up over his head. He obliged, tossing it aside, revealing a chest carved with muscle. But Sarah’s gaze dropped lower, zeroing in on the bulge straining his jeans. Her mouth went dry, anticipation clawing at her. She’d come here for one thing: a monster cock to wreck her, stretch her wide and deep until she couldn’t think straight. If Mike didn’t deliver, it was still early she’d march right back to the club and find someone who could. But she had a feeling he wouldn’t disappoint.

“Show me what you’re packing,” she purred, voice shaky with want.

Mike grinned, dark and cocky. “Eager little slut, huh?” He took his time, popping the button on his jeans, dragging the zipper down slow just to fuck with her. Then he shoved them down, underwear and all, and let her see.

Sarah’s breath hitched. Holy fuck. His cock sprang free, and it was everything she’d craved massive, thick as hell, long enough to make her eyes widen. Veins pulsed along its length, the sheer girth intimidating, the head glistening with promise. It was a goddamn weapon, a beast of a dick that looked ready to ruin her in the best way.

“Jesus Christ,” she whispered, awe and lust crashing over her. “That’s a fucking monster.”

“Think you can take it?” Mike taunted, stroking himself once, letting her see every inch.

She licked her lips, her pussy already soaked. “Oh, I’m gonna take it. Every fucking inch of that horse cock’s gonna split me open.”

She reached for him, her hand wrapping around the shaft or trying to. Her fingers didn’t even meet around its thickness. She gave it a slow pump, feeling the heat, the weight, her cunt throbbing with need. But she couldn’t wait. She sank to her knees, staring up at him as she dragged her tongue over the tip, tasting him.

Mike groaned, hands fisting in her hair. “Fuck, that’s it, suck that big dick.”

She stretched her lips around him, struggling to fit even half of it in her mouth. Her jaw ached, saliva dripping as she worked him, hands stroking what she couldn’t swallow. But this was just a tease she needed him buried in her, tearing her apart.

Pulling off with a wet pop, she grinned up at him. “Fuck me, Mike. Shove that beast in me and stretch me the fuck out.”

He hauled her up, tossing her onto the bed like she weighed nothing. She landed on her back, legs splaying wide, pussy glistening and ready. Mike climbed over her, gripping his cock and rubbing it against her dripping slit, teasing her clit with the fat head.

“Quit fucking around,” she snapped, hips jerking up. “Ram it in me!”

He smirked and pushed in, the thick tip breaching her. Sarah gasped, her walls stretching to take him. It was intense, almost too much, but she craved it. “More, goddamn it!” she demanded.

Mike obliged, sinking in deeper, inch by brutal inch. Her pussy burned as it stretched, the mix of pain and pleasure dizzying. When he bottomed out, balls pressed against her ass, she felt impaled full, so fucking full she could barely breathe.

“Shit, you’re tight as fuck,” he grunted, starting to thrust, slow at first, then harder.

Sarah clawed at his back, moaning loudly and shamelessly. “Yes! Fuck me with that giant cock, ruin me!”

The bed groaned under them, springs squealing as Mike picked up speed. The headboard slammed the wall bang, bang, bang, matching the wet smack of his hips against hers. He pounded her relentlessly, his massive dick stretching her wider with every thrust, hitting so deep she swore she felt it in her guts.

“Take it, you dirty bitch,” he snarled, slamming into her. “Feel that cock tearing your pussy apart?”

“Harder!” she screamed, legs locking around him. “Fuck me till I can’t walk, destroy my cunt with that monster!”

The room filled with noise, her shrieks, his growls, the bed’s creaking protests threatening to collapse. Mike grabbed her hips, angling deeper, and she lost it, rubbing her clit as another orgasm built fast.

“I’m gonna cum fuck, make me cum on that huge dick!” she wailed.

He didn’t let up, driving into her like a machine. “Cum, you slut, soak my cock!”

She shattered, pussy clamping down as waves of pleasure ripped through her, juices gushing around him. Mike kept going, fucking her through it, until she was a trembling wreck. Then he flipped her over.

“Ass up,” he barked. She scrambled onto her knees, presenting her dripping, stretched-out hole. He slid back in, deeper now, and she screamed into the mattress as he resumed his assault.

“Fuck yes, pound me! Wreck my pussy!” she begged, voice hoarse.

The bed shook, frame rattling like it might snap. Mike slapped her ass, driving in with punishing force. “Gonna fill you up, slut,” he growled.

“Do it! Pump me full of that hot cum!” she cried, another climax crashing over her.

With a guttural roar, Mike buried himself deep, cock pulsing as he unloaded, flooding her with thick, scalding spurts. Sarah moaned, feeling it spill inside, her pussy clenching to keep it all.

When he pulled out, she collapsed, wrecked and dripping, a satisfied grin on her face. Mike flopped beside her, panting. “You’re a fucking animal,” he said, smirking.

“Yeah,” she rasped, already picturing John at home, waiting to lap up the mess Mike left behind. “And you gave me just what I wanted.”

She dressed, legs wobbly, cum leaking down her thighs. They parted with a nod, and Sarah headed out, sore and fulfilled, ready for her husband to taste her ruined, cum stuffed pussy.

Sarah’s drive home was short, the hum of the engine barely registering as the soreness settled deep between her legs. It was a glorious pain, a throbbing reminder of Mike’s relentless pounding, and she reveled in it. Her pussy ached, swollen and tender, still leaking his thick cum into her soaked panties. The thought of John waiting for her, hungry to claim his prize, sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine.

She pulled into the driveway, the house glowing softly in the night. Her legs wobbled as she stepped out of the car, the delicious sting between her thighs making her smirk. She loved this feeling worn out, used, and ready for more. The door swung open, and there was John, lounging in just his underwear, his erection already straining against the fabric. His eyes devoured her, dark and eager, as she stepped inside, the scent of sex trailing behind her.

“Rough night?” he asked, voice low and thick with lust, his gaze fixed on her disheveled form.

“Mike fucked me raw,” she purred, kicking off her shoes. “Big cock, huge load. It’s still dripping out of me.”

John’s breath hitched, his hand brushing over his bulge. “Bedroom. Now.”

They didn’t linger. Sarah led the way, her hips swaying, each step a sweet jolt of pain and pleasure. The bedroom was a sanctuary of dim light and rumpled sheets, the air cool against her overheated skin. She stripped off her dress, letting it pool on the floor, and climbed onto the bed, spreading her legs wide. Her pussy was a ravaged masterpiece red, puffy, glistening with her juices and Mike’s cum, a sticky mess that begged to be claimed.

John shed his underwear, his cock hard and dripping, and knelt between her thighs. “Jesus, look at you,” he growled, his breath hot against her tender flesh. “He tore you up.”

“Lick it,” she demanded, fingers gripping his hair. “Eat my sore, fucked pussy.”

He dove in, tongue lashing across her swollen lips, and Sarah gasped, the prick of pain igniting her nerves. It was exquisite torture, her sensitivity dialed to eleven, and John’s eager mouth only amplified it. He slurped at her, sucking Mike’s thick cum from her depths, his groans muffled against her sloppy folds. The mix of her juices and another man’s load coated his tongue, and he drank it down like a starving man.

“Fuck, you’re full of him,” he mumbled, lips glistening as he pulled back for a breath, then plunged in again, sucking her clit hard.

The pain-pleasure cocktail sent her over the edge fast. Her first orgasm ripped through her, hips bucking, a scream tearing from her throat as she gushed into his mouth. John didn’t stop, his tongue relentless, drawing out every drop of cum and pushing her straight into a second climax. Her body shook, the soreness making each wave more intense, her pussy clenching around nothing as she rode it out.

Panting, she watched him lick his lips, his face a mess of her juices and Mike’s load. He lay beside her, catching his own breath, but Sarah wasn’t done. Her pussy throbbed, raw and wrecked, and she needed to use him more. “On your back,” she rasped.

John grinned, stretching out, his cock standing proud. Sarah climbed over him, straddling his face, her knees framing his head. Her dripping, torn-up pussy hovered above his mouth, and she teased him, lowering just enough to brush his lips. “Ready to get smothered?” she taunted.

“Fucking do it,” he begged, hands clutching her thighs. “Give me that messy cunt.”

She sank down, grinding her sloppy folds against his face, and John’s tongue went to work, lapping at her with desperate hunger. Sarah moaned, rocking her hips, the pressure perfect against her oversensitive clit. She rode him hard, coating his face with the remnants of Mike’s cum and her own slickness, her pussy a worn-out mess that still craved more. One hand braced against the headboard, the other wrapped around his cock, stroking him in time with her thrusts.

“Eat it,” she hissed, smearing herself across his mouth. “Suck up every bit of that filthy load.”

John groaned, the sound vibrating against her, his tongue flicking wildly. She gave him brief moments to breathe, lifting just enough before slamming back down, riding him with abandon. Orgasm after orgasm tore through her, her legs trembling, her juices flooding his face. She stroked him faster, his cock pulsing in her grip, and when she came again harder than before, a shuddering, screaming mess he erupted, cum spurting over her hand.

Exhausted, she slumped off him, collapsing beside him on the bed. John gasped for air, his face shiny and wrecked, and Sarah licked his cum from her fingers, savoring the salty taste. They lay there, tangled and spent, the room thick with the stench of sex and satisfaction.

“Fucking perfect,” she murmured, her voice raw.

John chuckled, pulling her close. “Always is.”

Their night had been a glorious, over-the-top descent into depravity, and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

A married couple, Sarah and John, explore their fantasies of infidelity and sharing. Sarah goes out to a hotel room to have passionate, rough sex with a hung stud, Marcus, and then returns home to her husband to share every detail and let him taste the evidence of her adventure. The narrative delves into themes of consensual non-monogamy, voyeurism, and the eroticism of sharing.

John Want's A Sarah Snack

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