Weronika’s Free Time

Weronika was thirty-one years old and had a body that was a sin all by itself. Full, heavy breasts with large, dark-pink nipples that liked to stand at attention whenever someone looked at them for too long. A narrow waist, wide hips, and a round, firm ass, the kind that trousers always clung to like a second skin. And between her legs—a pussy that never lied. The outer lips slightly swollen, the inner ones delicate and pink, the clitoris small but exceptionally sensitive, hidden beneath a thin hood. When she was aroused, she became slippery within a dozen seconds, and her juices were thick, sweet and salty, running down her thighs in long, sticky threads. Her man, Kuba, used to love all of it. He used to take her on the kitchen table, in the elevator, in the car in the parking lot beneath their building. He fucked her hard and long, until she screamed his name and came so intensely that the whole bed was wet. But that was then. For two years he had been working sixteen hours a day, coming home exhausted, kissing her on the forehead, and falling asleep in front of the television. Sex? Once a month, if she was lucky. And always the same way: two minutes of sucking, five minutes in the missionary position, his quiet moan and the end. No teasing. No “I want you so badly I can’t stand it.” No “more, harder.” That was why Weronika began cheating. She hadn’t planned it. It was just that, during the time off from training—the damn all-day workshops she attended as a sales trainer—she needed something to bring her back to life. The training took up five days a week. Evenings and weekends were hers. And that was when she met them. The first was Bartek. She met him at the gym, two months earlier. Tall, muscular, with tattoos on his arms and a look that said: “I know what you need.” He approached her as she finished her squats. She was standing in front of the mirror, sweaty, her leggings wedged between her buttocks. He saw it. He smiled. “You’ve got great technique,” he said in a low voice. “But you look like you need someone to… stretch you out a little.” She laughed. But her pussy had already reacted. She felt warmth between her thighs. That same evening he was at her apartment. Kuba was working the night shift. Bartek didn’t waste any time. The moment the door closed, he pressed her against the wall. His hands were large and rough. He grabbed her ass and squeezed hard, until she moaned. “Fuck, you’re so soft,” he whispered right into her ear. “I can feel that you’re hungry.” He undressed her slowly. He took off her bra, watching as her heavy breasts fell freely. Her nipples were already hard. He took one into his mouth, sucking hard, gently biting it with his teeth. He massaged the other with his fingers, tugging at it. Weronika rested her head against the wall and closed her eyes. For the first time in months, she felt desired. “Spread your legs,” he ordered quietly. She obeyed. He pulled down her panties. They were already wet at the crotch. He ran a finger over her lips, spreading her juices. “Look how wet you are. Your man must be an idiot.” He pushed two fingers inside her at once. She was tight, but slippery. He moved them slowly, in circles, pressing against her G-spot. With his other hand he grabbed her hair, tilted her head back, and kissed her—deeply, aggressively, fucking her mouth with his tongue. Weronika moaned into his lips. Her hips began moving on their own, riding his fingers. “Do you want more?” he asked, biting her lower lip. “Yes… fuck, yes…” He took off his trousers. His cock sprang free—thick, long, with a swollen vein running its entire length. The head was dark and glistening with pre-ejaculate. Weronika knelt without a word. She took him into her mouth. He tasted salty and masculine. She sucked hard and deep, until she could feel the head hitting her throat. Bartek held her head and slowly fucked her mouth. “Good girl… that’s it… suck it all the way.” Then he lifted her, turned her around, and bent her over the kitchen counter. He spread her buttocks. He spat on her pussy—a thick strand of saliva ran down her lips. He drove into her with one thrust. All the way. Right to the end. Weronika cried out with pleasure. He was much bigger than Kuba. He stretched her perfectly. Hard, deep thrusts began. Each one went in so far that she could feel his balls hitting her clitoris. Her breasts swayed above the counter, her nipples rubbing against the cold marble. “Harder… please… fuck me harder…” Bartek grabbed her hips and sped up. The room filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the wet squelch of her pussy, and her increasingly loud moans. She came first—hard and long, her whole body trembling, her pussy rhythmically clenching around him. Bartek didn’t stop. He kept fucking her until she felt his cock pulse and flood her with hot cum. It poured out of her, running down her thighs in long streams. She lay on the counter, panting, with a smile on her face. For the first time in years, she felt alive. That was only the beginning. The following free weekend, she met him again. This time in a hotel. Bartek brought toys. A small clitoral vibrator and a thick anal plug. Weronika had never tried anal with anyone other than Kuba before (and he had never even asked). But with Bartek… she wanted everything. He undressed her slowly. He laid her on the bed on her stomach. He spread her buttocks and began to lick—from her pussy all the way to her anus. His tongue was hot and wet, circling the tight opening, pushing slightly inside. Weronika moaned into the pillow. Then she felt cold lubricant and a finger. Slowly, gently. Then a second. He stretched her patiently while massaging her clitoris. “Breathe… you’ll feel good in a moment.” He slid in the plug. It was thick. It slowly stretched her until she felt completely full. Her pussy began to pulse on its own. Bartek switched on the vibrator and pressed it directly against her clitoris. At the same moment, he entered her from behind—his cock in her pussy, the plug in her ass. Weronika cried out. She felt so full, so used, so damn good. He fucked her hard and rhythmically, the vibrator buzzing at its highest setting. She came again and again—three times before he came himself. His cum filled her to the brim once more. Then there was another one. This time during a week-long training trip—but during her free time, on Saturday evening. His name was Marek. They met in the hotel bar. He was older, self-assured, with light stubble and a voice that made her panties wet with his very first “hello.” They talked for an hour. Then they went to his room. There was no gentleness there. Marek liked it rough. He tied her hands to the headboard with a tie. He spread her legs wide. He licked her for an hour—slowly, thoroughly, sucking her clitoris, pushing his tongue deep into her pussy, biting her inner lips. Weronika begged. She struggled against the restraints. When he finally entered her, he was even thicker than Bartek. He fucked her in three positions: on her back, on her side, and on all fours. She came in every one. At the end he pulled out his cock and came all over her face and breasts—thick, white spurts of cum ran down her nipples. Weronika licked off what she could. It tasted salty and wonderful. At home, Kuba still noticed nothing. He came home tired and kissed her on the forehead. And she lay beside him in bed, her pussy still pulsing after her afternoon encounter, with traces of someone else’s cum still inside her, thinking only of one thing: tomorrow I’m free from training again. Because it was precisely then—in those free moments—that someone else took possession of her. Teased her. Seduced her. Unleashed desires that Kuba had long since forgotten. Made her want more. Harder. Deeper. Dirtier. And Weronika took it all. With a smile. With wet panties. With a body that finally felt alive. Because if a man doesn’t give you what you need… someone else always will. And even more.