At Ksyukha's birthday party

The weather outside was wonderful — as wonderful as it can be in early October. At least there was no rain or strong wind, and the temperature was still above freezing. People had buttoned up their coats tighter, wrapped themselves in scarves, and were shuffling along to their own business, rustling the golden fallen leaves underfoot. Meanwhile, my husband and I were driving in our silver Audi through the narrow streets of our town, heading out of the city. It was warm inside the car, some pop song was playing softly on Europa Plus, and my darling was barely moving his lips, singing along.

— So, what are we giving? — my husband suddenly turned to me. — I think I

should know what we're giving my sister, after all, — and a smile played on his lips.

It really was a bit comical, because for all holidays he would give me money and I would choose the gifts, and he would always find out what we were giving to whom at the last moment. In principle, the scheme was good, he was always satisfied with what I bought.

— A gold antique brooch. She seems to like all sorts of old jewelry.

— Oh yeah, right. Ksyukha always goes crazy for all that old junk! Just think of that shabby burgundy sofa she dragged home and makes all the guests sit on it so they can feel the 'spirit of the era of Louis something-or-other,' — and Lyosha very skillfully mimicked his sister's thin voice. I laughed loudly.

Ksenia was my husband's younger sister; there was a 5-year age difference between them, but they were always very different, although outwardly they were quite similar — tall, stately, with thick chestnut manes, light brown big eyes, full pink lips that were almost always ready to stretch into a wide, childishly sincere smile, revealing rows of perfectly straight white teeth.

Today Ksenya was celebrating her 25th birthday in the new house she bought with her new husband Sasha. There weren't supposed to be many guests, but knowing the birthday girl's easy-going nature and the sense of humor inherent in their family in general, the celebration promised to be very fun and relaxed.

As we approached the house, I expected to see a couple of cars belonging to our mutual acquaintances and friends, but there was nothing, the yard was empty!

— Are we the first ones here again?! — Lyosha was surprised.

— Or maybe they're just running late, — I said conciliatorily.

The gates automatically slid aside and we drove into the yard. We were just getting out of the car when the doors of the house swung open and the joyful birthday girl ran out to meet us, followed by Alexander who came out and stopped in the doorway. He had become surprisingly handsome — apparently, married life had done him good. At the wedding, he looked sickly — a thin, pale-faced young man, in whom our beauty Ksyunya had inexplicably found something, but now he was a rosy-cheeked, fit man with a very serious face, who had clearly gained about 8-10 kilograms and finally gotten some sleep.

Ksyukha threw herself at her brother with joyful cries about how much she had missed him and that guests had finally arrived, then remembered that I was also there, came up to me more calmly, hugged me, and invited us into the house, simultaneously explaining that one invited couple would be late, and another wouldn't come at all.

— Can you imagine, on my birthday of all days, Olka had to get sick, and Vovka doesn't want to come without her! How unfair! — the girl declared in the voice of an offended child. Although, in principle, there was always a bit more childishness in her than her age warranted, and it hadn't gone away over the years. Sasha hugged his wife reassuringly.

— The main thing is that Lyosha and Vika have come, and you can meet with your friends any other day, — he said.

My husband and I were led into the living room, where the infamous shabby sofa stood. Ksenya, scurrying ahead of everyone in fluffy house slippers and a sky-blue short silk dress, said in a hostess-like manner:

— Sit down, dear guests, make yourselves at home! The Demidovs will arrive soon and we'll sit down at the table! — it seemed her joy knew no bounds. She lovingly examined the brooch and immediately ran to the mirror to try it on.

Meanwhile, Sasha kindly offered to show us their new abode, to which I readily agreed. My husband, however, said he would join later, explaining that he needed to use the restroom.

Alexander left the living room into the hallway, and I obediently followed him. We went up the wooden stairs to the second floor, where there were two bedrooms, a nursery, two bathrooms, and a terrace with a view of the forest and a small lake.

— Oh my goodness, you guys are amazing! You bought it yourselves, you're doing the renovation yourselves! It's so beautiful! — I admired.

— Well… , — Sanya began, embarrassed, — actually, for now we're only furnishing and doing up our bedroom and the bathroom attached to it. And even that's not so fast… Money, you know, has a way of running out quickly.

— That's for sure! — I agreed and asked him to show me the bedroom.

Alexander politely opened the door for me and let me go ahead. I gasped! The bedroom was simply magnificent. "Ksyushka clearly has taste!" I thought to myself. The bedroom was in pastel tones, everything so delicate, light, no heavy canopies, pretentious gilding, or tasteless curtains.

— Do you like it? — the newly minted master of the room asked in a gentle baritone.

— Yes, very beautiful! — I answered sincerely and turned to him. He, with his arms folded on his chest, was watching me attentively.

— Want me to show you the bathroom?

— Of course. I'd love to see it!

He opened a side door in the bedroom and we found ourselves in a spacious, freshly renovated bathroom. There was a large mirror hanging here, a snow-white sink, a soft rug with thick pile on the floor, no windows, but there was very soft muted light. And what surprised me most was the bathtub itself — just huge, the kind I'd only seen in movies and TV series. Standing there, such a beauty in the middle of the room, just beckoning you to sit in it.

— So, what's it like to bathe in it? — I asked, picking my jaw up off the floor.

— You know, it's quite nice, actually, — Sashka chuckled. — By the way, you can try it, I'll step out. Just be quick! — and he winked at me playfully.

— Did you want to say something? — I finally decided to break the silence.

— Aah, yeees, that… , — Sasha snapped out of it, — I just ran downstairs — Ksyukha is still finishing baking the cake there, and Lyosha decided to hang out on the Xbox. They say the Demidovs will be delayed further, something about a flat tire or something like that… So anyway, you can take your time! — the master of the house finished enthusiastically and continued to stand in the doorway, embarrassed, looking down somewhere at the rug where my feet were.

— Anything else? — I asked politely. — If that's all, you can leave me, I already

want to bathe!

— Oh, yes, sorry! — he babbled and hastily left, carefully closing the door behind him.

Finally, my body sank into the hot, gentle bliss. On a small table nearby stood some jars, which I picked up with interest, opened, and smelled. One of them smelled deliciously of lavender and I decided to rub it on myself. The aroma was incredible. At that moment, I really regretted that we only had a two-room apartment and couldn't afford such a bathtub. I would lounge in it every day, I swear! I closed my eyes, sinking into the water up to my chin, and inhaled the divine scent.

Suddenly the door opened again and Alexander entered. In his hands were glasses of champagne.

— I thought madam might want something tasty.

— Monsieur thought correctly, — I smiled and he handed me one glass.

Perhaps at any other time I would have been embarrassed and insistently asked him to leave, but right now I felt so good that I absolutely didn't care. Besides, he didn't make me uncomfortable at all. Sasha was a handsome guy of 27, he had a pleasant quiet voice, intelligent eyes, and nice manners.

We clinked glasses lightly and I drained my glass in one gulp. The champagne was excellent.

— Perhaps madam would like a massage? — Sasha looked at me slyly.

— Perhaps she would, — I played along.

He knelt behind the bathtub and began to skillfully knead my shoulders. I relaxed. His movements were simultaneously so strong and so relaxing — better than all the salons put together! I raised myself up a bit so that besides my shoulders he could also massage my back a little. His strong, tanned hands gently massaged my back, shoulders, neck. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the high. I had already simply forgotten why I was here, and who I even was. Suddenly his hands smoothly began to move lower from my shoulders to the level of my chest. I was about to protest, because after all I am a married woman, and besides we're sort of relatives, but his fingers began to gently caress my nipples, and in such a way that within a minute they hardened. First he stroked them, then gently squeezed, then lightly twisted them. I felt myself involuntarily starting to get aroused.

Then he placed his palms on my breasts and began to squeeze them, sometimes gently, sometimes roughly, and stroke them, never ceasing to toy with my nipples. My eyes were still closed, but my mouth opened slightly with pleasure. Unexpectedly, on top of all this, I began to feel light kisses covering my neck, alternating with gentle nibbles. Oh, how he kissed! Then he also started teasing my earlobe with his tongue, which made me completely lose control and moan. And then… Then it all ended! He simply stood up, silently wiped his wet hands, and left! And I remained lying there, aroused. I had neither the desire nor the time to finish myself off, so I decided it was finally time to get up, get dressed, and go downstairs to my husband. When I finally climbed out and found a towel to dry off, Sasha entered again. But this time naked, except for a bath towel around his hips. Neat abs were visible on his stomach, and on his sides were those sexy lines that all the girls go crazy for. "And when did he manage to become so handsome?" I thought to myself.

Before I could come to my senses and even pull on my panties, he confidently approached me, turned me to face the bathtub, bent me over, and gave my ass a juicy smack. My husband had never spanked me, so this sweet feeling of pain and arousal was new to me. I even stopped wanting to stop him. His left hand was on my back, not letting me straighten up (and I didn't even want to!), and the second one deftly ran over my crotch, caressing my labia, which were already wet with arousal. Silently, he knelt down and started eating me out. How amazing that was! His left hand finally abandoned its post on my back and descended to my butt. He stroked my legs from my feet to my buttocks and back, spanking me from time to time, and sometimes helped himself with his fingers, slipping one or two into my hot pussy. I could barely hold back my moans. But it seemed to me that he had silently set a quiet tone for this whole "game," so I tried with all my might not to make a single sound. After about 5 minutes, he finally stood up, straightened me, turned me towards him (I noticed he had already removed the towel from himself) and lifted me into his arms. Easily, like a feather! And carried me to the nightstand by the mirror, where the sink was.

The nightstand was sturdy and wide, so he sat me on it, spread my legs, and slowly began to insert his cock into me. How I wanted this! It seemed as if I had never wanted to be fucked so much before. With one hand he pressed me to himself, and with the other he held me by the neck, putting his index and middle fingers in my mouth, as if hinting that if I started screaming, he would choke me. And that aroused me even more — the awareness that we were having forbidden sex. His wife and my husband were down there, suspecting nothing, and I was here, sitting with my legs spread, getting high. Sasha looks me straight in the eyes, and there's a light playful smile on his lips, but he still doesn't utter a word. Finally, he removes his hand from my neck and moves it to my thigh. My long nails passionately dig into his broad back. I feel like I'm about to start coming and scream, but I strictly forbid myself from doing it, because I want to see what he will do next. He speeds up and starts pounding me hard. His hand on my back rises to my hair and pulls at the "bun," my hair comes loose and he deftly wraps it around his hand. Jerking his palm sharply, he threw my head back and passionately kissed me right on the lips. From the pain and the unexpected movement, I didn't even have time to squeak. But now I'm dreaming that he'll come right inside me, and then fuck me again. I had never been hurt and pleasured so well at the same time.

I kissed him greedily and passionately, he was so good. But suddenly he decided again that enough kissing and turned his fist with my hair so that the left side of my face was in front of him. — he slowly ran his tongue from my collarbone to my neck and finally bit my earlobe. That was the last straw. I closed my eyes and started to come, crying out his name mixed with "Oh God" and "Fuck, it feels so good." He kissed me again. Well, kissed, he just decided it was a reliable way to shut me up. I didn't mind. A minute later, Sasha came inside me, and I was still shuddering from my orgasm. Opening my eyes, I saw that instead of a sly smirk, his face finally had an expression of real pleasure. For a second, he hugged me tightly, but then immediately let go. Then the familiar expression of seriousness reappeared, and he, still silent, went to the bathtub to wash away the traces of infidelity. Half a minute later, I joined him.