Wicked Bargains in the Vineyard Shadows
Links for your pleasure: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Jump to Chapter 6
Chapter 1: The Unexpected Handover 🔥
I stood in the sun-drenched kitchen of my son Jake’s beachside bungalow, the salty tang of ocean air slipping through the cracked window like a lover’s whisper. My fingers trembled just a bit as I smoothed down my black leggings and fitted white tank—practical, I told myself, but deep down, I knew it hugged every curve I’d fought to keep firm at forty-six. Lila, my daughter-in-law, that lithe twenty-eight-year-old vixen with her sun-kissed blonde waves, had texted me in a frenzy an hour ago.
“Emergency client. Cover for me with Victor? He’s alpha as hell—told me to wear that flimsy blue wrap dress, no undies. Go if you dare.”
Her words ignited something wicked inside me, a flicker of jealousy mixed with raw curiosity. I’d seen photos of Victor online, that chiseled jaw, those piercing green eyes promising control. Jake and I were solid, but our spark had dimmed to embers. Lila fucking my boy had cracked that open for all of us—freedoms we’d never named before. Why not me?
The doorbell chimed, deep and insistent. I opened it to find him: Victor, early forties, broad shoulders straining a crisp linen shirt, khaki shorts riding high on thighs like coiled steel. His dark curls tousled by the sea breeze, he smelled of sandalwood and fresh citrus—clean, commanding.
“You’re not Lila.” His voice rumbled low, eyes raking me from my bare feet up to my dark ponytail. No hello, just assessment.
“Elena’s the name. Mother-in-law stepping in. Work snag for her.” I extended a hand, but he bypassed it, pulling me into a hug that crushed my breasts against his chest. His palms settled boldly on my ass, kneading through the fabric.
“Firm. Better than I imagined Lila’s might be.” He lingered, breath hot on my neck. I shoved back lightly, heart pounding like waves on rocks.
“Easy, cowboy. I’m no pushover.” But my nipples betrayed me, peaking against the thin cotton.
He chuckled, that wicked glint in his eye. “Feisty ones break sweetest. Tour me around.”
As we moved through the living room, his bulge grazed my hip—accidental? Bullshit. By the guest bath, he’d cornered me against the sink, fingers tracing my arm, dipping to brush my mound. I sighed, unbidden, heat pooling low.
“That blue dress in there? Slip it on. No bra, no nothing. I’ll wait.” He stepped out, casual as ordering coffee.
Fury flared. “I’m not your doll!” I yelled through the door.
“Two minutes, or I bail. Lila gets the listing.”
Damn him. I stripped fast—tank off, leggings peeled down, exposing my smooth-shaven slit, still glistening from my morning ritual. The mirror showed a woman starved: full D-cups, olive skin flushed, ass round and begging. The dress clung like sin, hem barely skimming my thighs. I emerged, defiant.
“Good girl,” he purred, lounging on the bed. “Sexier on you. Those tits straining it—lift for me.”
I hesitated, then tugged down the neckline. My heavy breasts spilled free, dusky nipples diamond-hard. He cupped them rough, twisting until I gasped, a wicked ache throbbing between my legs.
“Perfect handfuls. Lila who?” His thumb flicked one peak. I reached for his zipper—
“Not yet. Pull up. We’ve got your cliffside villa next, then the vineyard prize.”
Chapter 2: Highway Tease and Thresholds
His black Range Rover hummed along the coastal highway, cliffs plunging to turquoise foam below. I slid in, dress riding up to bare my slick folds. Didn’t fix it. Victor noticed, smirking as his hand claimed my thigh—rough palm scraping skin, inching higher. The leather seat grew damp under me, my scent musky in the confined space.
“Spread,” he commanded simply. Legs parted, cool air kissed my heat. Fingers danced close, never touching, until I whimpered. “Touch yourself. Show me.”
Trembling, two digits plunged into my soaking core. The wet schlick echoed, obscene over the engine’s growl. I pumped harder, clit throbbing under my thumb. Pulled them free, glistening strands of arousal stretching.
“Taste.” I sucked them deep, tangy salt flooding my tongue. “Mmm, so wickedly sweet, Victor. Want a sample?”
“Earn it.” At my driveway—Marcus away on business—I stepped out, thighs slick. He grabbed my wrist. “Look at the mess on my seat, slut. Clean it.”
“Neighbors!” But his hand cracked my bare ass—fire blooming, crack like thunder. Tears pricked.
“Lick. Or more.”
Bent over, tongue lapping leather, tasting my own shame while he massaged the welt. Humiliation twisted with lust, my opening clenching empty.
Inside my villa, ocean views framed every room. “Prime spot,” he appraised. Kitchen granite cool under my palms as he pressed behind, hardness grinding my cleft. “Bedroom pics. Naked. Now.”
“No leaks online?” Voice shaky.
“Just for my vineyard circle.” Off came the dress. I sprawled on silk sheets, knees to chest, exposing my pink depths, fingers parting lips. Tugged nipples till they ached, then flipped to all fours, cheeks spread wide—tight star winking.
“That virgin rose—mine soon.” Flashbulb pops, my pulse racing. Dressed quick, we headed out, his hand possessive on my lower back.
Chapter 3: Vineyard Whispers and New Shadows 💋
The drive twisted inland, vines heavy with purple clusters under golden dusk. Victor’s estate loomed—a sprawling stone manor perched on cliffs overlooking a private cove, infinity pool shimmering. But he veered to the guest wing first, a new addition he’d hinted at.
“Wine first. Loosen that wicked tension.” We toured the cellar, air thick with oak and ferment. He poured deep reds—velvety on my tongue, staining lips. His fingers fed me grapes, juice dribbling chin to cleavage.
“On your knees. Taste better.” I dropped, unzipping him. His thickness sprang free—veined monster, musky precum beading. Tongue swirled the crown, salty burst. Stretched wide, jaw aching as I bobbed, gagging wetly. He fisted my hair, thrusting deep—throat convulsing, snot bubbling.
“Deeper than Lila ever could.”
Pride surged. I yanked his hips, burying nose in trimmed thatch. Milked him with swallows till he yanked free, roaring. No release—yet.
“Earn the house.” We ascended to the main deck, hot tub bubbling invitingly. Sunset painted the water blood-orange. He stripped me there, open air, distant waves crashing. Pushed me over the rail, spanking till cheeks blazed, welts rising like Braille of my surrender.
“Beg.”
“More, please—hurt me wicked good.”
Crop from his pocket snapped my swollen labia—agony lancing, juices squirting. Screamed into the wind. Again, blooming fire. My clit pulsed, traitorous bliss.
Chapter 4: Dungeon Awakening
Deeper into the manor, he led to the lower level—black marble stairs descending to crimson glow. Door sealed soundproof, whipping open to paradise of torment: St. Andrew’s cross gleaming, floggers dangling like serpents, a massive sling suspended mid-air. The air hummed leather polish, faint metallic tang of anticipation.
“My playground. Your new reality.” His voice gravel. “Strip him too.”
Shirt peeled from sculpted torso—ridges of abs, chest dusted dark. Shorts dropped; silk briefs tented impossibly. I clawed them off, shaft slapping cheek—hot, velvet steel, nine inches minimum, girth like wrist.
“Suck like you mean it.” On knees, marble biting, I devoured—lips stretched, drool cascading. Gagged rhythmically, eyes streaming. He face-fucked merciless, balls slapping chin.
Hoisted to the bench, wrists and ankles cuffed—spread eagle, vulnerable. Paddle whistled, exploding on assflesh. “Count, pain slut.”
“One! Two—fuck—three!” Each thud vibrated core, pussy weeping. Ten lashes, skin screaming raw.
“Love it, don’t you?” Crop lashed my mound—lightning strike. Convulsed, squirting arc. “Nooo!” But hips bucked.
“Liar cunt.” Repeated, folds inflamed crimson, throbbing like heartbeat.
“Ass now. Deal sweetener: behave, house drops to 1.4 mil.”
“Yes, ruin it.” New scene: he fetched violet wand, electric buzz kissing welts—zaps dancing, nerves alight. My internal scream: God, this wicked fire consumes me.
Chapter 5: The Breaking Storm
Lube slicked his fingers, probing my puckered ring—two, then three stretching, burn yielding to fullness. Cockhead nudged, immense pressure. “Ready?”
“Do it.” Thrust—ripping invasion, walls yielding with pop. Agony white-hot, I howled, tears flooding. He bottomed, balls-deep, pausing as I fluttered around the intruder.
“Tight as sin.” Withdrawal slow, then slam—pistoning brutal. Ass cheeks clapped, welts igniting fresh. Pain transmuted, wicked pleasure coiling.
“Harder, Master—split me!” Pushed back, meeting strokes. His grunts animal, sweat dripping to mingle mine. Fingers mauled clit—orgasm crashed, anal muscles vise-gripping. Milked him ruthless.
Phone captured it all—my debasement eternal. Balls drew tight; he erupted, scalding jets painting bowels. Collapsed atop, heaving.
“Best ever. My wicked queen.”
Chapter 6: Echoes and Entwined Fates
Released, I crumpled—trembling limbs, ass a throbbing ruin, fluids trickling. Victor cradled me to furs on the mega-bed, cool gel soothing inflamed flesh. His lips tender on welts, tongue lapping stray cream from my thighs.
“You fought, then flew. House is yours—ours.” Fingers traced spine, igniting aftershocks.
In his arms, vulnerability cracked open. Marcus would understand; Lila too. This wicked path we’d forged—group texts flew, pics shared discreetly. Vineyard nights awaited: Jake pounding Lila poolside, me bent for Victor, crosses blurred in hedonistic blur.
Sun rose over vines as we sipped coffee, bodies marked, souls shifted. The deal signed, but hungrier bonds formed. My reflection in the window: bruised, blissful. Ready for more. 💋
We lingered in the hot tub later, jets massaging battered skin. His hand cupped my mound gently now, promise of round two. “Tell the others. Parties start Friday.”
I texted: “Vineyard secured. Wicked surprises inside.” Their replies buzzed—eager, envious. The air hummed with possibility, salt wind carrying faint moans from memory. My body sang, spent yet insatiable, as Victor’s fingers dipped once more, drawing a fresh gasp. This was no end, just dawn of our shared depravity.
Days blurred into fevered planning. Jake confessed envy over drinks; Lila’s eyes gleamed plotting my “payback” scene. Marcus, home early, claimed me slow that night—fingers exploring Victor’s marks, hardening at the tale. We fucked to the rhythm of waves, his cock familiar yet renewed by taboo.
Vineyard christening: Bodies tangled under stars, cries echoing cliffs. Victor orchestrated—me in the sling, rotating for all. Pain, pleasure, possession. Lila’s tongue on my clit mid-thrust; Jake’s girth in my throat. Marcus watched, stroking, then joined, double-stuffing my heat.
Exhaustion claimed us at dawn, piled in silk. Victor’s whisper: “My wicked family now.” Sleep took me, dreams of endless nights, bodies slick, breaking and binding in eternal, filthy harmony.
