Other - Rich Bad Boy on J4L

Martin

rbb-user-1077946

rbb-user-1118495

rbb-user-117756

rbb-user-1292540

rbb-user-1486274

rbb-user-1633157

rbb-user-1670285

rbb-user-1747847

Jay Chambers

Travels

Youth Memories

Sports

Movie

Music

Lifestyle

Romance

Extreme

Hobbies

Other

Why does our heart break, How do our brains not protect us. When we know that people disappoint us. When we know that people leave us. We know that people fail themselves. We know t

Please read men's profiles

Since some men have chosen to voice there concerns which ultimately may make the site  experience better for all to find love, I will add my feeling. I've been on this site since Au

Be truthful about your meeting intentions.

I invite you to a quiet, cozy restaurant, relatively empty, and the night is falling tenderly. The old clumsy waiter lights up candles while you’re reading the menu, and I admire yo

A Tale From the Shack

So recently I ended a relationship with a woman from Ukraine...and I wonder if her behaviour is what I should expect from others.

Can women accept that I help refugees?

True story . Memories from years ago with my loved one . Unfortunately she is not with us today , but the memory of her will always be with us who loved her.

Hot evening at home .

This happened so long ago that I could hardly remember how old I was, probably something near fifty. It was a dark and stormy night a few days before New Year's Eve.

The Boiler Room

This piece I found just recently when clearing the rubble in the garage. To recall it, that last date mentioned was followed by another laconic verbal sparring, a series of which ev

My Wife's Diary

One evening, as I settled deeper into my armchair, the monotony of the day seemed to weigh heavily on my soul. It was an evening like any other, marked by the quiet hum of routine a

Echoes

Note: Read the story to the end before judging.

Has searching for a Ukrainian wife on dating sites become just an illusion? Can I avoid falling into the same trap my friend fell into?

Why does our heart break, How do our brains not protect us. When we know that people disappoint us. When we know that people leave us. We know that people fail themselves. We know that pain is inevitable and our heart still breaks every time. We can close our eyes and as the hollow feeling drops through to our core, we can smile and say nice things to the next person in our life, knowing how difficult each movement is. Why do we continue to connect with new people on such a deep level when we know all these things will cause such sorrow, is the pain of loneliness as strong as the pain of loss or betrayal.&nbsp;

Are we less hurt if we remain apart from others and allow ourselves to be less scarred by the disappoints of love and friendship. Loneliness is at least something we can understand and know what to expect, we can adjust ourselves as though adjusting to a new job or a new house. Learn to understand. Something that almost seems impossible with the ever changing relationship with another person.&nbsp;

A pros and cons list….. well my list filled with cons and therefore a lifetime of loneliness wins against a lifetime of betrayal, frustration, blame, sacrifice, loss, excuses ect ect….. we eat, we work, we sleep, we play. All is simpler by ourselves.&nbsp;

This is just an easy explanation of one of the mistakes that many women make on dating sites, which is not reading men's profiles.

Maybe women think that by sending a bunch of pre-written messages to men, they are increasing their chances of finding a suitable man, when it is quite the opposite.For me, it's very convenient to know which message was sent in bulk and the sender didn't even read my name. These messages usually start with hello dear, hello lion, hello my future husband and so on, without the name of the addressee.

Some other letters have the recipient's name at the beginning, but when you read the content, you realize that the sender has not read your profile.

 see, two groups of women can easily ignored, while maybe they thought that by sending mass letters to men, they would receive more reactions and as a result, their chances of finding a man would increase. So instead of wasting your energy on something that is counterproductive. It is better to focus on a few profiles, read their contents carefully and then write a letter that will convey to the audience that you first read their profile carefully and then came to the decision to write a letter to the owner of the profile. Otherwise, you will be easily ignored even if you are very beautiful and successful!I don't think any man wants to marry a woman who doesn't even take the time to read a profile!

Believe me, not all the men on this site are American, believe me, not all the men on this site are western. As all the women on this site are not Ukrainian and Russian

Thank you in advance for reading men's profiles!<br>

Since some men have chosen to voice there concerns which ultimately may make the site&nbsp; experience better for all to find love, I will add my feeling. I've been on this site since August of 2022. I try to read every letter I receive. The reason is some ladies put time and thought into their letters to me. Some use my name which at least lets me know you've seen my profile picture. Others use terms of endearment.&nbsp;

1. But there seems to be this incessant game of "bait and switch" to get a man to write to them. Woman will ask about setting a date to meet in the future. When you respond to their letter discussing the meeting, they change the subject and say, we should get to know each other better. I find the the girls from America will do this the most. But, European like to try this trick. THIS IS A SURE WAY NOT TO HAVE A MAN COMMUNICATE WITH YOU AGAIN. I will always go silent on you if you done this to me. It is like an empty promise. It also shows you are dishonest from start. It may seem like it's a small thing, but it's not the appropriate way to get a man's attention.

2. Ladies if a man responds to your letter, read it. Let him know you read his letter by commenting on what he wrote. He'll feel like you are listening to him and trying to make a connection. Its frustrating when I take the time to write about myself and the woman doesn't even comment on one thing. Message deleted!!

3. Bragging about how rich you is not a positive trait. I realize woman do it to show a man how purposeful and successful they are. If you're rich, the man will find out later on. You could lose your wealth while you're together, and that may be the only reason the man pursued you.&nbsp;

4. Talking about sexual acts in an introduction letter or shortly thereafter can be a turn-off to some men. Believe it or not most men aren't 24 hour sexual addicts.

5. If a man requests your personal contact information and you deny it, tell him why you did. Don't try to continue writing him like it never happened. If he knows why you did it, he may not stop communicating like I've already done to two ladies. It will help him understand better why you did it and if a future is possible for the two of you. I think I can speak for most men that we aren't here for pen-pals or a virtual relationship.

I hope my suggestions will help ladies how to approach a gentleman. Of course there those that will scoff at my suggestions and that's fine.

I invite you to a quiet, cozy restaurant, relatively empty, and the night is falling tenderly. The old clumsy waiter lights up candles while you’re reading the menu, and I admire your looks — you know how to get in style, classically. You’re flirtatiously touching me with your toe, your eyes saying, “Drop it!”. You order lasagna, and I go with pasta — never conversely.

Another whiskered white suit leisurely floats out in the spotlight equipped with a bottle of Chianti. His smile is of a Joker’s, and his eyes treacherously touch your bare pinky back with a tiny mole in the lumbar curve. Joker’s eyes are right on. I see a momentary change in his behavior but don’t care — such old pricks are never anything but a shabby pack of cards.

The cherry-red wine reflects the candle lights and your bust to my luck, and the glasses are clinking gently — no more words applied. Instead, your dazzling teeth show up for a moment, hidden by ardent lips, leaving a red trace on the glass edges after you sipped a little, keeping on staring at me. Memories seize my limbs. Just another flashback of how you tasted me first before we wasted the exact red wine three or even four years back — the same taste, slightly tart, with a delicate flavor.

I imagine a familiar arousal swirls around your abdomen, gradually spreading from toes to bows. Here's me sitting in front of you and looking at you admiringly. No hustle, no hesitation, no limit.&nbsp;

You are wearing a little black backless dress with a beautiful waterfall neckline, open lacy straps, black stockings, and no panties, right? I gently take your hand; you’re rubbing the glass leg, snatching my glimpse. As always, my palm is much warmer.&nbsp;

Your fingers are so cold, so tender — I gently stroke them, squeeze them with pleasure, and warm them. I’m leaning closer, slightly lifting your palm, and kissing fingertips, one at a time.

We sit silently, drink wine, casually finish the main course, and wait for dessert. I’m telling you how this dress suits you — your tiny shoulders are so beautifully outlined, and one of the straps drops — you hesitate pulling it up.&nbsp;

You praise my wit, as usual, but again, you never believe me and sweep away the lavish compliments I pay. Come on, I've never lied to you!! No way you escape me tonight — you knock me off my feet with your look.

Accidentally, I drop a napkin and notice your crotch between the widespread knees under the table. No panties there — I was right. God, I want to settle down here, lick your toes, bite your thighs, and sink in between your pinky petals. I notice the lacy edge of the stockings, which makes me horny. I lean closer, caress your leg a little… and feel your scent. I don't want to get up, but you ask me to — people are watching, for Christ's sake.

I look into your eyes, begging you not to torment me with your usual riddles. In response, you put both hands onto your knees, catching a waiter's dissolute glance. I wish there were nobody around. You're gently patting your knees, and your eyes touch mine again. Then, you ask me to lean closer — I feel a piece of silky lace in my hand and its warmth. The warmth of your magnificent body…

My bewilderment is your triumph; I take a deep breath. I am confused when leaving you pantyless and… defenseless and soon wholly defeated.

The plot never thickens: kissing in a lobby, patting in a cab, fucking at my apartment. However, this time, it does.

Once the cab lights disappeared in the evening haze, I found myself standing in front of the old shack with a door losing battle to a bark beetle. The place looks long abandoned. Is it a sort of temple? It's no surprise the door is locked. I was a little boozed up, so I tried to push on it with a shoulder — it finally gave way to us just after a few rounds of my humiliation. In a complete doom and gloom inside, I could hardly see you stripping. But I felt your lips, tender and impatient; I just couldn’t stop kissing you!! I never did…

Your tongue gets interlaced with mine, your lips are so delicate, and your hair smells so nice... You’re leaning towards me, and it’s damn worth each and every moment!!

I grip your hips, pull up your dress, and squeeze your firm buttocks like peaches — the scent of your juice, coupled with your fragrance, appears to dance graciously inside my brain. I squeeze your tits, enjoying their soft skin and shape. I vigorously massage your boobs so you could feel me under your skin. Your hair is messy, your cheeks are burning, and your lips are somewhat swollen outside. I’m fatigued already, but you aren’t even close — you’re ten years younger, babe...

I was afraid your little minx wouldn’t show up. Gosh, I was wrong!! You want me as much as I want you. I’m patting your thighs, your eyes are wide open — they’re just irresistible. I pick you up, and while you’re snuggling into my arms, I eliminate your bra latch with teeth. Your long pink nipples drastically cheered up, finally breaking the lacy shackles.

In the moonlight, I drop you down the smelly battered chair right in front of the window, almost seeing through your naked body. I could even savor the symmetry of areolas around each nipple.

Baby, you’re the wildest thing I have ever met in my entire life, and that’s why I never married you. But I know you still love me. You don’t fuck just to fuck. I’m exposing the groin against your head and running my fingers over your spine. I see your eyes twinkling and your lips poking out. "Come on, baby," I beg you, patience isn’t my virtue.

I knew it wouldn’t be long until you gave in. I move your head a little closer so that you don’t have a choice unless you sink into my balls. You make yourself comfortable in the chair, licking my genitals with your eyes closed. I grasp your ears, regulating the rhythm. You’re groaning like a real bitch.

My shaft goes back and forth right into your mouth, liberating your hidden desires. I feel the night's heat in you, and I love it!! You shudder slightly with the first push, like you’ve never done it before. You sit up straight in the chair, grasping my ass and taking it deeper with each new thrust. You swallow my balls, making rounds, giving each a thorough exam. I’m all shivering. You’re happy to examine my testicles and penis, penis and testicles. Some rough movements of your tongue tend to intensify my ending, but your tender lips make such a perfect compression around the tip that I don’t want to cum fast. Finally, I pull you closer by the hair and pour your throat with my liquid. Yeah, I’m done. Your turn, babe.&nbsp;

I got into your vulva, slightly rubbing your blistering clit. You're all wet, and I’m caressing you inside with smooth moves. You are so vulnerable; my power over you overwhelms me. I caress you more intensely; your loud moans turn me on more and more. Your beautiful breasts claim their glory in my filthy grip. You stroke my cock, I gently squeeze your nipples, massaging the areolas. Then, I ran your hand down to the clit so you could feel that moist of yours. What a lovely view!! You’re so good. I hope this tension between us never ends for years, but it's somewhat delusional.

I turn your butt around on the chair, poking against me. You grab the chair back, your knees stand still on the chair, and I carefully remove your red heels off your feet, which, for some reason, are still on. Your legs are gorgeous, with a thick brown down over the velvet skin. I tenderly kiss your buttocks, grip your hips, and begin piercing you delicately. You tremble, producing some inaudible sounds, which I assumed you were pleading guilty that way.

I set the rhythm, and you fiercely put your hole onto my penis. I keep an extremely delicate demeanor, my moves are balanced, and I want your sensation now.

Again, I gently squeeze your C cups so heavy I could hardly hold them, enjoying some natural elasticity and warmth. Your moans were louder as I continued exploring your tight shell. I felt natural heat inside. The soft petals enveloped my penis, and gently stroked it. I couldn’t help your shivering, but I guess you were cumming.

I let you rest for a moment, resting inside of you. We continued standing on all fours. I hold you tighter now, trying to kiss your back as much as my long neck lets me…heh heh.

We lie beside each other on the stinky carpet, now exhausted. You're so graceful in your nudity, relaxed, and enjoying yourself, even though it’s pretty cold. I gently outline your eyebrows and nose with my fingertips, stroke your cheeks, and caress your lips, bursting with kisses. You squint from my touches, and I look with pleasure at your beautiful, lush breasts with some swollen nipples. Your light brown public hair mesmerizes me like it used to all past years.

I feel sorry for damaging you, your labia and vagina walls must be sore, but you've been pouring out another date with all your juice, and that's how we're used to it, too. I’ll remember you stripping in the moonlight, seeping through the old broken window. I’ll remember your blue eyes permanently closed, gazelle long legs, gorgeous gown… And your words never said I will remember, too.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;

I glanced at my watch — almost 7 a.m. Tuesday morning. I was worried you would have to bring up the tiniest and the finest part of me in your stomach to our beloved hubby. Or you take pills? What d’you usually tell ‘im?

I've just noticed the splendor and elegance of the window frame, emphasizing the grandeur and elegance of the room. Four sculptured lotus flowers decorated each corner of the ceiling. It's obviously not a temple, but where else could one spot some real stained glass? I’m far from it, but it generally looks more gothic than Roman-style leaded glass. The walls are thin, and you see these lancet windows with arch tops in old Europe in multiple colors, usually black, brown, or red. Today, colors are faded, though. I don’t want our feelings going that way, too. I just can’t accept such a course of events.

At the outset of the Ukrainian invasion, I looked to help where I could. Through my businesses and contacts, I was able to send foods and other goods to help refugees and those escaping the bombs and missiles. As I own a number of properties, I also decided to provide three apartments to people needing to leave Ukraine, also providing work and support while they built new lives. So far, I'm hosting 4 women and have hosted 8 in total.

Anyway, while helping these women, I continued my search for a partner and met Lyudmila "Milly". From our first conversations, I explained that I was helping women from Ukraine in England and she accepted this, but had many questions. All of which I answered.

We met in Poland and I arranged a web call with the girls here and we seemed to have addressed her concerns. It was then that we decided that we would try to live together in England.

Almost from the first day, we had issues. Milly wanted to know why I continued to help these women. Why they had my number and could call on me. Two of the women worked in one of my restaurants and whenever I visited this business, she wanted to come with me...and I never refused.

After about a week, Milly asked me if I could find other jobs for the two women working for me...and I explained that due to their limited English, opportunities were limited, but I would speak with friends with other businesses. Then, after an argument, she told me that I had to throw the women out of the apartments and have nothing to do with them. I gave no belief that anything was happening with these women and allowed Milly to travel with me and speak with the women I help at any time.

I explained I couldn't remove the accommodation or work from these women and Milly became aggressive and violent. I had to call the police and had Milly removed from my house. I provided her with a ticket to return to Poland and told her not to contact me again.

After speaking with the girls I host, I was told that they were not shocked and I should expect this from other women. Now I wonder, do I need to look for relationships elsewhere, while I continue to host and help people who need it?

Milly was a really nice woman in many ways, beautiful, funny and usually happy, but I cannot remove the help these other women need. I wonder, am I wrong?

True story . Memories from years ago with my loved one . Unfortunately she is not with us today , but the memory of her will always be with us who loved her. 

I went to the bedroom took of my clothes and lied down.I like to lay naked under the cover. You came in . You started stripping, slowly..Your black dress wich you look so sexy in fell to the floor .Your black stockings that covered your legs, that lace bra and panties also black , was hot on you . You look so amazing in everything you wear honey, and you always turn me on.You came to the bed and sat down.I moved towards you..I put my hands around you . My hands started caressing your breast ...Oh, I love your tits, perfectly shaped for my hands. I undid your bra, it fell to the floor without a sound.I continued to stroke your now naked breast, I felt your nipples getting harder from my touch. I teased the nipples, my fingers pinched them....I kissed your neck, while I moved my right hand down your belly , further down. My hand reached the front part of your panties..You felt my cock on your back, how hard it got being so close to you. You turned around embracing me tightly your soft breasts pressing against my chest. Your erect nipples felt so good on my skin....And we kissed, a deep hungry kiss. Our tongues danced wildly...lips parted but close.My both hands moved down your back,  to your firm ass...I slid them under your panties and stroke your buttocks , ah, the feeling of your soft naked skin drives me wild. My right hand moves to your right leg, to your inner thigh...I inserted my hand in your panties and rubbed your smooth pussy, the clit... Your pussy is so soft and wet honey....Honey, stand up " I said" I pulled down your panties and kissed your wet pussy . I tongue fuck you and lick your juice for a while, God you taste so good . You moaned , I could tell you liked my mouth between your legs ....Suddenly you push me down on the bed. You started to stroke my cock, fingering it slowly, teasing me. You feel how hard it gets .You begin to lick it , all along the shaft, up to my now swollen cockhead . You put it in your mouth and start sucking....Mmmmm you know how to turn your man on....While you are sucking me, my hand is stroking your now very wet pussy , I put two fingers in your hole , In and out, so slippery ...My thumb is teasing your clit. While your tongue and lips gives me heavenly pleasure ...... Honey , " I say " Ride me, please.....Sure baby " You say " With pleasure . You sit down on me, slowly you sink down , all the way ... My...my " I say " The sensation of feeling your wet , slippery pussy around my erect cock , all the way in . You start riding me. Slow at first and then faster . Seeing you on top of me, your tits and the sweet feeling of your divine tight pussy caressing my swollen hard cock . I want to fill you , explode in you , Ride me baby !!!! I want to cum inside you ... I feel how wet you are, your juices drip all over my cock and pelvis ... I love it .... Fuck me honey , faster....harder ...Feel my pulsating cock....Ahhh I am coming baby ... feels so good .....Come with me .... Squirt all over me ... Feel how I fill you with my sperm..... Let me lick you clean after.....

I have read a few responses, the choice to be alone is not always an actual choice but more of a choice of acceptance. I accepted the fact that I am alone and that I always will be alone and that it is much easier to be alone. For having people close to invites pain into your life. Most people let you down and hurt you anyway. So why continue to search for something that has a high chance of suffering... Good luck to those who find others to care for them. Love is rare. Death and taxes inevitable.

Lonely is not always a choice 

This happened so long ago that I could hardly remember how old I was, probably something near fifty. It was a dark and stormy night a few days before New Year's Eve.&nbsp;

The snow fell, making up snow banks about twenty inches high, accompanied by a violent gust of wind called a real arctic blizzard. Or, it could be that my memory is exaggerating the stuff. But that is not the point.&nbsp;

It was my shift in the old boiler room where I worked. I was called urgently because another operator who was supposed to maintain the things that night suddenly got sick. I was glad the shift had dropped out of the blue: there would be no inspections at that time of the year. And I hoped to get a good nap after setting things up.

The boiler itself was ancient, but the pumps were pretty quiet. The stormy weather couldn’t leave me alone, banging the large windows.

I was about to lie down when I suddenly heard the doorbell ring. When I unlocked the deadbolt, a vast white coat flew in. Looking closer, I recognized a spinner from the mill. No better idea came to my mind of what brought her here but the weather itself.

She looked something around forty, as I say — was entirely covered in snow and, apparently, completely numb. Since I quit drinking a long ago, I could easily smell alcohol — she was wasted. However, I stepped back as if inviting my Snow Queen to come over to the light of my shack.&nbsp;

She looked startled, if not surprised, watching me take off her crusty coat as if she had expected me to be someone else. Suddenly, I heard her confident and soft voice: she said she had missed the last bus and was heading up downtown and wanted to warm up a little. She walked deeper into the light of my room, looking around discreetly. Something told me this was not the first time this woman had been there.

I remember awarding her with the loveliest smile I could ever make of myself. She looked like a plumpy provincial working woman with impressive curves, a fatigued round face, and very sensual puffy lips.&nbsp;

She was dressed poorly — a shabby wool dress enveloped her heavy posture. The dim light did not let me observe her body accurately.&nbsp;

I took the lady by the hand and led her to the sofa. I had nothing to offer her but a cup of tea. She was silent; not a word I’ve heard from her ever since she shared her story briefly. And I was not a prying type.&nbsp;

It was a real heat inside, so she fell onto the sofa and seemed to fall asleep immediately. The pumps circulated steadily as the blizzard howled, but she seemed to care less. I threw my sweatshirt on the floor, lay down, and finally was ready to nap...

I was woken up by my guest lying next to me and kissing my face and eyes, kissing my lips. I wasn’t expecting such a course of events but hoped for it deep inside. Who am I kidding? I felt awesome.&nbsp;

All that was left on her was her bra — no panties whatsoever. I have to confess I haven’t touched a soft female body for quite a while since the divorce. She was very sensual and quickly responded to my moves.&nbsp;

I had never been a big fan of heavy chicks, but this time, I was totally knocked out by her looks the first moment I saw her. With my right hand, I touched her large butt and, with the left squeezing her huge tits incarcerated in that old bra. We never stopped kissing. Her red lips were mesmerizing, and her hands visited my body's nooks and crannies in some kind of magical dance. And suddenly, a wave of arousal washed over me. For some reason, she seemed like a humble and sensitive girl.

She looked terrific lying all naked on the floor. She was a real gem. She sat on top of me, but being quite a big guy myself, I did not feel any extra load above myself. I grabbed her juicy buttocks with my hands to synchronize, not daring to take my eyes off the heavy breasts perpetually shaking. The intensity of the movements increased. Two enormously gigantic silhouettes interlaced on the wall in some contorted moves. After a few minutes, a vast love spasm ran through my body from tip to toe.

The boilers hummed, and the blizzard moaned. It has never been that hot in the boiler room...

The following day, waking up, I didn't recognize any sign or a scent of an astounding creature visiting me yesterday. Or was it just a dream??

This piece I found just recently when clearing the rubble in the garage. To recall it, that last date mentioned was followed by another laconic verbal sparring, a series of which eventually led to the beginning of our official divorce process (assets, liabilities, income, expenses, etc.). That misery I felt reading it has been pursuing me until now. I almost have forgotten her facial features, though. However, it’s not that simple, given the flamboyant looks. Those days are gone, washing away my sorrows and blurring my grievances. An immaculate dream that never comes true. Did she love me? I never had doubts about that, and I still don’t. It’s probably my inborn rigidity that constrains me, building fences around my pathetic self. No affection, even to people you care about, cannot last for ages. A hard heart longs for solitude. Nothing but these memoirs that helped me find peace of mind.

Home alone. Again. Over and over and over… ain't it funny? Am I just a fuckable fancy doll? It’s so convenient, for Pete’s sake. Well, the story of my life. I’m too stupid to get a job. Ginger means it when she calls him a snag. But is it his fault? Chores never divided, I know where I belong. But I feel empty inside, like a bubble going up in the sky, flying solo as usual. What a short path from “you're my everything” to just nothing. That's crucifying me.

Today, I got a strange phone number glamorizing dust on the rear windshield for the second time. The number is different now. This I remember well. First, I thought it was a butcher's boy, Andy. His stupid pranks of a kind that had driven me insane have come to naught since he met Sally. Besides, he was just sixteen back then. Burning with curiosity, I wrote it down in my notebook instead of wiping it off. And I dialed it right there at the gas station. It was Sammy's. Weirdly, a guy with whom we attended the math class. We never dated or anything alike, nor did he have a crush on me. But his tone was quite intrusive and persuasive, so I just hung up. It’s the second time he's been intruding during a month, I believe the first message was his doing.

8 a.m. My beloved husband is already gone. I couldn't sleep a wink. Sammy's voice didn't get out of my head. I thought I had nothing to lose if I saw him. Besides, nobody cares about what I feel and what I do. Hell, I’m going to call him again.

2 p.m. Agreed to meet in the back parking lot behind his office building. Funny, but I recognized him; he was so cute, and I couldn’t help but hug him. I was just small talk like “you never changed,” and so on. Then he said he'd better be going back to work and suggested we meet Friday night or any time convenient. I hugged him goodbye and felt my body move in for a kiss. Amazingly, I couldn’t stop it.

We began texting after our first date and seeing each other much more. Lyfo's, pizzeria in the mall, Cedar Park by the town hall. Today, we drove into his house just a block away from downtown. Without hesitation, I'd give myself to him, but nothing happened. I’m still so happy today and can’t stop smiling.

My husband was called off from work. All the morning hours were spent sitting in the darkness of our tiny living room. Saying no word, just sipping coffee. He's usually on the phone 24/7 when he works from home. He then told me his dad would stay with us for a few days. I can’t stand the old man, nor is he very flattered to see me. My father-in-law is a douchebag. Besides, he's the boss and always hurts many people. What's even worse is that he's got no respect for women. That's what I hate about them both, the way they think it's their right to treat a woman they do. Gosh, they're worth one another and the life they live.

To this day, I’ve been extremely hesitant about sharing all that happened to me almost three weeks ago through paper and ink.&nbsp;

For better or worse, it’s never caused disgrace deep in my heart. But again, in no universe, I've ever thought of cheating on my husband. I believe he hasn’t, either. Three weeks have passed, but I still don’t feel even a hint of guilt or anxiety. Although, whenever my memories bring me back to the scene, I fall into silent hysterics. That's why I'm writing it down.&nbsp;

Recollecting events, I'm still feeling horny. I think my panties are wet, and my nipples swell any time I remember how Sam is different from my husband. Sammy and I couldn’t hide that sexual tension between us any longer. It was Sammy's birthday. We decided to celebrate it at his home. We had time until 6 p.m. when I had to rush back home to the other side of the town.&nbsp;

I'm lying barely naked on Sammy's bed; my eyes are shut. He's gently getting rid of my pinky panties and starts pulling my clit with his finger. He’s kissing my stomach and below the waistline. I'm trembling from tip to toe. A delicious languor is stealing over me. It didn’t take long until I felt that impulse inside. He was thrusting me like I believe he’d never done to any woman before. Gosh, he's got a really gigantic shaft with a huge purple tip.

Those days I'd been grateful for my hubby are long gone. It wasn’t even his size but the entire process, quick and sort of detached. Always the same missionary position, slow moves, but at the same time, always in a hurry to get somewhere God knows where.&nbsp;

It's been entirely different with Sam. It was never a routine like you know what the odds are. No lustful glances, no hints. Just instincts without a word. Sam never was flirting with me, no, because I didn’t want to and wasn't used to it. I’ve never been used to massage or even simple caressing. I once thought I'd never closed my eyes with my husband, just as I had to keep him under control. I know it sounds stupid, but this is how it works.&nbsp;

Sam grabbed me by the hair and started going deeper, but now from the back. That was the first time I was taken from behind. I was on the edge and just moaned and then murmured something stupid.&nbsp; Suddenly, Sammy pulled his dick out and came on my back. I didn’t know what to do but didn’t care — I had already come for the second time. It was a more substantial and much longer culmination than the previous one. It may sound dry only because I lack proper words to describe everything.&nbsp;

Then, after a few minutes, Sam laid on his back and asked me to ride him like a horse, or I’d rather say — a stud. I chuckled and closed my eyes; I felt only pleasure that seemed everlasting. A few minutes later, I came again, so powerfully that I passed out for a moment. My pussy was burning. That’s about it.&nbsp; What’s done is done. No regrets now.

One evening, as I settled deeper into my armchair, the monotony of the day seemed to weigh heavily on my soul. It was an evening like any other, marked by the quiet hum of routine and the silent passage of time. Yet, within the confines of my quiet room, a surge of emotion stirred within me, an urgent need to voice the story that had remained untold, festering like a wound beneath the surface of my existence.

I reminisced about the days when ambition fueled my every decision, a time when pride overshadowed the need for simple acts of kindness. She was the antithesis of all that I embodied—a beacon of light and love so pure, it seemed she had been crafted from the very essence of happiness itself. Our youth tricked us into believing we had an eternity ahead of us, but I was too engrossed in my own world, too blind to see the treasure I was neglecting. We were young, both of us at the threshold of 30, believing we had all the time in the world. I was too caught up in my own pursuits, too blind to see the love I was squandering.

She wanted more than my love; she sought my attention, my presence, my acts of kindness—elements I failed to provide. My realization came too late, only after she had decided to walk away, leaving a void so profound that all my subsequent efforts to fill it proved in vain. The warmth of her presence, once a constant in my life, had become an elusive memory, impossible to recapture.

Decades have passed since then, each day a stark reminder of the love I let slip through my fingers. The sound of her laughter, once a melody to my ears, now haunts me like a specter, a reminder of what I've lost. In my quest for redemption, I endeavored to become a man worthy of her love, yet the stark reality is that without her, I am merely a shell of the man I once aspired to be.

They say time heals all wounds, but some cuts are too deep, too profound, ever truly to mend. I miss her, not just the joy of our past but the future we never shared, that we were never afforded the chance to explore together…

As I penned down these thoughts, the silence of the room enveloped me, the rhythmic patter of the rain against the window serving as a mournful accompaniment to my reflections. My tale, a narrative of love lost and the enduring shadow of regret, echoed in the stillness, a somber reminder of the fleeting nature of happiness and the consequences of one's failings.

I've learned too late the value of kindness and the importance of giving love and oneself wholly to another. If only I could turn back time, I would do it all differently. But life doesn't afford us such luxuries. All I can do now is live with the echo of my mistakes and the absence of her love.

My tale, a reflection of a man looking back on a life of missed opportunities and unfulfilled love, ended not with a conclusion but a quiet resignation to my fate. It is a story of what could have been, a lament for a love that once was, and the enduring ache of a heart forever marked by its loss.

Chapter One: Beginning with Glimpses of Hope

I had a friend named "XY" (...years old), a software engineer who worked remotely and felt lonely despite his professional success. In 2023, he decided to look for a life partner from Ukraine. He had heard about their beauty and "commitment to family." He began his journey on dating sites, paid $50 to purchase credits, and met "Olga," a nurse from Kyiv. The conversations were enjoyable, but she canceled twice due to her mother's illness. After three months, he discovered that her photo was taken from a public figure's Instagram account!

Adam tried 30 sites over two years, paying a lot of money for messages in between. Notice something strange:

70% of the accounts repeated the same names and photos (such as "Irina," "Katya," or "Anastasia"), even on different sites! Over the course of two years.

Robotic responses: "Hi, I love traveling and movies. How about you?"

Some might wonder why my friend "XY" didn't travel, as it's well known that Ukraine is difficult to travel to after the war.

Once: VK asked him for $200 to travel to his country because she didn't have the money! But he immediately blocked her. He wondered if $200 covered the cost of traveling from one country to another?

Another time: A girl asked for gifts after just two days of chatting because it was her birthday.

By the second year, Adam had become an expert at spotting fake accounts:

If the photo was too perfect (like a model), it was stolen.

If the English translation was too perfect (while she claimed she didn't speak English), there was a scam team behind it.

But even the "real" accounts weren't serious. He met "Anna", who agreed to marry him within two months of talking, but she disappeared when he asked to see her via video!

Chapter Four: The Shock That Changed Everything

On a cold day in December 2023, while Adam was browsing a new website, He came across a familiar image: "OG," the girl who had scammed him two years earlier!

Same photo, same bio, but with a new name: "Alina"!

He realized then that 80% of the sites were run by the same scammers.

Chapter Five: The End... or the Beginning?

XY didn't give up and decided to look for a different way. Since he hadn't used the well-known sites, he looked for new, reliable ones until he found his wife. He married in early 2025, and now he and his wife live happily. He advised me to marry a Ukrainian woman, but I didn't want to make the same mistakes and didn't want to waste too much time wondering if I could find a girl here within a few months.

I got his permission before publishing the story.

We appreciate the personal story shared in this post. At the same time, we would like to reassure our readers that our platform is committed to ensuring a safe and trustworthy experience.

✅ All female profiles on our website are verified through ID checks and photo verification.

🚫 We do not tolerate any form of fraud or manipulation.

🛡️ Our team actively monitors activity on the site and investigates every report of suspicious behavior.

We understand the importance of trust in online dating and are doing everything possible to support sincere communication and meaningful connections.

If you have any questions or concerns, please don’t hesitate to contact our support team.