[F4M] [Adv Lit] The DILF, The Fortune, and The Homewrecker

Over a decade of dissatisfaction. A decade of dry handjobs before bed. A decade of sagging tits and middle-aged spread. Committees and dinner parties and charity events and “Karen” haircuts and “Honey, will you…” and “Honey, please don’t…”. You had become the couple you swore you’d never become. Those awful friends of your parents who pinched at your cheeks, the wives treating the husbands like dancing monkeys, the husbands beating off in the shower at 6am before work. She whittled away at who you were. The fun, handsome, charming guy you used to be. You used to have a good time. You used to have friends that weren’t Randy from the Mailroom. You used to get LAID. Like… a lot. Then this woman came, this perfect, preening woman who dazzled you into a life of religiously sanctified monogamy. But it was all a ruse. A disguise for the war of attrition your marriage became. You could literally feel your balls shrink as she nagged and nagged. You weren’t making enough money. You needed to get a haircut. You needed a new razor. You needed a new tie. She had needs too you know. You needed to stop drinking. You needed to work out.

But then… the novel you’d been working on, your “little hobby” as your wife called it, was published and flew off the shelves with a, frankly, obscene movie deal within six months. You might as well have won the lottery. Those late nights adding chapters after the long days at your soul-sucking job followed by nights of microwaved TV dinners and the hope that you’d get anything else sucked going unfulfilled. Your wife fucked you for the first time in three years the night your first royalty cheque arrived, and it was then you realised that now you could have more. It was comical how quickly she tossed aside your old middle-class suburban friends when she found out she would be mingling with a whole new breed of people. The glamorous, affluent Manhattan life she always dreamed of growing up watching ‘Sex And The City’. You had your own ideas.

Over the last fifteen years you saw yourself become the epitome of the unhappily married couple. A cliché of the most banal order. You figured, why not become another cliché. Where at least you could have some fun.

So you did what any newly rich middle-aged man would do. You cheated on your wife with a slew of women half your age. You finally began working out again, much to your wife’s delight (little did she know it was so you could hold up influencers and TikTok starlets against the wall of a hotel room). You bought a fancy new car and a fancy penthouse apartment. You started dressing like a man of means. You started taking nudes. Despite your crows feet and belly flab you had girls who lived at the gym and measured out almonds for dinner sliding into your DMs practically begging for your cock. You went on debauched nights out in SoHo with celebrities and other famous-adjacent people. You snorted coke off cleavage. You had threesomes, foursomes, full-on orgies. You started getting stalkers and you would let the hot ones gargle on your nutsack. You would wake up in a suite at the Ritz to discover you’d used a pair of tits as your pillow. After years of aping at being a progressive, forward-thinking nice guy, you decided to accept the way society worked and that it completely worked in your favour. You were a man of a certain age, but all that meant was that you had matured into DILF status while your wife faded. There was practically an entire film genre dedicated to venerating men like you, making villainous harpies out of the wife characters and casting supermodels to play the new love interest. You used to be nice and mild-mannered and it got you two-weeks of annual leave and a frigid wife. Now you were a massive douchebag and you got an invite to the Oscars and the runner-up for best actress saved in your contacts as ‘Blonde Loves Anal’. You slowly but surely fucked, drank, danced and played your manhood back. Suddenly your wife was attracted to you again, this new you. But these new girls, who grew up with social media and about five-hundred more reasons to be insecure were way better company. No point denying it. You were a man in a mid-life crisis. Oh well.

But it was when you met her. The model. That everything changed. You thought she was gonna be yet another cum-and-go, a Gen-Z smokeshow that would suck your cock in a feminist way. But she was actually fun to be around. Fun to talk to. She engaged and excited you. Not only was she the best fuck in New York (and you had fucked your way around quite a bit by then), she had a brilliant mind and she made you feel that warm buzzy feeling you thought you’d felt with your wife. You were in love. Especially when she revealed her dark side to you. The depraved, psycho prom queen side. She told you that she didn’t just want you to divorce your wife for her. No. She wanted to break her, to team up with you to destroy the old bitch. To bring a sanding device to all those sharp edges until she was nothing but an ovular, subservient slave. She unlocked something within you too. A kind of darkness, a cruelty that had long been repressed. You too wanted to show your wife, this harpy, the League her husband was now playing in. The tight, fresh, beautiful babe he now had sucking his cock every morning. So began the psychological nuclear war. And beyond that? The two of you seemed to find purpose in one another, a mission to corrupt the corruptible and find kindred spirits, and then to destroy and ruin the weak.

Let me know if this is something you’d be interested in!

My general list of kinks include:

Torture, dub/noncon, filming, blackmail, manipulation, general wickedness and wrongdoing, misogyny, older men, age gaps, creampies, dad bods, big, hairy, musky balls, sleazy men, humiliation, degradation, cheating, cuckqueen, creative dirty talk/arrogant sleazy men, snuff, taboo, casual nudity, free-use, sex slaves/bimboification, anal, drugs, incest

I’m fairly limitless. I would ask that you are detailed (at least a paragraph or two) and creative. Also, I would like you to not hold back. I hope I’ve conveyed that I’m pretty fucked up, I am looking for someone to match me. I am 18+ and all characters and participants must be 18+.