LOGINEighty-five filthy stories. Eighty-five ways to fuck you raw. This isn’t romance. This is 100% sex—cocks filling dripping pussies, tongues licking where they shouldn’t, and hands pinning you down until you’re begging for release. A thousand sins running in your veins, and not one you’ll regret. From priests breaking their vows to fuck you on the altar, to stepfathers spreading you open on the kitchen counter…You’ll taste the sweat of a gym instructor’s private session… making you moan with every “stretch,” to professors grading your obedience with their cock deep in your throat—this collection will leave you soaked, shaking, and ruined. Your landlord will make you pay rent in the filthiest ways imaginable. You’ll be sold to the highest bidder at a dark, private auction, stripped and displayed like a prize to be claimed. Doctors will have you naked on their table, touching you in ways that have nothing to do with medicine, while gynecologists spread you wide and push deep, “examining” you until you’re dripping down their gloves. These virgins will get their bellies pumped full of cum, fingers ripping through tight, wet walls until they’re screaming, crying, and begging for more. Rough punishments, public fucks, forbidden touches, and nights so dirty you’ll need to shower twice—only to touch yourself all over again. Get your towels. Get your tissues. Get ready to be fucked by every fantasy you’ve ever had… and a hundred you didn’t know you wanted. If you can’t handle raw, filthy, dripping-hot sex—close the book. If you want your pussy aching, your ass red, and your mind corrupted—welcome to your new favorite addiction.
View MoreEmily.He kept shooting his cock into my mouth, slamming into every corner with ruthless precision. The thick head battered the back of my throat, threatening to tear the delicate skin inside my mouth. I gagged hard, bubbles of spit and precum foaming at my lips with every brutal thrust, the wet, sloppy sounds filling the room like a filthy symphony. My hands gripped his thighs, then his knees, desperate for support as he took complete control. I wasn’t in charge anymore; he fucked my face like he owned it, one hand fisted tight in my hair, the other pressing my head down, forcing me to take every inch.My breasts pressed hard against his hips through my top, nipples aching as they rubbed with every jolt. His cock filled my mouth completely, stretching my jaw, veins pulsing against my tongue, the salty taste of precum flooding my senses.Suddenly, a hot, thick load exploded into my mouth—warm, endless ropes gushing down my throat, spilling out the corners when I couldn’t swallow
Emily.For a second, the old, professional me flickered back to life. The nurse who followed rules, who kept boundaries, who did the job and left with a polite smile. I should pull my hand away, finish the massage, collect my fee, and walk out with my dignity intact. But his eyes were locked on mine, then dropping to my cleavage where my nipples strained against the thin fabric, brushing his arm with every breath. My pussy throbbed so hard it hurt, the tight leggings suffocating my clit, pressing the seam right against it until I was terrified one shift would send me over the edge. If my clit had teeth, it would have shredded the fabric by now and let the flood pour out.My hand was already inside his sweatpants, fingers wrapped around the thick, pulsing heat of him, slick with the precum leaking steadily from the tip. My ovaries were screaming, jumping, demanding I stop pretending and just take what we all wanted. My whole body trembled—hand shaking around his cock, caught be
Emily. I had just finished packing my massage kit oils, towels, the foldable table, a few extras I definitely wasn’t licensed to use when the address popped up on my phone. A Marine, twenty-eight, full lower-body cast, “therapeutic massage required.” My pussy clenched so hard at the description I almost dropped the bottle of almond oil. It wasn’t part of my nursing contract, but my cunt had stopped caring about contracts months ago. It hunted now. And tonight it had scented prey.I skipped the scrubs. Instead I slipped into a thin white tank that clung to my nipples, high-waisted black leggings that looked painted on, and a tiny zip-up hoodie I had no intention of keeping closed. Hair loose, lips glossy, a hint of vanilla oil at my throat. Professional enough to get through the door. Slutty enough to make sure I never left the same way.I rang the bell three times before it opened.He filled the doorway like he was built to block it—six-four easy, shoulders stretching a plain
Emily. I never planned for it to happen. I became a nurse because I genuinely wanted to help people, to ease pain, to bring comfort when bodies failed. Home-service nursing paid better than the hospital, gave me flexible hours, and let me work one-on-one with patients who needed more than a quick ward visit. Set up drips, change dressings, monitor vitals, administer meds. That was the job description.The first time it crossed the line, I told myself it was an accident.Mr. Henderson, fourty -two, recovering from a hip replacement. He was supposed to be able to bathe himself with the shower chair, but the day I arrived he was trembling too hard to manage the soap. I helped him out of kindness steadying his arm, guiding the washcloth across his back. When my knuckles accidentally brushed the heavy weight of his cock hanging between his legs, he groaned low, hips twitching forward. I should have stepped back. I didn’t.Instead I watched, transfixed, as he thickened under th












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