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Fucked By The Monster Under My Bed—1

Author: Layo

Last Updated: 2025-05-23 00:05:18

They always say don’t joke about the thing under the bed.

Like if you talk about it too much, it’ll crawl out.

But I’ve never been the kind of girl who listens.

Especially not with my legs spread and my fingers soaked, whispering, "If you're real, come out and fuck me already."

It started as a joke. The kind of thing I’d say after too much wine and not enough dick. Some dumb fantasy about a monster under the bed—big, rough, inhuman. Something that didn’t care about manners or consent or dinner dates.

Something that would just take.

And tonight, for the first time, it doesn’t feel like a joke anymore.

The air is heavy.

Like the room’s holding its breath.

I’m sprawled across my sheets, naked, aching. I’ve been touching myself for what feels like hours—grinding slow and hard against my hand, chasing a high that won’t come. It’s like my body knows I’m not alone. Like it’s waiting for something more.

I glance at the shadow under the bed.

It looks darker than usual.

Deeper.

Almost like some

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Crave: A Collection Of Wicked Desires Milked By The Witch—3
She rode his tongue like she owned it.Because she did.Every time her cunt slid against his mouth, every time she moaned and tightened her grip on his cock, she reminded him that his body was no longer his own. She fucked his face and stroked him in the same rhythm, using both ends of him until he lost track of which part of him she controlled more.The vines pulsed tighter at his base. His balls were swollen, full, desperate. Every time her slick ran down his throat, his cock throbbed and spilled more precum. Not an ounce of relief—just build, and build, and build.And she didn’t stop.She angled her hips, riding his tongue deeper, grinding on his face until he couldn’t breathe without inhaling her. Her moans turned guttural. Her cunt clenched and gushed, soaking him in wave after wave of heat.And still—still—she didn’t let him come.His cock stood red and straining, veins bulging, every inch soaked from tip to base. She stroked him lazily now, like she was playing with a toy that
Crave: A Collection Of Wicked Desires Milked By The Witch—2
His chest was painted in cum and spit, slick from sweat, and glistening with the witch’s juices. He lay limp beneath her, thighs trembling, lips parted in disbelief. Two orgasms, back-to-back, harder than anything he’d felt in his life—and yet, his cock refused to soften. It pulsed inside her like it belonged there, thick and swollen, still being milked by every flex of her cunt.She stayed seated on him, her slick heat still wrapped tight around his shaft. Her eyes glowed now, pupils wide with hunger. Her hair was wild, skin flushed and marked with faint runes that shimmered like blood beneath the moonlight. She traced a fingertip across his sternum, cooing like he was a prized beast.“You’re fighting less,” she murmured, dragging her cunt in a slow, teasing circle around his base. “That’s good. The knot will take better that way.”He blinked up at her, throat dry. “The what—?”She snapped her fingers.The vines tightened again—this time around his thighs, spreading him open even fur
Crave: A Collection Of Wicked Desires Milked By The Witch—1
The deeper he went, the wetter the earth got, soaking through his boots and chilling his ankles. Fog coiled low like a living thing, curling around trees with bark slick as oil. And that scent—thick, humid, maddening—wasn’t rot or moss. It was sweet. Like sweat and cunt. He shouldn’t have followed it.But his cock had been hard since dusk.The hunter’s breath steamed in the cold air, but sweat glued his shirt to his back. He gritted his teeth and pushed forward, ignoring the unnatural throb in his groin. That ache had started the night the curse hit him—three moons ago, when he stumbled out of a warlock’s lair half-dead and hard. No spellbreaker could fix it. Every priest turned him away. No rest. No release. Just pressure, burning him from the inside out.Then came the rumors. The Witch of the Hollow. Said to cure any curse—but she always took payment in flesh.He reached a clearing.The scent hit him harder here, dizzying and drugging. His cock throbbed violently, pushing hard again
Crave: A Collection Of Wicked Desires Bent Over By The Farm Boy—3
I grabbed her by the hips, pulled her off the table like she weighed nothing, and carried her to the window.She whimpered, legs weak, body boneless in my arms. Her pussy was raw, leaking a mess of both of us down her thighs, but I wasn’t giving her a break.Not yet.I pressed her against the wall, right next to the open window where the evening light spilled in, soft and golden, casting a glow on her wrecked, sweaty skin. I turned her face toward the glass so she could see her reflection—see what I’d done to her.“You look ruined,” I whispered, my breath hot against her ear. “Do you see yourself?”She nodded, barely.“Good. That’s mine. You’re mine.”She shivered, chest rising fast, eyes glassy as she stared out, her cheek against the frame.“You think I didn’t notice?” I said, dragging my cock against her ruined slit, not pushing in yet, just teasing. “The way you looked at me when I was working out there in the sun. Thought I didn’t feel your eyes burning into me every time I took
Crave: A Collection Of Wicked Desires Bent Over By The Farm Boy—2
I grabbed her by the waist again, dragging her back onto the table before she could straighten up. She let out a breathy sound, part moan, part surprise, but didn’t fight it. Her skin was slick with sweat, her thighs trembling, pussy already red and dripping with what I left inside her.Didn’t matter.I needed her again.This time, I didn’t go slow. I shoved two fingers back inside her, curling them deep, watching her jolt and arch like I’d shocked her. She was too sensitive, too fucked out—but she still ground down on my hand like she needed more, like her body hadn’t had enough of me. She was still open, still hot and soaking wet, already tightening around my fingers like she was begging for something bigger again.“Still needy?” I muttered, pressing my lips to her shoulder, biting just hard enough to make her hiss. “I just came in you, Riley.”“Then do it again.”I laughed, low and rough, and pulled my fingers out to smear her wetness over her ass. She gasped when I slid the head o
Crave: A Collection Of Wicked Desires Bent Over By The Farm Boy—1
She didn’t know I watched her.But I did. Every fucking day.My name’s Liam. I came to the farm two months ago after her ad went up in town—“Help needed. Private farm. Good pay.” No questions, no bullshit. Just land, labor, and the kind of silence I craved.Her name was Riley. Barely thirty. She walked like someone who’d been left behind one too many times. Tight jeans, muddy boots, always barefoot in the house. Her lips didn’t smile much, but her mouth? It was made to be ruined.I kept my distance. Did the work. Fixed the fences, hauled the bales, broke my sweat under the sun just so I didn’t break something else. She’d watch me sometimes through the kitchen window, pretending she wasn’t. I let her. It was part of the deal, silent or not—we both needed something, and neither of us wanted to say it.But today?Today she gave it to me.I’d just come back from fixing the pump by the east fence, sweat soaked into my jeans, shirt hanging off my back pocket. I walked past the house on my

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