This book is a compilation of short erotic stories which includes forbidden romance, dominating & Submissive romance, erotic romance and taboo romance, with cliffhangers. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental.This Erotic collection is loaded with hot, graphic sex! It is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters are represented as 18 or over.
view more“Amy, your father needs to talk to you about something important” announced the text message scrawled across my smartphone display. My fingers casually slid over the hard plastic case with the Playboy bunny icon emblazoned across the hot pink surface and I replied back with a quick “k” which was all my mom really deserved for going to Maui on a business trip of all things and having the gall to not take me with her. God what I wouldn’t have given at that moment to be on some sandy beach, soaking up some rays, drinking a beer like in those commercials or better yet drinking in the site of all those hot surfer boys running out of the wild ocean, their big, speedo covered bulges bobbing up and down as they ran towards me. Oh fuck yeah, totally need to get me some hot surfer boy bulge action. As I left the gym and walked out to my car, my shoulders slumped as the image of wet naked men fluttered away from my brain and was replaced with the awareness of two pimply fifteen year old boys ogling me from across the parking lot, both giving me sly, absurdly confident grins that were hilarious and sad at the same time.“Oh why yes, awkward little cocked boys are a big turn on for me, let’s go fuck on that super sexy BMX bicycle you got for your birthday last year. How late does your mommy let you stay out?” I thought to myself. I needed to remind myself not to be such a bitch, even in my own head. But seriously what the fuck are these guys thinking? Ok, I’ll admit it I like to flaunt what I have so I suppose I need to take some of the blame for the attention I get, but Jesus get a grip guys, like fucking seriously. Sometimes when some old fart is eye groping my tits I just want to lift up my shirt and bra and be all like “there you go, they’re boobs, you happy? Get a hobby!” It may sound like I am bitching but the idea of being some poor guy’s wet dream gets me hotter than anything else. I carefully pulled into my driveway, still hyper aware of my surroundings whenever I drove the brand new sapphire blue BMW my parents bought for me when I got my full ride to UCLA where I was set to start at as a freshman in about two months. The car still smelled new and the high tech dashboard made me feel like I was driving a UFO rather than an overpriced luxury. I threw my keys, Coach purse, and Dior taffeta etched cat eye sunglasses on the island in the center of the oversized kitchen in our home. Afternoon sun streamed through the big windows and I lunged towards the refrigerator, suddenly ravenous from the hard work out I had just completed. I clawed at some cold meat lover’s pizza and crammed it into my mouth shoving all those calories back into my body that I had just worked so hard to burn off at the gym. What can I say? I have impulse control issues. I heard a grunting from out in the back yard and I gazed out onto the expanse of grass and little gardens fenced off in chicken wire from the kitchen window. I could see a ruggedly handsome man in his mid-forties digging up a well embedded rock from the soil in one of our, would be gardens, a rake or hoe in his hands stabbing at the ground. The man wore dirty jeans and no shirt. His light tan skin was stretched over compact, solid muscles that shifted and flexed with the hard labor as he did battle against the unrelenting stone jutting from the dirt. My eyes slinked over his firm ass as the man’s torso swiveled in quick tight circles as he worked to get leverage. I wondered if he knew that from over here he looked like a stripper doing a badly rehearsed tease. I wondered if he knew that his accidental dance was getting me all slutty feeling. Like I had done many other times, at that moment I thanked my lucky stars that I had the world’s sexiest doctor daddy Maybe I should explain a little more before some of you get all bent out of shape, like you are all saints or something. Dr. Ben Morris was actually my step dad but that had never stopped me from calling him “daddy” and him from always referring to me as his “little girl”. He and my mom met about eight years previously and had been married for five. He had been more of a father to me than my real dad had ever been and my mom had always speculated that my willingness to embrace him and refer to him as “daddy” was a way of getting revenge against my real father who I did not talk to because he had left us when I was little. Anyway as I got older I found new reasons to appreciate the new man in my mom’s life and not just because he was a brilliant oncologist, treated my mom and me with respect, and had a way of scaring off guys that wouldn’t take no for an answer. The truth was that daddy had been making his little girl’s pussy wet for a long time whether he knew it or not. I mean honestly, I think the first time I made myself cum was when I accidently heard Ben and my mother fucking. Iknow gross but whatever. I reached under the pink tank top that I was wearing and unclasped my bra, it felt good to have the girls free but really I had another motive in mind. The hot pink designer Juicy Couture sweat pants I sometimes wore when I had nothing planned for the day were stretched to their utmost as they eagerly hugged every exaggerated contour of my bubble butt. My large breasts bounced happily as I made my way outside over to daddy. If the outline of my nipples weren’t visible through the pink fabric yet, they would be soon. I brushed my long blond hair back over my ear as a warm midday breeze tousled the fabric of my skimpy top. “You have a big one there don’t you daddy?” I said, being provocative. My daddy knew I had certain naughty proclivities and he seemed fine with going along with my infatuation as long as things didn’t go too far. He probably dismissed it as some girly little phase I was going through. How could such a smart guy be so wrong? “Well, you should know, you being the expert on big ones and all Amy” said daddy, still turned away from me and managing to not miss a beat. I could see rivulets of hot sweat winding their way over the hills and valleys of muscle on his browning back. His wavy dark brown hair was starting to go long and had a certain sheen from perspiration that made him all the more delicious. “Touché daddy, you know me so well” I said giggling like the idiot I became when he and I hinted dirty to one another. “You want some water?” I asked moving around so that I could at least face my little obsession. I practically shoved the frosty cold bottleof water into his grip, my dainty manicured finger nails lingering too long over earth covered hands that were more likely to mistaken as those of a jackhammer operator than a world renowned surgeon. “Thanks baby” he said, his espresso colored eyes moving up from the ground and cavorting over my womanly features- at least that’s what I hoped they were doing and my nipples went hard. “You really tore some shit up today dad” I said a little smirk creeping over my features. “I am going to pretend you are talking about the yard and not something else. And yes, I’ve been out here since seven this morning. I am trying to get those gardens planted for your mom before she gets back but I don’t know if it’s going to happen. There are way too many rocks and they have slowed me way down” he said surveying our yard while I pretended to be interested. “You work so hard daddy” I said as my thumbs pushed into his naked shoulders and neck, massaging the tight sinews of muscle that had bunched up over the course of the day. He groaned under my hands as if expelling a couple of demons. He craned his head back and closed his eyes as he let my fingers do their work, giving me ample opportunity to visually scour his defined chest and abs. My leering gaze crept from his rugged but stylishly hairy chest to his rippled torso and over the filthy pants he wore around his trim waist. The muscles from his abs curved down to a V shape and disappeared into his jeans and my imagination. My naughty kicked into overdrive. What excuse could I make up to massage his other parts? I had to wonder.How far would he let me go? “Hey listen I am sorry” he said his eyes still closed and head back. “Sorry about what daddy?” I asked. He said nothing for a moment but an almost imperceptible grin formed across his gorgeous face. “Sorry about what dad?” I asked again my tone sounding more like that of my mom now than me. “I am sorry about that burglar that broke into your room and stole all your bras- what is society coming to?” he said busting out in a self- amused laugh. “Oh what the fuck ever dad!” I shot back and applying a well -deserved if playful slap across his shoulder. “Sorry, but come on a girl like you should have those things strapped down with sail ship rigging” he chuckled. “Oh my God, you try wearing a bra all day and tell me how it feels. You’d be ripping it off too and running around the house being all like free at last, free at last, God almighty free at last” I playfully yelled obviously unafraid if the neighbors heard. “Really is that so?” he said, his cool surgeon’s demeanor returning. “By the way I wanted to talk to you about something” he said sounding serious and I guessed this must have been what mom’s text message had been about. “Yeah what’s up?” I said trying to mimic his tone. “Mom says you haven’t had a physical this year” he said, looking at me as if I was in trouble. “Yeah so? I didn’t get one last year either, I feel fine and have been eating really healthy, haven’t you seen all the veggie pizzas I order” I said trying to get just one more laugh from him. He looked back down to the rock he had been fighting with earlier, the sound of lawnmowers and afternoon birds filling the gap in our conversation. “Did your mom ever tell you that your aunt Jenny got cancer when she was about your age? It runs in your family you know. You have that cancer gene” he said. “Yeah but Aunt Jenny smoked since she was like twelve of course she is going to get cancer, I don’t touch any of that shit” I said, whining out my words. “After I am done out here, which should be in about an hour, I am going to give you a physical myself. No arguing” he said.
The accidental brush of a hand. A knowing look across a room. The tilt of a head toward the door. Signals shared between spouses at a party? I suppose. In this case, they were signals shared between lovers whose spouses were oblivious. William was drunk. It wasn’t apparent in his demeanor, but I knew the signs. He brushed by me on his way through the kitchen and his hand touched my ass. Lingered there for a good minute as he blocked the path of two other guests trying to get by. I glared at him, knowing it didn’t matter. “Had too much to drink?” “Not too much. Enough to know what I want,” he said. He leaned close, stirring the hair on my neck as he whispered, “We’re leaving soon. Meet me.” I didn’t have a chance to say no or, rather, ask where and when, because my husband came toward us. As if sensing that his territory had been encroached upon, he wrapped his hand around my waist and gave me a little squeeze. William’s hand moved from my ass at about the same moment and I wondered i
The choices were chicken breast or a T-bone steak. Everyone had a plate but me. Finally, a lone dish came trailing out. It was cold pasta with sun-dried tomatoes. Lisa had remembered my fear of bones. I hadn’t eaten meat since I cut the top of my middle finger off when I was twelve. Now every time I saw a bone I felt sick. If the pasta had been served when it was made a week ago, I might have managed to choke it down, but it was inedible. I arranged my tomatoes in the middle with the dry lifeless noodles around them. A waiter stopped in front of me to take my plate. He saw what I’d done. “I’m artistic,” I said. He whisked it away. I was starving, and I was buzzed from the second glass of champagne. A little thought danced in the back of my head. What had Lisa said about a dessert? She had chosen a lovely mousse. Of course, it had to be chocolate. They brought it out. Why was my chocolate mousse pink? It was strawberry. It was like ordering a diet cola and getting a fully leaded one.
I hated weddings. Nothing good for me has ever come of them. For example, the last wedding I went to, I ended up alone at a table with my great-aunt while all the couples swooned about on the dance floor. Their closely pressed bodies seemed to be saying aren’t we the lucky ones as the white paper streamers delicately fluttered on the ceiling. Meanwhile, my great-aunt was going on about some freaking tea party she claimed she had for me in Florida when I was four years old. I don’t remember Florida. I don’t remember her, except for meeting her in the receiving line two hours ago. What did I get from attending this blissful event? A paper cut from my place card, a cranky buzz from cheap champagne and a regretful comment I slurred to my great-aunt at the end of the night. “I won’t be you,” I called out in her direction. I didn’t know what that meant, because I hardly knew her. I think it was directed more at what she represented, an old crone sitting alone at a wedding banquet table wit
I went up north, ready to scour all the ports on the Baltic. I ended up in Hamburg. In the evening, I wandered in Sankt Pauli. Girls in their windows, boxed in tackiness, with an air of decent housewives displaying their asses. Not one worth fucking, but men were there, strolling about, eyeing them. My God, they looked like first communicants walking slowly to the altar to receive the host! Monumental hard-ons because that one shakes her tits under their noses and they imagine themselves stuffing their pricks in the holy of holies! You bet they haven’t grown one inch since the time when, as adolescents, they shut themselves in the toilet to jerk off out of sight of their mommy’s eyes! Men’s desire disgusts me. It was certainly not in those alleyways with no dark corners, where the gaudy pink neons filter, that I was going to meet the man from Albuquerque. It was down to the wharves I had to go . . . I hung about between the angular shadows of the container stacks waiting to be loaded
I was half-drunk with lack of sleep, standing in the hot white buzz of Central Station while hordes of commuters bumped past me with their sharp suits and shoulder pads and brief cases. I stood there blinking and yawning. What the hell was I doing up at this hour? The answer, of course, was Sam. I growled at the thought of his stubbornness, at the selfish way he’d announced he was leaving to make his fortune. Hotfooting it to London like a carefree bird. Not for a second had he stopped to think of how it would screw up our relationship – four hundred miles between us was a serious blow. The salvation of our bickering, up-and-down love affair was the Olympic sex we indulged in most mornings, afternoons and evenings. We could hammer away for hours, and he took me places I’d never thought possible, body twisted into breathtaking positions, him so deep inside me it felt like blasphemy. After he left, my sex life became a sudden blank. I was left gasping with shock, reeling from the terri
She wanted to be wanted by her It almost made her cry. It was something she thought she’d left when Wendy had left to find someone even more subservient. Having it back was almost too much for her to handle: the fear that it could go again. Slowly, June had stood up on the lumpy futon, unbuttoned her jeans, and then, teasingly, dropped her panties. She did it slowly because while it seemed that all she and Betty did was fuck, the magic of their bodies hadn’t rubbed off yet. She had loved to get naked in front of Betty, watching her eyes dance and hunger for her. It was a little chilly in the apartment, so June left her T-shirt on. “Make like a doggie, love,” Betty had said, “It’s easier that way.” Slowly, kind of scared, June had: she got down on the futon, first on her hands and knees and then – ’cause her arms started to ache – leaning down on a pillow. “So pretty,” Betty said from behind her. The kiss was kind of a shock. June had been so psyched to receive the brilliantly blue sil
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