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STORY 24 - CEREMONIAL SLUT (IV)
publish date:
2026-03-16 02:58:51
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DIRTY DREAMS STORY 66 – S-EX-CAPADES (II)
His hand on my knee is a match on gasoline.And five years of carefully constructed distance goes up in flames in his living room.I set my coffee down and his mouth is on mine before my hand has even left the mug.His kiss is the same. The same pressure, the same angle, the same way he tilts my chin up with his thumb and finger, putting my mouth exactly where he wants it. He tastes like the coffee he didn't drink, and under that he tastes like him, a taste I couldn't describe to save my life but would know blindfolded, because my tongue cataloged it over two years and apparently kept the file in perfect condition through five years of disuse.I make a sound into his mouth and it embarrasses me, needy and raw, giving away everything I've been holding behind a wall of composure since I spotted him at the counter. He answers it by pulling me across the gap and into his lap, his hands on my waist, and I straddle him on his new couch and feel his cock hard through his jeans and grind down
DIRTY DREAMS STORY 66 – S-EX-CAPADES (I)
I see his hands first.He's standing at the counter of a coffee shop I've been coming to for two years without incident, and his hands are wrapped around a paper cup the way they used to wrap around my throat. My body recognizes them before my brain catches up to the man they belong to.And just like that, my pussy clenches in a coffee shop at 9:14 on a Saturday morning.The barista asks what I want. What I want is to leave immediately, but what comes out is "oat latte," because apparently my mouth is handling this better than the rest of me.He turns around, and there he is, and five years collapse into nothing.Jace. Same jaw. Same mouth, with that full lower lip and the scar through the left side from the fight he got into at twenty-two, the one I used to trace with my tongue in the dark. Same shoulders, broad in a henley that fits him the way all his clothes fit him, which is too well, criminally well, like his body and his wardrobe are in a conspiracy against every woman who has
DIRTY DREAMS STORY 65 – FUCKING DEAL WITH A DEMON (V)
"I can't –""You can. Human men have been underusing you."His hips slow, and his cock stays deep, and he rolls inside me, grinding the head of him against my G-spot while the base presses my clit and the shadow hands return, one at each breast, and the stimulation comes from five directions simultaneously. "There's no count. There's just the next one."It builds from somewhere below my stomach, deeper than the others, from a place I genuinely did not know had nerve endings, and it rises through my body in a slow wave that heats everything it touches, my blood going hot, my skin going bright, the amber glow intensifying until I can see the ceiling by my own light. When it hits, it's a sustained release that pours through me in a continuous flow, my pussy clenching and unclenching around his cock in a rhythm that goes on long enough to lose count, and his composure finally shatters.He cums inside me finally, and I feel it. His cum is hot – scorching even – and it fills me and keeps fil
DIRTY DREAMS STORY 65 – FUCKING DEAL WITH A DEMON (IV)
He fucks me and the floor shakes. The hardwood vibrates with each thrust, the candles jump, the pictures on my walls shift on their nails. His hips drive into me with a force that should hurt and doesn't because the heat stays ahead of the impact, softening everything it touches, and his cock is hitting places inside me that I didn't know existed, and each stroke sends a pulse of warmth through my entire body that wipes the previous thought clean and replaces it with sensation.My brain goes quiet. He promised it would, and it does – the internal commentary that has scored every experience I've ever had goes silent. My body takes over entirely. My hips meet his thrusts, my legs wrap around a waist that's hot enough to redden the skin of my calves, my pussy grips his cock with a hunger that feels ancestral, older than me."Harder," I hear myself say, and the word comes from somewhere below my chest, because my brain is offline and my body is doing the talking.He gives me harder. His h
DIRTY DREAMS STORY 65 – FUCKING DEAL WITH A DEMON (III)
His mouth drops to my breast and his lips close around my nipple, and the heat of his mouth is searing, right at the edge of too much, and his tongue is long enough to wrap around the peak and squeeze while he sucks and I scream because the combination of heat and pressure and the impossible length of his tongue creates a sensation that surpasses human capabilities.He bites my nipple and the sting has fire in it – literal warmth that blooms from the bite through my breast and down into my pussy, and I feel myself drip, my underwear going from damp to soaked in a single pulse.He lifts his head, and I know he can feel it too, because his nostrils flare, his coal-red eyes brighten, and his mouth curves with a hunger that feels like it has been eating since before the pyramids were sand."Lie on the floor," he says with authority, and I instantly lie back on my living room floor.My coffee table is shoved aside by a sweep of his hand that moves it six feet without touching it, and the n
DIRTY DREAMS STORY 65 – FUCKING DEAL WITH A DEMON (II)
His voice is low, with a resonance I feel in my teeth and the base of my spine, like a bass note played through a speaker pressed against my body."What do you want?"Marissa makes a sound behind the armchair that communicates her desire to leave the planet. Priya's phone has gone dead in her hand – the screen black and unresponsive, with the recording apparently lost. Jade is still asleep."What are you?" I ask, because my voice works even though the rest of me has short-circuited."What you asked for.""We asked for spirits.""You got one." He smiles, and the candlelight catches his teeth, and I see that his canines are definitely longer than normal, and the smile is the most dangerous thing I have ever seen on a face, and my pussy responds to the danger with a clench that I feel in my stomach. "I go by Azar. And you're the one who actually meant it.""Meant what?""The invitation. Your friends were playing, but you, you were asking."I was. I realize it as he says it – when Marissa
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