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STORY 9 - THE FOOTBALL TEAM’S PLAYTHING (II)
publish date:
2026-02-15 20:30:02
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DIRTY DREAMS (AN EROTICA COLLECTION) STORY 41 - BEING HIS SLUTTY PLAYTHING (II)
He's not gentle inside me either. Every stroke is the full length of his cock – pulling almost entirely out and slamming back to the hilt. Deep enough to hit my cervix. Hard enough to shove the counter forward an inch with each thrust. His hand stays fisted in my hair, pulling my head back until my spine curves and my back arches and my ass pushes out and the angle lets him go impossibly deep."This is what you wanted," he says. His voice is controlled rage. His hips slamming into me. "Three months of slow and careful and you wanted this.""Yes – fuck – this – don't stop –"His free hand cracks against my ass. The slap is sharp enough to echo off the kitchen tile. I yelp – high, sharp – and my pussy clenches around him. He spanks me again. Harder. The sting blooms across my skin and he doesn't wait for it to fade before landing another one."Count," he orders."Three – fuck –"Crack. "Four – oh god –" Crack. "Five –" Crack. "Six – please – harder –"He spanks me until I lose count. Un
DIRTY DREAMS (AN EROTICA COLLECTION) STORY 41 - BEING HIS SLUTTY PLAYTHING (I)
I'm tired of gentle.Tired of is this okay? every thirty seconds. Tired of slow, careful hands that touch me like I'm made of wet paper. Tired of missionary with eye contact and synchronized breathing and orgasms that feel like sighing when I want them to feel like being hit by a truck.Liam is sweet. Liam is kind. Liam fucks me like he's afraid I'll shatter if he thrusts too hard, and I've been faking the intensity of my orgasms for three months because telling a good man that his lovemaking is putting me to sleep feels like kicking a golden retriever.Tonight I tell him.We're in bed. Post-sex. He's holding me – the gentle spoon, his hand on my stomach, his breath warm on my neck. I should feel satisfied. I feel like I need to go finish in the bathroom with my vibrator on the highest setting while thinking about something violent."Liam.""Mm.""I need you to fuck me differently."His hand stills on my stomach. "Differently how?""Rough. Really rough. Like – throw me around. Pin me
DIRTY DREAMS (AN EROTICA COLLECTION) STORY 40 - INTERCONTINENTAL FUCKS (IV)
He seals his mouth over my clit and sucks hard – rhythmic, his tongue pressing flat against the bud while his fingers curl against my g-spot in a steady come-hither that makes my legs shake uncontrollably. The fourth orgasm doesn't build – it detonates. My back bows off the mattress, my hands tearing at the sheets, a scream ripping from my throat that I'm sure the neighbors hear through the thin walls.My thighs are still shaking when he crawls up my body and pushes inside me – slow, careful, my pussy so swollen and sensitive that even the gentle stretch makes me gasp. He fucks me face-to-face, his forehead against mine, slow deep strokes that are less fucking and more feeling – every inch deliberate, every thrust landing against my tender walls like a question.I come a fifth time crying. Actual tears streaming from the corners of my eyes into my hair, my body convulsing weakly around his cock while he whispers Greek words against my open mouth – words I don't understand but that sou
DIRTY DREAMS (AN EROTICA COLLECTION) STORY 40 - INTERCONTINENTAL FUCKS (III)
All fours on the blanket, my knees sinking into black sand, and he enters me from behind in one hard thrust that punches the air from my lungs. This angle – god, this angle – he's deeper than he's ever been, the head of his cock pressing against my cervix with every stroke, and I can feel every vein, every ridge dragging along my walls as he pulls back and slams forward.He fists my hair. Wraps it around his hand once, twice, pulls my head back until my spine arches and my tits hang heavy beneath me, swaying with each thrust. His other hand grips my hip hard enough to bruise – I can feel the individual fingerprints he's leaving on my skin."You take my cock so well," he says through clenched teeth. "This pussy was wasted on that man. Wasted."His hips crack against my ass – hard, rhythmic, the slap of skin on skin echoing off the cliff walls. I can hear how wet I am – obscene, sloppy sounds every time he buries himself, my arousal coating his cock and dripping down my inner thighs ont
DIRTY DREAMS (AN EROTICA COLLECTION) STORY 40 - INTERCONTINENTAL FUCKS (II)
He lays me on the cushioned bench at the stern and pulls the ties on my bikini bottoms – one side, then the other. The fabric falls and I'm completely naked in the Aegean sun.He kneels between my legs and stares at my pussy – swollen, slick, still twitching from coming – with an intensity that makes heat flood my face and my core simultaneously.He lowers his mouth to me without a word.His tongue is warm, wet, and slow. Long strokes from my entrance to my clit, lapping up the wetness, tasting me. I'm still sensitive and every pass makes my hips jerk. My hands grip his hair – thick, stiff with salt.He settles in. Tongue flicking my clit in fast precise strokes while two fingers slide back inside me, curling, stretching, pumping slowly. His mouth and his hand working together like he's been studying the manual on my body. I can't hold still – hips grinding against his face, thighs clamping around his head, pulling his hair so hard he groans against my pussy and the vibration shoots t
DIRTY DREAMS (AN EROTICA COLLECTION) STORY 40 - INTERCONTINENTAL FUCKS (I)
I've been watching him for three days.From the terrace of my rented villa, wine in hand, pretending to journal while I memorize the way this man moves. He ties his boat to the dock every afternoon – a weathered blue-and-white thing – with hands that wrap rope like they've done it ten thousand times. Sun-darkened skin. Black hair curling at his neck. White linen shirt unbuttoned so far I can see the shadow of his chest through the fabric.He's not beautiful. He's dangerous. The kind of man built by salt water and manual labor – thick forearms, veined, muscles that don't come from a gym. When he reaches overhead to adjust the sail, his shirt rides up and I catch a strip of stomach – hard, tan, a trail of dark hair disappearing into his waistband – and my thighs press together so hard the chair creaks.Seven months since my divorce. Seven months since anyone touched me. The last year of my marriage, David slept in the guest room while he fucked his secretary. I reorganized the spice cab
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