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Pool party I

Author: Abby
last update publish date: 2025-12-30 13:05:20

The public pool was packed screaming kids, splashing water, lazy parents tanning like meat on plastic chairs. Lifeguards blew whistles without even looking. Everyone was too distracted.

Which was perfect.

Because I wasn’t here to swim.

I was already floating by the deep end, sunglasses on, pretending to relax. But my heartbeat was loud in my ears.

Because I felt him.

Behind me.

Too close.

Then under the water his hand slid over my hip. Casual, at first. Then possessive.

“You gonna stop me?” he
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  • DRIPPING WET: A COLLECTION OF EROTICA    Forbidden pounds -- 4

    Mom left for her weekend getaway at noon, waving goodbye with a cheerful “Have fun, kids!”The second her car turned the corner, Alex texted:House is ours.Start in the living room.Don’t wear anything you want to keep in one piece.I was waiting naked on the couch when he walked in, cock already straining his jeans, eyes blazing.He didn’t speak.He crossed the room in three strides, grabbed my ankles, and yanked me to the edge of the couch. My legs spread wide, pussy already dripping.He dropped to his knees, buried his face between my thighs, and devoured me.No warm-up—just rough, hungry licks, sucking my clit hard, tongue plunging inside me like he was starving.I came in under a minute, screaming, gushing over his tongue and chin.He stood, stripped, and slammed into me while I was still shaking deep, brutal thrusts that rocked the couch across the floor.He fucked me missionary first, legs over his shoulders, folding me in half, pounding so hard the cushions flew off.I came a

  • DRIPPING WET: A COLLECTION OF EROTICA    Forbidden pounds -- 3

    Mom was asleep upstairs, the house dark and quiet except for the low hum of the fridge.I couldn’t sleep—my body still ached from the basement, pussy sore and swollen, but the ache was the good kind. The kind that made me wet just remembering how hard Alex had fucked me.My phone buzzed on the nightstand.Alex.Kitchen. Now.I’m thirsty.I was downstairs in seconds, barefoot in just a tiny silk nightie that barely covered my ass, nipples already hard against the cool fabric.The kitchen was lit only by the under-cabinet lights, soft gold glow over the marble island.Alex was leaning against the counter in nothing but boxer briefs, cock straining against the thin cotton, eyes locked on me like a predator.He didn’t speak.He just crooked a finger.I walked straight to him.The second I was in reach he grabbed my waist, spun me, and lifted me onto the cold marble island like I weighed nothing.My nightie rode up instantly, exposing my bare pussy to the chill.He stepped between my sprea

  • DRIPPING WET: A COLLECTION OF EROTICA    Forbidden pounds -- 2

    The barbecue ended with hugs and promises to do it again soon.Mom insisted Alex stay the night.“It’s late, and you’ve had a beer!” so he took the guest room down the hall from mine.I lay in bed, pussy still throbbing from the pool house pounding, sheets twisted around my legs, replaying every brutal thrust.Sleep wasn’t happening.At 1:14 a.m. my phone buzzed.AlexDoor’s unlocked.Come here. Now.I was out of bed before I finished reading, barefoot in just an oversized T-shirt and panties, heart hammering so loud I swore Mom would hear it through the walls.His door was cracked open, a sliver of moonlight cutting across the bed.I slipped inside and shut it behind me with a soft click.Alex was waiting, shirtless, sweatpants slung low, cock already tenting the fabric.He didn’t speak.He just crooked a finger.I walked straight to him.The second I was in reach he grabbed my wrist, yanked me against his chest, and kissed me like he was starving.His tongue fucked my mouth while hi

  • DRIPPING WET: A COLLECTION OF EROTICA    Forbidden Pounds -- 1

    I never thought a family barbecue would change everything. My name's Sophia, 28, single, and way too focused on my marketing job to notice guys much. But that afternoon at my mom's house, with the sun beating down on the backyard pool, I noticed him. Alex Thompson—my mom's best friend's son, home from grad school for the summer. He'd always been the skinny kid tagging along to our family events, but now? At 25, he was all man: tall, broad-shouldered, with sun-kissed skin, messy dark hair, and a jawline that could cut glass. His swim trunks hung low on his hips, showing off that V-line that made my mouth dry.The moms were chatting by the grill, laughing about old times, while Alex and I ended up alone by the pool. "Hey, Soph," he said, his voice deeper than I remembered, with a grin that sent a spark straight between my legs. "Long time no see."We talked casually—his architecture program, my job stress—but his eyes kept dipping to my bikini top, where my nipples were hardening unde

  • DRIPPING WET: A COLLECTION OF EROTICA    The Unseen Orgasm IV

    The downtown 6-train is completely deserted, just one empty car swaying through the tunnels under Manhattan.Fluorescent lights flicker, wheels scream on steel.I am naked, invisible, and standing in the middle of the car.He steps in at Bleecker Street.Kael, 29, hood up, paint-stained fingers, backpack full of Krylon cans.The city’s most wanted graffiti artist, face half-covered by a black bandana, eyes sharp and restless.The doors close.The train lurches forward.I move.I’m behind him in a heartbeat, chest to his back, hands sliding under his hoodie, nails dragging down inked skin.He spins, can in hand like a weapon, but there’s no one.I drop to my knees, yank his jeans and boxer-briefs down in one motion.His cock is already rock-hard, thick, curved, a bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip.I lick it off and he groans, loud in the empty car.I take him deep, throat, fast, messy, spit dripping down his shaft while the train rocks us side to side.He grips the overhead rail wi

  • DRIPPING WET: A COLLECTION OF EROTICA    The Unseen Orgasm III

    One Vanderbilt, the tallest residential tower in the Western Hemisphere.The private express elevator to the penthouse is a glass capsule on the outside of the building, nothing but transparent walls and a 1,400-foot drop to the street.I am naked, invisible, and standing inside it the moment the doors close.Elias Voss, 38, billionaire tech god, is alone, still in his tailored midnight-blue suit, tie loosened, phone in hand.He thinks he’s going straight to his 110th-floor penthouse after a late board meeting.He’s wrong.The elevator starts its silent ascent.I step behind him, press my entire body to his back, and drag my invisible nails down the front of his shirt, popping every button in one slow, deliberate pull.He freezes, phone slipping from his fingers, clattering to the glass floor.Before he can speak I spin him, shove him back against the wall, and drop to my knees.His belt is already unbuckled by invisible hands, trousers open, cock freed, thick, flushed, curving up lik

  • DRIPPING WET: A COLLECTION OF EROTICA    Fuck me hard III (Art of temptation)

    I thought my body couldn’t take more, but I was wrong. They made sure of it.One of them grabbed me by the hips, dragging me back onto the bed, spreading me wide like I was nothing more than a toy to be used. The other crawled up beside me, his hand wrapping around my throat, squeezing just enough

    last updateLast Updated : 2026-03-25
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    I thought I’d be overwhelmed by two men at once, that I’d freeze or feel out of control. But instead, the chaos turned into fuel. My body wasn’t mine anymore—it belonged to their hands, their mouths, their cocks. And fuck, I loved it.One of them gripped my chin, forcing me to look at him while the

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  • DRIPPING WET: A COLLECTION OF EROTICA    The Room Next Door -- 2

    I didn’t have time to second-guess myself. The one beneath me spread my thighs wide, his grip iron against my skin, forcing me open while the other held me steady on his lap.“Look at her,” the one behind me said, his breath hot against my ear. His hand wrapped around my throat, not squeezing hard,

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  • DRIPPING WET: A COLLECTION OF EROTICA    Fuck me hard (Art of temptation)

    I never thought staying late at the gallery would feel like stepping into a trap I’d want to fall into. The walls gleamed under the dim overhead lights, the sculptures casting long shadows that seemed to lean toward me, almost alive. My heels clicked against the marble floor as I carried the last s

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