LOGINNOVA POV
She grabbed me, hoisting me onto the counter like I was her dirty little toy, her hands gripping my hips hard. Her lips slammed into mine, kissing me with wet, nasty passion. I moaned loud into her mouth—fuck, her tongue fucked mine better than any cock ever could. She knew how to make my pussy scream. Still tongue-fucking my mouth, she ripped open my shirt, her soft hands diving in to grab my tits. A desperate, slutty moan spilled out as she pinched my nipples, twisting them just right, sending arousal straight to my soaking wet cunt. I was her filthy bitch, ready to get fucked stupid. Her mouth attacked my tits, licking every inch of my chest, her lips greedy and hot. She grabbed my boobs, squeezed them roughly and hungry, sucking my nipples so hard I gasped, her tongue flicking like she was starving for my body. I was ready to be her slut, ready to be fucked senseless. No guy ever made me this wet. “Fuck… Zara… suck those tits harder,” I moaned, my eyes rolling back in pure ecstasy as I fisted her hair, yanking her mouth tighter onto my nipple. She bit down just enough to make my body jolt, her tongue swirling around the hard peak like she owned it. She popped off with a wet smack, spanking my tits again, watching them jiggle with that filthy gleam in her eyes. “You love it rough, don’t you, my little cum-slut? These perky tits are begging for my marks.” I bit my lip hard, nodding like the desperate whore I was. “Yes… fuck yes, mark me, Zara… make me your bitch,” I whimpered, my pussy gushing, dripping down my thighs for her. She shoved my back against the cold wall, dropping to her knees. She hooked my legs over her shoulders, burying her face in my wet folds, sniffing deep like she was addicted to my scent. “God, your cunt smells like pure sex,” she growled, her fingers digging into my ass as she spread me wide. “Fuck, my dirty little slut’s pussy is already soaked and throbbing,” she purred. “Get ready, baby—I’m gonna eat this sloppy hole until you’re squirting all over my face, then grind my wet cunt against yours ‘til we both cum screaming.” Her hands grabbed my thighs, spreading me wider, and she dove in, her tongue spearing straight into my dripping pussy. “Fuck… Zara!” I moaned, my head slamming back against the mirror as her mouth went to work, slurping my juices like a thirsty bitch. She sucked my pussy lips hard, pulling them into her mouth, then flicked her tongue over my swollen clit in fast, nasty circles. “Mmm, your cunt tastes like fucking candy,” she mumbled, her lips smacking against my wet folds. She spat on my clit, the warm glob mixing with my slick, then sucked it hard, her tongue lashing the tip like she was trying to make me cum in seconds. My hips bucked, grinding my pussy against her face, smearing my cream all over her chin. “You like that, don’t you, my dirty little whore?” Zara growled, pulling back to slap my pussy lightly, the sting making me gasp and drip even more. “This tight cunt’s mine now.” “Yes… fuck, I’m your slut, Zara! Eat me raw!” I cried, grabbing her hair and shoving her face back into my pussy. she zeroed in on my clit, sucking it hard like a mini cock, her tongue flicking the tip relentlessly while she hummed vibrations against it. I was a mess, grinding my pussy on her face, smearing my wetness everywhere. “Oh shit… Zara… don’t stop, you’re making my cunt explode,” I cried out, my toes curling. She didn’t let up—instead, she shoved three fingers deep into my tight hole, curling them to hit my G-spot with brutal precision, pumping fast and rough. Her other hand slapped my boobs. That’s it, you nasty bitch… finger-bang my hole!” I gasped, my body shaking as pleasure tore through me. “Cum for me, Nova… soak my fucking face!” she demanded, diving back in to suck my clit like a vacuum, her fingers slamming into me relentlessly. My pussy clenched, and I screamed her name, my orgasm exploding like a bomb. Hot squirt gushed out, soaking her mouth and dripping down her neck. “Fuck yes… drink my cum, baby!” I moaned. She kept fingering me through it, milking every last drop, her tongue lapping up the mess like she couldn’t get enough. Finally, she pulled back, rubbing my pulsing pussy with her palm, smirking as she licked her cum-glazed fingers clean, sucking them like a cock. “Taste so fucking good, Nova… your squirt’s my new favorite drink.” But Zara wasn’t done. “My cunt needs some love too,” she growled, standing up and shoving her pants down. Her shaved pussy was dripping, her clit swollen and begging. She climbed onto the counter, scissoring her legs with mine, our slick lips slapping together as she started grinding hard. “Feel that? My clit rubbing your sloppy hole… fuck, you’re gonna make me cum too.” We rocked together, our pussies sliding and smacking in a wet, filthy rhythm, moans filling the air. “Harder, Zara… fuck my cunt with yours,” I gasped, our clits bumping, sending sparks through us both. She grabbed my tit, pinching the nipple as she humped faster, our juices mixing in a sticky mess. I rubbed her clit hard, loving how slippery and hot she was. “You’re such a dirty bitch, Zara… your pussy’s begging for me,” I purred, slipping two fingers into her tight hole, pumping fast while she humped my hand. Her moans were loud and filthy, her tits bouncing as she rode my fingers like a cock. “Fuck… finger my cunt, Nova… make me cream!” she gasped, her hands grabbing my tits for leverage as she ground harder. I leaned in, sucking her nipple into my mouth, biting just enough to make her scream. Our bodies were a sweaty, sticky mess, our moans mixing in the air. “Let’s scissor, you slut,” Zara panted, repositioning us so our pussies slammed together, wet lips smacking in a filthy rhythm. “Oh fuck… your cunt feels so good on mine!” she moaned, our clits rubbing hard as we bucked against each other, juices mixing in a sloppy, dripping mess. The wet slaps of our pussies echoed, driving me wild. “Harder… fuck my pussy with yours!” I screamed, grabbing her ass to pull her closer, our hips grinding furiously. Her clit slid against mine, and we both lost it, cumming together in a shaking, screaming mess, our squirt soaking the counter as we collapsed, panting and sweaty. Suddenly, the door banged hard. “What the hell’s going on in there? Open up!” a voice yelled from outside. Zara smirked, licking my cum off her lips. “Just a little girl talk!” she shot back, her voice teasing as she winked at me. “Open this damn door now!” the voice demanded. “Get dressed, quick,” Zara whispered, her eyes still hungry as she tossed me my shirt. My legs wobbled, my pussy still throbbing, craving more of her nasty touch as I scrambled to cover up.My phone lit up at exactly 12:03 a.m., dragging me out of that hazy space between sleep and awake. I squinted at the screen, heart stuttering when I saw the name: Jacob.Mona’s boyfriend. My best friend’s boyfriend.I should have ignored it. Instead, I opened the message.Jacob: Can’t stop thinking about you tonight, Soma.My stomach flipped. Another text came before I could process the first.Jacob: You’re so fucking sexy. Always have been. That little black dress you wore last week? Killed me.Heat rushed through me, traitorous and instant. I typed back with shaking fingers.Me: You’re with Mona. This isn’t okay.He sent a voice note. God, I knew I shouldn’t play it, but I did, volume low, pressed to my ear.His voice was rough, intimate, like he was whispering right against my skin. “Soma… you’re gorgeous. Those curves, that laugh, the way you bite your lip when you’re nervous… I’ve wanted you for so long. Mona’s sweet, but she’s lazy, boring in bed, everywhere. You’re different. Y
I had always been the responsible one, the girl with plans and dreams. But everything shattered the night my parents died in that horrific car crash on the icy Austrian highway. One moment, I was a university student with a loving family; the next, I was an orphan with nothing but grief and a suitcase of clothes.My uncle, my father’s brother, wasted no time. He swooped in like a vulture, claiming the family home under some obscure clause in my father’s will that no one had ever mentioned. He made my life hell—constant belittling, locking me out in the cold, treating me like an intruder in my own childhood home. I endured it for months, hoping things would improve, but they only worsened. Finally, I packed what little I could and fled to Vienna, the city where my old friend Zara lived.Zara had been my classmate back in school, before my family moved. We’d reconnected online, and when I poured out my story, Zara didn’t hesitate. “Come stay with me,” she’d said. “I have plenty of space
I froze for a split second, my heart slamming against my ribs like a drum in a highlife band. Mr. Yinka’s words hung in the air—“I do not want your money, Amaka. I want you.” His eyes, those sharp, assessing eyes behind his glasses, weren’t on my face anymore. They roamed down, lingering on the swell of my breasts straining against my blouse, the curve of my hips in my tight skirt, the way my thighs pressed together as I shifted in the chair. Heat flushed my skin, but it wasn’t just embarrassment. There was a thrill there, dark and forbidden, ing low in my belly.He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his desk, a slow smile curling his lips. “Stand up,” he said, voice low and commanding. “Give me a 360.”I blinked, processing. A full turn? To show off my body like some mannequin? Part of me wanted to slap him, storm out, report him to the dean. But the other part—the baddie in me, the one who’d hooked up with half the boys in my department just for the fun of it—knew this was my ticket
The sun hung low over the bustling campus of the University of Lagos, casting long shadows across the cracked pavements where students hurried between lectures. It was the kind of afternoon that promised rain—thick clouds gathering like unspoken worries. For Amaka, a 22-year-old final-year student in Business Administration, those worries had just become a storm.She clutched her result slip in her trembling hands, the paper crinkling under her fingers as she stared at the failing grades glaring back at her. Marketing: D. Accounting: F. Business Law: E. How? She had studied hard, pulled all-nighters in the library, sacrificed weekends with friends. But the numbers did not lie. No signing out ceremony for her. No cap and gown, no tossing her mortarboard into the air with the rest of her class. Instead, an extra year—maybe more—if she did not fix this.Tears blurred her vision as she sat on a bench near the faculty building, the chatter of excited final-year students around her feeling
I sink into the bed, the room dim except for the soft glow of my laptop screen. The house is quiet—finally mine for the night. I prop the pillows behind my back, spread my legs a little wider, and hit play on the video I’ve been saving all week. Two guys, both built like gods, kissing slowly and deep on a sunlit balcony. Their hands roam, shirts coming off, skin golden and smooth. My breath catches immediately. God, they’re beautiful.I’m already half-hard just from anticipation. I slide my boxers down, kicking them off, letting my cock spring free against my stomach. It twitches, eager, the head already glistening with a bead of precum. I reach for the lube on the nightstand—a warming kind, the one that feels like real heat—and drizzle a generous amount into my palm. The cool bottle makes me shiver, but the lube warms fast between my fingers.On screen, one guy drops to his knees, taking the other slow and deep into his mouth. The moan that comes from the speaker is low, raw, perfect
I never meant to become obsessed with the woman on the other side of the thin wall that separated our apartments.Her name was Misha. I learned it the first week she moved in—heard it shouted through the plaster when her friends helped her carry boxes. She had a low, smoky laugh that carried, the kind that made my skin prickle even when I was trying to concentrate on work. Then came the sounds.At first it was just music—darkwave, synth-heavy, vibrating through the shared wall at midnight. Then the occasional sharp crack of leather against skin. A woman’s gasp. A murmured command. Always female voices. Always late.I told myself I was imagining things. I was twenty-eight, single, overworked, and clearly projecting. But one night the moans turned into something unmistakable: a long, broken whimper followed by a firm “Good girl,” and then silence. My hand was already between my legs before I could talk myself out of it.After that, I started noticing her in the hallway.Misha was tall,







