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The Wrong Send: Step-Daddy's Raw Cock

Author: Writer
last update publish date: 2026-06-01 03:24:48

Tyler didn’t give me a chance to say anything. The second I was on my knees in the hallway, he shoved his rock-hard cock straight into my mouth and pushed it all the way to the back of my throat. No warning. No breath. Just thick meat forcing its way in.

I gagged hard, eyes watering instantly. He grabbed the back of my head with both hands and started fucking my face like he hated me and this was his way of punishment Delivering deep, brutal thrusts that made my throat bulge. Every time I g
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  • Pure Pleasures (A Collection of short Stories)   Underground Network

    Sofia Reyes killed the engine of her rented Jeep outside the dusty warehouse on the edge of the port city, notebook crammed in her back pocket, camera slung across her chest. Six months chasing this story had taken her from quiet mountain roads to flashy nightclubs to lonely beach towns. Women vanishing. No bodies. No clear pattern at first. But the deeper she dug, the clearer it got and all of them had been restless, bored, aching for something sharper than their safe little lives. Elena from the parking garage. Harper from the trails. Valentina from the club. Camila from the diner. Leila from that resort cove. All gone. All... changed, according to the few whispers she’d caught. She slipped inside the side door, heart hammering. The place smelled like salt and rust and old machinery. A single bulb swung overhead. “You shouldn’t be here.” The voice came from the shadows. Deep calm 'n very much dangerous. Sofia spun around and there he was —lean muscles under a black shirt, tall

  • Pure Pleasures (A Collection of short Stories)   Chemistry Ignited

    The chemistry building was a ghost town after 10 p.m. Sophie’s sneakers squeaked on the linoleum as she pushed open the heavy lab door. The overhead lights were off, just the glow of a few emergency strips and the green exit signs. Dr. Elena Voss had emailed her at 8:47: *Lab 312. Bring your notes on reaction kinetics. Don’t be late.* Elena stood at the central bench in a white lab coat over a fitted black blouse and pencil skirt, hair twisted up in a messy knot with a pencil stuck through it. Late thirties, sharp cheekbones, full mouth that rarely smiled in lectures. She was the department’s hardest grader and the one everyone whispered about, was brilliant, cold, and off-limits. “Lock the door behind you,” Elena said without turning around. Her voice was crisp and authoritative. “Security sweeps at midnight. We don’t need interruptions.” Sophie clicked the deadbolt. The sound felt loud“Thanks for doing this, Professor Voss. My kinetics scores are tanking and finals are—” “

  • Pure Pleasures (A Collection of short Stories)   Literature & Lust

    The English department hallway was dead quiet, the vending machine bummed out lown down by the stairwell. Mia checked her watch—11:17 p.m. She should have left hours ago, but Professor Hale’s email had been short and insistent: *My office. Tonight. Thesis notes.* She knocked once and pushed the door open. Damon Hale sat behind his heavy oak desk, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. Mid-forties, dark hair threaded with silver at the temples, the kind of permanent five-o’clock shadow that made him look like he’d stepped out of a novel himself. He’d been at the university forever—brilliant, exacting, and famously unavailable. Married to the work, people said. Never to anyone else. “Close the door,” he said without looking up. “Campus security gets nosy after ten.” Mia shut it softly. The office smelled like old books, coffee, and faint whiskey. Stacks of papers and first editions covered every surface. A single lamp cast warm l

  • Pure Pleasures (A Collection of short Stories)   Penthouse Eclipse

    Ava checked her watch for the third time in ten minutes. The penthouse was perfect—two floors of glass and steel floating eighty stories above the city, lights from the financial district sparkling like spilled diamonds below. She’d spent the last forty-eight hours coordinating everything: custom catering, discreet security, the right playlist humming low through hidden speakers. The client list was a ghost— just “the Consortium.” Cash wired upfront, no questions. She was adjusting a final floral arrangement when he appeared. Nico Laurent. Real-estate mogul. The kind of man who bought entire city blocks before breakfast. Tall, sharp-suited, dark hair, a jaw you could cut glass on. He leaned against the marble island. “Everything to your satisfaction, Mr. Laurent?” Ava asked, keeping her voice crisp and professional even as his eyes dragged over her black pencil skirt and silk blouse. “For now.” His voice was smooth, edged with darkness “You’ve done good work, Ava. But I didn’t

  • Pure Pleasures (A Collection of short Stories)   Island of Indulgence

    The seaplane skimmed low over turquoise water before touching down with a gentle splash. Isabella stepped out onto the floating dock, salt wind tugging at the thin white linen dress that clung to her body. No luggage handlers. No staff waiting with champagne. Just Julian Reyes standing barefoot at the end of the dock in faded board shorts and an open linen shirt, watching her like he’d been waiting longer than the flight. He was taller than the photos suggested, sun-bronzed, with messy dark hair and a quiet intensity that made the air feel thicker. Oil heir. Reclusive. The kind of man who disappeared from the world for months at a time and still pulled strings that moved markets. “Isabella,” he said, voice low and warm. No fake smile. Just a slow once-over that lingered on her bare legs and the way the dress outlined her nipples in the breeze. “You came.” “You paid enough for me to clear my schedule.” She kept her tone light, professional, even as heat already pooled low in her be

  • Pure Pleasures (A Collection of short Stories)   The Velvet Underground

    Maya’s heart hammered against her ribs as the heavy steel door clicked shut behind her. The invitation had cost her three grand and a favor from a source who owed her big. *The Vault* didn’t advertise. You got in because someone who mattered wanted you there—or because you were useful. Tonight she was both: freelance journalist chasing a story on the ultra-rich and their dirty little playgrounds. Inside, it didn’t look like a converted warehouse anymore. Marble floors, crystal chandeliers dripping warm light, velvet drapes the color of dried blood. The air smelled like expensive perfume, sex, and aged whiskey. Low music throbbed through hidden speakers. People moved through the main lounge like they had all the time and money in the world—some in gowns that barely covered anything, others in tailored suits, masks optional here. Consent was the only real rule. She took a glass of champagne from a passing tray and tried to look like she belonged. Her black dress hugged every curve, s

  • Pure Pleasures (A Collection of short Stories)   The Cursed Mirror: First Taste of Hell

    Marcus woke up with his heart trying to punch through his ribs. He couldn’t move. Not even a finger, not even his tongue. The morning light coming through the curtains felt wrong, too gray, like the sun itself was sick. His eyes burned from not blinking. He’d been staring at the ceiling all night

  • Pure Pleasures (A Collection of short Stories)   The Cursed Mirror

    *A New Collection Marcus stared down at his wife’s naked body, her legs spread half-heartedly beneath him as he thrust into her with the same mechanical rhythm he’d used for the past three years. Lila’s moans were polite, almost bored. Her eyes were half-closed, staring at the ceiling instead of h

  • Pure Pleasures (A Collection of short Stories)   Starving VI: Filthy

    The second the suite door locked, all three of them lost it. Victor shoved me hard against the wall, ripping the straps of my dress down so my heavy tits spilled out. He grabbed them roughly, squeezing hard enough to leave bruises. Like he wanted to pop it off. “These fat fucking udders,” he

  • Pure Pleasures (A Collection of short Stories)   Starving V: Hungry Eyes

    The moment Patricia and I stepped into the Grand Ballroom, I felt the shift in the air. Heads turned instantly and conversations paused mid-sentence. They weren't even trying to hide it. But me? I just kept my chin high, shoulders back, letting the tight black dress hug every inch of my body.

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