LOGINHe cupped her breast through the thin fabric of her top, his thumb circling her already hard nipple. “These are begging for my mouth.” He tugged the neckline of her tank top down until her bréasts spilled free, the cool air making her nipplés pebble even tighter. Liam bent his head, his hot mouth closing around one swollen peak, sucking hard enough to make her arch off the bed with a strangled cry. His teeth scraped lightly, then his tongue soothed the sting, each flick sending jolts of heat straight to her core. When the lights go out, the sins begin. Sinful Nights isn’t one story it’s many. A collection of erotic tales where men command, women surrender, and pleasure is the only law.If you are looking for dirty mature filthy stories, you are in the right place. From breathless foreplay to raw, dirty release, these nights are anything but innocent. Slip under the sheets and let the sins consume you.
View MoreThe rest of the day was a waking nightmare. Anjali moved through the grand haveli like a ghost, her body a traitor, humming with the memory of Vikram’s touch. Every step sent a jolt of sensation through her. The rough fabric of her petticoat felt like sandpaper against her tender, spanked ass. The silk of her saree brushing against her swollen, sensitive breasts was a constant, arousing torment.She bathed, the cool water a shock against her heated skin. She saw the faint red marks on her hips where his fingers had dug into her flesh, the dark shadow of a bruise on her neck. She looked at herself in the mirror, at the woman with the wide, innocent eyes and the body of a well-used whore. A hot, sickening mix of shame and excitement churned in her belly.Dinner was a special kind of hell. The long, polished dining table was filled with the Shekhawat family. Her husband, Rajiv, sat beside her, oblivious, telling a boring story about a new car he wanted to buy. She smiled and nodded, her
The first week in her new home was a performance. Anjali played her part perfectly. She woke before dawn, prayed with the family, helped her mother-in-law in the kitchen, and spent her days learning the intricate rules of the Shekhawat household. She was a ghost in her own life, her vibrant personality buried under layers of silk and duty.Her husband, Rajiv, was a sweet but simple man. He was kind to her, but his attentions were clumsy and brief. He was more interested in his friends and his cars than in his new, beautiful wife. Anjali felt a familiar, hollow ache of loneliness.But her Jeth, Vikram, was different. He watched her. His gaze was a constant, physical weight on her skin. When she served him tea in the morning, his eyes would linger on the swell of her hips as she turned. When she bent down to touch his feet in a gesture of respect, she could feel his stare on the curve of her ass. He never said anything inappropriate. He never touched her. But his look was a violation, a
Walking back to her desk was the longest journey of Ishita's life. Each step was a reminder of her submission. The thin fabric of her saree rubbed against her swollen, sensitive pussy. Her legs felt weak, like they might give out at any moment. And the smell... the musky, salty smell of Vikram's cum, mixed with her own arousal, clung to her. It was a dirty, public perfume, and she was terrified someone would notice.She sat down at her desk, her body trembling. Her colleague, Priya, a sweet, naive girl from Pune, looked over at her with concern."Ishita, are you okay? You look so flushed. Do you have a fever?" Priya asked, her voice full of genuine kindness."I... I'm fine, Priya," Ishita managed to say, her voice hoarse. "Just a little headache. The heat, you
The next morning, Ishita woke up with a dull ache between her legs and a strange, thrilling feeling in her stomach. Her body was a map of Vikram's possession. Her ass was still tender, a constant, stinging reminder of his hand. Her breasts were sensitive, and a faint bruise was forming on her neck where he had held her. She looked at her reflection in the small, cracked mirror of her chawl room. The girl staring back at her was a stranger. Her eyes were wide, haunted, but also glittering with a dark, excited fire. She was his. The thought sent a shiver of pure, undiluted lust through her. She was no longer just Ishita, the small-town girl trying to make it in Mumbai. She was Vikram Rathore's dirty little secret. His pet. Sh
The entire floor of Malhotra Industries was dark and silent, a graveyard of empty chairs and flickering monitors. The only light came from the cabin at the end of the corridor, a rectangle of gold that felt like a stage. And Ishita was the lead actress.Her heart was a frantic bird trapped in her ribs. She adjusted the pallu of her red silk saree for the tenth time. It was a bold choice, a weapon she had wielded all day. The blouse was low-cut, showing off the deep, inviting valley between her large, heavy breasts. The silk clung to her wide hips and the generous curve of her ass, a masterpiece she had perfected over years of walking through the crowded lanes of her chawl. She was a small-town girl from Jaipur, but in Mumbai, she had learned that her body was a currency more powerful than any degree.And her target, her ultimate prize, was the man in that cabin.Vikram Rathore. Sahab.He was more than just her boss; he was a force of nature. A man who built empires with a glance and s
The next morning, Amaka woke up with a dull ache between her legs and a strange, thrilling feeling in her stomach. Dr. Adebayo’s rules were ringing in her ears. No bra. No panties. Her body was to be his, accessible and ready at all times. She looked at her reflection in the cracked mirror. She put on her uniform, a fresh one, and left the top three buttons undone. Her large, heavy breasts hung free, the dark outline of her nipples clearly visible through the thin white cotton. She felt naked, exposed, and incredibly powerful.She didn't wear any panties. The feeling of the rough, cheap fabric of her skirt against her bare skin was a constant, arousing reminder of her submission. As she walked to the hospital, she could feel the cool morning air between her legs, and with every step, the fabric brushed against her sensitive clit, sending little jolts of pleasure through her body. She was already wet by the time she clocked in.The hospital was its usual chaotic self. Amaka moved throu






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