เข้าสู่ระบบแชร์
168: A Lesbian Story (4)
วันที่เผยแพร่:
2026-05-03 07:42:27
บทล่าสุด
The Coochie Diaries 224: The Secret Sauna Club
Chloe slowly closed the diary, her fingers lingering on the cover as she let out a long breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. For a moment, the room felt too quiet. Eva’s confession stayed with her in a way she hadn’t expected. Not because of the sex itself, but because of what sat underneath it all. The hunger to be seen. To be noticed so completely that someone could look at you and pull out the version of yourself you kept hidden even from your own reflection. Chloe leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. “As a woman…” she murmured to herself, “I think that’s the part people don’t understand.” It wasn’t really about the dance studio, or the lessons, or even Harry. It was about what happened to Eva emotionally. The way she described feeling buried before she met him, like she had spent years existing instead of living. Chloe understood that feeling more than she wanted to admit. Women were expected to be composed all the time. Responsible, controlled, q
The Coochie Diaries 223: The Dance Instructor (3)
It was not a kiss of tenderness. It was a conquest. His lips were demanding, his tongue plunging into her mouth, claiming it. Eva kissed him back with equal fervor, all her pent-up frustration and desire pouring into the act. She bit his lower lip, and he groaned, the sound vibrating through her. His hands tore at the back of her leotard, finding the zipper and yanking it down. The fabric gaped open, and he pushed it off her shoulders, baring her to the waist. The cool air hit her skin, followed by the searing heat of his hands and mouth. He palmed her breast, his thumb rubbing roughly over her peaked nipple before he bent his head and took it into his mouth, sucking hard. Eva cried out, her knees buckling. He held her up, walking her backwards until her back hit the smooth, cool wood of the studio wall. His mouth left her breast, trailing wet, biting kisses down her stomach. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of her tights and panties and ripped them down in one savage motion.
The Coochie Diaries 222: The Dance Instructor (2)
Instead of lifting her straight up, he brought her back slowly, letting her body slide up the length of his. She felt every hard contour of him against her back, her ass, her thighs. When she was upright, she was once again plastered against him, shaking. “Again,” he commanded. They repeated the dip a dozen times. Each catch was more intimate, his hands roaming further, grazing the side of her breast, squeezing the back of her thigh, palming her ass to pull her securely against him as he lifted her. The fifth time, as he brought her up, his mouth ghosted over the frantic pulse in her throat. By the tenth, Eva was a mess of arousal and frustration. On the twelfth fall, he didn’t catch her immediately. He let her drop further, a cry tearing from her lips, before snatching her from the air. This time, as he brought her upright, he kept going, spinning her and pinning her front-first against the nearest mirrored wall. Her breath fogged the glass. His body pressed into her from behind,
The Coochie Diaries 221: The Dance Instructor
The studio was a cathedral of mirrors and polished oak, smelling of lemon cleaner and sweat. Eva stood at the barre, her reflection a line of nervous tension in a black leotard and sheer tights. She had signed up for private lessons on a whim, a thirty-two-year-old accountant seeking to rediscover her body after years of being buried in spreadsheets. The door opened, and Harry entered. He moved like liquid, a tall, lean man in fitted black trousers and a simple white shirt rolled to his elbows. Dark hair swept back from a sharp brow, his eyes the color of storm clouds. He was older than she expected, maybe mid-forties, with the kind of presence that immediately claimed the room’s oxygen. “Eva?” His voice was a low baritone, smooth as aged whiskey. She nodded, suddenly aware of every pulse point in her body. “I’m Harry. Let’s see what you’ve got.” He didn’t touch her at first. He circled, his gaze clinical yet somehow intimate, missing nothing, the slight tremor in her extended
The Coochie Diaries 220: The Midnight Chauffeur (4)
Nellie's mind screamed of the impossibility, the insanity of it. But her body, still humming from his touch, and her soul, which had tasted a darkness it now craved, answered for her. “Yes, Sir,” she said, her voice steady. “I accept.” The look in his eyes was one of fierce pride and dark promise. “Then finish your coffee. The Midnight Chauffeur awaits to take you home.” The drive back to the city was made in silence, but it was a different silence than the one that had brought her here. The tension was still there, thrumming between them, but it was layered now with a shared secret, a mutual understanding. She wasn’t a random pickup anymore; she was his, undertaking a trial by her own consent. He pulled up to her building just as the city was fully waking up. He didn’t get out to open her door this time. He simply put the car in park and turned to look at her. “Remember,” he said, his finger tapping the black remote on the console between them. “Any time. Any place. Your composu
The Coochie Diaries 219: The Midnight Chauffeur (3)
Grayson led her up a wide, curved staircase, her nakedness feeling even more profound in the expansive hallway. They entered a room that was clearly a bedroom, but unlike any she’d ever seen. It was dominated by a massive, four-poster bed made of dark wood. The walls were stone, the furnishings minimal and masculine. And on one wall, clearly displayed, was an array of implements that made her breath catch: leather cuffs, silk ropes, paddles, floggers, all hanging with a sinister elegance. Grayson guided her to the foot of the bed. “On your back. In the center.” She climbed onto the high mattress, the cool sheets a shock against her heated skin. She lay back, staring up at the heavy beams of the canopy. He didn’t join her immediately. He went to the wall, selecting a set of wide, padded black leather cuffs connected by short chains. He returned to the bed, his movements deliberate. “Give me your wrists.” She lifted her arms. He fastened a cuff around each wrist, the leather cool
บางทีคุณอาจจะชอบ
Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire
Kayla Sango747.3K viewsThe President's Accidental Wife
Blue Fruity1.0M viewsForced marriage: Dear wife, you can't escape me
Natie 584.3K viewsWild Epic Desires
F. Prince 588.9K viewsThe Billionaire's Lost Wife And Hidden Heirs
Queenvickii writes79 viewsDuke Damian, The Duchess Wants a Divorce!
Raisaa115 viewsThe Wife He Threw Away
Akina20 viewsThe Billionaire’s Wrong Bride
Holloway49 views
