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Kissed by Midnight Part 2
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2025-11-10 21:07:03
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Touch me tender, Break me wild: A Steamy, Erotic compilation FUCK WITH THE ELECTRICIAN IS BETTER THAN WITH MY HUSBAND Part 2
The bedroom was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows across the king-sized bed. Mark had come home from his disastrous day at work, grumbling about his team the whole evening, but now, as we slipped under the cool sheets, his mood had shifted. I was still so mad at him from the previous night and how this morning he interrupted a very heated sex I would've had With Andrew. What a show spoiler. And now, he was looking at me like a predator...a stupid predator at that. I could feel it in the way he scooted closer, his hand sliding possessively over my hip. We'd barely spoken during dinner—my mind had been elsewhere, replaying the garage scene like a forbidden movie on loop. Andrew. Those rippling abs glistening with sweat, his strong hands gripping the ladder, the way he'd caught my towel before it could fall completely, his fingers brushing my nipple in that accidental-yet-not touch. God, just thinking about it made my core clench, a fresh wave of h
Touch me tender, Break me wild: A Steamy, Erotic compilation hmmmm
The call came in early that morning, some guy named Mark panicking about a burnt wire and a busted changeover switch in his garage. I grabbed my toolkit, hopped in the van, and headed over to the address in the suburbs. Nice neighborhood—big houses, manicured lawns. When Mark opened the door, he looked harried, like he'd been up all night dealing with whatever electrical nightmare had sparked. 'Andrew, right? Thank God you're here. It's in the garage. I can't mess with it myself; last thing I need is the whole place going up in flames.'I nodded. "No problem, Mr...?" "Call me Mark," I followed him through the house to the attached garage. The air smelled like charred plastic and ozone, the kind of scent that lingers after a short circuit. The panel was mounted high on the wall, wires spilling out like guts from a fresh kill. Mark hovered for a minute, explaining how it happened—something about a power surge during the storm last night. Then his phone buzzed. 'Shit, work's calling. I
Touch me tender, Break me wild: A Steamy, Erotic compilation STORY 12: EXPERIENCING FORBIDDEN DESIRES WITH MY TEACHER
I sat at my desk in the back row of Ms. Elara Voss's empty classroom, the late afternoon sun slanting through the blinds like golden bars trapping me here. The clock on the wall ticked past 5 PM, and the school halls outside had gone quiet, echoing with the ghosts of slammed lockers and laughter from earlier. Ms. Voss was strict—everyone knew that. Her sharp green eyes could pin you in place during lectures on literature, her voice cutting through bullshit like a knife. But me? Riley Thorne, the brilliant but rebellious one, as she called me in parent-teacher conferences I never attended. I skipped classes, mouthed off, but aced every test. She kept me after for 'tutoring,' but we both knew it was more than that. Those lingering glances across the room, the way her fingers brushed mine when handing back papers—accidental, sure, but they lit something inside me I couldn't ignore. She paced in front of the chalkboard, her pencil skirt hugging her hips, blouse tucked neatly but strai
Touch me tender, Break me wild: A Steamy, Erotic compilation Hypnotic Sessions Part 3
I sat there in my office, the door locked behind Melinda after our last session, my mind replaying that husky promise of 'more than words.' It had been two days, and she'd booked the follow-up faster than any patient I'd had. My cock had been half-hard since she walked in today, her tight blouse doing nothing to hide those full tits straining against the fabric. She settled into the chair across from my desk, crossing her legs, that pencil skirt riding up just enough to tease the tops of her stockings. Fuck, she was a vision—curves begging to be grabbed, lips painted red like they were made for wrapping around my shaft. "Good to see you again, Melinda," I said, leaning back, my voice calm but my thoughts filthy. In my head, I was already stripping her, imagining those tits bouncing as she rode me. "How have you been since our last chat? Any more of those dreams?" She blushed, fiddling with her necklace, her hazel eyes flicking to mine. "Dr. Jay, I've been... restless. That hypnos
Touch me tender, Break me wild: A Steamy, Erotic compilation Hypnotic Steamy Sessions PART 2
Dr. Jay point of view "Close your eyes," I said softly, my voice dropping to that soothing timbre I knew worked so many wonders. She obeyed. "Breathe deeply. In... and out. Feel your body sinking into the couch, heavy and relaxed." She complied, her chest rising and falling rhythmically. I watched her lips part, her tongue darted out to wet them. Fuck, I wanted to kiss those dang lips tight then, taste that nervousness turn it to need. But be patient, Jay. Be patient. "That's it. Now, imagine a warm light washing over you, starting at your toes and moving up. It loosens everything it touches—no tension, just pure release. "Damn! This was me narrating more than relaxation; I was planting seeds. Release. Loosen. All these were words that could twist into commands for her to open for me. She sighed, her body going limp, and I felt a rush of power. This woman, with her erotica-fueled fantasies, was putty in my hands. She uncrossed her legs making me think she was inviting me to look.
Touch me tender, Break me wild: A Steamy, Erotic compilation Story 11: Hypnotic Steamy Sessions
Doctor Jay's point of view I adjusted my tie in the mirror of my office, the soft hum of the air conditioner the only sound breaking the quiet anticipation building in my chest. Another session, another mind to unravel. My secretary had buzzed me earlier. She announced that a woman named Melinda had arrived. "She's here for consultation on.. personal matters," she'd said, and I could hear the hesitation. Personal matters. In my line of work, that could mean anything from anxiety, to mental pain, to the deepest, darkest secrets people try to bury. As a psychiatrist specializing in hypnotherapy, I was used to coaxing out the hidden. The door to my waiting room clicked open, and there the patient was. Melinda stepped in, her heels echoing softly on the polished wood floor. Her folders said that she was in her mid thirties. I watched her approach me. She had these curves that her fitted blouse and pencil skirt hugged just right. She dressed professionally, but with an edge that
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