Unholy Cravings and Desires: Short Erotica collections

~ Lissa ~

I stood in front of the mirror in my bedroom, staring at my reflection like it might give me answers.

My body was still buzzing from three days without sex. My nipples were already tight under my thin tank top. My pussy felt heavy and empty at the same time.

I had high libido. Sex wasn’t just something I liked. It was something I needed. Deep, long, hard, messy sex that left me shaking and satisfied.

That’s why I had always chosen my men carefully. I tested them first and made sure they could keep up, that they had the size, the stamina, the hunger to match mine.

Then I met Mark.

Sweet, funny, thoughtful Mark. The guy who remembered my coffee order, who sent me good-morning texts with silly memes, who looked at me like I was the only woman in the world. I fell hard and fast and so fast that I skipped the one thing I never skipped before.

The sex test.

Biggest mistake of my life.

Now here I was, aching, frustrated, and stuck in a relationship with a man I loved but who was awful in bed.

A knock at the front door pulled me out of my thoughts.

It was Mark. I knew it before I even opened the door.

I took a deep breath and walked to the living room. The moment I opened the door, his face lit up like I was the best thing he’d seen all day.

“Hey babe,” I said, leaning in to kiss him.

His lips were soft and familiar. He kissed me back like he’d missed me for months instead of three days. When he pulled away, his eyes moved over me slowly.

“You look more beautiful today,” he said, that warm smile spreading across his face. “Seriously. That tank top… damn.”

I forced a smile. Mark loved me and I could see it in the way his eyes softened every time he looked at me. I loved him too. He was kind, patient, and made me laugh until my stomach hurt. On paper, he was perfect.

But the universe had played a cruel joke on us.

Because when it came to sex, Mark was a disaster.

He stepped inside, kicked the door shut, and immediately pulled me close. His hands roamed down my back and grabbed my ass.

“Babe, I’ve really missed you,” he murmured, kissing my neck, my collarbone, anywhere he could reach.

“It’s only been three days,” I said with a small laugh, trying to keep my voice light.

He didn’t care. He lifted me up and carried me straight to the bedroom. My back hit the mattress as he laid me down. His eyes were dark with need.

“Are you planning on fucking me right now?” I asked, half teasing, half hoping he’d say no so he could at least eat first.

“I’m not hungry for food,” he said, already pulling off his shirt. “I’ve been sex-starving for three days.”

He climbed on top of me and kissed me hard. His tongue pushed into my mouth, eager but sloppy. I kissed him back, trying to lose myself in it. His hands tugged my tank top up. My breasts spilled out, nipples already hard. He groaned and latched onto one, sucking hard like he was trying to devour me.

I moaned softly. The sensation was good. Not great, but good.

He moved lower, kissing down my stomach, then yanked my shorts off in one quick motion. I wasn’t wearing panties. His eyes lit up when he saw my smooth, wet pussy.

“Fuck, you’re already soaked,” he said, sounding proud.

He dove in, licking me with quick, eager strokes. It felt nice, but it was rushed. No teasing. No building. Just fast tongue flicks on my clit. I tried to guide his head, but he was too focused on getting me wet enough to fuck.

After a minute he pulled back, breathing hard. He stood up and shoved his trousers and boxers down. His dick sprang free and hard, but small. Barely bigger than his pinky finger when fully erect. I tried not to let the disappointment show on my face.

He climbed back on the bed and pushed my legs apart.

I reached down and stroked him a few times, hoping to get him more worked up.

He groaned and closed his eyes.

Then he lined up and pushed inside me.

It didn’t hurt. It just didn’t fill me. I felt him, but not enough. Not deep enough. Not thick enough.

He started thrusting immediately fast, short strokes. His breathing was already ragged.

“Fuck, babe you feel so good,” he panted.

I wrapped my legs around him and tried to move with him, chasing some kind of friction. I reached between us and rubbed my clit, hoping it would help.

It didn’t.

Less than thirty seconds later, Mark groaned loudly and buried himself as deep as he could go. I felt the weak pulses of his cum spilling inside me. He collapsed on top of me, breathing like he had just run a marathon.

I lay there, still aching, still empty.

He rolled off me and lay on his back, chest heaving.

“Babe… I’m not satisfied yet,” I said softly, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice. “Please… can you make me cum with your fingers? I don’t mind.”

He turned his face away from me.

I moved closer, reaching for his softening dick. “Let me get you hard again. I can ride you slow this time”

He slapped my hand away. “Lissa, not today. You can wait till next time.”

The words hit me like a slap.

“But I just made you cum,” I said, anger rising. “So why can’t you do the same for me?”

He sat up, looking annoyed. “Because I’m a man. I cum and that’s it. I don’t fucking care if you cum. You have fingers too. Handle it yourself.”

I stared at him in shock. “Wait, are you serious? So women don’t deserve to feel orgasm? Is that what you’re saying?”

He sighed like I was the one being difficult. “You don’t need to create an issue from this, Lissa, okay?”

He leaned over and pecked my cheek like nothing had happened. Then he stood up, pulled on his clothes, and headed for the door.

“I’ll be back later,” he said casually. “And yeah, I ordered pizza for us. You can eat yours and keep mine on the counter. See you later, babe. I love you.”

The door shut behind him.

I lay there on the bed, legs still spread, his weak load slowly leaking out of me. My pussy throbbed with need. My clit was swollen and aching. I was so close to tears I could taste them.

I loved Mark. I really did. He was kind and funny and made me feel safe. But this? This was torture.

I reached down and touched myself, sliding two fingers inside my wet, unsatisfied pussy. I rubbed my clit fast, chasing the orgasm he couldn’t give me. It came quickly and I came with a quiet moan, but it wasn’t enough.

I lay there for a long moment, staring at the ceiling.

The doorbell rang.

Pizza.

I stood up on shaky legs, pulled my shorts back on, and walked to the door without bothering to fix my hair or wipe the mess between my thighs.

I opened the door.

The pizza guy stood there holding two boxes. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with messy dark hair, a sharp jaw, and warm brown eyes that widened slightly when he saw me.

He looked like he had just stepped out of a magazine.

“Pizza for Mark?” he asked, voice deep and smooth.

I stared at him, still flushed, still aching, still leaking another man’s cum.

And for the first time in months, I felt something dangerous spark inside me.