Masuk“N-no. Just… tired.” I shook my head fast and gripped the edge of the seat until my fingers ached.He started driving with one hand on the wheel and the other resting casually on his thigh. Every bump in the road made the toy shift and thrust inside me; my pussy clenched around it, soaking wet and making soft, filthy sounds if anyone had been listening closely enough. I crossed my legs and hunched forward, trying to hide how badly I was shaking.“Sit up straight,” Damien said calmly.I obeyed without thinking. The new angle made the toy hit a spot that sent stars exploding behind my eyes, and a tiny whimper escaped me before I could stop it. His eyes flicked over. “You’re flushed. Are you sick?”I shook my head again and bit down on my knuckle. The toy was relentless now—thrusting, vibrating, rubbing right against my g-spot until my nipples stood hard against my thin top. The drive home felt endless. I was panting quietly, trying so hard to stay silent that my hips started rocking on
I floated down from the high with my legs still shaky, cleaned up in the bathroom, then collapsed face-down on the bed like a starfish and let sleep take me under. When I finally woke, the sky outside my window had already turned dark. A car door slammed somewhere below, followed almost immediately by my mother’s loud, bright laugh echoing through the house.“Lila! Mom’s home!”She didn’t knock. She simply pushed my door open with Damien right behind her, both of them dressed for something formal—Mom in diamonds, Damien in a sharp black suit that made him look even more severe than usual. “We have a charity gala tonight,” she said while checking her earrings in my mirror. “Be good, study or whatever. We’ll be back late.”I stood by the window and watched their Bentley disappear down the long driveway until the house felt too quiet, too empty. Thirty minutes later the front door opened again. My heart jumped hard against my ribs. They couldn’t possibly be back already. I grabbed the fi
Inside my bedroom I kicked off my heels and dropped into the chair in front of my laptop. The silk of my dress still clung to my skin from the evening. I opened Eclipse—the members-only app I’d been slipping into for weeks. Most people there just wanted quick hookups. The anonymity was what kept pulling me back.A new friend request sat waiting. No real photo, just the default silhouette. Username: Shadow37. I accepted.Shadow37: You’re really 20?Me: Yes. College sophomore. You?Shadow37: 37. That bother you?Me: No. I go by how I feel.The typing bubble appeared, vanished, then came back.Shadow37: We could try something online first. Light control. You interested?My pulse jumped. I typed before I could second-guess it.Me: Okay… but no face on camera. And I won’t make any noise.Shadow37: Good girl.The words sent a shiver straight down my spine. A video call request appeared almost immediately.I grabbed the laptop, moved to the thick rug in the corner, and covered the camera wit
The taillights of Dave’s sedan glowed like malevolent red eyes in the deepening twilight. Annie’s knuckles were bone-white on the steering wheel, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. For weeks these secret outings with his father, Roger, had frayed her nerves to the breaking point. The vague answers, the whispered phone calls, the faint unfamiliar scent that sometimes clung to his collar—all of it had coiled into a tight knot of suspicion in her gut. Tonight she had to know.She followed them downtown into a district of anonymous grey-brick buildings. Dave’s car slid into a parking spot and the two men—so alike in their confident stride—disappeared through an unmarked metal door. Annie counted to sixty, each second a painful hammer-blow in her chest, before she followed.The outer door gave way to a second, heavier one that muffled a deep, rhythmic thump of music. When she pushed it open the world shifted.The air was thick with the scent of leather, sweat, and somet
The purse sat open on the kitchen counter like a gaping mouth, its contents spilling out in a careless confession. Kurt’s intention had been simple—just move it aside to clear space for the grocery bags—but the small, crinkling foil square that tumbled onto the Formica stopped him cold. Then another. And a third.Condoms.A cold, tight knot formed in his gut. He had heard the late-night returns, the hushed giggles on the porch, the engines of boys’ cars peeling away into the dark. He had suspected. But this was proof, laid bare under the harsh fluorescent light of the kitchen he paid for. His pulse hammered in his ears, a dull, angry rhythm.He didn’t knock. He pushed her bedroom door open, the foil packets clenched in a white-knuckled fist. Debbie sat at her vanity, brushing her hair. She wore tiny pajama shorts and a thin camisole; the outline of her body stood in stark, womanly contrast to the childhood trinkets still lining her shelves.“What the hell is this, Debbie?” His voice w
He tore it off, heart thundering. This was really happening. Sandra walked to the chair where he had draped his suit jacket and plucked the two silk neckties from where they hung. A sly smile played on her lips as she returned to the bed. “Hands on the posts,” she instructed, tone leaving no room for argument. A thrill of fear and absolute arousal shot through him. He placed his wrists against the cool polished wood of the headboard posts. She leaned over him, breasts brushing his chest, and deftly looped a necktie around each wrist, pulling them tight and securing him. The restraint was shocking, terrifying, and the most erotic sensation he had ever felt. He was utterly at her mercy. She didn’t make him wait. She swung a leg over his chest and straddled his face, positioning herself above him. The intimate scent of her—musky and clean—filled his senses. “You wanted to see,” she breathed, looking down the length of their bodies at his trapped, straining form. “Now taste.” She lo
It couldn’t be. I studied the cover more closely. It absolutely, definitely was him. Those eyes, high cheekbones, broad shoulders. OK, I’d seen him fully clothed and on the cover of His Best Performance he wore only a pair of swimming trunks – tiny, tight, yellow – but I recognised him beyond doubt.
I glanced up from my crossword puzzle as the bell above the shop door tinkled. A man, broad shoulders, bright white smile and wearing black wraparound shades, strode into the warren of dusty shelves and cabinets. He moved with purpose, the material of his jeans hugging the tops of his long thighs an
She was watching him towel off, fresh out of a hot shower. Marie’s eyes travelled the length of his white body, taking in his curly pale hair, blue eyes, thin pink lips. She always lingered on her favourite parts of him, his thick, firm fingers, his long, curved cock. Then Gavin’s eyes began to li
If you called her a cougar or whatever hot-to-trot name the kids had come up with these days, Marie was liable to curse you out. She was anything but anybody’s cradle robber. Marie was simply Marie, an older woman who happened to be married to a younger man, and who happened to still have the goods







