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Fucking The Virgin Father
Data de publicação:
2026-05-29 12:38:15
Último capítulo
Wild Dreams [An Erotic Collection] Fucking the Virgin Father pt2
Sister AgnesThe next morning dawned with that crisp, holy bullshit air that always hung around the convent like a judgmental fog. Sunlight sliced through the narrow windows of our dormitory, hitting the rough stone floor and warming the chill that had settled in my bones overnight. I lay there in my narrow cot, the coarse sheets scratching against my skin, still replaying the night's chaos in my head. Father Elias's pathetic cries echoed in my mind—those high-pitched wails, like a goddamn kid throwing a fit over a broken toy. My pussy tingled at the memory, a dull ache reminding me how wet I'd gotten from breaking him. Beatrice snored softly in the bed across from mine, her dark hair splayed out like a halo of sin, while Clara mumbled something filthy in her sleep, her hand twitching as if she were still fingering herself.We'd left him tied to that chair until the wee hours, his sobs fading into exhausted whimpers before we finally cut him loose. I could still taste the salt of his
Wild Dreams [An Erotic Collection] Fucking The Virgin Father
Sister Agnes:I couldn't believe how good it felt, my fingers buried deep inside my slick pussy, sliding in and out with that wet, squelching sound that always made me hotter. The dim light of the convent's back room filtered through the cracked window, casting shadows over the stone walls, but who cared about that? My sisters, Beatrice and Clara, were right there with me, sprawled out on the old wooden benches we'd dragged together to make a makeshift bed. Beatrice had her legs spread wide, her hand working furiously between her thighs, her breaths coming in sharp gasps as she pinched her nipple with her free hand. Clara was on her back, knees bent, two fingers plunging into her ass while her thumb circled her clit, her face flushed and eyes half-closed in bliss.We'd been at it for what felt like hours, the air thick with the scent of our arousal—musky and sweet, like forbidden fruit rotting in the heat. The convent was supposed to be a place of piety, but us three? We were the blac
Wild Dreams [An Erotic Collection] Gay Henry Professor pt3
Melissa The fantasy had been chewing at me for weeks, but yesterday it finally clawed its way out of my mouth.I was still sore from the apartment—thighs bruised where Henry’s fingers had dug in, ass tender from the plug he’d left buzzing inside me while he fucked me senseless. Philip couldn’t sit without wincing; every time he shifted in his chair during morning lecture his breath hitched and his cheeks went pink. I loved it. Loved knowing exactly why he was leaking into his boxers right now, right beside me, while the professor droned about Derrida.But the new thought was filthier.I wanted to be full—stuffed, split open—while Philip was getting wrecked at the same time. I wanted to feel every brutal thrust Henry gave him travel through Philip’s cock into me. I wanted to be pinned between them, used like a toy, and then I wanted them to ruin me after. Rough. Mean. No mercy. I wanted to squirt so hard it soaked both of them, wanted to be made to lick it up while they laughed at how
Wild Dreams [An Erotic Collection] Gay Henry Professor pt2
Melissa:The next afternoon the sky over campus hung low and bruised, promising rain that never quite arrived. My thighs still ached from yesterday—phantom pressure, the ghost of how wide Philip had been stretched, how thoroughly used. We hadn’t spoken much since leaving Henry’s office. Just stolen glances in the hallway, his hand brushing mine under the lunch table, both of us flushed and quiet. The memory sat between us like a live wire.Philip texted me at 3:17 p.m.: *His place. 5. He said bring nothing but ourselves.*No explanation. No question mark. Just the address of an off-campus apartment building three blocks from the English department, the kind with ivy choking the brick and no doorman to ask questions.I arrived first. Black skirt, no panties, thin cotton top that clung when I was already damp between my legs. Philip showed up two minutes later—jeans, hoodie, hair still shower-damp. He looked wrecked in the best way: dark circles under his eyes, lips swollen like he’d sp
Wild Dreams [An Erotic Collection] Gay Henry Professor
The lecture hall smelled faintly of old wood and chalk dust, the kind of place where secrets felt safer because no one ever looked too closely at the back rows. Philip and I always claimed the last bench—far enough from the projector’s glow that our screens stayed private, close enough to the exit if we needed to bolt. Today the room was half-empty, professor droning on about structuralism or semiotics or whatever dead theory he was paid to resurrect this semester. We didn’t care.Philip angled his phone so only I could see. The video was already queued: two men, one on his knees, the other standing behind him with a hand fisted in dark hair. The bottom’s mouth was open, eager, taking every inch like he’d been starving for it. Slow thrusts at first, then harder, the slap of skin loud even through tiny earbuds we shared. Philip’s free hand was already under the desk, palming himself through his jeans. I mirrored him—fingers slipping beneath the waistband of my leggings, circling slow,
Wild Dreams [An Erotic Collection] Daddy Little Girl pt4
The house stayed quiet after the morning. Too quiet. Like it was holding its breath.We didn’t speak much over coffee. He made it fresh—black for him, too much sugar for me—and we sat at the kitchen table in the same chairs we’d used the night before. His knee brushed mine under the table once. Neither of us moved away. The contact felt louder than words.By noon the sun had turned vicious. Heat pressed against the windows, turning the air inside thick and slow. I’d showered alone after he left my room—quick, cold water, trying to rinse away the flush that wouldn’t leave my skin. It didn’t work. Every time I closed my eyes I felt his tongue again, the slow drag of it, the way he’d held me open and made me come apart without mercy.I found him in the living room. Curtains half-drawn, sunlight slanting in gold bars across the hardwood. He was on the couch in nothing but those same gray sweatpants, legs spread, one arm along the backrest, scrolling his phone like nothing had happened. Th
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