Todos los capítulos de Erotic Tales: Love, Lust and Romance: Capítulo 91 - Capítulo 100

Not that I’m complaining or anything, but what are you up to?”Tabitha raised her gaze to meet Duke’s, but she could hardly be expected to answer, at least not while his cock was sliding over her tongue.She should have known it wouldn’t take him long to figure out something was up. It wasn’t often she brought him a home-cooked meal. It wasn’t often she bought him the expensive rum. It wasn’t often she put on the really slutty underwear and blew him before dessert.“Tabs?”She made a small sucking sound and lifted one shoulder.Duke didn’t look convinced. Blissful, yes, but skep- tical. “Did you put a dent in my car when you werepulling out of your driveway?”“Nggh-nnn,” was her only possible response. She closed her eyes, grasped his shaft and closed her lips around the circumference. He pushed against the floor with a grunt. His ass came up from the cushion and his dick went deeper into her throat.True, she was after something, but it’s not like she didn’t enjoy being in th

Gina sat in her bed and tried to read High Window. She’d devoured the novel many times before, but familiarity didn’t stop her from rereading her favorite works. Tonight, however, the words blurred in front of her eyes. She could only see the man in the store—his name was Andrew Martin. He’d written that on the bookmark. She toyed with the slim piece of stiff bluepaper. Should she call him? What would she say?She reached for the phone. Put it down. Picked it up.She dialed the number, then almost slammed the phone down again when she heard his voice: “Hello?”Her first word came out as a husky whisper, “Hello,” as if she were auditioning for a part as a 1-800-porn actress.“Hello?” he said again, and she cleared her throatand said, “I’m the girl…” but then she didn’t know what to put after that. The girl who masturbated in your store. Jesus, Gina, get a grip. She was a second from disconnecting the line when he said, “Don’t hang up. I’ve been waiting for your call.”She swall

Renata climbs the stairs from the dungeon, brushes aside the leather curtain, and looks around. Tonight she doesn’t need a fancy station. She only needs a quietcorner and a chair. This room will do nicely.She takes a seat against the wall. Like a lioness crouched by a watering hole, she watches the snack table across the room. People come, people go. Then her patience pays off. Vicki’s red latex minidress and stiletto ankle boots identify her. She’s trying to drink a Coke with one hand while holding a chocolate-chip cookie with the other. It’s awkward with the cuffs. Renata strides over and presses herself against Vicki’s back.“When’s your break over?” “Now.” Vicki lowers her snack. “Good. Keep the cookie.”A hand on Vicki’s biceps, Renata propels her across the room. Vicki’s ass and boobs jiggle under the low-cut latex. The ankle cuffs mean she has to shuffle quickly to keep up. By the time they get to Renata’s chair, Vicki’s breathing hard.Renata drops Vicki’s arm and sits,

Ihate being here.I hate sleeping in this bed, Clark’s marriage bed,sleeping on his wife’s side while she’s away on business and waking up face-to-face with the knickknacks and nail polish on her bedside table.And the baby oil! Why wouldn’t Clark have put that away before I came? Why the hell would I want to be reminded that he has sex with her too? More puzzlingly, why do I jump at every opportunity to stay the night?Well, that question has an easy answer: it’s the wake- up call that keeps me coming back. It’s his arms circling my body before the sun comes up, when I’m still warm with sleep. He kisses my shoulder, walks his fingers down my belly, and I’m sold. I’ll put up with any amount of heartache if it means getting fucked first thing in themorning.My pussy’s never wet when he finds it, so Clark burrows under the covers to turn me on in the most effi- cient way possible. Spreading my legs, he situates himself between them and dives at the apex of my thighs. I don’t know

Ten more minutes, I thought, glancing around the carnival. Ten minutes and then I can get out of this nightmare and go for a drink. I hauled one of the milk cartons up in front of me, and began stacking the plastic rings from the Ring Toss. This was the last year I’d volunteered for the games. Next year, I’ll sell tickets or something that doesn’t involve snotty kids screaming because they didn’t win a plastic frog. The sky was several shades of amber in the wake of the setting sun. I loved summer. And despite the disaster of this year’s Ring Toss, I always looked forward to the annual Shriners Carnival. I always volunteered. The money went toward revitalizing the parks and play- grounds in the area, places I used to go to when I was a child. Every year held surprises, from the old friends who came back for the night, to the local celebrities who turned up in support. Last year, we had an Emmy Award winner perform an impromptu concert. This year, my surprise was the very reason I ne