All Chapters of FORBIDDEN LUSTS (Erotica collection): Chapter 221 - Chapter 230

I couldn’t stop touching myself all week. Every night I’d sprawl on my dorm bed, legs wide, fingers circling my clit while I replayed that moment in his office over and over. The way his hand had closed around my throat, not hurting, just owning. The heat of his cock twitching under my palm when I squeezed it on my way out. The promise in his voice—low, rough, dripping with control—when he said he’d make me swallow every drop. I came so hard the first night I soaked the sheets, biting my pillow to keep from moaning his name loud enough for my roommate to hear. By Wednesday I was edging myself three, four times a day, stopping right before the crest, whispering “Daddy, please” into the dark like a prayer. I wanted to be wrecked when I walked back into that office. I wanted him to smell how desperate I was.I didn’t fix the paper. Of course I didn’t.Instead I wore the shortest skirt I owned—black pleated, barely grazing the tops of my thighs—and a cropped white button-up tied just unde

I’d spent the entire week trying to convince myself I could keep control. Every time I pictured Lila walking back into my office—those cherry-red lips, that tiny skirt, the way she’d crawled to me last time like she was starving—I had to grip the edge of my desk and breathe through it. I’d jerked off in the shower twice a day, hand rough and fast, imagining her gagging on me again, her mascara running, her throat squeezing around my cock until I couldn’t think straight. But I always stopped short of coming. I saved it. Told myself if she came back acting like a brat again, I’d make her pay for every second I’d spent denying myself.She showed up at 5:50 on Friday, just like last week. The building was dead quiet—most faculty had cleared out for the weekend, the janitor wouldn’t start rounds until seven. Perfect timing for what I had planned. Or maybe the worst possible timing, because the risk made my blood run hotter.She didn’t knock. Just pushed the door open, stepped inside, and l

I’d been hard since the second her text came through saying she was on her way. Every red light on the drive home, I pictured her in the passenger seat instead—skirt hiked up, fingers circling that swollen clit while she whimpered my name. I’d edged myself raw all week thinking about tonight. Jerked off in the shower that morning until my balls ached, then stopped. Again at lunch in my office, door locked, hand wrapped tight around my cock, remembering how her pussy clenched when I filled her on the desk. Stopped again. I wanted every drop saved for her. I wanted her so full of me she couldn’t sit without feeling it leak out.The house was quiet when I got home. I’d already set everything up in the spare bedroom—soft black cuffs tied to the headboard posts, a sleek vibrator on the nightstand, bottle of lube, extra towels. I lit one lamp, low and warm, so she could see every filthy thing I did to her. I wanted her to watch herself take it. I wanted her to see how wrecked she looked whe

 I woke up to the slow, heavy drag of his cock sliding back inside me. My eyes fluttered open, hazy with sleep and last night’s exhaustion, and the first thing I felt was him—thick, hot, stretching me open again like my body hadn’t even had time to close up from the night before. I was still slick with his cum, still tender, and the way he pushed in slow and deliberate made every swollen inch burn in the most delicious way. My thighs were already trembling, pussy clenching around him on instinct, pulling him deeper even though I was sore. He was behind me, spooning me tight against his chest, one arm banded around my waist, the other hand cupping my breast like he owned it. His breath was warm on the back of my neck, lips brushing my skin as he murmured, “Morning, baby.” I whimpered, hips rocking back before my brain even caught up. “Daddy…” 

1I had been wet for Uncle Jake since the summer I turned sixteen and noticed how his T-shirt stretched across his chest when he lifted a beer to his mouth. Back then I didn’t know what to do with the ache between my legs, so I just stared and squeezed my thighs together under the picnic table. Now I was eighteen, home from my first year of college, and I knew exactly what I wanted. I wanted him to look at me the way he used to look at my mom’s friends when he thought no one was watching—dark, hungry, like he could eat them alive. Except I wanted him to actually do it. To me.The backyard smelled like charcoal smoke and grilled burgers, sunscreen and cut grass. Dad was laughing too loud at something one of his buddies said, beer in hand, oblivious. Mom was inside slicing watermelon. Everyone else was scattered—cousins chasing each other, aunts gossiping on the patio. Perfect chaos. Perfect cover.I had picked this dress on purpose. Pale yellow sundress, thin cotton that clung when I m