The Hockey’s Plaything(Erotic Short Stories) のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 131 - チャプター 140

I've always been the protective type, the big brother figure even though we're not blood-related. My step-sister, Emily, came into my life when our parents married five years ago. She was this quiet, bookish girl with her nose always buried in some fantasy novel or classic literature. At 22, she still had that innocent aura about her, wide blue eyes behind those oversized glasses, long wavy brown hair that she tied back in a ponytail, and a wardrobe full of oversized sweaters and jeans that hid her curves. Me? I'm Jake, 25, the gym rat with a job in construction, always covered in sawdust and sweat. We lived in the same house, shared the same dinner table, but our worlds were miles apart. Until that summer, when everything changed.It started innocently enough. Our parents were away on a second honeymoon, leaving us alone in the big suburban house for two weeks. I figured it'd be easy, I'd work days, hit the gym, maybe have some buddies over. Emily would probably lock herself in he

Isabella lay sprawled across her queen-sized bed in the dim glow of moonlight filtering through the sheer curtains of her bedroom window. The humid night air of the small Mexican town clung to her skin, making her simple white tank top stick to the curves of her full breasts. At twenty-two, she was a vision of youthful Latina allure a long, dark hair fanned out on the pillow, full lips parted slightly in sleep, and her olive-toned legs tangled in the rumpled sheets. She wore only the tank top and a pair of black lace panties that hugged her wide hips and the soft swell of her ass. The day's heat had left her restless, but exhaustion from her job at the local market had finally pulled her into a deep slumber. Father Miguel stood outside her modest adobe house, his black cassock blending into the shadows. The priest was in his late thirties, his face etched with the lines of devotion and unspoken desires. Tall and broad-shouldered, with a neatly trimmed beard and piercing brow

The church bells faded into the afternoon haze as Isabella stepped out of the confessional, her thighs slick with Father Miguel's cum trickling down. She adjusted her dress, the fabric clinging to her sweat-dampened skin, and slipped out of the church into the adjoining convent grounds. The convent was a secluded wing, home to a few nuns and young novices training for the priesthood, boys barely out of their teens, wide-eyed and devout. Isabella had volunteered there occasionally, helping with chores to atone for her 'sins,' though it often felt like teasing temptation.Her body still buzzed from the double encounters, pussy throbbing with a mix of soreness and insatiable hunger. She wandered the cloistered garden, the air thick with blooming jasmine, when she spotted him, Mateo, a lanky eighteen-year-old novice with tousled brown hair, sharp cheekbones, and an innocent face that hid a budding curiosity. He'd been caught staring at her curves during past visits, his cheeks flushi

I was running late for my tutoring session with Lydia, my 18-year-old student. As I hurried into the classroom, I could see her sitting at the desk, her long dark hair cascading over her shoulders. She looked up at me with those big, innocent eyes, and I felt a familiar stirring in my loins."Sorry I'm late," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "Let's get started, shall we?"Lydia nodded, biting her lip in that way that always drove me crazy. I sat down next to her, my thigh brushing against hers under the table. I could smell her perfume, a sweet floral scent that made my head spin.For the next hour, we worked through the material, but I could hardly concentrate. I kept getting distracted by the way Lydia's tongue poked out of her mouth when she concentrated, or the way her fingers drummed against the table. I couldn't stop thinking about how I wanted to touch her, to taste her, to make her mine.Finally, we reached the end of the session. Lydia stretched her arms above her head

I lay there in the sterile hospital bed, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead like a swarm of angry bees. My leg was in a cast from a stupid motorcycle accident, and the doctors said I'd be stuck here for at least a week. Boredom was my biggest enemy until she walked in, Nurse Elena. She was a vision in her tight white uniform that hugged her curves just right, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail that swayed with every step. Her name tag read 'Elena' in bold letters, and her smile lit up the room brighter than any pain med could.'How are we feeling today, Mr. Thompson?' she asked, her voice smooth and teasing, like she knew exactly how to make a guy forget his aches. She checked my chart, leaning over the bed so I got a whiff of her vanilla-scented perfume. My eyes dipped to her cleavage, the top button of her blouse straining against her full breasts.'Call me Jake,' I said, grinning despite the throb in my leg. 'And better now that you're here.'She chuckled, a low, throat