All Chapters of RAW DREAMS:{50 Stories}: Chapter 161 - Chapter 170

I hovered right there again, thighs quaking, breath coming in ragged sobs, when the mouth on my pussy slowed to lazy, savoring licks…denying the edge once more.Jake’s voice cut through the haze, rough and dark. “You taste so fucking good, Idia. But we’re nowhere near done with you yet.”The mouth between my legs pulled away just long enough for me to feel the loss like a physical ache, cool air rushing over slick, swollen skin. I whimpered without meaning to, hips chasing nothing, thighs trembling against the hands that still held me open.Then a different mouth took its place.This one was slower, hungrier. Lips sealed over my clit and sucked gently at first, drawing the sensitive bud between them with soft, wet pulls that made my back arch hard against the grip on my ponytail. His tongue flicked fast between my pussy lips….quick, fluttering strokes that had me gasping in broken bursts.At the same time, the mouths on my breasts changed rhythm. One stayed latched deep, sucking in lo

I couldn’t answer…Tyler’s shaft was still sliding lazily over my tongue, keeping my mouth full but a desperate, muffled moan escaped around him, my body clenching involuntarily at the words.Marcus pressed forward slowly, the blunt head forcing against the ring already stretched around Jake. The pressure built, burning, impossible…until Jake shifted his hips just enough to make room, and Marcus breached me with a slow, relentless push.The stretch was overwhelming. White-hot fire exploded through me as the second cockhead popped past the ring, sliding in alongside Jake’s. Inch by thick inch, he worked deeper, both of them groaning at the impossible tightness, my ass forced to accommodate two hard shafts at once.“Fuck…feel that?” Jake hissed through clenched teeth. “She’s squeezing us so goddamn hard.”My scream came out choking around Tyler’s cock as they both bottomed out…two cocks buried to the hilt in my ass, stretching me beyond anything I’d ever felt. Full didn’t even begin to d

The truth was, I loved them. Fiercely. Mom, who still sent care packages with my favorite off-brand granola bars and handwritten notes in perfect cursive. Dad, who’d taught me how to change a tire and never missed a single one of my high school art shows. Emily, who used to steal my clothes and beg me to braid her hair. Even Sophie, who’d started mimicking my old eye-rolls but still texted me memes at 2 a.m.But loving them didn’t make it easier to breathe when I was home. Every visit turned into a gentle interrogation…When are you settling down? Have you thought about grad school? Don’t you miss having seasons? And underneath it all, the unspoken question, When are you going to stop this phase and come back to who you really are?I wasn’t sure they recognized who I really was anymore or if they ever had.The bonfire light flickered ahead, and I could hear laughter carrying on the breeze…Andrew’s voice cutting through, loud and unapologetic. I grabbed my bag, stepped out, and let the

His eyes darkened, pupils blown wide in the moonlight. For a second he searched my face, making sure, and then something shifted…the gentle steadiness gave way to raw intent. He didn’t answer with words. He answered by sliding one hand up my side, slow and deliberate, until his palm cupped the curve of my breast through the thin cotton of my sundress.I gasped into his mouth as he kissed me again, deeper this time. His thumb swept over my nipple, teasing it through the fabric until it tightened into a hard, aching peak. Then he closed his fingers around my breast fully, squeezing with just the right pressure…firm, possessive, sending heat straight between my thighs.He pulled back an inch, eyes locked on mine, and slipped his hand beneath the neckline of my dress. The cool night air hit my skin a moment before his warm palm did. Skin on skin now, nothing between us. His fingers spread over my bare breast, kneading slowly, learning the weight and shape of me like he had all the time in

Bridget I stared at the steam rising from my coffee mug, the bitter aroma doing little to chase away the fog in my head. Another Monday morning in the cramped kitchen of my one-bedroom apartment, the kind of place that screamed "temporary" but had somehow stretched into three years. The countertop was cluttered with unopened mail, it was mostly bills and a half-eaten bagel from yesterday. I picked at the crust, my nails chipped from last week's manicure that I hadn't bothered to fix. Why would I? Who was looking?My name is Bridget, and at thirty-two, I felt like I'd hit a wall. Not the dramatic kind where you crash and burn, but the slow, grinding one where life just... plateaus. My job as a marketing coordinator for a mid-sized tech firm paid the bills, but it was all spreadsheets and Zoom calls, endless pitches for products I didn't care about. Friends? Scattered. Family? Distant. And relationships? Let's not even go there. My last boyfriend, Peter had bailed six months ago, cit