All Chapters of P*rnstation: Filthy Erotica Collection : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Sunday bled into Monday without us noticing.The power came back sometime around dawn, but we never bothered with the lights. We didn’t need them. The whole apartment reeked of sex and sweat and us, windows fogged, sheets destroyed, every surface claimed.I woke with Caleb’s head between my thighs again, slow lazy licks like he’d never get enough. I came twice just like that, fingers knotted in his damp hair, hips rolling against his tongue until I shook apart.Late afternoon sun poured gold through the floor-to-ceiling windows. I stood naked in front of them, palms pressed to the glass, ass arched, legs wide.Caleb stood behind me, shirtless, sweatpants shoved down just enough. He slid his cock through my slick folds, teasing, coating himself in the mess we’d made for two straight days.“Put it in,” I breathed, fogging the glass. “Slow. I want to feel every inch.”He obeyed—because by then he always did—one hand on my hip, the other guiding that thick head to my entrance. He pushed i

The moment Ethan flipped me onto my hands and knees, everything changed. The playful tension from when I was riding him evaporated, replaced by something rawer, angrier—like all the years of pretending we didn’t want this had finally boiled over into pure hate-fueled lust. His body covered mine completely, chest pressed to my back, one strong arm banding around my waist to hold me exactly where he wanted me. His cock never left my pussy—not even for a second—staying buried deep as he adjusted us on the rug.I could feel every inch of him throbbing inside me, stretching my walls, the head nudging right up against my cervix. My pussy clenched greedily around him, already addicted to how full he made me feel. I was dripping wet, my arousal coating his shaft and running down my inner thighs in warm streaks. The alcohol still buzzed in my blood, making every sensation sharper, more intense.“You think you can just sneak in here and use my cock like your personal toy?” he snarled low agains

The blizzard raged outside, burying the mountain under endless waves of snow until the lodge was completely isolated. Roads were gone, phones buzzed with the same useless apologies from husbands trapped in the city, and the world beyond the windows had turned into a white, howling void. Inside the main lounge, the massive stone fireplace roared, casting flickering golden light over the leather couches and thick rugs. Sultry Christmas music pulsed low from the speakers, turning innocent holiday classics into something slow and sinful.Jake pushed through the door from the stairwell, expecting the place to be deserted. He still wore his fitted black thermal base layer and gray ski pants that clung to his lean, muscled frame. At twenty-eight, with sun-streaked blond hair and a cocky grin that usually got him whatever he wanted, he figured he would grab one last drink and head to bed.Instead, he walked straight into an ambush.Three frustrated housewives had claimed the bar like it belon

Jake lay flat on his back across the green felt of the pool table, cock standing straight up, slick and throbbing from the relentless action at the bar. The three women surrounded him like predators who had finally brought down their prey. The firelight danced over their naked bodies: Claire's tall, elegant frame with heavy breasts and long legs, Madison's soft curves and freckled skin, Sophia's petite, toned figure glistening with sweat. Christmas music continued its low, rhythmic pulse, the bass vibrating through the table beneath him.Sophia climbed up first, straddling his hips without hesitation. She gripped his shaft firmly, lining it up with her soaked entrance. "I've been waiting for this all night," she said, voice breathy and demanding. She sank down slowly at first, letting every inch stretch her open until she sat fully impaled, her tight walls gripping him like a fist.Jake groaned deeply, hands instinctively going to her hips. "Fuck, you're so tight," he rasped, thumbs d

It was late, way past when any sensible person should be out shopping for a Christmas tree, but I didn’t care. The kids were with their dad for the weekend, the house was too quiet, and I was restless in a way that had nothing to do with holiday cheer. At thirty-six, single again after a divorce that dragged on far too long, I had spent the last year ignoring the ache between my legs. Tonight, though, the ache was winning.The tree lot was almost deserted when I pulled in, just strings of colored bulbs flickering over rows of Fraser firs and a single guy still working. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a thick dark beard and flannel shirt rolled up to his elbows, showing off strong forearms dusted with hair. He looked like he belonged on a lumberjack calendar, and the second our eyes met, heat pooled low in my belly.I stepped out of the SUV in my tight jeans and low-cut red sweater, no coat even though it was freezing. My nipples were already hard from the cold air, pressing visibl