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Beranda / Romance / DRIPPING WET: A COLLECTION OF EROTICA / Bab 61 - Bab 70

Semua Bab DRIPPING WET: A COLLECTION OF EROTICA : Bab 61 - Bab 70

266 Bab

My neighbor's son I

I thought I was alone.It was late, the house quiet, the soft hum of the fan the only sound. I was sprawled on my bed, wearing nothing but a silk robe, fingers lazily circling my clit.I wasn’t trying to be loud. But I was needy. Horny. Restless.And then I heard it.A soft creak.My eyes darted to the corner of the room. And there he was half-hidden in the shadows, standing by my open closet door.Jason.Nineteen. My neighbor’s son. The boy I used to babysit.Except he wasn’t a boy anymore.He was shirtless. Breathing hard. His jeans slightly unzipped. And his eyes? Glued to my cunt like he’d been watching for a while.I didn’t scream. I didn’t move.I spread my legs wider.“Enjoying the show?” I asked, voice low and teasing.His lips parted. “You knew?”“Since you were hiding in my bathroom two nights ago.”He stepped closer, eyes wild. “You didn’t stop me.”“No. And I’m not stopping you now.” I let the robe fall open completely. “Come closer, Jason.”He walked to the bed like he wa
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My neighbor's son II

It burned.It stretched.And it felt so fucking good.Jason’s cock was buried deep in my ass, both of us slick with sweat and sin.He fucked me slow at first, letting me feel every inch as he pushed in and pulled out. My moans were low and broken, face buried into the sheets, drool pooling at the corner of my lips.“You’re taking it so well,” he panted. “Fucking greedy little slut.”I whimpered, reaching down to rub my clit. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”He didn’t.He grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanked me up so my back arched, and fucked into me harder, deeper, filthier.“You were mine the second I saw you bent over in your garden,” he growled in my ear. “Tits bouncing in that tiny tank top, pussy dripping through your shorts. You wanted me to see.”I moaned like a whore, eyes rolling back.“I touched myself to you every fucking night,” he hissed. “Now I’m finally inside you… both holes stretched open for me.”His fingers slid down between my legs and found my clit.He rubbed it
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My therapy -- 1

I told myself I was here for help.Not because I was horny. Not because I couldn’t stop picturing my therapist between my legs.But because I had issues.Impulse control. Risk-taking. Obsession.Dr. Carter said I needed to “explore the root.” That we’d go slow. Talk it out. Trust the process.But it’s been three sessions. And the only thing I’ve been “exploring” is how good he looks with his sleeves rolled up and his fingers wrapped around a pen.Today, I wore the shortest skirt I owned. No panties.He opened the door like usual. Calm. Cold.“Right on time,” he said. “Come in.”His office smelled like leather and clean wood. Dark walls. Big chair. Soft lighting. One long black couch that I never actually laid on.I sat. Crossed my legs slowly.Dr. Carter sat across from me, flipping through his notes. “Same nightmares?”“Yes.” I lied.“Still masturbating excessively?” he asked without looking up.I smirked. “Define excessively.”His eyes flicked up.“I do it in public sometimes,” I ad
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My therapy -- 2

I didn’t wait a week.I was back in Dr. Carter’s office three days later.No appointment. No warning. Just walked in like I owned the place.The receptionist was gone. The lights were dim. His door was cracked open.He looked up from his desk when I stepped in.“You’re early,” he said.“I couldn’t wait.”He raised a brow. Closed his folder. “That’s not how this works.”“Then punish me.”Something in his eyes changed—just like before. That flicker of restraint, snapping like a worn thread.“Lock the door,” he said.I obeyed.“And strip.”I didn’t speak. I didn’t tease.I just peeled off my clothes—slow, deliberate—until I was standing in his office completely naked.He didn’t move. Just stared. Studied. Controlled.“You know what I’ve been thinking about?” he said.“What?” I asked.He stood. Walked toward me.“Making you beg. Properly. None of that bratty attitude you like to bring in here.”I smirked. “What if I like being a brat?”“Then I’ll break it out of you.”He grabbed my throat
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My therapy -- 3

I laid there for twenty minutes.Cuffed. Used. Denied.His come was drying on my skin. My body was twitching, still burning for a release he refused to give me.And he never looked back.Just walked out like he didn’t break me.I should’ve left. I should’ve screamed. I should’ve hated him.But all I did was wait.And when he finally returned—calm, collected, with a bottle of water in one hand and a smug smirk—I hated how my body throbbed for him again.“You’re quiet now,” he said, setting the water down on the side table.“I’m cuffed,” I snapped.His smirk deepened. “And still so mouthy.”He uncuffed me without a word. My arms dropped like dead weight. I was sore. Shaky. And so, so wet.I moved to get up—then froze when his hand caught my neck and pressed me back down onto the couch.“You’re not going anywhere.”My heart jumped. “Why?”He leaned in, eyes black with control.“Because you haven’t begged properly yet.”I laughed bitterly. “I was begging. You just didn’t want to hear it.”
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My therapy -- 4

I didn’t leave the couch.Couldn’t.My legs were jelly. My mind? Gone.He broke me. Owned me.And I didn’t want it any other way.Dr. Lowe tucked his cock back into his pants like nothing happened. Like he didn’t just fill me, spank me, ruin me."Come back next week," he said calmly, smoothing down his shirt like he hadn’t just wrecked my entire life.But I couldn’t wait a week.Hell, I couldn’t wait an hour.I crawled to my knees, still naked, trembling and aching for more.“I want another session.”He looked down at me with that dark smirk.“Addicted already?”I nodded.“Then prove it.”His tone changed—deeper, darker.He sat back in his chair, legs wide.Unbuckled again. Pulled out his cock.“Use your mouth.”God, I was already drooling.I dragged myself between his legs, wrapped my lips around him without hesitation, and sucked.Slow, deep, messy.Letting him slide into the back of my throat until I gagged.Until tears stung my eyes and spit coated my chin.He grabbed a fistful of
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The Caged Doll I

I woke up in silk sheets. No windows. Just soft white light and cameras in every corner.A golden collar was locked around my neck.I wasn’t in my room.The air smelled like leather and something sweet—like roses and smoke. The walls were pale pink, too perfect, like a dollhouse. Like I’d been placed here, arranged.I sat up slowly, heart pounding. No phone. No clothes. Just a thin lace slip that barely covered anything. No doors either—only a speaker on the wall.I swallowed.“Hello?” My voice was barely a whisper. “Is… is anyone there?”Static. Then:“Good morning, Delilah.”I froze.“You’ll call me Sir from now on.”A camera above blinked red.“I chose you because you're perfect,” he continued. “Soft. Fragile. Breakable.”I stood. “What is this? What do you want from me?”Silence.Then, the door I hadn’t noticed—flush with the wall—clicked open.And he walked in.Tall. All black. Gloves on. Masked. But his eyes—cold, silver, hungry—took me apart.“Don't scream,” he said. “There's no
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The Caged Doll II

I woke up still impaled on his cock.I didn’t even realize I’d fallen asleep like that on top of him, filled to the hilt, my legs splayed open around his waist, body too sore to move. Silas didn’t let me go. He stayed buried in me like a lock and key, his arms wrapped around my back, as if he owned my very breath.Maybe he did.When I shifted slightly, his cock twitched inside me."You’re finally awake," he murmured, voice deep and husky against my neck. "I like you better this way—quiet, used, full."I tried to lift myself off him, but his grip tightened. He sat up with me still on him and kissed my collarbone. Then lower. Then bit down on my breast, hard enough to sting."Don’t move unless I tell you to."“I need to pee,” I whispered, cheeks flushed in shame.He smirked.“I’ll take care of it.”That should’ve scared me. It should’ve humiliated me.But when he carried me off the bed—still inside me—and walked us through a hidden door into a private tiled bathroom, I didn't fight it.
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The Caged Doll III

His cock rammed into me from behind, hard enough to knock the breath out of my lungs.The men watched.I could feel their stares like hands, crawling over my flushed skin, soaking in every sound that tore from my mouth with each brutal thrust.Silas didn’t ease up. He didn’t speak. He just used me, the way you’d fuck a warm, willing hole. His fingers bruised my hips, yanking me back against him over and over.I moaned, cried, gasped—but not once did I say stop.Because I didn’t want to.Because somewhere between the pain and humiliation, I found something terrifyingly addictive.I liked it.“Look at them,” Silas growled, leaning forward. His hand curled into my hair and yanked my head up. “Let them see your pretty fucked-out face.”My eyes fluttered open—tears clinging to the corners, lips parted, cheeks flushed. Across the room, one of the men palmed his cock through his pants. Another licked his lips.I was putting on a show, and my body was the stage.Silas pulled out suddenly. I w
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The Caged Doll IV

I couldn’t stop shaking.My breath came in little gasps as Silas unstrapped my trembling body from the bench. Every part of me throbbed—my ass, my thighs, my soaked cunt, even my wrists from where he’d bound me. But the worst part?I wanted more.God, I wanted more.He caught me as I collapsed, lifting me easily into his arms like I weighed nothing. My body curled into him instinctively, but he didn’t hold me to comfort. He held me to use.“You’re mine,” he murmured, brushing my sweat-slicked hair from my face. “Not a girl. Not a woman. Just my thing. My little caged doll.”I whimpered, eyes fluttering closed.“Don’t pass out on me yet,” he warned softly, and then I felt it—cold steel clicking around my wrists again. Tighter this time. Less room to move.Then the leash.Back around my neck.He walked with me down another hallway I hadn’t seen before. Velvet wallpaper. Black marble floors. Gold lights casting shadows like fire.A new room.This one was darker. Bigger. A mirror stretche
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