All Chapters of DIRTY DREAMS: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Hands grip my knees and gently part them.Wide.Wider.Until I’m completely exposed, my most private parts on display for four sets of hungry eyes in the darkness of my childhood bedroom.“She’s so wet,” Tyler whispers. “Look – it’s on her thighs. It’s fucking everywhere. She was definitely dreaming about something.”You, I think, fighting to keep my breathing steady. I was dreaming about you. About all of you. About exactly this.“Spread her more,” Jack breathes. “I want to see everything.”More hands. Pushing my thighs apart until they’re practically flat against the mattress, until my pussy is completely open, glistening in whatever faint light is filtering through the curtains. I can feel how exposed I am – how obscenely displayed – and my cunt clenches around nothing, desperate and empty and aching.“Holy fuck.” Marcus sounds reverent. “Look at her. She’s perfect. Pink and swollen and... fuck, I can see her clit throbbing.”“Touch it.”A finger makes contact.Right on my pussy, s

They rotate through me like I’m a toy.A fuck doll. A warm, wet hole for them to use and fill and share.God, I love it.Marcus goes second. I was right about the football player build – he’s big. Everywhere. His hands span my entire waist. His thighs are thick as tree trunks. And his cock...When he pushes inside me, I feel every inch of the stretch.“Jesus Christ,” he groans. “She’s still tight. Even with Jack’s load in her, she’s gripping me like a virgin.”He fucks me slower than Jack. More deliberate. Each stroke is measured, controlled, like he’s savouring the feel of my cum-filled cunt wrapped around his cock. He watches my face while he does it – I can feel his eyes on me – looking for any twitch, any sign that I’m awake.I give him nothing but my body.“She’s beautiful,” he murmurs to the others. “Look at her face. So peaceful. She has no idea I’m balls deep inside her right now.”“She’s taking you so well,” Tyler adds. “Like she was made for this.”“She was.” Marcus’s thrust

I hate surprises.Connor knows this. He’s known it for the entire eight months we’ve been dating – through my birthday disaster, through the “romantic” weekend that turned out to be his mom’s lake house with his entire family, through every single time he thought spontaneity was cute instead of fucking annoying.So when he texts me dress cute, frat house tonight, date night with zero other details, I should know better.But I’m a goddamn idiot, apparently.I wear the sundress. The white one with the tiny buttons down the front that he likes to undo with his teeth when he’s feeling frisky. No bra because it doesn’t need one and because I’m hoping we sneak off to his room later. Matching panties – pale pink, lacy, the ones that make him groan.Eight months of Connor Miller and I’ve learned to weaponize pretty underwear.The Kappa Sigma house sits at the end of Greek Row like a threat. It’s the biggest one, the oldest one, the one every freshman girl whispers about at orientation. Don’t

Declan’s on me before I can brace myself.He doesn’t ask. Doesn’t check. Just grabs my hips, yanks me to the edge of the mattress, and notches the head of his cock against my entrance.“Wait – ” I start.He slams home.One brutal thrust. Balls deep. Splitting me open on a cock so much bigger than Connor’s that I scream – actually scream – from the stretch, from the fullness, from the overwhelming sensation of being impaled.“Fuck.” Declan groans, rolling his hips, grinding deeper. “She’s tight. Jesus Christ, she’s tight. Little virgin cunt, isn’t it?” He pulls back, slams in again, punches the air right out of my lungs. “Connor’s pencil dick didn’t do shit to stretch her out. Feel like I’m fucking a first-timer.”In the corner, Connor makes a wounded sound. Like he’s the one being hurt here. Like he has any right to complain.I don’t care.I don’t care because Declan’s fucking me like I owe him money, like I’m nothing but a hole to use, hammering into me so hard the mattress slides acr

The visits started when I was eighteen.“Just checking on you,” he said the first time I pretended to wake up, blinking at him in the doorway. “Making sure you’re sleeping well.”But he didn’t leave right away. He sat on the edge of my bed and watched me breathe. I kept my eyes closed, heart pounding, wondering what he was thinking. What he was planning. What he wanted from me that he couldn’t ask for in daylight.The next night, he touched my hair.The night after that, my shoulder.By nineteen, he was touching places stepfathers don’t touch, and I kept pretending to sleep because stopping him would mean acknowledging what we were doing. Would mean having a conversation neither of us was ready for.So I stayed still. Let him explore. Learned to control my breathing even when his fingers found places that made me want to gasp.That was four years ago.I’m twenty-two now.Four years of night visits. Four years of lying still while Marcus explores my body in the dark. Four years of pret