Semua Bab Our Secret: My Dirty Tale: Bab 1 - Bab 9

Our Secret: My Dirty Tale is a compilation of short erotic stories intended for a MATURE AUDIENCE. Please note that ALL characters in these stories are above the age of consent. I would give a trigger warning, but there are wayyy too many. What to expect? Every kink possible. Every sexual pairing possible. Leave your morals behind, grab a toy or two. God knows you'll need a helping hand 😉*wink* Happy-horny reading! Xo, Athena♡ . . AYLA’s POV I’ve been house-sitting with my best friend Mia for the last three days now. I hadn’t seen much of her over the last couple of weeks, so I decided to join her in watering plants and feeding the fish in her brother’s vacant house. It’s been an amazing week, more so because I’m on leave from my workplace, so I just lounge at the massive infinity pool and make a dozen martinis to enjoy when Mia gets off work. It’s particularly hot tonight, so when I step out of the shower, I go downstairs for a glass of ice to enjoy my water with. I don'

He shrugs, grabs a deck of cards from a drawer because of course, it's his house, he knows where they are kept. I sit opposite him as he shuffles the cards, and deals, giving us both five cards each. The whole time, he has a huge smile on his face which screams ‘I win’, even before he looks at his cards. I look at my hand, a pair of eights, nothing else. It’s weak, but I keep my face blank. Caleb lays his down first, three of a kind, jacks. “A deal is a deal, cupcake.” He laughs, “Show daddy those pretty tits.” I curse under my breath and reach for the hem of my top with trembling hands. I slap the top beside me, my breasts slipping free. I fight the urge to cover them but one comment from Caleb and my nipples harden. “Juicy, when I’ve stripped you naked, can I touch them?” “Shut up,” I say with an eyeroll. “You’re not winning shit.” I let him deal again, and this time I win. Fullhouse. I clap and ask him to take his hoodie off, leaving him in a fitted shirt that leaves nothing to

AYLA’s POVSeeing how hard Caleb is still after fucking me so hard makes my core pulse with a familiar ache.I do exactly as he asks, I get on all fours.Caleb slides his cock into me again, this time it doesn't sting like the first time, and my pussy stretches around him. This angle is hell, I can feel him so deep I don't think I’ll last a minute before I come again.“I should have fucked you the second I walked into that kitchen,” he groans, his breath hot against my shoulder. He bites down hard, yet I don't feel the pain. I only feel a sting that moulds with the desperate ache between my thighs.He thrusts harder than before, fucking me like he hates me. I love it, I love the way his cock pushes against my cervix, grazing all the right spots inside me. “Caleb,” I moan, pushing back to meet his thrusts. He feels so good, I've never been fucked like this before, I've never dreamed of it, and now it’s all I’ll ever think about.“I’m sorry, baby.” He hisses, “Does it hurt?”“No,” I whi

MAYA Alarms ring in my head when I hear Zachary humming the same tune he does before he goes out to the club with his friends. I shuffle off my bed, pausing at the door. “Zach?” I call. My voice is not loud enough so I repeat, “Zachary,” I repeat, louder this time. Zachary. My very hot roommate of three years steps into the hallway, looking every bit disturbingly handsome like he does on his casual nights out. The man looks good in a button-down shirt, but shirtless? Oh God. “Yes, Maya?” I arch an eyebrow, scanning his outfit. “Going out again? That’s three times this week, Zach..” I try to keep the edge of jealousy out of my voice, but it’s a losing battle. He raises his hands, a smirk playing on his lips. “Yep, it's been a rough week, Maya. I need a drink.” He says, heading to our shared bathroom. I find myself following him like a shadow, just like I have for three years now. We both moved here for our jobs, and we've lived together ever since. Zach is the best thing to hav

GRACE’S POVSundays were for church.This much was clear in my parents’ house, and not attending meant yelling and lectures I wasn’t interested in.So every Sunday since I was seven, there I was, in church, thinking of things I shouldn’t. It used to be toys, games, school, and what ice cream flavour I’d get after playing the good girl in church. That bit didn’t change over the years, except when I turned fifteen, Father Liam appeared, and every Sunday I sat in that house felt like I was signing a one-way ticket to hell.Years later, at twenty-three, I had just returned from college a week prior, and I sat in the third pew from the front, my thighs pressed tightly together under my modest sundress, while I tried to look like I was listening to the sermon. I wasn’t.How could I when Father Liam stood at the pulpit in his crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled to the elbows, and the black clerical collar framing the strong column of his throat. The man looked like sin dressed adorned by h