All Chapters of 100 SHADES OF LUST: A PACK OF TABOO STORIES : Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

The filthy thoughts that had tormented him all day became impossible to resist. He told himself he was just making her more comfortable as he slowly pulled the tight dress down her body. As the fabric slipped away, he realized she wasn’t wearing a bra either.Sloane now lay completely naked in front of him, her perfect full breasts rising and falling with every soft breath.The sight made something inside Ryan snap. He climbed onto the bed and began touching her sleeping body. His hands went straight to her large, perky tits, groping and squeezing the soft, warm flesh. He pinched and tugged her nipples until they were rock hard and swollen.His hands moved lower. He rubbed her clit in slow, deliberate circles, then forcefully spread her pink pussy lips apart, exposing the glistening, delicate flesh inside. Hunger took over. He pulled her to the edge of the bed, dropped to his knees, and buried his face between her thighs.He ate her out like a man possessed, licking and sucking her sw

The next several days passed in a blur of pure lust. Whenever Beau left the house, Ryan and Sloane fucked everywhere they could. They had sex in his office while Beau was at the gym, in the garage when she had lunch with her sister, and in the shower when she went grocery shopping.Every encounter grew hotter and more intense, leaving Ryan craving more. Sloane was no longer just his stepdaughter. She had become his eager, cock-hungry whore, and he used her whenever he wanted.Now it was their last night together before Sloane flew back to college in the morning. Beau had already left to meet her friends at the movies. Ryan sat on the edge of the bed in the quiet house. The only sound came from the shower running in the master bathroom.Behind him on the bed lay several carefully chosen gifts for Sloane: a black leather collar with the words “Daddy’s Girl” embossed in elegant cursive, matching silver nipple clamps connected by a delicate chain, a pretty anal plug with a heart-shaped pi

The car’s headlights cut through the darkness as Ryan drove through a rough industrial part of the city. Graffiti covered the walls and shadowy figures lingered in doorways. His mind was still reeling from everything that had just happened at home.Sloane had not said a single word since they left the driveway. She sat curled against the passenger door, still completely naked except for the leather collar around her neck, the silver nipple clamps with their connecting chain, and a pair of red stiletto heels she had left in the car days earlier. Dried cum still covered her face and breasts.“We have to stop all of this,” Ryan said, his voice filled with concern. “Take off the collar and clamps. I will figure out how to fix this so you can get your things from the house and still make your flight tomorrow.”He pulled into the parking lot of the Starlight Motel. Half the letters on the sign were missing and the remaining ones buzzed and flickered. Several prostitutes lingered near the ve

It was a quiet afternoon around 3 PM when my partner and I were on routine patrol in the upscale lakeside community of Briarwood Heights. Ever since the Purity Enforcement Act passed three years ago, our unit — the Vice Morality Division, or what everyone on the street called the Sex Police — had been cracking down hard on public indecency and moral corruption. The government said it was about protecting family values. We knew it was mostly about power and pussy.We rolled up on a late-model black sedan parked deep in a secluded spot by Willow Lake. About fifty yards back, hidden by trees, we spotted a young guy sitting in the backseat. Thinking he was just smoking weed, we approached silently.What we found was a lot more interesting.Lying across the backseat with his cock buried in her mouth was one of the senior girls from St. Agnes Catholic Academy. Her crisp white uniform blouse was wide open, and the most perfect pair of double-D tits I’d ever seen were pulled out of her bra, j

I shrugged off my leather jacket, the familiar weight of it hitting the floor with a soft thud. The apartment smelled like stale takeout and the faint metallic tang of the city air drifting through the cracked window. I arched my back until my spine popped loudly, then peeled off my jeans and panties in one impatient motion. The worn desk chair creaked under me as I dropped into it, bare thighs sticking to the cracked vinyl. My heart was already racing, a low, insistent thrum between my legs that I knew too well. This was my ritual now. Ever since the divorce papers had been signed and my ex had walked out with half our shit and none of the guilt, nights like this had become my escape. The thrill of a good score—slipping through shadows, picking locks, lifting something expensive enough to keep the lights on—only lasted so long. The crash afterward always brought me here. My fingers danced across the keyboard, muscle memory pulling up the usual sites before I could even think