How Many Ounces Are In A Gallon?

**WARNING: VERY EXPLICIT 21+** + + My name doesn't matter. My filthy urges do. I came home from work. The bedroom door was half open. My husband was there, pounding into some woman on our bed, his cock slamming in and out, deep and rough. I should have screamed. Instead my pussy clenched hard. I stood frozen, watching every thrust. My hand slipped under my skirt on its own. Fingers circled my clit as he fucked her right in front of me. He glanced over. “You like watching my cock stretch her?” I rubbed faster. “Don’t stop,” I whispered. Then I came shaking, eyes locked on him pounding her. *** 69 Dripping Fantasies is sixty-nine raw taboo stories. Wives catching husbands cheating and getting soaked instead of angry. Step-family secrets whispered in quiet. Glory holes that fill fast. Honeymoon wife swaps sparked by one dumb dare. Older rich men taking total control. Professors crossing every forbidden line. Husband’s best friends sneaking in. Strangers who follow, then fuck hard. Group nights in dark clubs. Cucks cleaning up every last drop. *** I’m on my knees. One thick cock buried deep in my throat, making me gag. The woman behind me squeezes my tits until it hurts so good. Her tongue between my ass, teasing, no cock has filled my pussy or ass yet. But I’m trembling, dripping, seconds from squirting everywhere. Two massive black cocks wait their turn, and her presence makes it filthier… hotter. I never knew I craved this so badly. *** No soft romance. Just dirty yeses where no should be. Sixty-nine stories. Sixty-nine surrenders. Read if you’re brave. These pages might leave you wet, jealous, horny… or secretly think of your own filthy fantasies when nobody’s watching. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

Ninety stories. Ninety descents. No apologies. 90 Days Wet is a relentless erotica compilation that strips desire down to its rawest form…power, hunger, obsession, and the choices people make when they stop pretending they’re good. Each story stands alone. Different lives. Different rules. Different limits. From polished housewives with dirty secrets to sugar arrangements that blur into ownership, from age-gap dynamics to domination that doesn’t ask permission…every chapter peels away restraint and leaves something exposed. The further you go, the wetter it gets. The darker it turns. The more dangerous the wants become. This is not slow burn romance. This is filth, sex and taboo in all this glory. Read one. Read ten. Just don’t expect to come out clean. 18+ | Explicit themes | Reader discretion advised

Revenge is sweet but love is so much sweeter! Phoenix Beaumont had no place in his life for a serious relationship. For him, women were expensive toys to play with for a day or two and then move to another. So, Genie Mitchell saw no problem working part-time for the playboy doctor. He wasn’t attracted to her since he hated all women and she needed his money to pay her bills, so it was a win-win situation. That is why Genie saw nothing wrong in accepting her boss’s proposal: to accompany Phoenix to a medical conference as his fake lover. He was willing to pay good cash for her… services, so Genie saw nothing wrong in saying ‘yes’. While spending time with Phoenix, she discovered that the gorgeous, sexy doctor wasn’t who she thought he was. That in his presence, she was not who she thought she was.

I was the only female carpenter in town, and I made caskets at cost price for anyone in the area who needed one. Everyone said I was generous, kind-hearted, the whole routine. Then one afternoon, Doug Hadley showed up at my shop with his wife Trish Grady and a handful of neighbors to order a cremation urn. Trish stared at the price tag. "An urn for only 50 dollars? What is this, scrap wood?" Doug shot her a look. "Don't run your mouth about things you don't understand. It's solid ebony. Bridget makes them herself, so it's cheaper." Trish snickered behind her hand. "Solid ebony? That might fool someone who doesn't know any better. My cousin runs a funeral supply shop, so trust me, I know what I'm looking at. This isn't ebony. It's plywood. It's five dollars' worth of material, tops. "I can take you all to my cousin's place. I'll make sure he gives us a deal." The neighbors were already nodding. "The urn's supposed to last a hundred years. Obviously, I want the best for my mom." "Selling plywood and calling it ebony... You ought to be ashamed." "Come on, let's all go to Trish's cousin. I'm not giving her the chance to make dirty money off any of us." Dirty money? As far as I knew, mine was the only shop in town that actually stocked real ebony. Everyone else used MDF. If they were not afraid of the thing falling apart, they were welcome to go for it.

While inspecting my family's cold-storage operations, my husband, Hayden Gibson, and the poor college student I had sponsored, Olivia Hall, suddenly disappeared. As I passed by a research supply container, lines of floating text suddenly appeared in my vision. [That was close! They almost got caught by the heiress! Good thing Hayden reacted fast and pulled the innocent young woman into the cargo container.] [But this supply container is about to get locked and loaded onto a ship and sent to the Southfrost Reach research station. Are those two trying to turn themselves into ice sculptures?"] I just stood there. Hayden, my husband, who had married into my family, was cheating right under my nose? I was about to pull open the container door when Hayden's personal assistant, Robin, stepped in front of me with a smile. "The seal around the door was just waxed, and it hasn't dried yet. You might get your hands dirty." The bullet comments appeared again. [That scared me to death! This assistant is pretty smart. Once Hayden gets out, the assistant definitely deserves a new car.] [As expected of the Chosen One. He can always escape danger! I can't wait to watch his sweet romance with the sweet, innocent young woman.] I stared at the floating text and laughed coldly. "These are critical supplies for the research team. Seal the container now so that nothing goes wrong. Get the welder and weld the door shut." The assistant froze, and the bullet comments momentarily stopped. [Holy moly! She's so ruthless! The two people inside are completely naked right now!] [Help! If the container door gets welded shut, Hayden and the female lead will spend a month at sea and really freeze into ice sculptures!]

My mother was a veteran HR director, so she built a performance scorecard for my entire childhood. A perfect test score earned me ten minutes on my phone. Finishing first in school earned me a milkshake. Whatever I wanted, I had to earn with grades. After I entered Crestmont Institute of Technology, I spent three straight years at the top of my program. According to her rules, that was worth one thousand dollars. When I came home, she tossed a single dollar bill at me. "So what if you're still first? Your GPA has slipped by a tenth of a point every year. You have the nerve to ask for a reward?" Beside her, my brother lounged with the keys to his new Hawthorne sedan spinning around one finger. My stomach sank. "When I got into Crestmont Tech, you said I wasn't valedictorian, so all I deserved was a used scooter. "Why does he get a new car for barely making it into community college..." Mom's eyes flashed. "You and Tyler are completely different. "He went from having no chance at college to getting accepted somewhere. That's progress. You're moving backward. "Since you've chosen to coast, I'm cutting off your living expenses next semester. We only invest resources in people who improve. "Raise your GPA by finals, then come trade your grades for money." I walked outside without another word and made a call. "You really are me, ten years from now. You were right. Her performance system only applies to me." Future me answered calmly. "Tomorrow, sell the artwork Dad left you. Three of the pieces are genuine old masters. "Put every dollar into your research project. No matter what anyone says, don't abandon it. That project is your way into Crestmont's tech elite. "Let this family lose a future multimillionaire over one thousand dollars."