Why Does 'They Call Me Baba Booey' Have That Title?

Sixty-nine ways to make you sin. Sixty-nine positions to leave you soaked, dripping, trembling, begging for more until your bellies are bloated with hot loads of cum. These daddies do not hand you candies. They want your mouth wrapped around their dirty, hungry cocks. This is not romance. This is not gentle bedtime stories. This is pure, filthy desire, grown men with hungry mouths, ruthless hands, and cocks that know exactly how to make you cum undone. Neighbors with dark smiles. Daddies who do not ask, only take. Stepbrothers who turn one look into a night you will never forget. From late-night encounters that start with a knock and end with your legs shaking, to a therapist giving you private sessions that blur the line between control and surrender, every story drags you deeper. Tongues that do not stop. Fingers that find every weak spot. Bodies locked together in positions designed to break you open and keep you wet. These innocent virgins are adults with secrets they are ready to unleash, craving dominance, chasing the edge, surrendering to pleasure that leaves them gasping. And wet. And dripping for these daddies. Each story pushes them into new positions, new sins, and orgasms they cannot take back. No rules. No apologies. Just sweat-slick skin, whispered commands, and climaxes that hit hard and do not let go. If you want sweet, close the book. If you want dirty, and your sheets soaked; if you need your pussy throbbing, your thighs slick, and your thoughts twisted, step into this wet dream. This is your dirty fix to get your lips swollen, panties ruined, your new wet obsession. Note: A few stories contain incest. Welcome to 69 Positions: Make Me Cum Daddy.

"Does my son f*ck you this good? No? Then take this d*ck like the good girl you are." My father-in-law had me bent over the kitchen counter, hand clamped over my mouth to muffle my moans, while his son—my husband—called my name from upstairs... *** You think you know what you're getting into? You don't have a f*cking clue. This isn't some tasteful romance where the camera pans away. This is the raw, uncut, NC-17 version of your filthiest 3 AM fantasies—the ones you'd never admit to anyone, not even yourself. We're talking D*ddies who don't ask permission because you already gave it with those desperate eyes. Men old enough to be completely off-limits but experienced enough to make you forget your own name. They'll bend you over their desk, f*ck you silent at family dinner, and make you call them D*ddy while reminding you how young, and tight you are. Trigger warnings? Everything here is designed to trigger you. Age gaps that'll get you disowned. Rough hands leaving fingerprint bruises on your hips. Choking that blurs your vision while he calls you his perfect little slut. Public s*x in places you'll never see the same way. Getting passed around because one man isn't enough. These men don't make love—they f*ck, claim, own. They'll use every hole like it belongs to them because it does. Degrade and worship you in the same breath. Call you their dirty girl while balls deep making you scream. Now be a good girl, turn the f*cking page, and let Daddy show you what you've been missing.

"Choke on my dick, baby girl," Daddy growled, fisting my hair as he shoved his cock down my throat. "This what you wanted?" he growled. "Your uncle's cock inside you? Fucking you while your parents sleep upstairs?" • She’s young, dripping wet, and utterly fucked the moment they lay eyes on her. In YOURS, DADDIES, one insatiable woman gets claimed hard and without mercy by older, dominant men who know exactly how to break her open and make her beg. These aren’t gentle lovers—they’re rough, experienced daddies who growl “Mine” while pinning her down, stretching her tight holes with thick cocks, and filling her until she’s leaking their cum and screaming their names. From the ruthless CEO who bends her over his desk, spanking her ass red before fucking her throat raw and calling her his perfect little slut… to the tattooed brothers who take turns pounding her in every position, double-penetrating her until she’s a trembling, cum-drenched mess, sobbing “Yes, Daddy, harder.” Every story is packed with filthy daddy kink: choking grips on her throat, praise mixed with degradation (“Such a good girl taking two cocks like a whore”), rough breeding fantasies, light bondage, and group scenes where multiple alphas use her body like their personal toy—edging her, denying her orgasms, then ruining her with explosive releases. No vanilla bullshit here. Just raw, sweat-soaked, pussy-pounding obsession. She gets marked, owned, and ruined in the dirtiest ways possible—left gaping, bruised, and addicted to being their fucktoy. If you can’t handle getting soaked just reading the warnings… walk away now. But if you crave being utterly destroyed by possessive daddies who won’t stop until you’re theirs forever—open wide, baby girl. They’re coming for every hole.

BOOK #6 - WRIGHT-PETROV SERIES After her father's death, Kamilla lost her association with her father's employer. The Petrov family. Everything else followed. People she considered friends, including her boyfriend, turned their backs on her. She was outcasted by the same people previously groveling to please her. Overnight, she becomes a nobody. An easy target for the hypocrites of society. Nonetheless, she endures. She is far stronger than anyone realizes. However, someone thought she needed protection. "Why are you doing this, Mr. Samuel Petrov? I do not need the frivolity of your world. And please do not give me that lame excuse about being my father's friend again," she shows her defiance by meeting his calm gaze with her sharp angry one. "Believe me, Kamilla, you will not want to hear my reasons." Samuel bore her with an ominous look, attempting to dismiss her. "What reasons, Mr. Petrov? Does it include watching me sleep in the middle of the night? Or your huge one down there having a hard-on whenever you see me in my flimsy nightgown?" with regained boldness, she sassed while pointing at the bump of his pants. Samuel raised a brow in response to her brazenness. "It's just the tip of the iceberg you are seeing, Kamilla. You do not want to know the rest of it," his voice turned icy cold as he gritted every word. "I'm no angel, Samuel Petrov. I can smell your desire since day one, baby" A suggestive sultry smile carves her lips. "Fuck you, Kamilla. Don't call me baby" she was no longer surprise when he swiftly pulled and pinned her on the couch. "It's dangerous" His ragged hot breath fanned her face, and a rock-hard thing was wedged between them.

Keep your legs open, baby. That’s it… eyes on me.” One had his hand around my throat. Another had his mouth between my thighs. The third… God help me, he was the one who whispered the filth that made me forget my name. Three of them. All at once. Tearing me apart like I belonged to them. And the truth is—I did. Because I gave them my body the night I lost everything else. The night I got fired. The night my boyfriend left me for my best friend. The night I nearly ended it all. But I’d been kind to a stranger once. Gave him my umbrella in the rain. Smiled at him even when my world was falling apart. That man? He found me drunk and desperate on the edge of ruin… and offered me something darker than a second chance. To be theirs. All three of theirs. Not a girlfriend. Not a wife. A plaything. A prize. A pet. Now I wake up in silk sheets. I don’t work. I don’t pay bills. I only exist to please them. And Daddy doesn’t like when I cry. He likes when I beg.

Warning: 18+ only. Featuring hardcore taboo and age-gap erotica. This is an erotic boxset containing twelve stories of irresistible steam, fun, and naughty stories. If you're not up to eighteen, this book is not for you. Get ready to be intrigued. To feel. To...burn. ----------------------- "Now, let's discuss your shorts." A big hand slips under the blanket and glides down my knees to my innermost thighs, a finger finding my pussy, and sinking in. "You are a naughty, naughty girl. Did you wear this to torture me? Answer me." "Yes," I manage after two gulped breaths. "I wore it for you." With no panties. Everything bare. "You want me that bad, Theresa? You want me worked up, right? Feral, agitated, hopelessly turned on, huh?" My lips part as he shifts the stethoscope, listening to my heart pound as I answer. "Y-yes." "Say it. I want to hear every word." "I wore shorts to turn you on, Dr Storm. Every time." Excitement flourishes in my stomach, and I ride it like a tidal wave. "I wore it so you could..." He waits, bristling with impatience as I trail off. A muscle leaps in his jaw, and his whole sculpted body is tense beneath me. "So I could what, Theresa? So I could what?" The silence is so loud, the tension so thick, his eyes so intense, so needy to hear the words, I feel my toes curl. "So, you could put your hand up there, Dr Storm. So, you could touch me."