1950s Erotica Novels & Stories

This form of degradation feels so fucking good it makes me want to cry, I feel like I didn’t deserve to be this aroused. “This is where you belong…..” Darius affirmed as he dug his feet into my face, “under my feet.” He continued and I whimpered, wriggling under his feet with the inability to breathe. “Look at your slutty cunt, dripping with your juice and my cum like a pathetic fucktoy,” his deep voice threatened to push me over the edge and I felt the mixture of my juice and his sperm seep out of my cunt. “You don’t deserve our cocks but we gave it to you anyways because you’re nothing but a filthy hole that begs to be used.”

The age gap, the taboo, the constant risk of getting caught — it all makes the pleasure so much stronger and dirtier I am completely addicted to my stepfather now just as he is addicted to my body. Body and soul, I belong to him. Even when my mother is home cooking or talking to us, even when Junior is playing nearby, I am thinking about Mike’s cock. I am his filthy little secret. His young cum slut. His forbidden stepdaughter and I want it to always remain that way… I never want this dark, raw, offensive pleasure to stop

What I found was a world of explicit, detailed stories about aunts and nephews. Stories of seduction, of secret affairs, of dominant young men and submissive older women. I read one, then another. My face grew hot, my breathing shallow. Without even consciously deciding to, my hand slipped under the waistband of my linen trousers, my fingertips finding my clit, already sensitive from last night. The stories were graphic, filthy, and utterly compelling. They painted pictures of aunts who were initially reluctant but secretly hungry, who were awakened by their nephew's bold desire. They talked about submission, about being called names, about the thrill of the forbidden.

Their striking features became clearer and the shadows receded with each step they took on the stone stairs. Finally, they conceded that they were at the right destination. These hot, extraordinary men and their ravishing lady, Lexi, were the ones whose erotic images and videos had taunted them all. In the agreement they signed, it was stated that they would be having a 24-hour fuck-a-thon CNC sex with them, and they were so excited to begin. Jaxon and Zane Blackwood weren’t completely naked; they wore gray pants and stylish sneakers. “Damn, they’re seriously so freaking hot,” Mike gasped, his heart racing as a wave of excitement washed over him.

A woman at the next counter tested a lipstick, utterly unaware that three feet away, a woman was being slowly, thoroughly fucked on a salesman’s stool. “Four,” Marcus whispered into her hair as he spilled inside her once more. Clara lost count. The floors blurred together. A stockroom on the Children’s floor, surrounded by boxes of stuffed animals, where he made her suck him off until he came in her mouth. A deserted photo booth near the customer service desk, where he fingered her to a quick, silent climax as families had their portraits taken nearby. Each was a quick, dirty transaction, a claim staked in another part of his… their, domain.

The way her breath had caught when I touched her last week, the soft swell of her mound under my gloved fingers, the faint sheen of arousal I’d seen between her thighs when she thought I wasn’t looking. I leaned against the wall in the private room, unzipped my jeans, and pulled myself out. Thick and already leaking. The head flushed dark, a bead of precum sliding down the underside. I wrapped my fist around the base and stroked once—slow, deliberate—picturing her on my table again. Soft curves. Full tits straining against her bra. That delicate flush creeping up her neck when I’d said her skin took the lines beautifully. I remembered the others: Claire, married ten years, wedding band flash

“Just like that, Erica. Keep bouncing on me and beg for my cum. You want my fucking cum don't you?" “Yes! Please, give me your cum,” I whimpered, feeling like I was about to explode around him. “Please, Dr. Evans, fill my tight little pussy with your cum. I need it so badly. It’ll make me come all around your hard cock.” “Oh, Fuck,” he grunted, slamming my hips down on his cock and forcing them still. I knew he was trying to stop himself from coming already, but he didn’t tell me to stop bouncing. So, I continued to buck my hips back and forth, my breasts moving against his chest and my pussy exploding around his cock.

“Look at the holy healer, fucking herself on my cock. You love it. You love being my corrupted little whore.” “Yes!” she screamed, the profanity feeling like a liberation. “I love it! I love your cock inside me!” Her orgasm built, a tidal wave of pleasure so intense it was almost painful. He felt it too, his control fraying. “Cum for me, Amara,” he commanded, his voice raw. “Cum all over my corrupting cock. Mark yourself as mine.”

Well there was only two weeks left to enjoy her and I was doing that as much as I could. Not that I didn't actually enjoy the class itself as I had indeed been writing for the last couple of years. The only problem was what I was writing was dirty stories, or as the web sites called it; erotica. I was pretty good at it and at the urging of my then girlfriend Julie, had submitted a few to a story site named Erotic escapes where under the pen name hotforteacher I'd gotten some pretty good reviews.

No deep pressure that made my mouth fall open. He started moving, steady and careful. “Fuck, you’re wet,” he groaned. I wrapped my legs around him and moved with him, but every thrust just made me think of the desk. The way Mr. Grant had held my hips and forced every thick inch inside me. The way he had called me a slut while he used me. Derick kissed my neck. “You feel so good.” I closed my eyes and pretended the voice in my ear was deeper. Older. Meaner.