Adult Funny Short Stories Novelas e Histórias

His big hand was gripping my hip hard enough to leave marks, pulling me back onto his cock as he sank into me in one long thrust. A moan tore from my throat, muffled by the pillow. I reached back with my free hand, slick fingers circling my tight little ass hole, teasing the rim the way I imagined he might if he owned every inch of me. The dual sensation made my toes curl, my pussy squelched with obscene noises as I fucked myself harder, hips rolling desperately. In my fantasy, Steven growled against my ear, voice low: “You’ve been teasing me for years, baby girl. Parading around in these shorts, bending over where I can see that pretty pussy. This tight cunt is mine now.”

Aunt Stella sat across from me, her low-cut top revealing a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage that drew my eyes like a magnet, no matter how hard I tried to look away. I finished my meal quickly, leaving Mom and Aunt Stella to their lively conversation. Excusing myself, I headed to the bathroom, the clink of dishes and their laughter fading behind me. After relieving myself, I was zipping up my trousers when a hand suddenly wrapped around my cock, sending a jolt of electricity surging through my body. My breath caught, and I looked up to meet Aunt Stella’s gaze. Her eyes burned with a hunger that made my pulse race and my body respond instantly, hardening under her touch.

I experience a short reprieve as shorter brown haired man shoves him unconfidently out of the way. I’m very grateful, I must say, that this cock is quite a bit wider but far shorter at maybe only 4 inches. This little man couldn’t cover me in filth like the previous 7 inch cock, and I can’t help but beg for them to please, please destroy my body; to use me the way they would a streetwalker, a WHORE!

I joke. “We’ve been roommates for almost five years, asshole. I can’t help but know what you look like,” he deadpans. “Come on. Do it.” “No fucking way,” I say. “Scared you can’t hack it?” Axl asks. “No. I just don’t want to do it.” “Do you have any idea how much I can make in a night?” “Can’t be that much,” I quip. He says the amount, and my jaw drops. “Seriously?”

Cool air from the big windows hit my flesh, puffy lips glistening with arousal, my long clit peeking out from my folds. "Holy shit." He groaned. "That one fat juicy pussy. I wish there was more time to suck on this long clitty." He quickly lined up, slamming in one thrust. I faked moaned, mouth open, eyelashes fluttering. "Oh, yes, Stan. Your cock is big in my tight cunt." Lies!!! I hardly felt it. His puny prick leaving no burn, just pumping air. He grunted, feeling proud, balls slapping my pucker. "Take it, you slut. Take my big cock. "

“Emma, come here.” “But, I need to….” She tried to pull away from me. I knew she wanted to set her books down, and I knew she hated that I was touching her, but I needed my friends fixed, both of them, and there was only one person who could do that. He was telling a story as we approached, and I didn’t want to interrupt, but I also couldn’t wait too long either. “And then, wouldn’t you know it, but that bear totally left my lunchbox alone and ate every last crumb of my brother’s sandwich!” The kids standing around Mr. Horton’s desk laughed as if that was the funniest thing they’d ever heard in their lives. “And that’s why you don’t always have to be fast—you just have to be faster than the

Bradley Fry, my CEO husband, loves bringing his friends home for meals the most. He claims that this makes them feel like an actual family. As they drink in the feast I've whipped up for everyone, one of Bradley's friends comments smilingly, "I knew that you were a virtuous one, Emily! Now this is how the legitimate wife should act!" My expression doesn't falter as I ask in a half-joking manner, "Oh? Does Bradley have a spoiled and pampered mistress by his side, then?" His friends are stunned by my question. A trace of panic crosses their eyes simultaneously. But Bradley just wraps an arm around my shoulders with a smile. "Don't listen to their nonsense, Emily. Who else is worthy as my

And the silence hurts worse than anything. End of story 3

Anything to avoid walking into Rhett again while he was dripping and glowing and smug. But the man had no boundaries. By noon, he was shirtless again. This time in joggers that did nothing to hide the fact that God clearly had favorites. “I made coffee,” he said, holding out a mug like peace offering number two. I took it without a word and sipped. It was good. Of course it was. He leaned against the counter. “So what’s your story, Lana?” “My story?” “Yeah. Everyone’s got one. Especially women who move into apartments expecting old ladies and get dick instead.”

Before moving to another page, a black, net–like pants slipped from the novel and landed on his thighs. With a smile, Ann compensated that by quickly probing her tongue inside his mouth and rolled his lips. Despite the crowd, her move was passionate and determined to stir his juices off his balls. Immediately after parting lips, Anderson sighed pleasurably and chuckled. Frowning, Ann asked, somehow displeased, “Did I say something funny?” “No! You made me remember something stupid–sometimes back, a lady told me that the first time shouldn't be pleasurable–” With that, they cracked up simultaneously.