Ancient Roman Erotica Novelas e Histórias

“All that fighting and you just wanted my cock.” “Yes,” I gasped. “Don’t stop.” Our bodies slapped together. Sweat mixed with rose petals. The music kept playing, covering our moans and dirty words. I was lost in it…the feeling of being completely taken while still half-tied up in his prank. Luca reached between us and rubbed my clit again. Another orgasm built fast. “I’m close,” I warned. “Come with me,” he said, thrusting faster. “Come on my cock, Amelia.” I shattered again, crying out his name as my pussy pulsed around him. Luca followed right after, burying himself deep and groaning as he came inside me. I felt every pulse, every hot spurt.

They spoke in character the entire time, calling me their sacred whore, their divine offering, their personal temple slut. My moans grew louder and more desperate with every new cock. “Yes, my Lords! Use your priestess! Fill me with your divine seed!” I came countless times, my body shaking violently as orgasm after orgasm tore through me. By the end of the night, I was a cum-covered, trembling mess on the altar, smiling dreamily as they painted my body with their final loads. But this was only one night. The next would be Ancient Rome. Then Medieval. Then feudal Japan.

"And how many do you compare me to, lovely Esmerelda?" "My sister couldn't have been as good as me. She was nearly a virgin." She spit out the word with distaste. Life was too unpredictable for virginity to be a prized posses-sion among her people. Lust, in all its facets, was a healthy aspect of the Rom culture. He raised a hand in warning. "Stop. Now." But she couldn't. The poison words of accusation tum-bled out fast and furious at the only man who had ever made her pagan blood sing, and his boredom between her thighs had been chiseled in granite upon his perfect face this very eve. In truth, for many evenings now.

“Fuck me harder than he fucks her.” Marcus laughed darkly and spanked my ass hard. “Greedy little whore.” He yanked my hair harder and pounded me mercilessly. The sound of skin slapping skin mixed with the crackling fire. Jade suddenly climbed off Ryan and crawled over to us. She grabbed my face and kissed me sloppily while Marcus kept railing me from behind. Her tongue invaded my mouth as she reached down and rubbed my clit. “You like another man’s cock in you?” she whispered against my lips. “While I ride your boyfriend?”

She was stubborn, yes, but her body was a traitor, already slick and dripping between her thighs. "You want to be a brat, Elena?" Roman growled, kneeling between her legs. He didn't use his fingers; he used his tongue, a broad, wet muscle that swiped across her clitoris with a force that made her hips buck off the sofa. "Tell me how much you want this cock. Tell me you're a slut for both of us." "Fuck you, Roman," she choked out, her fingers digging into the leather. "Just fucking do it." Jax moved to her head, his cock inches from her face. "Language, Elena. I think you need to be filled up until you can't say another goddamn word."

Masculine in its restraint, yet unmistakably lived in. Elizabeth slipped off her heels at the entry, bare feet silent on the cool floor. Her eyes drifted to the art, several pieces caught her immediately. Framed photographs and paintings of women entwined: soft curves pressed together, mouths open in ecstasy, hands gripping thighs, backs arched. Lesbian erotica rendered with reverence, beautiful, unapologetic, sensual. One in particular: two women on silk sheets, one straddling the other, heads thrown back, fingers buried deep. The composition was raw yet tender.

I curled them, hitting that spot I knew she loved, watching her kick and squirm. God, she was perfect. Every reaction was vocal. Every movement was a plea. Eva… Eva was a statue. Eva never reacted like this. Eva made me feel like sex was a chore on a to-do list. Olandria made me feel like a god. She made me feel like a man who was capable of destroying a woman with nothing but a touch. I watched her hungrily, my mouth diving back for her clit while I continued to finger her, adding a third finger to stretch her out.

Everything from polaroids depicting the lifestyle of BDSM to raw images that illustrated every sexual position you could think of and more. Every kink you could imagine had played a role in each of the pieces as well—this place was purely, uncensored sex. A place dedicated to exploring every aspect of sensuality, at its finest. Reaching the back wall of the room, I was brought face to face with the sole reason I had fallen in love with everything art had to offer: Raimondi's I Modi. The surviving album of engravings dedicated to the sixteen pleasures; the positions. Erotic art created during the early ages—a true primitive art form. A piece of work I could never get tired of looking at.

Intimate. “Shh.” One finger pressed against my lips. “No more talking unless I tell you to. We wouldn’t want security to hear the prim little library assistant moaning like a whore when they finally check the building.” The crude word sent a shameful thrill straight to my core. I was already wet, embarrassingly so, just from one kiss and the way he was looking at me like he planned to devour me slowly. He stepped back slightly, eyes never leaving mine, and reached for one of the leather-bound books on the nearby table. It was an old edition of The Decameron, Boccaccio’s tales of lust and sin during the plague. One of the restricted volumes he’d borrowed before.

"That's your labia minora. They protect this lovely little hole right here." I stifled a moan as he teased his fingertip along my entrance. "That feels good." "I know," he said. "You're already starting to get wet." "Well, I need to, don't I?" I asked. "So you can look for the ghosts." "Right," he said. "The ghosts. But it'll take a lot more, uh, internal lubrication to properly examine you. Now, natural lubrication would likely be more effective, but I could grab some of the gel we use for—"