Book Of Erotica Novels & Stories

This is probably the definition of pathetic. But I don’t care. I press his shirt to my face, breathing in his scent, and slide my hand between my legs. I’m already wet. I’ve been wet since I jumped into his arms this afternoon. The ache between my thighs is almost painful now. I circle my clit with my fingers, slow at first, imagining it’s his hand. Imagining him touching me, those rough callused fingers on my skin. “Damon,” I whisper into his shirt. My fingers move faster. I imagine him here, in my bed, those storm-gray eyes dark with lust. Imagine him spreading my legs and putting his mouth on me. Imagine his tongue…

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.

The erotica sounds of her mouth filled the space under the water, mixing with my gasps and low moans behind me. Faith free hand slid up to my throat, tilting my head back so she could bite along my neck while her hips kept rolling. "That's my girl, let her taste how wet you are," she moaned, pressing two fingers back inside me from behind even as Stella tongue sucked my front. She then pushed two fingers alongside Faith's, both of them stretching me open together. Their fingers moved in rhythm, one curling up while the other thrust deeper, scissoring inside my clenching walls. My legs shook harder. Faith adjusted her stance, spreading me wider so Stella could comfortably bury her face comple

Hello, my daring readers, I trust the previous story still lingers on your skin. As the synopsis teased, this book is packed with the most thrilling, wickedly sensual erotic tales I’ve ever created—raw, intensely steamy stories that don’t hold back, written for one purpose: your deepest, most delicious pleasure. If you crave mature, unfiltered adult erotic romance, then yes… this book is absolutely for you. *********** NEW STORY TITLE: Threesome Therapy (Group Fuck)

She smiled and ended 'I do sound it don't I? Julia rarely smiled, at least not at work, but when she did it lit up the entire room. 'A bit,' I conceded, 'seriously though. Have you ever read any erotica?' 'No. I just don't like all that foul language.' 'Eroticism is in the mind,' I argued, 'you don't need bad language to be erotic but equally the language of love, however crude, is nearly always erotic to some. Look I've just finished reading a story that I think you'll like. Why don't you read that and then decide?'

I caught my fingers finding their way into my panties again. I decided to go crazy. I grabbed my phone and turned on the camera and then I showed the video to the screen. "The sexiest man on earth", I mumbled as I then started watching the video and touching myself.. The thing about me is that I'm always wet, always. I went on and on for a moment till I reached orgasm and stopped. Then I cut the video and told myself to watch it later. Did my usual clean up and went to bed...Few minutes into my short nap, I got a call from Tom.

It was a Novel by Ana huang famous author for the twisted series, it was Twisted hate and the open page was one the steamy hate sex scenes between Jules and josh I picked it up and started to read it, I couldn’t hold it anymore, I bit my lips and my eyes narrowed as I could feel my wetness,drip down my legs. I needed the release, with or without the cute guy, I sat on the singular chair there, spreading my legs and rubbing my swollen clit,I made sure I kept my moans muffled. I was interrupted by someone clearing their throat,my eyes widened at the cute guy staring at me. “Don’t stop” his voice husky as I could see the dick bulging against his zipper.

She pulled it out, sneezed once as dust motes tickled her nostrils, and lowered the book on the coffee table. The title was written in cursive gold letters, 'The Art Of The Body'. Clearly out of curiosity, she opened to the middle of the book, and her eyes nearly popped out in pure mortification. The book contained explicit diagrams of men and women in different, erotic, sexual poses.

The first results were articles with bold headlines: "Damien Cross: The Painter of Desire" "Eroticism in Strokes and Shadows" "The Man Who Turns Skin into Stories" She clicked one. A grainy photograph of a tall man in a black shirt appeared, his face half-turned away from the camera. Dark hair, sharp jawline, eyes that seemed to be staring at something far beyond the frame. He looked… untouchable. Like he belonged to another world. Then she saw his paintings. Her breath caught.

My hands were already starting to ache forward inch by inch closer to my thighs as I tilted my gown upward with the other. " I bought sex toys that I think are huge and massive and veiny and big as his erection would be. I think about dirty things he could ever do to me while I thrust in harder and slid the toys in and out of me with abandon. I wait for him to stare at me and that alone makes me already wet. I wait for him to say something with that hoarse voice he has and i go home fucking myself dirty st the thought of that same voice saying erotic words to me.