Calum Hood Imagines Dirty Novels & Stories

“Taste yourself on Daddy’s cock.” I opened my mouth obediently, and he pushed in slowly, letting me taste the evidence of my own pleasure. It was filthy and perfect—the taste of my cum mixed with the salt of his skin. I moaned around him, sucking eagerly, my tongue swirling to clean every inch. Victor groaned, his hand sliding into my hair. “Fuck, that’s it. Suck your cum off my cock. You taste so good, don’t you? Such a dirty little girl for us.”

Each time, the guilt ate at her more viciously afterward. One afternoon, while Alex was in a video call in his office, Marcus cornered Emma in the upstairs hallway. He pushed her against the wall, hiked up her dress, and fucked her standing up, one hand over her mouth. “You’re addicted to this too,” he whispered. “You crave being my dirty secret.”

He’d forbidden them this morning after our shower, voice low and filthy against my ear while his fingers pushed another load deeper: “Want you feeling me all day, baby. Dripping down your thighs while you paint. Remembering who owns this pussy.” A faint, happy sob caught in my throat—quiet, private, the kind that came when joy hit so hard it hurt. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes as I walked down the wide corridor toward the advanced painting studio, heels clicking with purpose. The whispers started immediately, soft at first, then growing like ripples. “Is that… her?” “Blackwood. The one from the news.” “God, the collar—bold.” “After everything she went through? Good for her.”

I called out, my strides doubling and thankfully the door slammed closed before I got there. Great! I locked and went back to my room, pulling the blinds and taking off my clothes as I locked my door and went straight to my search bar. I typed my favourite media being black cocka dn lay with my cock pointing into the air as the images flooded the screen. My breath hitched as I fed my eyes with images of muscled studs striking model-like poses with cocks so thick and huge, my mouth watered. No matter how many times I had seen these images, how many times I had jerked my cock sore to these images, it was never enough.

Whoever has blood running through their body must be affected with his beauty. Huxley was a playboy and i needed to keep reminding myself so. I had put on a hoodie and a jean trouser that covered Virtually all my body parts so he won't get turned on and blame me for it. But despite being inside a hoodie and a jean, I think I will be crazy to admit that I'm wet already. My eyes fell on a frame of himself hung above the television, I stood and walked closer and took a closer look, it was actually a picture of him and a girl who seemed to be of the same age as him then, in the frame, they both looked very young and were smiling.

It was like this unspeakable game between the two us, he was quick to take on the challenge. A grimace crept to my lips as I started touching myself too, slowly until my fingers found my wet soaked pussy. The room was dimly lit and between that and the steam in the air, only little was left to imagination but it was more than enough. As a finger entered me, I let out a soft moan which only echoed louder, and then two.

Noah muttered as he pulled down his trousers and boxers. He began stroking his m*nhood in front of the sink. When he closed his eyes, the vivid imagery from his dream came back to him—tauntingly. His hand was nothing compared to the softness and heat of that p*ssy in his dream. He could still feel the sensation it caused in his body. His muscles hardened with every thrust of his length into his partner. It had felt too real. If that dream had gone on longer, he probably would’ve woken up with a mess in his pants. Sh*t! He couldn’t stop. Ingrid was the one he saw in his imagination as his hand quickly pumped his member. Ingrid was bouncing up and down on his lap as her healthy br*asts jiggled

Had he followed us out just so he could listen to me make my woman cum? “On the fact, he is locking Cali down once and for all.” It definitely wasn’t my imagination. Youngblood looked like he was going to vomit. *** Watching Cali dance with her girlfriends was like watching her make love. At least it had the same effect on my cock. A little over an hour after wiping her clean with toilet paper I was ready for another round. Crazy but true. I was guessing Ruin was having similar thoughts about his own old lady, his eyes were hooded as he watched them all move.

I eye his arm without taking it but he keeps his hand out. “Hi. I’m Calum,” he says. Thankfully, the hallway is empty so there is no one to watch this stubborn boy embarrass himself. I muster a practised smile. “Hi. I don’t care.” Calum finally drops his hand. “Ah. You’re funny.” His hands clamp around the straps of his bag. I grow self-conscious when his eyes do another lazy sweep of my body. I am wearing long sleeves and jeans. “Not as funny as I would be with my fist up your ass.”

I want grandpa. I want to sit down, but the ground is dirty. Mommy said not to get my clothes dirty. I don’t like the dirt anyway. It feels yucky on my hands and clothes. I want to be in daddy’s office where there is no dirt and I can play my games. Everyone tells me no and I’m little. I’m not little. I can be by myself. Calum’s little. He can’t be by himself because he makes all the mess. He likes to be dirty. I hate it. That means I’m big and he’s little.