Cheating Smut

SINFUL NIGHTS – Extremely Dirty & Explicit Erotic Short Stories Collection (18+ Filthy Sex) by SWAAN He shoved her against the wall, yanked her skirt up, and buried himself deep in one brutal thrust. “Say please if you want me to stop,” he snarled. She never did. 100 % raw, shameless, panty-melting erotica. Zero sweet romance. This filthy collection is packed with: • Rough dominant sex & dirty commands • Forbidden age-gap one-night stands • Boss/employee office sex on the desk • Best friend’s dad / brother taboo fantasies • Stranger sex after she hears him through the wall • Professor/student extra-credit on her knees • Enemies-to-lovers hate-sex that breaks the bed • Explicit breeding, choking, spanking, and filthy talk Every story is short, hardcore, and ends with shaking orgasms and dripping satisfaction. If you search for: dirty sex stories, explicit erotica, rough filthy short stories, forbidden age gap erotica, dominant alpha male sex, one-night stand smut, taboo cheating sex, or extreme adult erotica… this collection was written for YOU. Lock your door. Turn your phone on silent. One click = hours of sinful, soaking-wet nights. 18+ only • Extremely graphic • Not for the faint-hearted #DirtyErotica #ExplicitSexStories #FilthyShortStories #AgeGapSmut #RoughSex

My husband took our six-year-old daughter on a fishing trip, but when his first love called, he left her alone to answer his phone. With no one watching her, our daughter fell into the sea, and we never recovered her body. Heartbroken, I called him and begged him to return, but his voice was cold as he said, “Cheyenne, today’s Queenie's birthday. Can you stop being such a buzzkill?” When I stumbled back home in despair, I found his first love clinging provocatively to him, a smug smile on her face. “What’s got you so upset, sis-in-law?” she sneered. I let out a cold laugh and flipped the dining table over. “As long as you’re alive, I’ll never be happy.”

I'm Tristan Scott's driver's daughter. Ten years ago, my father died at the hands of Tristan's abductors as he tried to save Tristan. Tristan had held me close and told me, "I'll care for you for the rest of your life on your father's behalf." Later, my mother's cancer relapsed due to her sorrow after losing my father. Before her death, she hoped to see Tristan and me marry. But on the wedding day, Tristan leaves me at the altar. I weep and try to keep him around, but he sneers and says, "You should know where to draw the line—your father gave his life in exchange for the cushy life you now have. That should be enough for you! You're dreaming if you think you can marry me!" In the end, my mother dies without seeing Tristan put a ring on me. That night, his assistant shares an Instagram story. The photo is of her and Tristan's faces plastered to each other as she shows off the ring on her finger. It's captioned, "My answer is yes."

My husband, Hank, is dead.  On our wedding anniversary, he ventured out in the pouring rain to buy me a cake, only to be hit by a truck. His body was badly mangled in the crash.  My sister-in-law, Lyra, called me a killer, claiming that I did not deserve Hank’s inheritance.  My mother-in-law, Judy, kicked me out of the house.  Overwhelmed by grief and guilt, I often wondered if he would still be alive had I stopped him that day. Eventually, emotions gripped me, and I was diagnosed with cancer.  Judy came to visit me on my deathbed. “You’re an idiot to believe everything!”  She threw a family photo in my face.  The shock and anger were more than I could handle, and I breathed my last.  It turned out that Hank was never dead. He had a child with his old flame.  When I opened my eyes once more, I returned to the day my husband faked his death.

Luke finally agreed to bind with me, urged by his mother Monica on her deathbed. Moonlight spilled through the window, casting a glow on his golden-brown fur. He stood by the bed, his amber wolf eyes deep and seemingly nervous. As soon as he stepped out of the room, his expression returned to its usual calm, and he said to me coldly, "Emma, let's wait a little longer." "I need to bond with Alina first," he continued, his wolf eyes distant, his tone neutral. "Her mother is seriously ill, and I promised her." "What about your mother? She wants to witness our bonding too!" "I have to bond with Alina first. You don't need to worry about my mother’s health," he said, as he effortlessly removed the vow ring Monica had given me from my finger, then turned and walked away. His little wolf followed, its tail wagging happily, showing no sign of reluctance. But as soon as he left, his mother suddenly took a turn for the worse. By the time Monica passed away, I was the only one by her side. Weakly, she squeezed my hand and whispered, "Emma, don’t wait for him anymore. Find someone who truly loves you." Her hand fell limp, and in the quiet darkness, I made two calls. The first was to the church, changing our marking ceremony to a funeral for his mother. The second call was to my best friend. Her brother was the Alpha of another pack, with dark fur and sharp green eyes. "He once said that if I was willing, he would bond with me... Is that promise still valid?" There was a pause on the other end before a deep voice, full of natural authority, came through: "Emma, have you finally figured it out?"

Everyone says I'm lucky to be Frosthowl pack's Luna because my Alpha mate, Matthew White, loves me dearly. I love roses and fireworks, so he buys all that are available on my birthday. When it's almost midnight, he kisses me tenderly and says, "I'll turn you into a Luna that everyone envies, Amber." The fireworks light up the sky above the castle of roses he's built for me, and they go on for the rest of the night. They make it seem brighter than day. He and I do it underneath the fireworks and flowers throughout the night, and I accidentally catch a cold. Matthew is so guilty that he summons the pack's best healer to treat my inconsequential cold. All the werewolves treat our mate bond as a symbol of true love. However, just moments ago, I found a torn pair of black stockings in his suit jacket's pocket. I never wear those. However, his secretary, Beth Seymour, who helps him deal with the pack's matters, wears them every day.

On my wedding day, my fiancé bailed. Sabina—his ex—had sent him a diary listing 77 things she'd done for him. Turns out she only dumped him because his family pushed her to. So, he ran back to her. While I was still reeling, Jacob—my fiancé's best friend—showed up. He got down on one knee, flashed a ring he'd clearly had ready, and said, "Yuna Auclair, I've liked you for a long time. Will you marry me?" I thought he was my person. But after the wedding, Jacob turned distant. Hot one second, ice-cold the next. Then I found a diary in his study. Just like the one Sabina had sent my ex. Page one hit like a truck: [Hurt Yuna Auclair seventy-seven times, and I'll break up with Gabriel and be with you.] Oh—and Gabriel? He was my ex.

My husband was ruled by his obsessive-compulsive disorder, enforcing rigid schedules that governed our household. On our daughter's birthday, he and his assistant showed up late. The girl, who mirrored her father's need for order, wasn't upset. She just smiled and invited them to cut her cake. My heart shattered as I watched their cream-covered faces and joyful photos. The next day, I handed him the divorce agreement, confusing him. "Just because Edith didn't cut the cake with you?" "Yes."

When my fiance's childhood sweetheart, Jenna Gray, gets assigned to a rural work program, he, Austin Bell, volunteers to go with her for three years. Before leaving, he holds my hand and tells me a promise. "Save up while I'm gone and build our wedding fund. We'll get married as soon as I come back." Save up my ass. The moment he leaves, I start living my best life. A year later, Austin, who's supposed to be miles away in some rural village, shows up at our door with Jenna in tow. They're here to ask for money. What he sees when he walks through the door is me, eight months pregnant, lounging on the couch and watching TV. His hands tremble as he points at my pregnant belly. "I've been away for a year… How are you pregnant?" "You're early. If you'd stuck to the plan and come back by then, the kid would already be old enough to run errands."

My almost 50-year-old mother-in-law has recently gotten a new boyfriend. He's young, handsome, and has washboard abs. Just as I think she's finally hit the jackpot and found her true love, he climbs into my bed in the middle of the night…