Daily Sex Book Novels & Stories

“That’s it… suck Daddy’s cock like the hungry little slut you are.” I moaned around his thickness, the vibration travelling up his shaft. My hand slid desperately between my spread thighs, two fingers plunging into my soaked pussy in the same rhythm as my bobbing head, fast, sloppy and greedy. Every time I sank my mouth on his cock, I thrust my fingers deep inside myself, curling them against that sensitive spot. Every time he pulled back, I dragged my fingers out, teasing my clit with quick, messy circles before plunging back in.

Even her stammering makes me smile. "You won't need your dress for this date." I leave the shop feeling her gaze on me. It’s been four months since I’ve had sex. That’s a decision that’s about to be rectified. AUTHOR'S NOTE: Fair warning. One of the readers on this book commented: If you don't like BDSM, RUN. Another commented: I don't read BDSM but this is great. And another: Handstock, blindfold and displayed, Cuffs... Everything is touched. So Hot

"Oh yes, yes, yes~! Please, don't stop~ please fuck, daddy~! Cum inside me~ Fill me with your love milk," "Everyday?" He asked again amidst sexy grunts. "Thrice a day," "In the car?" "I'll twerk on your dick~" "In the kitchen?" "You'll fuck my pussy!" "And every night?" "Intense pussy-wrecking lessons, Daddy," "Good girl," He made me lie on my back and pinned my wrists above my head to the mattress. Then my legs locked around the small of his back, my left heel digging into his flesh while he ruthlessly pounded my coochie like it owed him trillions.

4. PREYE We walked back to the room after dinner, the campus lights casting long shadows on the path. My body was still buzzing from that shower orgasm and everything that happened with Lisa earlier. Her creamy cum, the way she licked her fingers clean without shame, the flirty shit at the table,it all stuck in my head like a dirty movie on repeat. I’m straight, I kept telling myself. Big cocks, rough hands, getting tied up and fucked senseless. But Lisa’s hungry stares were doing something weird to my pussy, making it tingle even now.

They laugh. Life is good or was. Dan got promoted, again. But, this time he had to leave town for a month. This was going to be a problem. You see I'm a borderline nympho. Okay, not really, but I love sex with Dan. We're so open and adventurous. Daily, yeah, every day, some kind of sex. More than once a day too. We love it. I'd tell you about all the stuff we've done but that's not why I'm here. Just after dawn Monday morning I put my exhausted husband on the plane. We'd spent all night writing new chapters for the Kama Sutra.

My room door swung open to chaos: clothes spilling from cases, books toppled, my pink vibrator half-buried under a jumper like a guilty secret. He dumped the box on the bed, straightening with a grunt. "Right, let's get this sorted. Can't have my precious girl living in squalor." Precious girl. The words dripped possession, wrapping around me like chains. He started unpacking—methodical, strong hands ripping tape, lifting heavy textbooks one-handed. I knelt beside him, arse towards the mirror, skirt riding high as I folded tops. Every time he reached across, his knuckles brushed the side of my tit—once, twice, accidental-on-purpose. The third time, his palm grazed full-on, cupping the unders

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.

Clara Vale lived on the 12th floor of an old, rundown building in downtown São Paulo. At 32, she was the undisputed queen of bestselling erotic romances. Her books sold by the thousands: Fuck Me Until Dawn, where the protagonist was destroyed by a mafioso with a 23-centimeter cock; Fireman’s Dick — the irony of fate hitting hard now — and her most recent one, Emergency Orgasm, which had spent three straight weeks at the top of the charts.

I’ve always been crazy about books. Ever since I was a kid, I’d spend hours in the library, running my fingers over the covers, breathing in that old paper smell. It’s like the stories were part of me. My name is Eliza, and I run this small library in a quiet town. No one comes here much, which is fine by me. It gives me time to be alone with my books. But my love for them has turned into something more. I have this secret fetish. I dream about the characters jumping out of the pages and touching me, holding me, doing things to me that make my body heat up. It’s embarrassing to admit, but just thinking about it gets me excited. My heart beats fast, and I feel a wetness between my legs that I

"Well, we have Tickle Your Fancy - A Woman's Guide to Sexual Self-Pleasure. Taking it off the shelf, I show her the cover. It has a picture of a woman with her eyes closed, head thrown back, apparently in the throes of self-pleasure. "What a great title," she says, looking at the book." It's been a long time since my fancy's been tickled properly." She's smiling as she flips the pages. Not wanting to walk away from this beautiful, sexually candid woman, I reach for a familiar yellow book and tell her, "of course, if you're really desperate, there's always Sex For Dummies." "Oh great! We just met and already you're calling me names!" she says flirtatiously. She looks me in the eyes and dips h