Novel & Cerita Dancing With Strangers

“Gusto mo?” His voice was low, almost teasing, lazy yet dangerous. Sumiksik si Amanda sa kanyang dibdib, namumula ang mukha, nanginginig ang katawan habang umaatake ang kanyang kondisyon. She bit her lip, then nodded. Isang taon na siyang kasal kay Warren Garcia pero ni minsan, hindi siya hinawakan. A wife… who was never desired. Dahil doon, unti-unting nasira si Amanda. Tuwing aatake ang kanyang sakit, she loses control, trapped in a body longing for something she was never given. Until one night… nahuli niya ang asawa niya, kissing her sister’s photo. That’s when everything shattered. Hindi siya asawa. Hindi siya mahal. She was just a substitute, a replacement. A second choice. Desperate, she goes to the hospital and meets a young, dangerously handsome doctor. But something goes wrong. Because that night, she almost crossed the line. And she didn’t even know his name. Kinabukasan, her world turns upside down.The same man is now the newly appointed CEO. Her boss. Her temptation. Trying to act like strangers, Amanda kept her distance but fate had other plans. Na-promote siya. Diretso sa tabi ng CEO. As his personal assistant. “Sir, may asawa na ako… are you trying to be the other man?” Namumula sa galit si Amanda habang napilitang mapaupo sa kandungan nito. He held her waist tighter. Then kissed her. “Baby… did you forget?” His voice dropped into a whisper. “Last night… you called me ‘husband’ all night.” In the end, Amanda walks away. No hesitation. No turning back. She remarries. Choose someone else. Chooses herself. But the man who never touched her, finally breaks. Namumula ang mata, puno ng pagsisisi.. “Amanda… let’s start over. Please, don’t leave me. I’ll do anything.” She looks at him cold, unfeeling. “Sorry.” A faint smile. “I’m not interested in a useless man.”

**WARNING: VERY EXPLICIT 21+** + + My name doesn't matter. My filthy urges do. I came home from work. The bedroom door was half open. My husband was there, pounding into some woman on our bed, his cock slamming in and out, deep and rough. I should have screamed. Instead my pussy clenched hard. I stood frozen, watching every thrust. My hand slipped under my skirt on its own. Fingers circled my clit as he fucked her right in front of me. He glanced over. “You like watching my cock stretch her?” I rubbed faster. “Don’t stop,” I whispered. Then I came shaking, eyes locked on him pounding her. *** 69 Dripping Fantasies is sixty-nine raw taboo stories. Wives catching husbands cheating and getting soaked instead of angry. Step-family secrets whispered in quiet. Glory holes that fill fast. Honeymoon wife swaps sparked by one dumb dare. Older rich men taking total control. Professors crossing every forbidden line. Husband’s best friends sneaking in. Strangers who follow, then fuck hard. Group nights in dark clubs. Cucks cleaning up every last drop. *** I’m on my knees. One thick cock buried deep in my throat, making me gag. The woman behind me squeezes my tits until it hurts so good. Her tongue between my ass, teasing, no cock has filled my pussy or ass yet. But I’m trembling, dripping, seconds from squirting everywhere. Two massive black cocks wait their turn, and her presence makes it filthier… hotter. I never knew I craved this so badly. *** No soft romance. Just dirty yeses where no should be. Sixty-nine stories. Sixty-nine surrenders. Read if you’re brave. These pages might leave you wet, jealous, horny… or secretly think of your own filthy fantasies when nobody’s watching. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

When I was three years old, during a car accident, I was struck in the head by a car while trying to protect Mom. After that, the doctors said something inside my head had broken, and I'd never be quite right. Everyone back home called me the slow one. Late at night, I'd see her crying alone. On my seventh birthday, Mom took me to Manhattan, and that was when I discovered that she had a second home and another daughter, Charlotte. In front of strangers, she wouldn't claim me. She only let me call her Miss Eleanor. On the third night, She sat down at her vanity. On the table was a small black box. I thought it was a present. She opened the box and took out a black silicone bracelet, with a little light embedded in the clasp—small, dark, switched off. "This is called a TruthBand. It's something a company in California makes. The light turns green when you tell the truth, and red when you lie. If you wear this, Mommy will always know." She fastened it around my wrist. Tight. The little light blinked green. I thought that if I was good enough, she would love me the way she loved my sister. But then she made me do ski practice with Charlotte. Charlotte was a junior champion. "You're both my daughters. I don't play favorites. Whoever falls, gets punished." Charlotte never fell. I couldn't even keep my skis straight. Every single run, I was the one Mama dragged off the mountain and locked in the cellar. On Thanksgiving Day, Mama spent the whole afternoon cooking. I wanted to help. I dropped a bowl. She closed her eyes. When she opened them, they were red. She grabbed a little pill bottle off the counter, tipped my chin up, and forced something between my teeth. "Dumb as a rat. Are you happy now? Did you finally embarrass me enough? " I lay on the kitchen floor, gasping. While she wasn't looking, I scraped up three little pink pellets that had spilled and tucked them into my fist. Mommy, I told myself, I'll be good now, and then you'll be happy. Right?