Desi Lesbian Stories Novelas e Histórias

Desi then decided to head back inside the house. Deliberately, Desi chose not to disclose what had happened to Letta, not wanting to exacerbate their situation. Desi was starting to grasp their current situation and didn't want Letta to be further distressed by her current state. Desi looked towards the second floor and decided to fetch some food for Letta, sensing that Letta might need something to fill her stomach.

The fantasy made me so wet I was almost certain I would leave a mark on the chair. After dinner Jack suggested drinks on the back patio. I excused myself to the kitchen under the pretense of getting water. The moment I was alone I pressed my back against the counter and slipped one hand under my dress. I was soaked. My fingers slid easily through the wetness. I rubbed my clit in tight circles and bit my lip hard to stay quiet, imagining it was Richard’s hand instead of mine. Imagining him behind me, chest pressed to my back, two fingers pumping into me while he told me what a filthy girl I was for getting this wet over him. I pulled my hand away before I could come. Not yet. Not while he was

She leaves the place without having a proper conversation with the owner of the pleasure house. "A slut is a slut. Everywhere you go, you smell like shit." One of the courtesans commented who recognized Victoria. The group broke into laughter while eyeing Victoria in derision. The actress lowered her head and ignore their unforgiving jeer. Turning to face the courtesans, Yakov cleared his throat which got their attention and blankly looked at their place. The group shut their lips closed. "I'm sorry." The courtesan apologizes and slightly bowed. Some of Mort's men, Yakov, Leroy, and Victoria went to the exclusive elevator and boarded inside to bring them down to the Underground Zero of CION

Nothing prepared me for the sight in front of me, he didn't even bother to close the door. Clutching my book to my chest, I watched as my handsome tutor lounged on a sofa, cock visible to my eyes. I was right, his cock was long but not too fat. A bottle of oil sat next to him ontop of the table and lastly, a laptop screen that showed a woman sprawled on a kitchen counter, her partner was behind her, his large thick cock sliding in and out of her glistening pussy as a torrent of raw sounds poured out of their mouths.

Anna kept licking me through every wave until I was shaking and oversensitive, almost whimpering. She uncuffed one wrist, rolled us, and pulled me on top of her so our wet cunts pressed together. She gripped my ass hard and forced the friction, our clits sliding with every deep grind of our hips. We moved against each other, kissing messily, until I came a third time, grinding down, and she followed with a low broken sound against my neck. Anna traced a slow line down my stomach, her fingers still shiny with me. “You’re still going to write the story, aren’t you?”

Among the papers on the floor was a black leather notebook. I picked it up, with the intention of putting it back but a page fell open. I looked at it and immediately, my breath caught. It was a list. It had names, dates, instructions and photos. Photos of women… beautiful submissive women, tied with ropes, gagged, eyes filled with lust and fear. I wanted to drop it back immediately, but curiosity had the better side of me, so I told myself just one more page then I'll drop it back. And then I flipped over to the next page.

He knew he should turn around, go back downstairs, act like he heard nothing, but instead he crept closer and peered through the gap. Lisa was on the bed, silk robe open, legs spread. One hand squeezed her full tit, pinching the nipple, while the other worked between her thighs. Her eyes were closed, head tilted back, lips parted. She looked nothing like the put-together woman who made coffee every morning and asked about his classes. This version was raw, desperate, fucking herself with two fingers while her hips rolled in slow circles. “Fuck…” she whispered to herself. "Fuck..." Jake whispered to himself.

"Sex is always... boring with him so I never cum. I've been faking my orgasm since we got married." Seraphine felt the sweet sensation stop. Perhaps he was shocked. Maybe. The feather continued its maddening path, tracing the outline of her labia, dipping slightly into her entrance before retreating. Her muscles tensed, straining against the cuffs. "I'm tired of pleasuring myself... I want a rough fuck by a real man," she continued, the words pouring out of her now, fueled by the teasing and the darkness. He clicked his tongue, the sound sharp in the quiet room. "Interesting wishes whore"

The Taboo Chronicles is a curated collection of dark, twisted, and unapologetically erotic stories designed to push the boundaries of conventional desire. From the sacred halls of a silent church to the high-stakes shadows of obsessive power plays, these stories explore the raw, unyielding side of human hunger. Whether it’s the thrill of a secret shared in the dark or the surrender of a soul to a dominant force, nothing is off-limits.

His hands firmly held on to either side of my thighs, his tongue moving up and down my core, making me drip even more. I hummed softly, arching my hips forward as he circled around my clit. He sucked my clit really hard, the feeling making my brain experiencing short–circuits. And then he moved back to gliding up and down my slits. The feel of that slick tongue pleasuring made me bite hard on my lips, trying to fight back my moan. If my husband found out I was getting pleasured by our chef instead of supervising him, I’d lose my life. That was one of the disadvantages of getting married to one of the wealthiest Mafia lords in the city.