Dirty Air Series Novels & Stories

I say. Ezra looks at me, puzzled. "I knew you were not a virgin," He says. I touch his chest and grab his waist as his cock lines up against my ass. "My pussy was a virgin, not my ass. I am an ass whore," I moan as his cock slides into my ass.

I got home only to find out by a message Zane sent that Roman my step son had his friend Sky come over and that he had an emergency and wouldn't be home until the next day. Working as a fireman, it happened often, so I wasn't at all surprised. I warmed myself in a bath and changed into my pajamas. Taking the covers, I suddenly felt my throat was dry and decided to get some water from the fridge. I headed to the kitchen when I heard moans from the room close by. I moved closer; what was happening? I thought. I was surprised to find Sky jerking himself off; his dick was a lot bigger than Zane's.

Max managed to get back to his house quickly before the other truck which was following him. He was surprised that he actually made it to the house beforehand, just knowing the people that were driving the truck. Luckily there was nothing really that could break. Everything that she had was really sturdy, and it had been there for a while. She had managed to go ahead and clean up as much as possible as they were loading everything up. They started upstairs and then worked their way downstairs as well. She vacuumed and then made sure that everything was clean even though it was always clean in the house because she never really did anything. well Max was busy talking to the guys she walked ov

Not long after, the door opened, and Sandra walked in. She had changed into a clean white dress. She wore a gentle, saintly smile, but deep in her eyes sat naked contempt and the thrill of victory. Behind her was Eric, sitting in a wheelchair. Both his legs were wrapped thick in bandages. When he looked at me, his eyes burned with hatred. Sandra waved off the officer at the door, then calmly poured me a glass of water and set it on the bedside, as if we were still a loving couple. "Bradley, you poor thing," she said softly. "Look at you. You look awful."

Ethan pushed through the heavy oak door of Dirty Angels just as the afternoon light bled into dusk outside. The bar smelled like it always did this time of day, stale beer, lemon cleaner, and the faint metallic tang of anticipation for the night ahead. Neon signs flickered to life above the bottles: one red “OPEN” that buzzed like a trapped insect, another green “HANDS OFF” that always made him smirk. He was still half-hard from the morning, the memory of Sofia and Camila's mouths lingering like smoke in his veins.

****Dirty Secrets is gradually coming to an end. We have two more chapters to go **** Xavier Mary or whatever her name is is a variable I did not see coming. She walked in at the right time and saved me some time. Staring at her, I tried to figure out if this is just a charade. When a man is desperate just like myself, there is always a tendency for mistake; a mistake from a desperate man.

‎It had not rained for weeks!! Last night had felt like I was baking in a sauna and not in a good way. My cooling system had worked so hard, so f*****g hard, that it packed up the day before. My house slowly but surely became outrageously hot, so hot that when I looked down, I could see my n*****s peeking through the thin fabric of my sleeping T-shirt, already damp with sweat, and it wasn't even 9am yet.

We were like that through the death-knell of her second orgasm until it had run its course. She slowly came back to life as her breathing normalized. We were really a mess now. My jacket was a mass of stickyness that was sure to be a dry-cleaning nightmare, and all of that covered one side of her face too. The other side had been smeared by her sweat and secretions from her cunt. Her leggings were probably so soaked as to be a total loss. The smell in the doorway was not only twice as pungent now, but playing with her buttplug had added that to the mix as well.

There was a narrow linen chute door near the floorboards, meant for the laundry staff to drop dirty sheets down to the basement washing rooms. It was a tight squeeze, but my nineteen-year-old body was lean enough to slide through the steel opening. I grabbed my canvas backpack, squeezed my shoulders tight, and slid backward into the dark metal chute, letting myself drop straight down into the belly of the hospital. The fall was short, landing me on a massive pile of damp white towels inside the sterile, buzzing laundry basement. The air down here smelled of bleach and industrial soap, completely empty of any guards or doctors. I scrambled out of the linen bin, checking the pocket of my black

The force of it left me shaking and breathless, and he followed soon after, flooding me a second time with thick pulses that I felt all the way to my womb. I collapsed forward onto his chest and stayed there with him still buried inside me, our skin slick with sweat and the scent of sex heavy in the air between us. Outside the house, the night continued as if nothing had changed. Inside this room, everything had. The affair was no longer a collection of isolated encounters. It was the central rhythm of my body and the only hours that quieted the restless ache that lived between my legs every minute of every day. We dozed like that for a while, his arms around me and his cock still soft and w