Novel & Cerita Dirty Minded Poems

“Make out. Both of you. And don’t be quiet. Tell each other what dirty little sluts you are.” Sophia smiled and pulled me close. Our wet bodies pressed together, breasts rubbing, as we kissed deeply. Our tongues slid against each other, the kiss turning sloppy and hungry. “I’m such a filthy slut,” Sophia whispered against my lips. “Letting two men use my holes while my best friend watches.” I moaned softly, grinding against her thigh. “I’m worse. I’m a professor who fucks her student and begs for more. Such a desperate cock-hungry whore.”

“Don’t stop, Daddy.” I whimpered, the name a blasphemy on my lips. I felt myself get impossibly wetter, the slickness coating my fingers, a response to calling my father-in-law “Daddy” that Paul’s name had never once elicited. I kept rubbing my aching, filthy clit with my fingers, moaning the word into the steamy air, just like I always did when my husband’s gentle snores filled the darkness of our bedroom. Dominic Matthews. My fucking father-in-law was the only man whose name could make my cunt clench with a desperate, needy spasm. He was the only one who could make me feel this alive, even if it was only in the twisted, secret theatre of my own mind.

“You like being my secret fucktoy, don’t you? Getting railed in the courthouse basement while your boss thinks you’re reviewing notes. This tight cunt is mine now. I’m going to fill it again and again until you’re leaking my cum through your closing arguments.” “Yes—fuck, yes!” I gasped, my walls clenching around his thick shaft. The dirty talk pushed me higher, the danger of discovery making everything messier. “Use me and ruin me. I’m your dirty little slut. Come on, stretch me wider. I want to feel you tomorrow when I stand up in court.”

The kind of app people used when they didn't want messages traced. Unknown sender. This message will disappear after viewing. I shouldn't have opened it. But my fingers moved on their own. "Fuck yes—ride my cock just like that—" A woman's pornographic moan. The wet, obscene slap of flesh pounding against flesh. "God, your pussy is so fucking tight—so much better than that frigid bitch would ever be—" "She's probably never even touched herself—that repressed little virgin—I bet her cunt is dry as a desert—" "Forget her—fuck—I'm gonna cum so deep inside you—"

I'm not in the mood to deal with this new neighbor of mine until that one Sunday morning. "Fuck Laura, I'm almost there!" I said grasping her hair while pounding her deep hole with all my force. I just fuck a young girl a while ago when Laura teased me with her graceful hips and dirty little lips. She's facing her naked body on my mattress digging her nails on it as I thrust my hardness inside her over and over again. I'm only wearing my upper dress.

“Read the titles as you ride,” he ordered. “Poetry of… oh fuck… Love,” I gasped. “Mystery… Thrillers.” “Make it dirty. What would you do in those stories?” “Fuck the poet,” I panted. “Solve the mystery with my ass.” He groaned, took the books from me, and tossed them aside before wrapping his arms around me and thrusting up hard. “Cum now. On the shelf.” I stroked myself fast, shooting ropes of cum onto the books, white streaks marking their covers as my body convulsed and my hole milked him.

. There was a line of men ready and waiting. Whilst the shop was closed, I had always suspected there to be shows, gatherings that took be place within hidden rooms. Clearly such a gathering had just ended as there was a very long line of people. The next man stood up. His cock was erect. He jerked it slowly back few times before unleashing his piss. It sprayed everywhere blasting me in the face. It did not taste good a sharp acidic flavour filled my mouth. Soon more and more men came to relieve themselves on me. I felt dirty, used and filthy. I was loving every second. Several went at once. Every tiny inch of me was covered the outfit I was wearing reduced to a piss covered rags that clung

“Who knew you were hiding a pussy this goddamn wet and tight huh? Perhaps I should keep you as my personal plaything. Fuck you whenever the mood hits. All you’d have to do is keep your pussy warm and ready for my use.” Did he just— Did he just say those vile things to me? Judging by the hot liquid that fills my stomach and the way my traitorous pussy clenches hard around him, I’m guessing yes. But maybe instead of wondering how he could dare say those things to me, I should ask myself why they turn me on so much. What has this infuriating man done to me? “Gods knows I’ll kill you before you ever get the chance to turn me into one of your living toys, you sadistic piece of shit,” I spit, twis

His grip on her chin tightened, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh until she could feel the imprint of each one. “Such a greedy little slut,” He murmured, his lips brushing against hers with every word, his breath mingling with hers. “Say it. Say you're my dirty little slut." "I.. I'm a dirty little slut'" She said, not even feeling ashamed. "My dirty little slut" He corrected huskily. "I'm your dirty little slut" “That’s right. But you're still not getting anything yet." His thumb traced the shape of her lower lip before slipping inside, pressing down on her tongue. “Let’s play a game, my dirty little slut.”