Novel & Cerita Dirty Smut Stories

, I pouted, putting two fingers in my mouth, withdrew them with saliva, rubbing it over the tip of his cock. "This i's not right, I'm married to your mum. And you're just like my daughter". I put my finger on my lip to silent him. "Do you want to see my tits?". Gosh, I sounded like a slut, and I loved it. I had Frank under my control and I was going to make him worship my body. Without hesitating, I took the nightie off, exposing my touted tits as I started playing with them. "We could do it just this once. I won't tell Mom anything".

“First to cum has to give the other person hundred dollars.” “Is it gonna be Trandy and i against you?” “Yes.” “Funny of you to think you can take us both down.” “You should know i have high libodo, i can last for hours. Now that i have gotten smoke and alcohol…i might go all night.” I paused at him, scoffing my face at how he bluffed. “Let him place the bet, Cam. We would take him down. That dick would cry after we are done with it.” Frandy winked at Liam and grabbed the smoke from him.

“Some stories, yeah. But they’re, um… dirty.” She leaned in a little closer. “I like a good dirty story. Ping them over to me will you when you get a chance?” Like hell I would. My next words were barely a whisper. “If I’m not fired and shamed all the way to Hell before the day is done.” She laughed out loud. “Even Mr Douglas isn’t going to fire you for writing some dirty fantasies. He can hardly be offended by a bit of filth. He’ll probably take a copy for later.”

He kept stroking through the orgasm, milking himself dry, body shaking as the fantasy lingered. Panting, dizzy, and still floating in post-nut haze, Julian grabbed his phone with cum-smeared fingers. The best shots were ready. He quickly selected the full explicit album—dozens of obscene nudes—and meant to send them to his mentor, Mr. Harlan. His thumb slipped. Sent to Damien Voss. The realization hit him like ice water two seconds later.

I ordered pizza for us and as they gamed, I fired up the laptop in my bedroom, curious to read the stories he'd been stroking to yesterday. As I read story after story, I was shocked both at the content of the stories and by what these stories were doing to me. My pussy was on fire, and my left hand slowly pleasured myself as I read each incestuous story. Some of the stories had dominant sons seducing their mothers, while others had powerful daughters dominating their mothers, while still others were more intimate and egalitarian in the sexual relationships between sons and mothers. I'd never even remotely considered my children in a sexual way, but yesterday's events of my son's masturbatio

“Don’t call me sweetheart, and it’s not book p**n. It’s called smut.” “Smut,” I repeat. “Such a fancy way to say p**n, huh?” I tilt my head, still holding the book out of her reach. “So tell me, what’s the smut doing to you?” “Kai, stop.” She pauses, eyes narrowing like a warning. She’s too mad at me for the shit I’m about to pull, but I don’t really care. It’s either this or I let her bury herself in her precious smut while pretending I don’t exist, probably imagining the two of us as the lead characters anyway.

EMMA My body was still trembling, thighs slick with our mixed juices, when Sarah lifted herself off me. Her face glistened with my cum, lips swollen and shiny. I lay there on the couch, naked and panting, my perky tits heaving, my shaved pussy still pulsing and leaking from the intense orgasm she’d just given me. Jake stood beside us, his thick cock still half-hard, glistening with the last drops of his own release. The sight of his cum streaking across Mom’s ass and my thighs made my clit throb all over again.

Don't get it wrong. Sometimes stereotypes were spot on correct and sometimes they weren't. This was again, another case in Brianna Samuels. She wasn't one of those bitches that everyone knew about because of stereotypes, that lived for gossip and brought people down just so they felt better about themselves. Okay, well Brianna did live for gossip, but mostly the harmless type of gossip and she definitely did not live to step on people. The type of gossip she lived for would basically be classified as petty theft in contrast to murder. Basically who dated who and who's hot and whatnot.

“Look at this mess you made all over yourself, you dirty little cumslut. Open that mouth.” He pushed his cum-covered fingers between my lips and I licked them clean, sucking greedily on each digit and tasting my own salty load while my body kept twitching from the hands-free prostate orgasm. Liam continued breeding my wrecked hole raw and deep the whole time, his cock driving through my still-spasming walls.