Dripping Wet Novels & Stories

My part down there is still dripping like running water. I leave him alone and drove my car back home. It was a wet dream. I dozed off while I'm driving. Stupid me! I could still feel the dampness between my legs. Urgh!!! Idiot me! Arghh... I said as I drop my body in my bed and fall back to sleep. ------

Every step made my clit ache, and my wetness was already slipping down my thighs. John wasn’t around, and I didn’t have anyone I could turn to here. And I knew if I didn’t ease the heat flushing my skin, I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on my work. My feet slammed the floor as I headed to the flat at the back of the pool. Inside my room, I shut the door and landed on the bed. I took off my skirt, followed by my panties, letting them drop and pool on the floor. When I opened my legs, I could smell my arousal, and it turned me on more.

The waters reached with icy tendrils to wrap around her ankles, dragging her back with each step she tried to take. Torrents of water seeped through her shoes and socks, the extra weight too much for Ashlyn's aching legs. Collapsing against the railing, Ashlyn leaned over and peered into the dark depths below. The water tumbled and turned in an enchanting dance that fed on her fear. Trapped in its black stare, only images of what laid below found her heart, fear's kiss dressed in decadent waves of white and grey. Choking and gasping, Ashlyn stumbled back, her hands resting on her knees, forced back from the edge by the images that had danced in her head.

Water was dripping from the ceiling again. I stared up at the cracked stone above me, watching as a thin stream leaked through a hairline fracture, swelling with every second before surrendering to gravity and falling onto me like the palace itself was spitting in my face. My clothes clung to my body, damp and heavy, the thin mattress beneath me already soaked through. Of course it was leaking again.

*** The rain poured relentlessly, drenching the entire city of New York without mercy. The night was eerily quiet; even the usual roar of vehicles on the highway was absent. Only the patter of raindrops on the asphalt and the rumble of thunder breaking the pitch-black sky could be heard. In the midst of the downpour, Anastasia stood beneath a deserted city bus stop. She clutched her suitcase tightly, her clothes and body slowly soaking as there wasn't enough shelter to keep her dry.

“Hush, my dear. We have a new plan for Alexander. All you need to do now is be patient.” The steady, constant drip, drip, drip of water leaking onto stone somewhere in the chamber was a special kind of torture. The irritating sound was one thing. The drips were timed perfectly to match the seconds passing. It was like a ticking clock. A ticking clock counting down to imminent death.

I watched, dazed, my eyes barely half-open as it trickled away of its own accord, sliding over the monochrome tiles until it reached an ever-shifting stream of water that I could see stretching round behind Ethan. My cheek was damp, pressed against the floor and a lock of wet hair hung over my eyes. A tiny drop of water slid down the lock and grew fat, hanging there, before finally dropping to the floor and that tiny droplet moved of its own volition and joined the moving stream, like an ant, seeking the protection of its colony.

“I might not know anything about love, but I can also detect a lie when I see one.” My body went completely still, and… weirdly enough, my traitorous eyes fell on his lips, lingering there while a raw, dirty image of his mouth sucking on my wet pussy played in my mind. I blinked back gently now, looking away for a brief second, but not only could I not keep my gaze still, my pussy decided to disappoint me by dripping. Yes. I was dripping. Not entirely drenched, but I could feel a wetness, like moisture. Seriously? Dripping for a man that I hate? For the very man I had yelled at some seconds ago?

The room breaks into soft surprise and I can tell from the little gasping and murmuring. Thanks to the dim lighting, no one can see the tears flowing down my face. Xander keeps at it and I don't relent either and his thrusts grow faster, and I hear a faint groan that he quickly gets rid of by pressing his lips together. In no time, he pulls out, pouring his cum on my lips. And that does nothing but make me feel like a shameless slut. I wipe my face as Xander storms out with balled fists. The lights come on and the faces of everyone around is split with utter shock.

Some of it dripped onto the ground, soaking into the dead leaves beneath them. When Nate finally pulled his fingers out, they were coated in a mix of white and clear fluid, and he wiped them clean on the leaves beside them. Vivian quickly pulled her panties back up, wincing as the damp fabric pressed against her sensitive skin. She smoothed her dress down, taking a moment to compose herself. Some of Nate’s cum was still inside her pussy, but it was much more manageable. Nate stood up beside her, a sly smile tugging at his lips.