Dystopian Erotica Novels & Stories

His cock twitched traitorously in his sweatpants. Later that night, after Damien had gone to shower, Elias couldn’t take it anymore. He lay on his bed, hoodie pushed up to his chest, sweatpants shoved down just enough. His hand wrapped around his hard, leaking cock, stroking slowly at first, then faster. His eyes were closed, breath coming in soft, desperate pants. In his mind, it wasn’t some vague fantasy, it was Damien’s strong hands pinning him down, that deep voice growling filthy things into his ear while…

I say, completely bemused . “Yeah, but it’s not like that. This one’s for couples, not seedy old men.” If he wasn’t so devilishly handsome and sexy, I would run and not look back. Staring into the shop window I frown, and then, for some weird reason, I lead the way inside. My jaw snaps open. Now, I’m not really a sex addict, and I do have quite the healthy interest in sex and erotica, but I’m pretty sure that some of the items displayed on the shelf would make even Christian Grey from fifty shades trilogy blush.

"This place... it might be a bit much. If it freaks you out, we can turn right around and leave. No pressure." Jay reached up, his fingers lightly brushing over the edge of my mask. "Open the door, Jake," he murmured softly, his eyes heavy with arousal. My heart hammered against my ribs. I turned the handle and pushed the heavy door open. The red room was dimly lit, drenched in deep crimson light and thick with the scent of leather, sweat, and heavy perfume. Everywhere you looked, bodies were entangled. Men and women were having sex openly on leather benches, padded tables, and plush rugs, using whips, restraints, and various toys.

"I admitted I watched her... and that I watched her lick her toy clean... and he slapped me more and I couldn't lie... I told him I wanted to eat my mom's pussy.” "You do want to eat her pussy, don't you?" Daisy pressed, her own breath quickening. "Yes... Daisy... yes..." Rebecca was almost sobbing. "I can't hear you, Bec." Then we heard it. Unmistakable, juicy, frantic masturbation sounds. Wet slaps and ragged breaths. "Rebecca?" "Yeah….. yes.." "Say it, honey." "Oh, *Fuckkk, I want to eat her cunt! And I want her to eat mine!"*

he growled and I moaned in response, unable to form anything coherent at that moment. He pulled his hand back, leaving me cold and aching. He stood up, unbuckling his belt, and the sight of him made my breath hitch. He was terrifyingly large, a dark reality that made Max seem like a boy. "Lay back," he ordered. "Spread for me." I obeyed immediately. I was a slave to the heat, my legs falling open of their own accord. "You're a slut, aren't you, Natalya?" he hissed, leaning over me, his weight pinning me down. "A dirty little slut who sends nudes to men just to see what would happen. You wanted me to see you. You wanted to be punished."

Over, and over, and over, and over. My legs began to shake as my skin turned to fire and the pleasure that mixed with the conflicted guilt became so intense that I could no longer think straight. Angelo was silent, save for his silent pants and the occasional grunt whenever he would feel my cunt tighten around his cock. Other than that, he was wordless, and that's how I knew that he was beginning to fall into that same cloudy sex-daze that I was.

Something aching to be molded. I met him in my Tuesday night workshop. "Erotics of Language"—a curated space for writers who wanted to learn how to use sensuality in storytelling. Most came in with curiosity or thinly veiled hunger. He came in with a notebook gripped like a lifeline and questions trembling on his lips. I noticed him in the third session. He waited until everyone had left to speak to me. “I—um—can I ask you something… off the record?” I folded my arms, tilted my head. “You just did.”

His skin was on fire, hypersensitive to every single movement, every slow, lingering touch that sent him spiraling further into the abyss. His breath hitched, a strangled groan escaping as his thighs tensed involuntarily. His vision blurred, his mind shutting down to everything except this—this relentless, intoxicating pleasure that had him teetering on the edge of sanity. It was too much. The heat, the pressure, the exquisite torment of being drawn so close, only to hold on for one more second, one more moment before the fall. He was lost in it, in her, drowning in the overwhelming need to let go.

but like I said, it’s a craze. Yet there I was, looking absolutely nothing like a lady. Why don’t we have mirrors in bathroom stalls, that way I wouldn’t have to guess how disheveled I look. Even the thought of it seemed to fuel my sex craze. My pace picked up, so much that I could feel my legs shaking from the effect. “Yessssss…yessss ... .please” I panted out loud, as I felt myself getting closer. And just like that, the fireworks exploded inside me, accompanied by what I could only describe as an animalistic growl.

Instead, he positioned the head of his cock right against my tight, aching asshole. My heart leaped into my throat. "Vence... you can't... it's too tight..." "I can do whatever I want with you, April," he replied. He didn't wait for me to get ready. He pushed forward, forcing his way into my rectum. I let out a strangled scream, my body locking up. It was a completely different kind of pressure—stretching, invasive, and intensely erotic. I felt like I was being split in half, but the pain was laced with a pleasure so sharp it was almost unbearable.