Erotic Fantasy Fiction Novels & Stories

My fingers found my clit—already slick, already begging—and the first slow circle made my back arch so hard water sloshed over the edge. “Oh God,” I whispered, even though I knew it was the wrong name to say. I stroked faster. Two fingers sliding over and around my clit while my other hand came up to pinch my nipple the way I imagined he might. The water made everything slippery, louder. I slipped one finger inside myself, then two, curling them the way I’d done every morning for weeks. My hips rocked up to meet my hand. The fantasy took over completely—Father Chris’s voice in my ear, his breath hot against my neck, his fingers replacing mine, thicker, surer, pressing that spot that made sta

I flipped to the page, voice unsteady. “I vow… to let you use my body whenever you want… even if it means I’m still dripping with your cum when I meet your fiancée.” The words had felt filthy when I wrote them. Hearing them aloud while Lucas’s tongue worked me was devastating. He rewarded me by sliding two thick fingers inside me, curling them against that spot that made my vision spark. His mouth never stopped licking, sucking, devouring me like I was the only thing he wanted in the world.

I've had this fantasy since I was nineteen years old. Not the polished version – not the softcore "oh wouldn't it be naughty" version you admit to over cocktails when someone asks your wildest fantasy. The real one. The one I play on the backs of my eyelids when my vibrator is on the highest setting and I'm chasing the orgasm that only this image delivers: me, naked, surrounded by men. Hands everywhere. Cocks everywhere. Being passed between them like something precious and filthy, the singular focus of four, five, six men who want nothing except to use my body until I can't remember my own name.

This is probably the definition of pathetic. But I don’t care. I press his shirt to my face, breathing in his scent, and slide my hand between my legs. I’m already wet. I’ve been wet since I jumped into his arms this afternoon. The ache between my thighs is almost painful now. I circle my clit with my fingers, slow at first, imagining it’s his hand. Imagining him touching me, those rough callused fingers on my skin. “Damon,” I whisper into his shirt. My fingers move faster. I imagine him here, in my bed, those storm-gray eyes dark with lust. Imagine him spreading my legs and putting his mouth on me. Imagine his tongue…

I let out a loud, choked-off cry. He started a brutal, fast pace. The desk was hitting the wall—thud, thud, thud. Every time he slammed into me, I felt a wave of shared heat explode in my body. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down so I could bite his shoulder. I wanted to mark him. I wanted everyone to know he belonged to me. The erotica of the moment was overwhelming. We were two people who should not be together, doing things that were forbidden. The risk of being caught made it even hotter. I could feel him clenching, his muscles getting hard as he pushed deeper and faster.

On her laptop screen, two women were having passionate lesbian sex, one licking the other. I bit my lip hard. I didn’t know she was into girls. The sight of her touching herself like that made my own pussy throb instantly. I should have left. But I couldn’t move. Lynn’s fingers moved faster. She moaned louder, her hips lifting off the bed. “Fuck… yes…” she whispered. I slipped my hand into my shorts without thinking. I was already wet. I rubbed my clit slowly, watching her. My breath was shaky. I had fantasized about her so many times, but seeing her like this was something else.

“We can still call this off.” I turned in his arms and kissed him deeply, tasting the whiskey on his tongue. “I’m nervous,” I admitted, my voice soft. “But I’m also incredibly turned on. I want this for us. I want to feel desired in a new way… and I want to give you this fantasy.” His hands squeezed my ass possessively. “God, I love you.”

His hand settled lightly on my shoulders, then trailed down my arm in a slow caress. When his fingers reached my knee, they slipped beneath the hem of my dress, stroking the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. A soft gasp escaped my lips as his fingertips grazed the damp fabric covering my pussy. “You’re drenched,” he observed, voice rough with satisfaction. He pressed two fingers against my clit through the lace, circling with firm deliberate strokes that made my hips jerk forward involuntarily. “All this from reading your own fantasies? Or is it because I’m finally touching what you wrote about so many nights?”

" I quickly did as he said, feeling a ripple of ecstasy wash through me. "Slide your finger though your pussy, getting just enough of that hot wetness to make it feel like silk when you touch your clit." I did so again, my body was on fire. "Fuck Aiden, my body is on fire." "As it should." "You wish you had a cock in your mouth now, don't you Valerie? "You want to suck on a cock so bad." "You want to make it hard, and hard, and hard." "Do you want all that delicious spunk to jet into your hot, eager mouth."

No foreplay was required in this ecstatic world of perfection, and penetration was effected in a single snag-free glide. Tumbling back to reality, and almost falling off his stool in the process, Elliot sighed with regret. He really loved the ‘hotel room’ fantasy, although he had to admit it wasn’t entirely all his own work. The protagonists - Diamanda and himself — were his choice of course, but the scenario, the setting and the nitty-gritty of the bedroom action came straight from one of the lady’s own stories, The Spider's Web, which was all about a beautiful, sexually voracious woman who picked up young men in bars and lured them to hotel rooms to fuck them.