Erotic Gyno Stories Novels & Stories

Slower this time, grinding deep, making me feel every inch. “Say it again,” he demanded, reaching around to stroke me. “I’m yours, Vincenzo. Your hole. Your captive. Please don’t stop.” Round three he flipped me on my back, legs over his shoulders, staring into my eyes as he bred me again. I came hands-free, shooting across my chest while my hole milked him dry. He followed with a deep groan, pumping another load into me. We went four rounds total. By the end I was a shaking, cum-soaked mess, leaking everywhere, completely wrecked in his arms. He held me close, one big hand stroking my back almost tenderly.

Finding the rhythm. Every thrust sent the inner dildo rocking against my clit and my g-spot simultaneously and I was making sounds I'd never made in two years of our relationship. "Oh fuck," I breathed. "Te- Tessy…" Eric's voice came out completely wrecked from somewhere in the sheets. "Don't talk," I said, and thrust harder. His back arched even further. The oil made everything obscene and slippery and loud and I grabbed the bottle. Pouring more across his ass. Watching it run down till everything got filthier and I kept going.

Her bush brushed my smooth pussy. "Should we change condoms?" Troy asked. I looked at Erin and over my shoulder at him. "Well, I'm clean. Are you clean?" I asked Erin. "I'm clean," Erin said. "Yeah, me too," Troy said. "Then why the condoms?" I asked. "I didn't want to cum in you on accident," Troy said. My pussy was aching for him, Erin was rolling in orgasm, and Troy's cock was getting softer and here we were discussing our STI statuses and accidental creampies.

This is something else entirely. He remembers the older staff telling stories—whispers in the breakroom, murmurs over coffee and cigarettes. Tales of guests who were out of control. Women, usually wealthy, bored, or lonely, who would proposition the staff without shame. He always thought those stories were exaggerated. Urban legends passed down between shifts to keep things interesting. But this—this is not a story. This is happening. Live. Raw. Unfiltered. And she’s not ashamed. Not even close. There’s no guilt on her face. No hesitation in her actions. Her eyes are sharp, focused only on him as if he’s the only man that exists in the universe right now.

"I don't mind telling the story. First, you have to know that Eric and I are deeply in love, and this isn't about me having romantic feelings toward Dexter. This is purely sexual." She cleared her throat, seeming to gather her thoughts before continuing. "So, for longer than I can remember, I've been a size queen. It's hard to describe, but think of it as nymphomania, but only for large cocks. It's not something that I can control when it takes over, and after hurting my husband repeatedly and trying everything we could think of, we finally managed to reach a place where we were doing okay." "That's when the incident with Dex happened that I told you about," Nicole added.

Seeing she was interested, Antonio told her some of the intimate things the woman in submission could be forced to do. Then he said wistfully. "All the husbands claim there's no arousal like the one you get from watching your own wife in an erotic feminine confrontation with another woman." Smiling hopefully, he said. "It's very secretive, intimate and private. No outsiders are ever allowed. It's just what it's meant to be—a little intimate secret erotic club. "Honey... ," Molly said, smiling up into his handsome face. "I have a little secret to confide to you also," She giggled, "it's kind of embarrassing."

Stories and such to let me know what I might want to try. She surprised me with what she did next. She held her hand up in front of my face. Then she lowered it between her legs and caressed herself. When she brought it back to my face, it was dripping with the honey that had lain in wait behind her lips. The smell of that sweet nectar shattered my resolve. I took her wrist in mine and began to lick the juices from her hand. My arousal went from mostly hard to rock solid with one taste. I was lost to reason -- she would be mine.

Pressing his tip against my entrance, he pushed his cock forward just enough to stretch me, the ache was delicious and maddening. Then he pulled away, leaving me gasping for more. They alternated, one teasing my pussy, the other rubbing against my clit or ass and always stopping at the brink. My juices coated their cocks as the room filled with the wet sounds of my denial. I was trembling, my orgasm built and receded like a tide. Gerald's fingers found my clit, circling it fast while the coordinator's cock pressed against my asshole, teasing the tight ring. My body convulsed, a dry orgasm ripping through me without penetration. I collapsed onto the bed, shaking. Gerald and the coordinator bo

Her walls fluttered around me. “Curve them upward,” she instructed, her voice husky. “Feel that slightly rough spot? That’s my G-spot. Stroke it… rub it while your thumb circles my clit.” I did as she said, pumping my fingers slowly, curling them, rubbing that spot while my thumb worked her clit. Elara’s head fell back, a deep moan escaping her. “Faster now… but not too hard. Yes—fuck, just like that, Ethan.” She started rolling her hips, riding my fingers, her heavy breasts bouncing with every movement. Her pussy made wet, obscene sounds as she fucked herself on my hand, grinding against my palm.

Her mouth was fitted with a large O-ring gag that kept her lips stretched wide open, ready to be used. Seven elite men stood in a circle around the table — Dr. Crowe’s most trusted colleagues: senior fertility specialists, powerful clients, and two surgeons who had paid enormous sums for private access to his special “projects.” Nurse Harper stood obediently among them, already collared and fully naked. Dr. Elias Crowe stepped between Sophie’s helplessly spread thighs, his thick, veined cock rock-hard and throbbing. He rubbed the fat, leaking head up and down her soaked slit, teasing her swollen clit before slamming balls-deep into her pussy with one savage thrust.