Erotic Literature Free Online の小説・ストーリー

Elena’s voice was a soft, breathy whisper. "I want you to throw me against the wall," she whispered. "I want you to rip that red thong off my body. I want to feel your hands everywhere. I want you to lick my pussy until I’m screaming your name so loud the neighbors hear. And then, I want you to fuck me until I can't stand up. I want to be your toy, Dante." Dante’s breath hitched. He felt like his heart was going to explode. The erotica of her words was too much. He couldn't sit in his office anymore. He was a man of action, and his wife had just issued a challenge.

She smiled and ended 'I do sound it don't I? Julia rarely smiled, at least not at work, but when she did it lit up the entire room. 'A bit,' I conceded, 'seriously though. Have you ever read any erotica?' 'No. I just don't like all that foul language.' 'Eroticism is in the mind,' I argued, 'you don't need bad language to be erotic but equally the language of love, however crude, is nearly always erotic to some. Look I've just finished reading a story that I think you'll like. Why don't you read that and then decide?'

It has floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books. I scoot closer, plucking one of the books from the shelves and scanning through it. Apparently, it’s an erotic book, given the naughty image of two ladies on their knees as they simultaneously blow a man’s cock, their hands bound tightly at their backs. It’s titled ‘A Dom’s Way Of Spitroasting The Subs.” I turn the pages, and each chapter is transcribed into x-rated images. My pussy quivers when I see the image of the two sluts turned upside down on an inversion table while the Dom treats them with his cock.

I was so wet, so soaking wet down there. As my fingers glided all over my pussy, I could hear the erotic noise my pussy lips made as I rubbed them together; as they came in contact, the squelching sounds of my pussy lips sounded so fucking sexy, the feeling was intense, it felt so good, the sensation was too much, it was mind-blowing.

We sat in the tub and drank our beers. Hey guys kindly check out my other erotic books, Poppy secret confession. please help give it a chance by reading and giving your honest review and comment about it.

She tempted him even more. She approached the pole and glued her throbbing jewel between her thighs. She didn't know, but it seemed like that part was starting to get wet while she was doing what she was doing. She held on to the pole and rubbed herself, especially the lower body on the cold pole. It's like she's having sex there. The man scooped up all the contents of the glass and placed it on the table next to him. One of his fingers was already on his lip and he was holding it while staring at what she was doing. She suddenly turned around and rubbed her legs up to both thighs.

Despite her words, her hips were moving desperately against my hand. "And I'm supposed to learn literature, not bury my face between your big tits and finger-fuck you until you scream but look where we are." I pulled out my fingers abruptly, making her whimper at the sudden emptiness before slamming them back in at an animalistic pace. Her back arched off the desk as she came hard around my fingers, her juices coating my hand completely. I continued to finger her, allowing her to come down from bed high before I pulled out immediately, bringing my fingers to her mouth before she could protest. "Suck," I commanded, pressing my wet fingers against her lips.

I was already soaked, my pussy lips were swollen and slick. He watched every move I made. Then he unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock, it was thick and hard. The head was already wet with precum, he wrapped his hand around it and started stroking slowly. “Tell me what you wrote,” he said. I kept rubbing my clit in small circles. My breath came faster. “I wrote about a man coming in after closing. He bends me over the desk, he pulls my skirt up and fucks me hard.” He stroked faster. “Keep going.”

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.”

She’s slipping away—everything feels like it’s underwater, like a dream she can’t wake from. She cries out again, desperate, high-pitched. Endless waves of orgasm ripple through her trembling form, one crashing over the next, relentless, overwhelming. Her limbs flail, her body convulses beneath him, but still he doesn’t stop. Still he pounds. Still he slams. He whispers dirty words against her flushed skin, each syllable igniting her nerve endings like sparks. “Oh, you wanna act like a little slut?” he snarls against her neck, voice dripping with dark amusement. “Then I’ll make it real easy for you, baby.”