Erotic Writer Novels & Stories

Then I’d stand, bend her over the railing, and thrust into her from behind, her cries echoing across the water as I claimed what’s always been mine. Elena’s breathing grew ragged. She hiked her dress higher, fingers slipping beneath the damp cotton of her panties. Her clit was swollen, slick with arousal. She circled it slowly as she turned pages, lost in Victor’s raw confessions. Last night I wrote her name while I came. Elena. Elena. Elena. If she ever returns, I won’t hold back. I’ll lock the doors, strip her bare, and spend days teaching her body every filthy pleasure. Spreading her ass cheeks and rimming her tight little hole while she fingers herself. Making her watch in the mirror as

he said. I obeyed, moving slower this time, hyper-aware of how his presence filled the space. His scent — dark pine, warm musk, and something wild — wrapped around me until I felt dizzy and aching. By the time I finished the second round, my nipples were tight against my dress and heat throbbed low in my belly. “You may leave,” he finally said, but not before I caught him inhaling deeply, as if drinking me in. The pattern continued. He requested me for the smallest tasks — bringing wine, adjusting curtains, delivering messages. Each time we were alone, the air grew thicker. Each time our hands nearly touched or his voice dropped lower, my body betrayed me with fresh wetness and trembling leg

I screamed around the vampire’s cock as they double-penetrated me like I was nothing but holes. The incubus rubbed his ridged dick across my clit, smearing that hot, tingling precum all over me. Within seconds the pain started melting into the most fucked-up pleasure I’d ever felt. My body betrayed me completely and without a fight I started cumming , I'm not sure I could fight it. I came hard, shaking and squirting around their cocks while they laughed. Tentacles from teither slid over my body. Two thick ones forced into my mouth alongside the vampire’s cock, stretching my jaw painfully wider.

“His job? He’s supposed to pleasure you and make feel nothing, but pleasure until your body covers him with that warm bodily fluid your body releases once it’s spot has been stabbed, repeatedly.” Oh my god! His words were lethal to me. He pulled my shorts down a little bit and I shook my head at him. “Eric, no.” I whispered. “I don’t think I can take you.” Eric kissed my neck, forcing a moan from me. Oh my god, I thought. A human making me feel that good was not a normal one. Did he do that with the two he was just with? I was able to see why they wanted him. He was not just sexy; he had what girls wanted inside of them. The length, the girth and from the way he had me, I knew that was not g

“Du kommer til å bli slutten på meg kvinne.” With that he licks the salt from my neck, drinks the tequila and takes the lime from my mouth. His lips barely touch mine yet it makes me come undone. My knees give, but Erik presses me flush up against him to keep me on my feet. My hands seem to move on their own up his arms and wrap around his neck. We stay like that for minutes, hours, however long it was it wasn’t long enough, just breathing each other in. This was by far the most erotic experience in my life, inside or outside the bedroom.

All characters in this story are 18 years of age or older. This work is a piece of fictional erotic entertainment. Any sexual activity in real life should always involve clear consent from all parties. •••••• I hate my boss, Julien Moreau. Yes, I hate him.

Ericka misses Darwin's touch that night while she is alone with her kids. “While our two small children play outside the bedroom, he likes to frequently caress and lick every part of my body and check it with kisses. When making a passionate, romantic love offering, he is very aggressive. I teach my children to play outside and watch television first so that their father will enjoys sex with me because I miss his touch as well.” Ericka frequently seizes the opportunity to stay with him in order to satiate his erotic cravings and stop looking for other women to have sex with when he is gone from her.

“So do you know how to write foreplay, or sex scenes? You could help this writer with a few tips, you know. If that’s allowed as an editor. Theo took a sip of his wine, watching him from over the rim of his glasses. His erection was bulging painfully in his pants now, and he couldn’t really say how he’d gotten there. Could it be the wine? He wasn’t hard as fuck because his neighbor kept giving him a ridiculously slutty look that somehow blended sinfully with their conversation, right? “Would you like to find out?” He asked in a gruff voice, adjusting on the couch as his erection pressed into his thighs. “What?” “If I’m good at writing foreplay and sex scenes?”

No mistaking what it was. Her body ground against him, every move of her hips rubbing over his hardness. Heat surged through her veins. And then it hit her—his scent. That same scent from earlier. Her eyes snapped open. It’s him! The guy at the counter! Her body burned hotter with that realization. Wetness pooled between her thighs. Flashes of his veiny hand skimming her curves made her bite back a moan. She pushed harder against him, rolling her hips until he groaned into her ear.

More cruelty. When the tears finally stopped, a new feeling replaced the sadness. I needed help. Real help. After hours of scrolling through forums and private coaching sites, I found him, Elias. A mysterious but highly recommended “private writing coach” who specialized in erotic fiction. His profile was minimal. No face picture, just a black and white shot of strong hands holding a pen. The testimonials, however, were glowing. One writer claimed he completely transformed her career. Another said his methods were “intense but life changing.”