Erotic Written Stories Novels & Stories

ARC 10: MOONFLOWER ON THE ALTAR WARNING: This arc contains extremely explicit sexual content, omegaverse dynamics with alpha/omega knotting and breeding, public gangbang, intense dubcon/noncon elements, and pack breeding/claiming themes. Intended for mature audiences only (18+). Proceed only if you consent to dark, unrestrained erotic fiction ---- My name is Vespera Eric, and I have spent every one of my twenty-one years knowing exactly how this night would end.

I was traveling thousands of miles, leaving my oblivious wife at home, to fuck a young girl I had met online because she enjoyed the stories I wrote. If you asked me why I started writing and publishing erotica on Literotica, I do not believe I could give you a full and satisfactory answer. I had been reading the site for some years, had an idea for a story that I wrote out and, after a very short time hemming and hawing, published it.

BEFORE YOU READ Nobody is coming to save you. Themes: Forced Proximity, Snowed In, Size Difference, Breeding Kink. This story features a possessive, reclusive hero who hasn't seen a woman in years. Expect primal play, rough sex, and intense possessiveness. (***) Gabrielle

Let him see. Marcus’s jaw tightened. His hands gripped the arms of his chair like he was fighting gravity. They kept talking. About her copywriting years — writing other people’s words until she forgot her own. About how he’d drifted into papers and lectures instead of stories. The words got heavier. More honest. Every truth pulled something tighter in her chest. Her calf was still pressed against his leg. Neither of them had moved it. The heat from his body seeped through his pants and made her ache.

Pushing my hips forward, I slowly began grinding against his face, head thrown back due to ecstasy. He groaned against my clit, the vibration sending waves of pleasure ripping through me. He pressed his tongue deeper, sucking and flicking me with practiced strokes. My fingers tangled into his hair, pulling him close. Ethan had removed my gown now, such that it was hunched up at my waist and my nipples were bare, standing proudly under the dim kitchen lights. His large hand moved to caress my left breast before taking the other bud into his mouth. The dual sensation made me let out a loud moan.

But gosh, that cock of his was fine, stretched out towards me like it couldn't wait to have me. He ran a hand over his dirty brown hair. Why was I just noticing his biceps, his broadened chest and taunt abdomen? I had been reading an erotic story the day he must have caught me touching myself. How he'd seen me, I didn't know. I'd worn a dress that very day, reading the story through my phone. When I noticed I needed a release due to the sexual tension, I'd raised my dress to my thigh... Since the lights in the train constantly blinked and there had been no one around me, I managed to take off my panties.

I told her I had worked on some erotic stories this weekend and asked her if she wanted to read them. She sent a quick response and said, sure. So I sent them over to her and waited. She responded, "you certainly have a knack for storytelling, detailed, personalized, and hot!!" At that point, I knew she must have enjoyed the stories. I walked into her office and closed the door. No one else was scheduled to be in the office on Monday, which was a bonus for us. When I closed the door, she looked me in the eyes and said, "I'm so wet from reading your stories."

The thought made her pulse quicken, like she was holding a secret that wasn’t meant to be found. She hesitated only a moment before sitting cross-legged on the floor and flipping the cover open. Inside, in messy handwriting, was a title scrawled across the first page: “Collected Stories — From Women, For Women.” Chloe blinked. The handwriting was feminine, rushed, and almost secretive. She turned the page and read the introduction, scrawled in looping letters:

The silence made my thighs clench. "What kind of dreams?" he asked, still calm. "I shouldn't say." "You came here to let it out," he answered simply. I held in my breathing. "They're... sexual. I wake up soaked. Aching. And ashamed." "Go on." I let my head rest against the wooden panel behind me. My eyes closed. "He touches me in ways no one ever has. And I let him. I want it. God, I want it so bad." The words spilled out, broken and messy. "Sometimes it's in public. Sometimes I'm tied down. Sometimes he just whispers in my ear and I'm already falling apart. I wake up wet, panting, and I can't stop thinking about it for days."

Well, I can't fuck myself, someone has to do the fucking" I replied. He chuckled. I returned to his cock, sucking like a slut in heat. I made sexual sounds to excite him; years of watching p**n and reading erotic stories had taught me that men love hearing erotic moans from women, even if they are just for effect, not because my pussy is actually getting stimulated. The New York best selling romantic novels were my best companions during my college days.