Erotica Historical Novels & Stories

But the other part… the part that noticed my lower back no longer ached for the first time in weeks… that part wasn’t ready to walk away. I stood, pulled the robe around my damp body, and followed Claire out. As we left, I glanced back at the sauna door. A small sign I somehow hadn’t seen before was fixed beside the frame in clean black lettering: ..Orgy Sauna.. I stared at it for half a second, then kept walking. The next room had its own sign. ...Finger Massage... Of course it did. Claire opened the door for me and gave her usual small bow. “If you need anything… let me know.”

The erotica sounds of her mouth filled the space under the water, mixing with my gasps and low moans behind me. Faith free hand slid up to my throat, tilting my head back so she could bite along my neck while her hips kept rolling. "That's my girl, let her taste how wet you are," she moaned, pressing two fingers back inside me from behind even as Stella tongue sucked my front. She then pushed two fingers alongside Faith's, both of them stretching me open together. Their fingers moved in rhythm, one curling up while the other thrust deeper, scissoring inside my clenching walls. My legs shook harder. Faith adjusted her stance, spreading me wider so Stella could comfortably bury her face comple

“Later, Owen. We need to map this place first,The captain gonna be mad if we take more time. But yeah… my pussy is throbbing just thinking about it.” I turned and kissed him hard. His tongue pushed into my mouth and I sucked it. My hand rubbed his dick through his suit. We broke apart and continued walking. We moved on.The next room had old stone carvings on the walls. I ran my fingers over them. They showed tentacles wrapping around naked women. The women had their legs spread wide and their mouths open.“These pictures… they’re filthy. Like the things in the walls used to fuck people.” Owen stood behind me and ground his cock against my ass. “You getting ideas, Elara? You want something thi

" She then guided my hand through the slit in her sarong and pushed it against her pussy. It was drenched, and as I gently slid my fingers around in the warm juice, she said, "You should write that down and send it into the P**n-erotica website where they have all those dirty stories." "Literotica," I corrected her. "Maybe I will." I retracted my hand from between her legs, and put my fingers in my mouth. After a long, thoughtful suck, I said, "Hmm. Needs more basil, I think." She laughed, and fished her hand inside my towel, wrapping her hand around my swollen cock. "I think it could use some sausage," she replied.

The chat went wild, replaying that line: ‘Are you completely insane? Okay, I was out of tricks. I’m just a flimsy, pitiful, helpless erotica heroine. No sudden superhuman survival skills kicking in at the eleventh hour. I threw up my hands. No point fighting it anymore. “You don’t believe me? Fine. Ask him yourself later. Let’s see…” I pretended to think. “Why don’t you start with… ‘Did she kiss you yesterday?’ How about that?” Right then, the system chimed in again.

I continued my dance , swaying my hips and teasing him . Slowly, I started taking off the lingerie from the bralette, revealing my firm, round breasts and my nipples which were already hard as stones. Nathan’s breathing grew heavy as he watched, completely mesmerized by my erotic display. He reached out, tracing a finger down my stomach, pausing at my waist . I moaned softly as his fingers brushed against my sensitive skin, my body trembling in anticipation. He pulled me closer, his lips finding mine in a passionate kiss. I reached for the waistband of his pants, undoing them with practiced ease. I slipped my hand inside and wrapped my fingers around his hard length, stroking it firmly.

he lied, pumping faster. Lila gave a soft, fake whimper and patted his back like a tired mother comforting a child. When he finally came, it was weak and brief. He pulled out and his cum was barely leaking from her pussy. She didn’t even clench or feel it. Marcus hated it. He was a man who craved power, control, and raw depravity. But their sex life had turned into a polite chore. That was why he’d spent a small fortune on the obsidian mirror.

There were whispers in the audience. “This work by Reilly Herman explores the relationship between emerging sexualities and romance tourism. With influences as diverse as Derrida and John Proietti, new synergies are crafted from both simple and complex meanings.” He paused, going to stand beside the painting. “We’ll begin at one hundred thousand.” A man in the back lifted his card. “One twenty.” “Two hundred.” I looked at Zesa. She had her bidder card in the air. I tore my eyes away from Zesa to Sophia Reyes when she spoke. “Three hundred.” She said, her eyes on Zesa.

“Absolutely, Master, I am yours. Have you never even fantasized about having a slave before?” “The last woman I was with was my wife; we never played any fantasy games. I have not touched anyone in ten years.” I felt the pang of loss begin to grow in my chest again. “Master, I am so sorry. I never knew you were married. May I make a suggestion that might help you to understand what you have gotten yourself into?” “I would be glad to hear anything you have to say.” She then suggested a couple of websites for me to read. Stories and such to let me know what I might want to try.

The way her breath had caught when I touched her last week, the soft swell of her mound under my gloved fingers, the faint sheen of arousal I’d seen between her thighs when she thought I wasn’t looking. I leaned against the wall in the private room, unzipped my jeans, and pulled myself out. Thick and already leaking. The head flushed dark, a bead of precum sliding down the underside. I wrapped my fist around the base and stroked once—slow, deliberate—picturing her on my table again. Soft curves. Full tits straining against her bra. That delicate flush creeping up her neck when I’d said her skin took the lines beautifully. I remembered the others: Claire, married ten years, wedding band flash