Erotica Literature Free Novels & Stories

And a smirk that made me want to slap him or kiss him… I still hadn't decided which, even after two years of trying to figure it out. "You're full of shit," I said. "I'm full of facts. There's a difference." "You think you can make me cum just by reading to me? In a library?" "I think I can make you cum by reading the phone book if I do it right." His voice dropped, low and rough, the kind of voice that belonged in a bedroom with the lights off and the sheets warm, not here between stacks of dusty books that smelled like decay. "But I was thinking about something, a little more... literary."

When he pressed against my back, I felt something cool and smooth against my inner thigh, the spine of a book. “Lady Chatterley’s Lover,” he said softly, voice dripping with dark amusement. “One of my favorites for nights like this.” He dragged the edge of the closed book slowly along my soaked pussy, the leather teasing my swollen clit. I whimpered, pushing back, but he held me still. “Patience,” he chided. “We’re going to use literature properly tonight.” He set the book aside and replaced it with his cock, rubbing the thick head through my folds, mixing our juices. Then he thrust in deep from behind, making the ladder shake slightly.

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.”

Three dots started to float on the chatbox as he typed. Then it disappeared as he stopped typing. Oooh, that must mean he liked them. I giggled to myself, deciding to get even bolder. I reached out behind me and unhooked my bra. My tits sprang free, heavy and meaty. I made a soft face of ecstasy and took another selfie. I tousled my hair, groped one of my tits, two fingers flicking over the nips. I took another. Then another, with each different pose.

“You know what? Why don’t you bend me over the desk? I want to feel this cock even deeper.” Marcus nodded eagerly and pulled out. Elena slid off the desk, spun around, and shoved her fat, juicy ass toward him. Every little movement made her cheeks jiggle softly, the sight so hypnotic that Marcus gulped hard, his cock twitching visibly. She bent forward over the desk, laying her upper body flat against the wood. Her thick thighs spread wide, ass pushed back invitingly, pussy glistening and ready for him. When nothing happened, she glanced back over her shoulder and saw Marcus just standing there, eyes locked on her fat ass like he was hypnotized.

He continued, voice dropping lower. “An erotic novel. Quite explicit. The heroine was bent over her boss’s desk, skirt around her waist, getting fucked hard while he called her a dirty little slut.” My cheeks burned bright red. I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. I had been reading during my short break, thinking no one would return. I opened my mouth to apologize, but no words came out. Adrian stood up slowly and walked around the desk like a predator. He stopped right in front of me, towering over my seated form.

I curled them, hitting that spot I knew she loved, watching her kick and squirm. God, she was perfect. Every reaction was vocal. Every movement was a plea. Eva… Eva was a statue. Eva never reacted like this. Eva made me feel like sex was a chore on a to-do list. Olandria made me feel like a god. She made me feel like a man who was capable of destroying a woman with nothing but a touch. I watched her hungrily, my mouth diving back for her clit while I continued to finger her, adding a third finger to stretch her out.

I was still draped over Nick’s chest, limp and glowing, every muscle humming from the way they’d just wrecked me. Their cum leaked slowly and warmly down my thighs, thick and sticky, a filthy reminder of how thoroughly they’d claimed me on this throne. The fairy lights twinkled lazily above us, casting red and green shadows over sweat-slick skin, the grotto still heavy with the scent of sex and pine. Marcus’s fingers traced lazy, filthy circles on my inner thigh, teasing higher each time, brushing the sticky mess between my legs. When he grazed my swollen clit, I jolted with an oversensitive gasp, hips twitching.

I don’t remember being to a spa lately. As the grogginess fades and clarity returns, memories of our escapades flood my mind. Color rises to my cheeks when I remember how I had begged the men to please me. I remember yelling at them to fuck me already, and boy, they did. They fucked me good. Every part of me got the attention of their loving hands, their supple lips, and their delicious cocks. I have never had such incredible sex in all my years of being sexually active. Thinking about it alone is enough to make my opening tingle.

Nothing prepared me for the sight in front of me, he didn't even bother to close the door. Clutching my book to my chest, I watched as my handsome tutor lounged on a sofa, cock visible to my eyes. I was right, his cock was long but not too fat. A bottle of oil sat next to him ontop of the table and lastly, a laptop screen that showed a woman sprawled on a kitchen counter, her partner was behind her, his large thick cock sliding in and out of her glistening pussy as a torrent of raw sounds poured out of their mouths.