Erotica Short Stories For Women Novels & Stories

"Swallow it, niece. Take Uncle's pierced cock down your slutty throat." I choked, tears running, but relaxed. He fucked my mouth slow, training me inch by inch. Pulled a book from the shelf—old erotica, yellow pages. Read aloud while thrusting. "'The duke bent his maid over, cock slamming her wet cunt while she begged for more.' Sound familiar, you taboo bitch?" His words mixed with the story, hips rolling. The piercing scraped my throat, cold bump adding to the stretch. I sucked hungry, tasting pre-cum. "Deeper. Read with me in your mind—'He filled her ass with his seed, marking her as his.' Gonna do that to you soon."

EMMA POV I couldn’t believe what I was doing as I walked into the gym for my second session. The tiny black workout shorts I’d chosen were practically illegal — they barely covered half my ass cheeks, riding up with every step and showing the soft underside of my curves. My cropped tank top clung to my heavy breasts, the thin fabric doing nothing to hide how hard my nipples already were. I felt exposed, slutty, and so fucking turned on I was already wet before I even saw him.

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 said, "Don't worry about it. Look all you want. It's not like I'm going to lose anything." She really didn't care. She was showing off her smooth legs right in front of me and letting me stare all I wanted. I smiled back and said, "You're really something. Those are the prettiest legs I've ever seen." And just like that, we started chatting back and forth. It turned out that her name was Lauren Ward. She had a boyfriend, but he could never satisfy her. Every time they were together, he would be done after just a few moments. The more frustrated Lauren became, the more she craved release, so she started using toys to take care of herself.

She used another finger to circle around her clit the way she had when she was lying on the bed. “If you start now, Juliette,” he warned. But, she continued. Her nipples were dark buds against the cream colored lace and with a light tug he released them to the air. “The breeze feels good,” she sighed, leaning against the building, touching herself, as her breasts tightened in response to the spring air. “I’ve been wet all day,” She said her eyes hooded and full of honest desire. “I’ve been vibrating, pulsing for more. I tried earlier to satisfy myself, but I can’t,” she complained, and stuck a finger inside herself.

No foreplay was required in this ecstatic world of perfection, and penetration was effected in a single snag-free glide. Tumbling back to reality, and almost falling off his stool in the process, Elliot sighed with regret. He really loved the ‘hotel room’ fantasy, although he had to admit it wasn’t entirely all his own work. The protagonists - Diamanda and himself — were his choice of course, but the scenario, the setting and the nitty-gritty of the bedroom action came straight from one of the lady’s own stories, The Spider's Web, which was all about a beautiful, sexually voracious woman who picked up young men in bars and lured them to hotel rooms to fuck them.

The room was filled with the sound of my extremely wet pussy slamming against his dick over and over again. He’ll start up fast and hard, hitting every spot and I could swear he touched my womb, then he’ll take it slow, teasing me , making me feel every inch of his dick, making my body go numb. I’ve never been fucked this good before . “Do you like it?”, he whispered behind my ear, driving in slowly. “Yes”, I moaned out almost crying. “Yes what?” “Yes Mr Tom”. “Fuck i love the way you call me that, tell me how much you love it “.

" 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.

Outside of her fantasies, her daydreams, the stories she told herself when she came, this was new. But it felt old. It felt as if she’d always been on the bed with this man, always had his hands on her body, always had his whispered words working through her mind. He reached one hand under her and began to rub her clit as he fucked her. She made a low, keening sound under her breath, unable to stop herself. “Come when I tell you,” he said. Could she? Gina felt that she was right on the edge, teetering. What if he didn’t tell her fast enough? What if he didn’t say that she could and she came without permission? What if…

“Feel that? How much your body wants this?” The shorter woman’s fingers stroked through my wetness, slow and deliberate, coating themselves before circling my clit. “She’s dripping,” she said softly, almost to the other woman. Then she looked up at me, eyes dark with heat. “Does it feel good when I do this?” Her fingertip pressed just a little harder. I moaned again, louder this time, head tipping back against the wall as the steam and their mouths and their hands pulled every coherent thought straight out of me.