Erotica Storied Novels & Stories

" 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.

I watched her as she fondled with her nipples, hervties curling up And her hips moving in circular motion trying to feel the vibration everywhere, she let out gentle moans as she continued “You're so beautiful Tory, and i don't want you holding back” I undid my belt and brought out my hardened cock, it wasn't difficult to feel hard and ready as long as she was involved and it fascinated me even more. I had met older women and those were the type I usually got attracted to, people that were more experienced with life but with Tory, her very innocence laced with a little bit of experience drove me crazy. “Stick the vibrator inside you” she looked at me in disbelief but she didn't stop going,”

He rubbed his shin, where I just kicked him while gaping at his idiocy. “Seriously! How can you even say that? Erotica basically means fucking anyone within a 10 meters radius! Romance means it has a storyline and the characters are faithful!” I explained to him, flailing my hands around me. “O-kay... I’ll pretend I understood that.” Dodging another kick, he rose from his chair and began putting his books back inside his bag. “I need to head back now. Mom had a night-and-day shift, so I have to cook dinner. See you on Monday!”

" She laughs, low, and leads me inside, her hips swaying just enough to catch my eye. I clench my fists, forcing myself to look at the city skyline twinkling outside the windows. We sit, the table a fragile barrier between us, plates of asparagus and roasted lamb steaming in the candlelight. The wine is robust, a deep red that stains her lips when she drinks. "So, AURORA PRESS," she says, leaning forward, her blouse dipping to show a hint of cleavage. "Erotica and literary fiction. Brave choice, Victor." Her tone is inquiring, but her eyes have a spark, a challenge. I nod, my throat tight. "I think I'm done with just Philosophy and lecture halls. I should start aiming to print erotic stories

Two: some small, traitorous part of me hadn't stopped thinking about what he'd said since he said it or about the two seconds after I fell, when neither of us had moved. I sat back down at my laptop, stared at the same flat, lifeless paragraph for a long time, and then before I could talk myself out of it opened a new tab. My cursor sat blinking in the search bar for almost a full minute before I typed the question: does an erotic writer need experience before writing? I deleted it. Typed it again. This time I hit search.

The slap I wanted to give him this time around didn't escape him; it landed right on his face, perfectly. I stared at the artifact. It was a sculpture of a fragile lady in a worldly bent position, like when your partner is about to serve you from the back. The sculpture's legs were straight; the lady’s back arched in a manner that spelled out a lot: sexual conceit and exploring the satisfaction that comes with being intimate with someone you love. Her hands were spread wide above her head, while her mouth was open in sexual satisfaction. I rolled my eyes at the sculpture before I left the place. And do you know the worst part of all? He named the damn sculpture after me.

Well, I know I’ve been long in setting up my little story here, but this is where our story gets interesting. After one of those aforementioned “hard days of work,” I went to the local watering hole with my best friend Stacy. We had always been close; we roomed together in college, and now we’re both personal trainers, so she felt my plight when it came to nights like this. I was throwing back wines like it was going out of style which always seemed to be occurring on half-price wine Wednesdays while listening to Stacy tell some of her racy and risqué stories of conquest. Stacy had taken to catering to the good-looking sector of our clientele and had taken to seducing them. She noted how “it

Nadia Morning light filled the room. The sheets were wet and smelled like sex. My pussy felt sore and swollen. Cum from Reid leaked out of me onto the bed. My nipples were red and sensitive. There were bite marks on my breasts and dark fingerprints on my hips and ass. Reid pulled me on top of him. His cock was already hard and pressed against my stomach. “Last day,” he said. I reached down, grabbed his thick cock, and stroked it. “Then we better make it count.”

The idea of me helping Sarah conceive, of sharing my seed with another woman under my wife's blessing, was a taboo that had turned my blood into liquid fire. Lillian pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes, her gaze predatory and hungry. She didn't say a word at first; instead, she slid her hand down the front of my boxers, her fingers curling around the thick length of my cock. I groaned, my hips instinctively arching into her touch. She began to stroke me, a slow, rhythmic glide that made my toes curl.

He poured oil lightly at the back of her knees, trailing the fragrant essence down to her heel then the soles of her feet. Bobby then lifted one foot then took each toe gently, rubbing the aromatherapy essence in and around each one. Gina secretly shivered in delight at the stimulation. It felt very erotic. For the first time in all these years of going to massage parlors, she felt that each of her toes were directly connected to her clit. Each time Booby circled and pressed his on her digits, Gina felt her tiny nub twitch until the heat allowed some juice to peep through her pussy lips.