Erotica Stories Online Novels & Stories

Our Secret: My Dirty Tale is a compilation of short erotic stories intended for a MATURE AUDIENCE. Please note that ALL characters in these stories are above the age of consent. I would give a trigger warning, but there are wayyy too many. What to expect? Every kink possible. Every sexual pairing possible. Leave your morals behind, grab a toy or two. God knows you'll need a helping hand 😉*wink* Happy-horny reading! Xo, Athena♡

Damien began to move, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm, his body pressing against mine with each thrust. "Damien," I whispered, my voice breathy and needy. "You feel so good. So fucking good." He captured my lips in another kiss, his tongue exploring my mouth as his body explored mine. I could feel the pressure building, my body coiling tight with anticipation. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, urging him to go faster. Suddenly, I felt it...the rush of sensation, the release of pressure. I cried out, my body convulsing as I squirted, the wetness soaking the sofa beneath us.

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.

####### Author's Note: I have some stories already written on the platform that you can check out; 1. Moonchild; The Rise of the Lycans. 2. All shades of Passion (erotica) kindly read and them to your library. Love you all.

This is probably the definition of pathetic. But I don’t care. I press his shirt to my face, breathing in his scent, and slide my hand between my legs. I’m already wet. I’ve been wet since I jumped into his arms this afternoon. The ache between my thighs is almost painful now. I circle my clit with my fingers, slow at first, imagining it’s his hand. Imagining him touching me, those rough callused fingers on my skin. “Damon,” I whisper into his shirt. My fingers move faster. I imagine him here, in my bed, those storm-gray eyes dark with lust. Imagine him spreading my legs and putting his mouth on me. Imagine his tongue…

I was dangerously close. My back arched off the bed, two fingers buried deep inside my soaked pussy as I read the filthiest part of the story — the part where the two older men had the girl pinned between them, stretching both her holes while calling her their perfect little whore. “That’s it, baby. Take both our cocks like a good girl.” My thighs started shaking. I was right there… when my mother’s voice suddenly cut through the door. “Serena! Dinner!”

“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.

She was winning. Days turned to weeks. More accidents: Bending over in the laundry room, ass up as she “searched” for a sock, pussy lips peeking from under shorts. Brushing past him in narrow halls, her hand “slipping” to graze his cock. Each time, Ethan’s fantasies grew darker—tying her up, edging her until she begged, then fucking her raw. Lila reveled in it, masturbating nightly to the thought of him begging, “Please, Lila, let me fuck you. I need it.”

“My after-class project. My desperate little slut who traded her dignity for a letter on a page.” His words were filth, and they poured over her like hot oil, searing her shame and transforming it into fuel. Her climax built with terrifying speed, coiling from the very brutality of his fucking. She was sobbing, pleading, begging for it, for him, for the oblivion he offered. “Please…” “Come for me, Elara,” he commanded, his own control fraying, his thrusts becoming wild, uncoordinated. “Come on your professor’s desk. Show me you accept your terms.”

She kept the pressure on until Claire was crying, until her body was so exhausted from the intensity of the orgasm that she could barely stand… Then, Colette pulled her fingers out, licked them clean, and looked at Claire with a dark, predatory hunger. "Strip," Colette commanded. "Get on the table." Claire scrambled to obey, pulling off her habit, her undergarments, everything, until she was lying vulnerable and exposed on the polished wood. Colette didn't wait. She climbed onto the table, straddling Claire. She spat onto her hand, smeared the saliva over her own clit, then wet Claire’s clit with the same fluid. She aligned their vulvas, the wet, skin-on-skin contact sparking a new wave of h