Errotic Short Stories Novels & Stories

I bit hard on my lips, my legs now slightly trembling as he pushed a finger into my entrance without warning. “Fuckkkkk, ahhhh,” I moaned, my voice breaking into shuddery breaths as I slowly bounced on his fingers. He curled his fingers deep inside me, his grunts echoing through my ears like he was thrusting into me. The wet sounds of my cunt echoed through the space between us, but Rocco didn't stop finger-fucking me. He kept at it, while my body thrummed with heat, my desire for lust now increasing by the minute. I groaned as he rotated the plug and his fingers almost at the same pace–fast and rough.

This is something else entirely. He remembers the older staff telling stories—whispers in the breakroom, murmurs over coffee and cigarettes. Tales of guests who were out of control. Women, usually wealthy, bored, or lonely, who would proposition the staff without shame. He always thought those stories were exaggerated. Urban legends passed down between shifts to keep things interesting. But this—this is not a story. This is happening. Live. Raw. Unfiltered. And she’s not ashamed. Not even close. There’s no guilt on her face. No hesitation in her actions. Her eyes are sharp, focused only on him as if he’s the only man that exists in the universe right now.

Then a sudden bump drove his cock head against her forcing her panties and thin dress between her lips for just a split second. A minute later, thinking about the incident, Terri knew that technically, for that split second, her Step-son's cock had been in her pussy. True, it had just been the very tip and it had been covered by panties and dress, but was that any different then being covered by a condom? The thought was so erotic, that her pussy flooded with moisture.

He hooked my knees over his elbows, folding me almost in half, and pounded into me while the glittering city lights painted stripes across our still-masked faces. “Look at me,” he ordered, voice rough with restraint and pure lust. “Look at the stranger who’s ruining this perfect tight pussy. Tell me how good it feels to get fucked raw by a man whose name you will never know. Tell me how much you love being a secret little slut for one night.” “So good—fuck—so deep—I’m going to come again—please—” “Then come. Soak my cock. Let the whole suite hear you scream for a man with no name.”

She pinched my hard nipple, rolling it between her fingers, and I arched into her with a whimper. “Fuck, Emma,” she breathed against my lips. “You’re so responsive. So wet already, aren’t you?” I was. My tiny shorts were soaked, the crotch clinging to my shaved, puffy pussy lips. I nodded, kissing her harder, our tongues tangling sloppily. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jake stand up. He shoved his shorts down, and his thick, veiny cock sprang free—long, heavy, the head already glistening with precum. He wrapped his big hand around it and started stroking slowly, watching us with dark, burning eyes.

“That is my good little witch. Already addicted to demonic seed. Your mortal body is changing. Soon you will beg to be taken to my realm. To be my eternal breeding whore.” He fucked me through three more shattering orgasms, filling me again and again until cum poured out of me in glowing rivers every time he thrust. My thighs were soaked. My ass leaked from the tentacle play. My mind floated in a sea of corrupt pleasure. When he finally lowered me to the floor, I collapsed in a trembling, cum-soaked heap. My belly looked slightly swollen. My pussy pulsed visibly, still leaking his glowing essence. The taste of him lingered on my tongue. The scent of sex and demonic musk clung to my skin.

I spread her pussy wide and her hands held her thighs for me as I bent down to lick at her, lapping at her pussy, finding her nub, but then tracing back to her ass, unable to resist something so forbidden as rimming my plump, cute, nineteen-year-old student's ass-hole. As I tongued her tightest hole, spreading her cheeks wide, her hand rubbed desperately at her clit. "Oh fuuuck," she moaned, craning her neck to look at me tonguing her ass. Holding my tongue stiff, my head bobbed at her asshole, and I knew I was showing her something that she'd never experienced before. It felt so taboo, and so deliciously naughty, that my own precum was out of control. "Do you like that, Lucy?" I said.

He began to move, slow drags from root to crown, while words spilled out of him like blood from a fresh cut. “I imagine them laughing at how eager I am… how I open my legs the moment they touch me… how I cry when they call me a whore and thank them for it…” His hips rocked forward into his fist. Luca watched without blinking. “They hold my mouth open and piss down my throat just to see if I’ll swallow… and I do… I always do…”

The first results were articles with bold headlines: "Damien Cross: The Painter of Desire" "Eroticism in Strokes and Shadows" "The Man Who Turns Skin into Stories" She clicked one. A grainy photograph of a tall man in a black shirt appeared, his face half-turned away from the camera. Dark hair, sharp jawline, eyes that seemed to be staring at something far beyond the frame. He looked… untouchable. Like he belonged to another world. Then she saw his paintings. Her breath caught.

My cheeks flushed in embarrassment but I didn't fail to shoot back, “Aren’t we just coming from a pool party? Of course, it's the water. Thinking I'm wet for you? In your dreams.” “Arrgghh…Lordd. Maxwell!” I moaned. His ministrations on my breasts already made heat pool beneath my thighs. I rubbed them together, hoping to provide some kind of friction since Ethan was just staring at me like he wanted to rip my head off. He yanked my panties down my legs, leaving my pussy bare and exposed. The cool air hit me and I shivered involuntarily as Ethan pressed two fingers against my clit. “Mmmm…” Trying my best not to moan and give Ethan that satisfaction but my body betrayed me and I couldn't help