Exotic Short Stories Novels & Stories

I smile. We order. Pasta primavera for me, rare steak for him, a bottle of some dark Italian red. Conversation starts easily but gets real quick. I tell him about the guy who only buys purple flowers because they “align his aura,” and he throws his head back laughing so hard. He tells me about sneaking into flea markets as a kid, haggling over fake dinosaurs and knockoff watches with old cigar-smelling dudes. He takes my hand, stroking the back of it once, twice, and I feel it pulse between my legs like electricity. Tiramisu comes and he scoops the first bite, holding the spoon to my lips. I take it slowly, my eyes locked on his, tongue curling around it. His pupils go huge. “Fuck,” he mutte

His length stays upright, standing tall as a blatant dare. I crawl over his waist, leaning down to press a quick, mocking kiss to the tip before positioning myself over his thigh. Now I just want to see how far I can push him. How much of that calm, stubborn control I can strip away. “Tell me a Bible story, Brock,” I whisper, slowly guiding his tip to my aching cunt. “I heard you used to be quite the storyteller in your youth.” I lower myself onto him, but I stop halfway. I refuse to take the full length. When dealing with a man who can split you in half, holding back is the only way to survive.

I tried to beg, the quivering of my legs getting harder, as did my attempts to close them. “Be a good doll and come for me again,” he commanded, and my body had no other choice but to obey his command.I came, and the sensation rocked my world.I couldn’t anymore. And when I thought that, I felt a finger pushing inside me, and starting to move.“P-p-pleas-s-s-” I tried saying, but my mouth was too busy taking in air to let me speak.My whole body shook as I felt another finger slide inside.“Oh, puppy, the fun is just starting.” He curled his fingers inside of me, and all that was left of me were pieces. I was flying in the air, among the stars, and having an extraterrestrial experience.Weird sou

When he finally spoke, his tone was dangerously calm. “You have talent, Miss Lennox. Real talent. But you also have a habit of being deliberately… provocative.” He tapped the paper. “This line about the wolf devouring the girl—‘she opened her thighs willingly for the beast’s teeth’—was that meant for Carter, or for me?” Mia’s breath caught. Heat flooded her cheeks and pooled low in her belly. “I… it was literary analysis,” she whispered. Elias set the paper down and removed his glasses, folding them neatly. He stood, towering over the desk, and walked around it until he was leaning against the edge right in front of her. Close enough that she could smell his cologne—sandalwood and something

It was a cold, dreary evening as I stepped through the heavy wooden doors, the ominous creak echoing through the cavernous chamber. The air hung heavy with the musky scent of leather, sweat, and something more primal. I had arrived at The Dungeon of Desires, a clandestine BDSM club hidden away in the heart of the city, where only the most depraved and perverse souls dared to tread.

I ask the others. "She's in the cage next to you. Norea took her somewhere and then brought her back a little while ago. She left again, though. I'm Gloria, and I'm a tiger," a young woman in the cage beside Brandon says. The cages are angled, so I can't see into the one next to me. I try to mindlink Dayan, but nothing happens. "Where are you from?" I ask them. "All over. Norea can travel anywhere she wants by snapping her fingers. We're all unmated, and most are rogues," Brandon answers.

“Now what are we to do with her?” “Anything, my dear Clara.” replied Narissa. “Anything at all. We can bring different men to fuck her everyday until her pussy shies away from cocks.” “Good idea.” “I know, right, Loretta?” “Or we could turn your into our very own Onlyfans star. Make money from videos and pictures we sell of you.” “N-no, please.” “What do you say, Renee?” Narissa asked the woman who had been sitting on the bed the whole while. “What makes her so special that our husbands want to die because of her?”

The silence made my thighs clench. "What kind of dreams?" he asked, still calm. "I shouldn't say." "You came here to let it out," he answered simply. I held in my breathing. "They're... sexual. I wake up soaked. Aching. And ashamed." "Go on." I let my head rest against the wooden panel behind me. My eyes closed. "He touches me in ways no one ever has. And I let him. I want it. God, I want it so bad." The words spilled out, broken and messy. "Sometimes it's in public. Sometimes I'm tied down. Sometimes he just whispers in my ear and I'm already falling apart. I wake up wet, panting, and I can't stop thinking about it for days."

Chloe's POV I thought I was just having a wet dream. I was floating in the heavy, warm darkness after spending half the night writing one of my erotica books. My body was stretched out on tangled sheets and I was wearing nothing but an old cotton T-shirt that had ridden up to my ribs. I thought the book I was writing was affecting my dream because someone was sucking my pussy in the dream. I felt a tongue. Slow and deliberate. It slid from the bottom of my slit up to my clit in one long, dirty lick.

I began, my voice shaking a little at first. “It started about a year ago and it just keeps getting worse. I get these waves of uncontrollable arousal all the time, even when I’m not thinking about sex at all. My pussy just starts getting wet, really fucking wet, like I’m in heat or something. Sometimes I’m sitting in class trying to focus on a lecture and suddenly I feel it start dripping down my thighs. I have to excuse myself and run to the bathroom just to wipe up or change my panties before it soaks through my clothes. And the wet dreams… every single night. I wake up humping my pillow like a desperate little slut, sheets completely soaked underneath me, my clit throbbing so hard it act