Exotic Stories Free Novels & Stories

Mia nodded, watching as he crossed to the desk and poured two glasses of red wine. His movements were confident and economical, no wasted motion. "To unexpected connections," he said, offering her a glass. "To breaking routine," she countered, taking it. Their fingers brushed during the exchange, the first contact between them sending a small jolt through her body. She took a sip to hide her reaction, finding the wine rich and velvety. "So," Alex said, leaning against the desk. "Who are you when you're not putting on shows for strangers across the way?" The directness of his question made her laugh.

I quickly ran and took my father along with me and stood outside the bedroom and peeped through the side of the door. “Come and sit here with me. Let's have some fresh lemonade together.” Said Caroline sweetly. “Lemonade! That’s my favorite” Zac exclamied. My father was confused but I asked him to stay quiet and notice everything “I'll go and get it for you.” Caroline moved towards the table and looked back towards the door. I hid back all of a sudden. She noticed that nobody was standing and then looked at Zac once and smiled. Then she turned around and took out a small bottle out of her pocket which had a colorless liquid inside it. She poured it in one of the glasses and mixed it quickly.

Lexi They kept fucking me like that for what felt like forever—long, deep strokes that kept me teetering right on the edge without letting me fall. My whole body was shaking, sweat slicking my skin, my pussy making the wettest, most obscene sounds every time they bottomed out. I could feel their cocks throbbing inside me, both of them fighting their own orgasms, veins pulsing against my walls. “Please… please…” I was crying now, actual tears of overwhelming pleasure and frustration. “I can’t hold it… I’m gonna cum… I’m so close… Zach, Julian, please let me cum…”

I glanced over at him and followed his lead, raising my head and staring at the dark sky. Alex suddenly opened his eyes, and stared at me. I could see the mischievous glint in them. "The first one back to the house gets a paid Dried aged steak and champagne at the fanciest restaurant in the city!" he said, and before I could process what he said, he darted off. A laugh escaped me as I ran after him. But oh boy, the guy was goddamn fast. Who knows? Maybe I would enjoy this trip after all. We stumbled into the compound and Alex pushed the door open stepping in.

The exquisite terror of giving your blood, your body, and perhaps even your soul to something far older and more powerful than you. That obsession is precisely what led me to the website. It was past three in the morning. I had just finished a particularly filthy novel where the ancient vampire lord claimed his mortal lover on an altar of black marble while draining her during the height of her orgasm. My body was still buzzing, thighs slick, heart racing, when I stumbled into the darkest corners of the internet — forums so obscure that even seasoned degenerates whispered about them. And there it was. Blood Party – Invitation Only.

She’s about to learn exactly how wrong feels when it’s oh so right. These are not stories that ask for patience. They demand surrender. This isn’t just erotica. This is your escape. Your little rebellion. Your delicious, dirty secret. Whatever it is, don’t fight it. That’s what this is for. So take a breath. Sink into it and let these stories take you exactly where you want to go. Now turn the page. Your adventure begins here.

Ecstasy escapes description; it’s like trying to package steam. In the shower, I didn’t come. He did, pulling out of me, his white fluids chasing suds down the drain in sepa- rate blobs and strings. It didn’t look like bliss. He had to dash. Dinner with some clients at eight. He dried off and I stayed in the shower for too long, because I can without dying for my desires. I will do. They don’t give you your sexual freedoms. You have to claim them.

he said with a smirk, handing me all the money he promised. He pushed me out onto the sidewalk naked, cum still glistening on my skin, shorts and top tossed after me. I stood there stunned, heart racing, pussy still throbbing, as the van sped. That was the wildest, steamiest thing I’d ever done and part of me already wanted to do it again.

His rolled up sleeves reveal the thick veins in his forearms, and the scent of him, that woodsmoke and sharp musk, seems to drift across the rows of desks, clogging my lungs. "Most writers fail because they are afraid to feel," Professor Tyler begins, his eyes snapping back to mine for a split second before moving on. "They describe a scene like a blueprint. But a story is not a blueprint. It is an experience. If you want your reader to bleed, you have to describe the coldness of the blade. If you want them to burn, you have to make them feel the heat of the skin."

I ordered pizza for us and as they gamed, I fired up the laptop in my bedroom, curious to read the stories he'd been stroking to yesterday. As I read story after story, I was shocked both at the content of the stories and by what these stories were doing to me. My pussy was on fire, and my left hand slowly pleasured myself as I read each incestuous story. Some of the stories had dominant sons seducing their mothers, while others had powerful daughters dominating their mothers, while still others were more intimate and egalitarian in the sexual relationships between sons and mothers. I'd never even remotely considered my children in a sexual way, but yesterday's events of my son's masturbatio