Fantasies Stories Novels & Stories

Tonight, though, it was doing something else entirely, making her pulse race with a mix of nerves and wicked excitement. She’d found the messages two nights ago while Mark was in the shower. His phone buzzed on the nightstand; she glanced, saw a p**n forum notification, clicked through out of idle curiosity. Threads upon threads: “Watching my wife get fucked by a stranger,” “Cuckold cleanup,” “Wife’s first BBC.” Her stomach flipped, not with disgust, but with a dark, thrilling recognition. Mark had never said a word. Never hinted. But the timestamps lined up with nights he’d begged her to describe fantasies while he jerked off, always circling back to “what if someone else touched you?”

Her voice was tentative as she said, “Okay. You can do stuffs that you think I'll like. I trust you.” And I'll never take that trust for granted, he thought, but didn't say it out loud. “What are your fantasies, Jaz?” he asked, causing her heart to do a back flip. He'd had taken a jotter and a pen — writing things down made things easier for her to process, he knew. “I sure as hell have mine — and I act on it. So help me know yours, love.” She swallowed. “Can we do stuffs that you like? Only in a more subtle way. Me being a beginner and all.”

Erotic Compilation Stories. My Fantasy::: It was definitely a time of extreme trial for me, and if I had known how it would end, I might have not bitched as much as I did during it all. To begin with, my boyfriend, Jimmy, broke up with me because when I shared my fantasies with him, per his request, he said I was too much of a sexual freak for him. Let me explain a bit further so you better understand. I had been reading stories on those sites that specialize in erotic literature after doing some research on a paper for a class on human sexuality on how some people engage in different sexual acts for pleasure. Now, some of the stories were so bizarre that I couldn't finish reading them, but

“Yes. He spent months working on it in his office and as soon as he finished it last week, he brought it down here.” “Why here? Why not out there in the main gallery?” Farida shrugged. “I don’t know. He has vehemently refused to display it and wouldn’t say why. You can’t imagine how frustrating it is for me to leave this beautiful body of work to remain hidden here like this. Trust me, if this baby makes it to the front, it will be snatched up within seconds.” “I know,” Erin agreed. “Does it have a title?” “A Werewolf Fantasy,” replied Farida quietly. “I love it.”

Nor had she ever seen such an eclectic collection of oddities. She picked up a pair of boots, vinyl, with a huge, plastic zipper. A vague memory of a porn film she had accidentally flipped on one late night flashed through her mind. Dominatrix, she believed it was called. She dropped the boots and sank onto a little bench sitting against the wall across from the racks of costumes. Fantasies. She had never had a sexual fantasy. All her sexual thoughts had always centered on Steve and their quiet sex life. All she had ever wanted was his hands on her, his lips telling her the things she wanted to hear.

Tasting your skin makes me moist and aroused Licking me with the warmth of your tongue makes my body quiver. Having you moan as you eat me sets my passions free. Longing to have your penis deep within me. Feeling the stretching as you plunge deeper and deeper. Warming when you throb inside of me as you come. Filling me with the essence of your body makes me have a part of you. Telling me I fulfill you and satisfy your dreams. Fantasizing you’re with me as my hand touches between my thighs. Knowing we’ll be together again so I can feel your love.

“Tell me every dirty fantasy you’ve had about me. I want to hear how you moaned my name alone in your room while you fucked yourself with your fingers, pretending they were mine.” The embarrassment burned, but the pleasure made me bold. “I… I imagined you pulling me backstage after every concert,” I panted, my hips grinding desperately against his hand. “Bending me over your dressing room table… fucking me hard while the fans outside were still screaming your name. Imagining you coming inside me… marking me… making me yours so no one else could ever have me.”

I run a hand down my belly, teasing myself, and shiver. Back on the bed, I lie down, spreading my legs wide. The sheets are soft against my bare ass, and I close my eyes and let my mind wander. Fantasies flicker in, some guy from class, rough and demanding, but annoyingly, Alex's face keeps popping up. His strong jaw and those piercing blue eyes. ‘Stop it,’ I tell myself, but the thought makes me wetter.

Our talk grew more risqué with every glass. When the wine had nearly run dry, I shared my fantasy with Lia. She listened intently, her eyes sparkling as I described how I imagined her hands might feel against my skin— especially if she skimmed them over my breasts. I confessed that I couldn’t stop dreaming of her supple lips wrapped around my clit and how she might use her tongue to massage the sensitive bud. Kyle encouraged our flirtation and let Lia know what was his was hers.

My mind raced to dirty places—them touching me together, commanding me. Bedtime came. "Night," they said, hugs again. Sarah's longer, her body molding to mine. Mark's quick but strong, his cologne musky. In my room, I stripped to panties, sliding under covers. My body buzzed. I thought of Mark's tattoos, Sarah's curves. My hand slipped down, fingers circling my clit slow. Wet already. I imagined Mark pinning me, his pierced cock—wait, did he have one? Fantasy ran wild. Sarah watching, touching herself. "Good girl," Mark growled in my head. "Take it for your fosters."