Free Online Erotica Short Stories Novels & Stories

His fingers gathered her wetness, making the obscene sound grow louder. Emma’s flushed face contorted in ecstasy and she turned her head toward the officer. “You… you've got thick fingers…” Reyes’ sneered and added a third finger, stretching her wider, fucking her soaked hole with deep, punishing strokes while his thumb never stopped tormenting her swollen clit. Emma’s breath came in broken sobs of pleasure, her thighs quivering violently as the intense pressure built fast and merciless inside her. “Please…” she whimpered, completely at his mercy. “Ohhh, fuuck…”

In such close proximity, the scent of sweat running down the hollow of Ben's neck tempted Maureen to linger there. Of course she didn't. Maureen could still refrain from acting like a bitch in front of a man who didn't know her very well. "It's not the scenes you need to highlight, but the story patterns they use," explains Ben, "Almost all local eroticism stories have bed scenes in common." Maybe it's the similar reading material. Sometimes there are advertisements for fictional stories that can be read online if you use a free mobile app, and most of them have the same story, revolving around crotch matters.

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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.

I cried out, arching back against him as he pumped slow and deep. I clutched the sheets, panting. He pulled down my shorts and I kicked them off completely before slipping his fingers in again. “You wear those tiny little shorts and come into my room. Into my bed and grind on my cock.” “I didn’t mean to come in here,” I whimpered. “But you didn’t leave either.” His fingers sped up. I moaned even louder now. “You were gonna come all over my fingers like a needy little slut. Maybe I should leave you hanging longer.”

Ryder breathed, his pace unraveling, his thrusts tightening into something faster, more erratic. Ruth-Ann was coming apart, her middle finger working her clit with frantic precision. She was panting, her head tipping back against the wall, her chest rising and falling as she watched the man she'd craved all day take her mother apart piece by piece. She was a sinner. She was a voyeur. She was a whore. And she didn't care. Inside the room, Ryder's head lifted sharply.

“Rub your clit while you ride me. I want to feel this pussy cream one more time before I fill it.” She reached down, rubbing her swollen clit frantically as she bounced. Her moans turned into high-pitched, broken cries. Her walls started fluttering wildly around my cock again. “I’m gonna cum. Ethan, please!” “Cum then, you pathetic slut,” I snarled, thrusting up hard to meet her bounces. “Milk my cock.” Elara screamed, her whole body convulsing as another violent orgasm ripped through her. Her pussy clamped down on me like a vice, gushing wetly all over my lap. Her eyes rolled back, mouth open in a silent cry, thighs shaking uncontrollably.

Lira growls into the kiss and rips the hoodie clean off me with one tug, then shreds my sweatpants and panties like they’re nothing. Soon, I’m naked under her in seconds, legs spread wide by her knees, my shaved pussy exposed and dripping, clit swollen and begging. “Fuck, look at this pretty cunt,” she purrs, pulling back just enough to stare. Her long fingers, tipped with soft claws spread my slick folds open. The lewd wet sound of my juices coating her skin fills the room. Two thick fingers plunge inside me without warning, stretching my tight walls, curling hard against that delicious spot that makes me go wild with pleasure, my vision going white.

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."