Free Womens Erotica Novels & Stories

The woman was getting her pussy impaled by this scaly-balled animal from another dimension, but she could not deny the pleasure he was given her, and her screams testified this, as she reached down to rub her own clitty. Whilst viewing this amazing scene, Dorian’s mind wondered, and he thought about his own sexual fantasies. If he was being totally honest, he’d never really been into kinky sex, or dominant or submissive stuff, or even voyeurism.

"You like being my secret?" "Yes! Fuck, yes!" she cried out, her legs locking around my waist, pulling me even deeper. The raw sex was relentless. I was hitting her deep, over and over, my movements fast and heavy. Every time I slammed into her, she let out a loud moan, her body clenching around me. It was erotica in its purest form—just two bodies colliding in a way that was forbidden and perfect. I reached down, my hand finding the spot where we were joined, rubbing her clit as I continued to drive into her.

He mustered all his courage to retort, “My cock is not tiny.” #steamy #forbidenromance #alphafemale #seduction #omega #primaldesire #hardcore #agegap #olderwomanxyoungerman #surrender Always read tags. So you can skip if the themes are not to your taste. *** Maya groans softly. She rubs her thighs together as she stares at the full moon from her luxurious bed.

She lay on her back beside her sister, arms stiff at her sides, thighs pressed together so tightly the muscles trembled. Rita reached over and pried them apart with surprising strength. “Open,” she ordered. “He’ll want to see how wet his good little sister-in-law got just thinking about his cock.” Nina whimpered but let her legs fall open. Cool air kissed her slick folds. She was soaked: lips swollen, clit peeking out, a thin string of arousal stretching between her thighs when she moved. Rita licked her lips. “Touch yourself. Keep that pussy ready for him. He likes walking in on a girl who can’t wait.”

Isolde followed soon after, moaning low and grinding through the pleasure. They rested briefly, bodies sticky and warm. Then they used toys. Isolde grabbed a vibrating wand from her bag. She turned it on and pressed the buzzing head against Seraphina's sensitive clit. The strong vibrations made Seraphina cry out. She tried to close her legs but Isolde held them open. She was just getting started. "Please," Seraphina begged after several minutes. "Fuck! It's too much." Isolde smiled. "Just a little longer." She kept the wand in place. Seraphina shook and came again, even harder. Her voice grew hoarse from moaning. Only then did Isolde turn it off and let her rest.

She imagined her tongue, warm and slow, her moans vibrating against her pussy. Her hips rolled up against her hand, chasing it. “God, yes…” She pressed down, fingers moving fast, slick and messy. Her breath came in stutters now. Her whole body shook with it. The wet sounds of her fingers working her clit filled the room, shameless and raw. She pulled her shirt up with one hand, squeezing her breast, pinching her nipple as her other hand fucked her harder. She was right there—on the edge—on fire. And then—

I had maybe three minutes before the next chart—Sarah Reed—was brought in, and I still hadn’t calmed down. I flipped open her file anyway. She was thirty-two, had been married for two years and the chief complaint written in shaky nurse handwriting: decreased libido, anorgasmia with partner, gets physically wet but “feels nothing.” Jesus Christ. I read it twice. My mouth went dry. A woman who's pussy gets wet just fine but can’t feel it? That was definitely not a hormone problem. That was a woman who’s never been touched right in her entire fucking life. The knock came soft.

The woman on the stage moved with effortless grace, every swing of her hip and every movement of her waist causing a stir. She grabbed the pole with her eyes latched onto the crowd of lustful men, her tongue gliding across her cherry red lips on purpose. When she leaped onto the pole, curling her legs around it, with her bare breasts exposed and nipples erect, the crowd cheered, most of them shifting their hands to the growth in their pants. Her breasts were huge, so big that dragging them around had become a problem. A man needed his two hands to cup them, they were her money makers, them and her pretty, pink pussy that she only allowed special guests to see.

The fullness was overwhelming, filthy, perfect. “Relax, Ashley. Take it like the dirty sister-in-law you are,” He said, voice dripping with dominance. “You’re clenching so hard around my fingers. Bet Felix never touches this ass, does he? Never makes you feel like a proper whore.” I shook my head, moaning incoherently as he sped up. His fingers scissored inside me, stretching both holes wider. The soap made it all glide, slippery and nasty, bubbles popping against my sensitive skin.

It was real, grimy, breathtaking passion. As a woman reading it, I didn’t feel objectified; I felt seen. You talked about a female body experiencing pleasure with a shocking, refreshing honesty. The multiple orgasms, the different kinds, the frantic one against the mirror, the slow, intimate one on the chaise, the overwhelming, tearful one, the final screaming release. You charted a whole geography of pleasure.