Ghost Erotica Novels & Stories

I was already soaked from looking at his shorts and seeing myself pull it off and get his cock deep down my throat. My face turned red, I could feel myself dripping. I ran into my room, fell to my feet and shoved my hand into my panties, one finger into my folds gently. Then I used two fingers circling my clit, then faster, my hips rocking up my hands. “Are you okay?” He said as he opened my door. He left saying nothing, I was so embarrassed. I had never imagined he would open my door. In shame, I buried my head under my duvet.

Unable to decide if I hate him or love him for this, I can only go along with it. “Lay down,” Gabriel says. I do, and he settles beside me, propping his head in his hands. He trails a hand lazily around my breasts, then down to my stomach and further, dipping a finger into my center and bringing it up to circle my clit. “You’re not playing fair,” I whine. “Who said anything about fair?” he counters, dipping his head to kiss me while his hand plays with my pussy. I reach for his cock, then scowl when I realize it’s sheathed. I wrap my hand around it anyway, unused to the feel but eager to put him through the same torture as me.

I’d like to blame it on the alcohol but the truth is, the moment the woman walked through the garden, she was all I could see. Zara Parkinson is a beautiful woman but sometimes she goes and wears something like those flowing skirts of hers that completely hides everything underneath. Still, those clothes do not seem to hide enough because I am somehow still drawn to her. I turn to leave but a small whimper stops me in my tracks. I turn around, as if I have just been caught doing something I shouldn’t be doing. The cover is now discarded and there she lays, in a tangle of legs and sheets. Hot white desire stirs deep within my groin , followed by an unmistaken swell under my towel. I palm my b

Then, before she knows it, a lone finger is exploring the edge of her gusset and the tender, moistening flesh beyond. As the next sitcom rolls, Glenda is thoroughly luxu- riating under her sofa throw, unabashedly savoring the horniness she’d earlier shrugged aside. She spreads her legs wide to let her heated pussy radiate, displaying herself to the tight, complicit audience of cotton blanket. Then she slams her thighs closed again, to let her diamond- hard clit tingle where she squeezes herself together. She repeats these maneuvers, over and over, until she’s ready to burn straight down through the sofa.

When his hot, wet mouth touched her duty, she felt her head explode. “Fuck.” She couldn't hold the moan. Never in all her twenty-four years of existence has she thought she woukd be turned on by torture. “Bad bitch,” Sandro commented knowingly. His middle finger buried itself into her pussy. When her sleek wetness greeted him, he smiled to himself. “Already wet.” Shit. Shit. Shit. Lilith couldn't contain her embarrassment. She shook, turning every which way to stop the finger sliding in and out of her. Sandro pinched her lower stomach.

He slowly led the way to the big couch, his eyes going from my boobs to the red g-string I had on. "I know you always get lost in those books of yours, don't think I haven't seen the kind of things you read.." he paused, my cheeks flushed as he made me sit on the couch. He got down on one knee in front of me, his hand still around my waist. "And I know your little head has cooked up fantasies.. fantasies of what you want to experience, of what what you want me to do to you." He paused and lowered his head to my drenched panties, taking a long, seductive whiff.

Another voice from the dark: "Let me touch her." Rome's grip tightened. Amara opened her eyes. It was Levi. Silent. Watching. Wanting. "Let him," she whispered. Rome looked up at her, shocked. Her cunt clenched around him. "Please." Levi stepped closer. His hand brushed her breast, and she moaned so loudly it made someone else groan. Then his fingers were between her thighs, rubbing where she needed it most. She fell apart. Her orgasm hit like a storm, tearing through her until her vision blurred. Rome cursed. He wasn’t far behind. She felt him spill inside her, hot and thick, and she didn’t stop riding until he was shaking.

“Say you love being fucked like this while he’s right downstairs.” Her fingers clutched the sheets tight, and her whole body began to shake. “I love it. I love being your slut while my father is downstairs! Ohhh God, I love your dick, Luca!” Her confession ripped the last threads of control from him. His balls tightened and his dick swelled, every nerve screaming release. He slammed deep, grinding hard against her ass. “Fuck Stacey! I’m going to cum!” Her body convulsed, and another orgasm tore through her at his words. “Come inside me!” she begged.

“Look at you—such a filthy little slut, coming so hard just from the thought of being gagged by my cock. You’re literally shaking.” Gavin was a beautiful wreck beneath me. His thighs trembled uncontrollably, chest heaving in short, desperate bursts, cheeks flushed a deep, humiliated red. The dark wet patch on the front of his jeans spread wider with every aftershock, the sharp, musky scent of his release filling the small space between our bodies. His cock—still half-hard, slick with his own cum—twitched against his stomach every time he breathed. “No,” he whispered, voice cracked and defiant.

She’s slipping away—everything feels like it’s underwater, like a dream she can’t wake from. She cries out again, desperate, high-pitched. Endless waves of orgasm ripple through her trembling form, one crashing over the next, relentless, overwhelming. Her limbs flail, her body convulses beneath him, but still he doesn’t stop. Still he pounds. Still he slams. He whispers dirty words against her flushed skin, each syllable igniting her nerve endings like sparks. “Oh, you wanna act like a little slut?” he snarls against her neck, voice dripping with dark amusement. “Then I’ll make it real easy for you, baby.”