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.

He gave her more through the night. When, she woke in the morning, he was watching her. He reached a finger out to touch her cheek, but she flipped on top of him. Feeling the wetness between her legs rubbing against him, with her breasts leaning into his face, he started to get hard again. “Like this now!” She said with delight. “I want to try it like this now!” She exclaimed coaxing his cock and then spreading her legs wider to engulf it.

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.”

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.

the sheen of sweat across his chest, the sheer scale of him, the way he overtook her mother made Ruth-Ann's knees buckle. She slumped against the doorframe, her legs falling open. Without thinking, her hand slipped beneath the hem of her nightgown. She didn't bother moving her panties, only nudged the silk aside, her fingers finding her swollen, aching clit. She was already drenched, her slick coating her fingers the instant she touched herself.

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.

My own fingers never left my clit, working in a frantic, blurred motion. I pushed off Dante one more time, another fountain of my release spraying so far it almost cleared the bed. I was beyond gone. I sank back down, gripping Kael’s length to stroke him while Jax grabbed me by the neck, pulling me into a deep, desperate kiss. When he pulled away, he kept his hand on my throat, his eyes dark with a terrifying intensity. "You like being our little secret, don't you, Ariel? You like being the family slut."