Graphic Erotica Novels & Stories

He knew exactly what I was doing. I sat with perfect posture at first, legs crossed demurely. For the first twenty minutes of his lecture on erotic subtext in Victorian poetry, I behaved. Then, slowly, I uncrossed my legs and let my knees part just enough for him to see. Only him. From his position at the front of the room, the angle was perfect. No one else could see what I was offering. I kept my expression neutral, pretending to take notes, while my thighs opened wider. The cool air kissed my bare, already damp pussy. I shifted slightly, letting the short dress ride higher.

I curled them, hitting that spot I knew she loved, watching her kick and squirm. God, she was perfect. Every reaction was vocal. Every movement was a plea. Eva… Eva was a statue. Eva never reacted like this. Eva made me feel like sex was a chore on a to-do list. Olandria made me feel like a god. She made me feel like a man who was capable of destroying a woman with nothing but a touch. I watched her hungrily, my mouth diving back for her clit while I continued to finger her, adding a third finger to stretch her out.

Even through the fabric I could feel its thickness, the way it throbbed under my touch. “Feel it, Lira,” he said, voice dropping lower. “This is what’s going to ruin you tonight. Nine inches of thick, curved alpha cock. Fat enough to stretch your tight little omega cunt wide open. Curved just right to hammer that sweet spot deep inside until you’re screaming and creaming around me. You’ll feel every vein, every ridge when I bury it to the hilt and knot you full of my seed.” A whimper escaped my lips. My thighs pressed together, slick now dripping down my inner legs. The description alone made my core clench with a mix of fear and desperate need.

He reached for a toilet paper on his desk and gently wiped his chest and abdomen. The thought made my nipples, still exposed in the cool air, tighten again. I hadn’t had dirty thoughts about a man other than Nathan. I certainly hadn’t ever had phone sex with anyone besides him. I felt both aroused and ashamed.

Ice cream in one hand, pages in the other. It started innocently. A spoonful of cold cream. A flip of glossy paper. But soon the erotic art pulled me under. One page showed a woman on her back, legs spread, a banana poised at her center. Her breasts dripped with whipped cream and cherries, tongues from faceless men devouring every inch. Heat flushed through me. I pressed my thighs together, biting back a moan. I knew how this would end if I wasn’t careful, which is with my hand between my legs, whispering Grant’s name like a prayer.

Her walls fluttered around me. “Curve them upward,” she instructed, her voice husky. “Feel that slightly rough spot? That’s my G-spot. Stroke it… rub it while your thumb circles my clit.” I did as she said, pumping my fingers slowly, curling them, rubbing that spot while my thumb worked her clit. Elara’s head fell back, a deep moan escaping her. “Faster now… but not too hard. Yes—fuck, just like that, Ethan.” She started rolling her hips, riding my fingers, her heavy breasts bouncing with every movement. Her pussy made wet, obscene sounds as she fucked herself on my hand, grinding against my palm.

As I stood, I swayed gently, running my hands down my hips and squeezing my breasts while wetting my lips. He was captivated by the spectacle and began to masturbate. I crouched down and replaced his hand with mine, giving the skin of his penis a slow, deliberate massage. I opened his legs and began to graze his feet, then his thighs, with my breasts. I gently brushed his cock and moved up, my nipples tracing his body until I placed my breasts on his face.

Three dots started to float on the chatbox as he typed. Then it disappeared as he stopped typing. Oooh, that must mean he liked them. I giggled to myself, deciding to get even bolder. I reached out behind me and unhooked my bra. My tits sprang free, heavy and meaty. I made a soft face of ecstasy and took another selfie. I tousled my hair, groped one of my tits, two fingers flicking over the nips. I took another. Then another, with each different pose.

I whispered, already growing wet from his touch. Damien hummed in approval and guided me deeper into the gallery. In the next room, a series of large erotic photographs hung under soft spotlights naked bodies in elegant, provocative poses. He stopped me in front of one showing a woman on her knees, looking up at her lover with pure surrender. “Reminds me of you,” he growled, pressing his growing erection against my ass. “On your knees for Daddy, eyes wide and hungry.” His fingers slipped under my dress and found me bare and slick. He circled my clit slowly while we stood there, surrounded by millions of dollars in art.

Yet, the way she was touching my breasts made me certain that she would hesitate to undress me and do naughty things on my body. "What if Madam Cash tries to chase us down?" I gritted my teeth at her, hoping the fury in my eyes would make her drop her hands. She had pushed her hand between my thighs until it settled on my labia. "What are you fucking doing?" I asked her. "I want to know what those men find so enjoyable, maybe Wyvern enjoyed it too." She teased me, parting my legs harshly until she found my clitoris. I clenched my eyes tightly, disgust was building in the walls of my throat. I indeed went from frying pan to fire. Someone who hated me was touching me inappropriately but the de