Historical Erotica Novels & Stories

I don’t remember being to a spa lately. As the grogginess fades and clarity returns, memories of our escapades flood my mind. Color rises to my cheeks when I remember how I had begged the men to please me. I remember yelling at them to fuck me already, and boy, they did. They fucked me good. Every part of me got the attention of their loving hands, their supple lips, and their delicious cocks. I have never had such incredible sex in all my years of being sexually active. Thinking about it alone is enough to make my opening tingle.

I was already soaked, my pussy lips were swollen and slick. He watched every move I made. Then he unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock, it was thick and hard. The head was already wet with precum, he wrapped his hand around it and started stroking slowly. “Tell me what you wrote,” he said. I kept rubbing my clit in small circles. My breath came faster. “I wrote about a man coming in after closing. He bends me over the desk, he pulls my skirt up and fucks me hard.” He stroked faster. “Keep going.”

I cried out, my fingers tangling in his dark hair. He pushed me back onto the cot, his body covering mine. The weight of him, the heat, was everything I’d dreamed of. His hands were everywhere—kneading my breasts, sliding down my ribs, over my hips. He hooked his fingers into the waist of my simple cotton underwear and tore them down my legs. The sound of the fabric ripping was the most erotic thing I’d ever heard. Then his hand was there. Between my legs. On my pussy. A big, rough-skinned palm cupping me, his middle finger sliding through the wetness I couldn’t control.

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.

"Bend over the desk. Ass up, legs spread." I scrambled up, skirt hiked to my waist, tits spilling out as he ripped my blouse open—buttons pinging across the floor. Cool wood hit my nipples, hardening them more. I arched my back, pussy exposed, lips puffy and dripping, clit peeking out begging. He stepped behind, rubbing his cock along my slit slow, coating himself in my juices. The fat head nudged my entrance, parting folds, but didn't push in. "Beg for it, Mira. Beg your boss to ruin this married pussy."

Maybe this was a side he’d kept hidden from her, a side that only came out when he was alone? The bookshelf too, was full of clues to Jacob’s secret. The Story of O . Billionaire Blackmail . Fifty Shades of Grey . Delta of Venus . Books by the Marquis de Sade and Leopold von Sacher Masoch. The Marketplace . Every book Emily selected was erotica. She wished she’d found this stash years ago. How exciting would those evenings alone have been then?

CHAPTER 76: THE CRACK IN THE SEAM That fact no longer shakes them. It no longer terrifies. The forbidden truth of what they are doing—what they should not be doing—has dissolved into insignificance. What matters now is the haze of destructive pleasure moving through their bodies, an intoxicating current that blinds, deafens, obliterates everything except sensation. Adrian is slamming faster, harder, his hips driving with raw abandon into Amanda. The sound of their bodies colliding fills the bedroom, a wet, obscene rhythm echoing through walls once reserved for vows of fidelity and a marriage that now feels like a prison cell.

" She then guided my hand through the slit in her sarong and pushed it against her pussy. It was drenched, and as I gently slid my fingers around in the warm juice, she said, "You should write that down and send it into the P**n-erotica website where they have all those dirty stories." "Literotica," I corrected her. "Maybe I will." I retracted my hand from between her legs, and put my fingers in my mouth. After a long, thoughtful suck, I said, "Hmm. Needs more basil, I think." She laughed, and fished her hand inside my towel, wrapping her hand around my swollen cock. "I think it could use some sausage," she replied.

Her moans turned into short, broken whimpers now, “uh… uh… yes… like that…” He kept the pace brutal, the glass fogging from their heat. Her free hand braced against it, leaving wet prints. He finally pulled out, turned her, and bent her over the toilet tank. One hard shove and he was buried again, pounding her from behind while she gripped the edges. “Tell me what you are…” “Your overtime slut… your dirty little hole… use me…” He reached under, pinched her clit hard, and she broke. A loud, shaky “fuck...I’m cumming...” ripped out of her as her pussy clenched and fluttered around him, juices running down her thighs.

The lewd, dirty photos left nothing to the imagination — her tits and open cunt-hole on full display for other men to see and lust over. We had fantastic sex that night. When the opportunity came for her to appear in her first proper porno film, I agreed to accompany her and watch. I stood behind the lights and cameras as Kamilla lay there wantonly on the bed, her pussy on full display and her lovely soft tits exposed to Carl, the male stud.