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When I was done, I headed for my office, shutting the door behind me. Walking to my desk, my hands shook as I pulled the bottom drawer open. In it, several worn paperbacks of my secret stash were laid out. With titles like- CLAIMED BY THE PACK, BRED BY THE BEAST AND TAKEN WITHOUT MERCY. I grabbed Taken Without Mercy, the cover showcasing a naked curvy woman with a fucked out pussy, big tits and two guys by her side with huge mighty cocks. I slid onto my chair, the urge to resist failing me. It's being months and I told myself I'd stop, but the ache in me needed to be satisfied.

The floor was scattered with his tie, my jacket, his shirt and the buttons. I writhed underneath the ardous heat whenever his hands touched my chest. And it felt like fire anytime his skin was pressed flush against mine. Every nerve and every thought inside me was burned down to a single need. Him. We stumbled toward the bed with both our mouths locked and tongues woven. Our hands were roaming around each other bodies as he pushed me down first. He climbed over me with a smile that was half wicked and half desperate. We tumbled into the bed. It felt as if we had been starving for years and the only meal was each other.

I’m alone in their massive house, horny and determined to make Damien lose control tonight. I start looking through their media room for something to watch… and I hit the jackpot. A hidden folder on their TV called “Private.” Inside are dozens of high-quality p**n videos — rough sex, cheating husbands, babysitter fantasies, creampies, degradation. Exactly my kind. My pussy throbs instantly. I put on one of the filthiest ones — a young babysitter getting brutally fucked by the married dad while his wife sleeps upstairs. The girl on screen is moaning like a whore, getting her pussy pounded mercilessly.

Well there was only two weeks left to enjoy her and I was doing that as much as I could. Not that I didn't actually enjoy the class itself as I had indeed been writing for the last couple of years. The only problem was what I was writing was dirty stories, or as the web sites called it; erotica. I was pretty good at it and at the urging of my then girlfriend Julie, had submitted a few to a story site named Erotic escapes where under the pen name hotforteacher I'd gotten some pretty good reviews.

He pushes open a massive oak double door, further down the hall, and we enter his bedroom. Kassian I bring her into my sanctuary. The air is different here: scents of old leather, cedar, cold tobacco, and me. The room is vast, sober, dominated by an immense bed with a dark canopy. The walls are lined with books, a stone fireplace is set into the far wall. The only lights come from discreet oil lamps and the dying embers in the hearth. It's a den. My den. And I have just brought my most precious prey into it.

The music was pounding, and everyone was either drunk, high, or in some kind of horny haze. That’s when Riley, nosy and fearless as ever, pulled a small CD case out from under the bed. She flipped through it, giggling at the awful punk and rap mixes, until she paused on a disc labeled “Girls” in thick Sharpie. We looked at each other and we just knew.

The paper fell away, revealing an old leather-bound volume, its cover embossed with faded gold lettering in a language that looked like a mix of Latin and something far older. “Tah — Rituals of the Eternal Flame and Flesh.” A sex god. Not just any fertility deity — a lost god of desire, ecstasy, and carnal dominion. The dealer’s notes had been vague, but the title alone sent heat rushing through me. I opened the book carefully. The pages were thick vellum, illuminated with intricate drawings of a towering male figure with glowing eyes, surrounded by writhing bodies in states of rapturous abandon. As I turned the first page, a faint warmth spread through the room. The watching feeling returne

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The warmth of her skin against mine ignited a fervent desire, fueling my desire for her. Her breath quickened, matching the rhythm of my own heartbeat. With each thrust, she gasped as my hands traced the delicate arch of her back, the curve of her waist, and the contours of her hips. I explored the landscape of her body, committing it to memory with an insatiable hunger. My fingers danced along the curves of her body, tracing invisible patterns that ignited her senses. Her skin, warm and inviting, begged for my touch. I obliged, leaving a trail of fiery kisses along her neck, her collarbone, and down to the swell of her breasts.