Hot Steamy Makeout Novels & Stories

"Be a good girl and raise your hips now. The supportive treatment isn't working anymore. I need to personally help you with it." I'm a campus belle with a carnal addiction. After practically draining my boyfriend dry with my urges, he's worried that I might cheat on him when my addiction flares up, so he tells me to get my condition treated at the campus infirmary. But little do I know that the doctor's method of treating is very unique. He even takes off his pants and nudges his hardened member against me…

I've been pent up for far so long that my hormones are going out of balance. So, I decide to visit a massage parlor that my best friend has recommended to me, hoping that I can completely get rid of the sense of emptiness that's inside me. When the young and well-built masseuse begins caressing me with his scalding palms, I feel the flames of lust burning brighter within me to the point they are about to swallow my rationality whole…

"Please, stop pushing. I can't take this anymore." The concert venue is packed tight. A man behind me keeps pressing into my backside. I'm wearing a mini skirt today with a thong underneath, and it only makes the situation worse. He lifts my skirt and presses himself against my hips. As the atmosphere heats up, someone in front of me slams into me, and I stumble back a step. My body stiffens as I feel like something just slid inside me.

No one knew that I was a sex addict until the company's team building exercise. I had forgotten to bring my medicine along for that night and was assigned to a tent with a male colleague. I was in tears as I climaxed right before his eyes, and now that there was no turning back, my impulses spiralled further away from control…

"Peter, should I go faster?" I was on my knees on the yoga mat, leaning forward, my hips moving in sharp, rapid motions. Meanwhile, my hands just kept working my chest, squeezing and rubbing. Behind me, the rest of the class just watched, their eyes fixed on the way my body moved. "Not bad. Keep that pace. Now let's move on to some hands-on practice." As soon as the instructor said that, he pulled off his pants and positioned himself beneath me.

“I’m right here, so why are you using a toy? Come, let me satisfy you.” Keenly aware of the blue-collar men around me on the sleeper train, lust bubbled up in me. I was sweating so badly that my lingerie was drenched. I had no choice but to satisfy myself, but someone caught me in the act. An older man pulled my blanket aside and stared lustfully at me.

“No… I can’t… Uh… My body belongs to my husband…” At the gym, I hired a personal trainer to work on my glutes. To make sure I was training my hips right, I wore a pink mini skirt with a hint of my plain white underwear peeking out from underneath. As if I wasn’t sensitive enough, the personal trainer lifted my skirt and pressed against my thighs. I felt a tingling sensation coursing through my body. The personal trainer tugged down my damp underwear. “Are you getting an itch you can’t scratch? Let me help you there.”

"Is this the life-like doll Paige got me as a Christmas present? Wow, it looks just like that beautiful best friend of hers…" My best friend's father mistakes me for the Christmas present she has prepared for him. Things start to heat up in the room. The man eagerly spreads my legs, ready to experience the scalp-crawling pleasure I can bring to him.

Deep in the night, I saw my son, Carl Turner, drinking a bottle of milky white liquid. I was shocked by the discovery. Our next door neighbor was a pregnant lady, and to top it off, she was the mother of Carl's collegemate. Right after that, he whipped out his phone and played a questionable video, all the while working his other hand under the sheets. In the video was none other than the intimate moments he shared with that pregnant lady! I felt an itch in my heart as I thought of the pregnant lady's daughter, who had just reached legal age. The supple body of a young woman and those alluring curves in all the right places… Since she took advantage of my son, then she had no one to blame for me taking her daughter.

"What's that bulge? It looks different from mine." My eighteen-year-old neighbor, sweet but simple, stared curiously at the place between my legs, a hungry glint in her eyes. I played dumb. "Why don't you show me what yours looks like?" To my surprise, without the slightest hesitation, she suddenly tugged off her little white skirt, revealing a smooth, bare patch of skin. "See? Right here—it's totally flat. There's nothing at all."