Hustler Stories Novels & Stories

I quickly picked up the phone call as I winced in pain from the reddened skin on my hands from the coffee. "Hello?" I greeted the man in a tone that sounded rude. "Add my number to your WeChat account." "If I don't want to. What will you do?" I challenged him. I didn't care about all his threats, which I thought were just a bluff. "You will be humiliated." "Humiliated? What does that mean?" I winced at his words. "I have pictures of us making love last night." My mouth dropped open in disbelief at his words. "What did you say?"

He laughed—a deep, wicked laugh—and adjusted his backpack on his lap to hide the erection. “Damn, Ana, you’re fucking direct. I like that. If I were your husband, I’d fuck you every morning, afternoon, and night. A pussy like yours doesn’t deserve to stay dry. I’d take you in the kitchen, on the bed, in the car—pounding hard, making you beg for more. But me? Single, running this shitty city delivering packages. Girlfriends? Temporary. I fuck them in cheap motels, the kind with stained sheets and blinking neon. Nothing romantic—just skin on skin, sweat, and cum. Sometimes, after a fucked-up day, I just want to bury my cock in a hot pussy to forget everything.”

“Cheers to that.” As the night wore on, we talked more. She was a graphic designer and loved hiking. I told her about my job in construction, how I built things with my hands. The fire crackled, warming the room, and the drinks kept flowing. By ten, we were laughing about stupid ex stories.

"Bullshit! Next time, move your damn asses faster!" And when we heard the footsteps getting farther, he released me and I was right. "YOU AGAIN?!" I yell at the pervert who pulled me. "Don't be delusional. And what are you doing here in this kind of place?" he asked with a serious tone. Rumors have it that there many addicts here. But it’s not his business so I stared at him with one brow raised. "And what about it?! You’re also here," I answered.

"Remember when he got shot? Well, that whole day we were together and he kept on teasing me. But that was it, just a tease. So I decided to get myself a date and obviously he ruined it and that was when I seek you out and we went to players. And the guys get us back home. Oh... and he kissed me, he's a damn good kisser. Then there were bad guys, shots, and I almost drowned in the pool. But the point was, I had the hottest masturbation session via video chat...." I paused to drink my wine, Megan was looking at me with her mouth open gasping but not saying anything, obviously waiting in suspense. Did I tell you that I'm a very good storyteller? Well...I always think I am, usually up until Mega

And I'd bury them. But the worst wasn't over. By the time we reached home, a video was already trending. A video of us going through the exit, and then it shifted to one with Stanley blocking people from entering the store. But the captions? They were slandering. "Gold Digger Clings to Disgraced Heir." "Pregnant Mistress Acts for Camera Sympathy." "CEO's Assistant Harasses Guards Outside Supermarket." They even dragged Stanley into it. "Do you see this?" I said to Stanley, hurling my phone at the table. "They think they can twist everything."

My moans echoed off the stone, raw and unfiltered, and bouncing back to me as if the crypt itself were moaning with me. He watched through the lens, eyes dark, pupils blown wide with lust and something colder—calculation. “Tell me your worst secret, Elara,” he said, voice low and coaxing. “The one you’ll never print.” I gasped, hips rocking into my own hand, thighs trembling. “I… I came to expose you,” I confessed, the words spilling like wine. “The abuse stories. The missing girls from the Boston church. The rumors of payoffs, of girls who vanished after private ‘counseling.’ I thought you were—”

Hotel and convince him we should have another encounter. Fortunately Robert and I are able to see each other's G***l accounts on our phones. Double as fortunately he used that account to contact "Bull Jerome" to setup our meeting last week. I had to lookup what Bull meant in the appropriate context much like I had not understood Eva when she called herself a hotwife. Again the definition wasn't what I had expected. A sexually dominant male who, for fun or financial gain, cuckolds and humiliates husbands while servicing their wives was the definition I found. I hoped Jerome had not charged us. But that didn't stop me from sending him an email. "Hello Jerome," I began. "This is Beth. You fucke

They started competing right there, throwing dumb jokes and teasing at me like I was the prize. Rowan told some filthy story about a girl from last summer that had me choking on my drink because of how detailed he got about her moaning his name while he fucked her from behind. Ryker topped it with one about sneaking into the locker room after practice and getting his dick sucked by two cheerleaders at once. “Swear to God,” Ryker said, eyes locked on mine. “One on her knees, the other licking my balls while I face-fucked the first.

It came out like a plea. He pushed my shorts and panties down in one rough motion, exposing me. I stood there trembling as he stared at my smooth, glistening pussy. Two thick fingers slid along my slit, spreading my wetness before pushing inside me without warning. I cried out, grabbing his shoulders for balance. He was relentless, pumping his fingers deep while his thumb found my clit, rubbing tight circles. “Look at you,” he growled, watching my face. “Taking my fingers like a desperate little slut. Been thinking about this all year, haven’t you?”