I Am Wet Novels & Stories

Where the tree’s needles scratched my face as I carried it in itches a little and I’m checking to make sure it’s not worse than I thought it was when I realize my shirt’s dirty from decorating. It’s as I walk out of my bathroom that Rob walks out of his across the hall and it’s all I can do not to groan out loud at how wet he is. His towel is hitched low around his narrow hips and his arms and back are gleaming—actually shimmering with the water clinging to him—like he didn’t bother to dry off.

She’s falling asleep with her head dropping to the side. I don’t bother to wake her up, instead I head to the kitchen to drink some water. While I am holding the glass to my mouth and gulp the water down, my mother’s head peaks from the corner of the wall next to me. “You're soaking wet, Aya!” She exclaims as if it is a crime I committed. “I know. Don't have to inform the whole neighborhood mom.” I put down the glass and wash my hands on the sink. My hair is damp. My dress is damp. Adam's jacket is damp. Pretty much everything on me.

It’s such a beautiful sound. “I’m so wet,” I say to him, I arch my back and open my legs wider dipping my fingers deeper. I pull them out and slide three fingers in this time. “I wish it was your dick fucking me right now.” I say knowing my fingers won’t give me the satisfaction I need.

“I can feel how wet you are. I want to hear you say it.” “Yes,” I whimpered. “Yes, Azeem. I'm so fucking wet for you.” His grip tightened. “Show me,” he whispered. “Show me how wet.” I didn't hesitate. My hand slid down my body, past my stomach, past the hem of my sundress. I pushed my fingers past the waistband of my undies to the slick heat waiting there. My cunt was dripping, swollen, and aching. I pulled my hand back out and pressed my wet fingers against his lips.

"You are absolutely drenched." "Getting caught does that to me," I panted, my voice ragged and desperate as I ground down harder on his hand, chasing that filthy friction like a bitch in heat. My pussy was already soaked, dripping for him, and the risk of it all. Anyone could look up, anyone with binoculars could see me spread wide like a desperate slut, fucking myself on his fingers right out in the open.

My eyes fluttered shut, my lips parting. He pulled back, brows furrowing. “What’s wrong?” I looked up at him through heavy, drunken eyes, and before I could stop myself, the words tumbled out. “Orrin, I think I’m wet.”

I wish I was there to lick you off. BESTIE : Okay, touch yourself baby. Me : Okay. BESTIE : Are you touching yourself? ME: Yes. BESTIE: Good girl. BESTIE: Tell me what you're feeling. ME: Wet. ME: So wet for you. BESTIE: Where are you touching? ME: Just… outside. ME: Circling. BESTIE: Slower or faster? ME: Slow. ME: Like you do. BESTIE: I love the way you feel when you're slow. The way you arch into my hand. The way you beg for more.

Then somewhat more urgently, “Is yours…wet too?” “Yeah, it really is.” Here is what amazed me. When I whispered back that I was really wet, I felt myself get wetter as I was speaking. “Is talking about this making you wetter?” I asked. “I think I’ve been like this since this afternoon.” She hissed back, “But in reply to your question, talking about it is definitely making me wetter.” A minute or two passed and then working up my courage I asked, “Heather?” “Yeah?”

It nearly has mе ѕсrеаmіng, bеggіng him to plunge dеереr, and іn mу fаntаѕу hе іgnоrеѕ me аnd kеерѕ gоіng. I lеаvе thе shower runnіng аnd ореn the glаѕѕ dооr. I ѕрrеаd a fresh towel on thе floor and lay my wet body on it. I’m ѕорріng wеt, writhing аrоund, moaning and раntіng wіth hоw сlоѕе I am tо exploding.

Aiden tilted his head and my throat went dry when he said, “Then why did I hear your voice moaning my name when you orgasmed with your fingers inside your pu -sy?” 1 - Yes, Dad Ivy I was wet. Completely soaked. It had to rain today of all days. Maybe the weather reflected my emotions. My finger pressed on the doorbell, wishing my brother would hurry. Wet puddles formed around my feet as cold water dripped down the tips of my dark hair, trailing down my face. I knew the mascara I had applied that morning was ruined, and my eyes were puffy and red. “Hayden!” I sniffled, running a hand across my face and pressing the doorbell again and again. “Hurry, please!”