Novel & Cerita Incest Stories Lit

Warning: This is GAY sex story, please skip it if you are not into LGBT content. "Oh God! Professor Cross! Please!" Peter's desperate cry echoed through the locked office as Professor Damien Cross pounded into his ass with relentless precision. Peter was bent over the massive oak desk, his pants around his ankles, his shirt pushed up, completely exposed and vulnerable. And he'd never felt more alive. Damien's fourteen-inch cock stretched him impossibly wide, filling him so completely that Peter could feel it in his stomach. Each brutal thrust pushed Peter forward on the desk, papers scattering to the floor, the wood creaking under their combined weight.

The pen trembled in her fingers. *Sometimes I touch myself in the shower and I pretend it is him. I push two fingers inside me and whisper his name against the wall. I imagine him standing there, telling me to go faster, to go harder, until my legs gave out. I came last night thinking about his voice. I came so hard that my knees almost buckled.* Her writing turned messy, ink smudging from her grip. She squeezed her thighs around the diary, her hips lifting off the bed. She wanted more. She dropped her pen for a moment, reached under her pillow, and pulled out the dildo she had bought weeks ago.

She was suddenly aware of how shabby her jeans and simple sweater looked in this opulent space. "It's okay. Call me Damon." He gestured to the leather sofa. Ara sat, clutching her bag like a shield. Damon remained standing, studying her. “I’ve read every book you’ve written,” he stated. “All twenty-three. Your imagination is… exceptional. Filthy. Creative. It's a shame you've landed in this current situation.” Hearing a stranger acknowledge her erotic work so bluntly made her stomach twist.

Story Note: “Room for One More” is a standalone short from my erotic collectiona mix of intense, sensual, and sometimes forbidden stories that explore the raw edges of desire. Each story introduces new characters, new fantasies, and unapologetically explicit encounters. This particular tale features a taboo dynamic between step-siblings, told with heat, dominance, and no holding back. Reader discretion is advised. *************************************************

I still get wet just thinking about that night at the family house. I can still hear the scrape of chairs, the kids yelling, the smell of roasted chicken and my mother-in-law’s too-strong perfume. I was sitting right between my husband and him—my husband’s older brother—under that long tablecloth. My thighs were already pressed together because just looking at him across the table had soaked the crotch of my panties. His hand found my thigh first. Casual. Like he owned it. “Look at you,” he murmured so only I could hear, fingers already sliding higher under the table. “Married little whore, already dripping before the first course is even finished.”

I sat there in nothing but my mismatched, faded lace underwear, feeling raw, exposed, and utterly depraved in the middle of this high-rise temple of finance. Preston leaned back on his heel, his eyes raking over my pale thighs with a hunger that made my skin catch fire. He reached out, his thumb hooking into the side of my panties, pulling the lace taut against my hip. "You're shaking, Enid. Are you scared of me?" "I... I've never done anything like this," I whispered, my heart thudding in my ears. "You mean getting your pussy eaten out in an office?" he asked, his voice a low, filthy rasp.

God, I’m turning him on as well. Thirst Trap returns carrying a bunch of things that look like sticks, but I quickly recognize those as a special type of incense. I’ve seen those in the black market while I was on a mission. I don’t know the specifics, but I do know they’ve been used for centuries as mild aphrodisiacs. Why are they doing this, though? I’m already longing for them, and I’m doing fine without this type of assistance. Why would they need it? Something tells me this is not as simple as it seems.

She told him We walked towards the elevator, I sighted them, I hastily turned my back on them, how could they also be here? Why would they be here right now, I wouldn't want to stand facing them both, I wouldn't want to humiliate Lawrence and I, I didn't see this coming, I held tightly to him covering up my face on his chest as that was just all I could do "Babes, why are you this uneasy, are you alright?" Lawrence whispered to me

“We are studying gothic romance this week. Stories full of secrets and dangerous attractions. The kind where the heroine knows she should stay away but cannot.” Lucian walked closer, leaning against the desk. “Dangerous attractions. Do those stories excite you, Hazel? Or do they make you nervous?” I smoothed the duvet, feeling his gaze on my back. “Both. There is something thrilling about wanting something you know could ruin you. What about you? Do you read much?” “I do,” he replied, voice low. “But lately I find real life far more interesting. Especially when a beautiful young woman keeps appearing in my room.”

A few days later, pictures of my bare chest were all over the school group chat. I still remembered the stares. The whispers that followed me through the hallways. The laughter that echoed behind my back. After that, something inside me changed. Men stopped feeling safe. They became monsters in my eyes. I swore off sex completely. It wasn't like I was attracted to women either. Whenever I got horny, I'd reach for a dildo or vibrator. But no matter how many times I tried, I never came. I didn't even enjoy it. It always felt empty.