Novelas y relatos de Medical Erotic Stories

Tony always knew how to handle me well and I guess that's why we managed to date for so long. Typing the URL, it loaded immediately and I clicked on the first video I laid my eyes on. The sound of a woman moaning loudly echoed through the living room of my house as her fingers rubbed her pussy. Seeing her like that had me wet in an instant. I sat well in bed ready for a self service session. I deserved it. I was a sex kink and any sex video, be it a lesbian video, a gay video or even straight as long as there were Ds and Vs, always got me off.

Welcome to The Art of Seduction, a series crafted to lead you through the labyrinth of human passion, where every turn reveals another facet of our darkest fantasies and most forbidden dreams. Here, seduction is an art form, a game played with skillful precision and dangerous intent. It’s a world where whispered promises can lead to a lifetime of ecstasy or an eternity of torment. Each story within these pages is a journey, an invitation to step into the unknown and embrace the shadows that lurk within us all. But be warned, dear reader, this path is not for the faint of heart.

I was showered with offers for dates, but none of them gave me that tingle in my pussy that Eric next door did. I went to a seedy bookshop in the "wrong" part of town and bought a couple of erotic novels. I chose ones that were about husbands having affairs with younger women. As I read them in bed late at night I let my fingers play with my tits and my pussy and I brought myself to my very first orgasm. It was a wonderful discovery, but nothing like what the books described. I knew I needed a cock for that and the only cock I wanted sat between Eric Conner's legs.

he murmured, fingers tightening as she sucked harder. Her hand stroked the base in time with each plunge, her throat taking him deeper until tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She gagged softly and pulled back, saliva slicking his shaft. The sounds were obscene, wet, messy, erotic. "Stop," he rasped suddenly, tugging gently. "I don't want to come in your mouth. Not yet." She gave one last teasing lick, letting his cock fall from her lips with a wet pop. He was flushed, glistening, twitching with need.

Something aching to be molded. I met him in my Tuesday night workshop. "Erotics of Language"—a curated space for writers who wanted to learn how to use sensuality in storytelling. Most came in with curiosity or thinly veiled hunger. He came in with a notebook gripped like a lifeline and questions trembling on his lips. I noticed him in the third session. He waited until everyone had left to speak to me. “I—um—can I ask you something… off the record?” I folded my arms, tilted my head. “You just did.”

The ropes bit into her skin in pretty patterns, and the sight made my nipples tighten against my dress. My breathing was getting shallow. I could feel myself getting wet, the slickness between my thighs impossible to ignore as we moved from scene to scene. Alexander pointed out different kinks: a St. Andrew’s cross with a man being caned until his ass glowed red, a couple engaged in sensual wax play where hot drips made the woman gasp and writhe, a quiet corner where a Domme had her submissive licking her boots while she casually chatted with friends. Every explanation he gave was calm, but his voice grew rougher with each one. I noticed the way his hand froze at my back, his fingers occasio

The erotica of the moment was too much to handle. While he licked me, he started finger fucking me with four fingers. He was driving them in and out with a fast, heavy rhythm. The wet, slapping sounds were loud in the hot room. I was so wet that my own juices were running down my legs. I was sobbing his name, my voice raw and broken. "Marcus! Please! I need it! Give it to me!" I shrieked. He stood up and grabbed his cock. He didn't use a condom. He wanted to feel my heat, and I wanted to feel him inside me with nothing in between us. He guided himself to my entrance and shoved in with one hard, violent thrust that bottomed out.

I had hoped that love could overcome ambition. That weekend, Sienna came to Marcus's apartment, and they didn't leave bed for most of the day. It was a marathon of sex and conversation, of exploration and discovery. She showed him exactly how much pressure she liked on her clit while he was inside her. He discovered that if he held her hair tight while she went down on him, she came from that alone, the submission and control mixing into something intoxicating. They talked between sessions, lying tangled together in his sheets. "Tell me about her," Sienna said, her fingers drawing patterns on his chest. "The ex-fiancée."

My walls stretched around him, the burn mixing with pleasure as he bottomed out, hitting my cervix. “Ohhhh…Fuck!” I screamed, the word bouncing off the walls. My hands gripped the table edge, knuckles white. Jeff's hips snapped forward, pounding me relentlessly, his balls slapping my clit with each drive. The table creaked under us, rocking slightly. Sweat beaded on my skin, the risk making it hotter doors unlocked, voices faint in the hall outside. Marcus jerked faster now, his fist pumping his cock openly, grunts low in his throat.

I cried out, my fingers tangling in his dark hair. He pushed me back onto the cot, his body covering mine. The weight of him, the heat, was everything I’d dreamed of. His hands were everywhere—kneading my breasts, sliding down my ribs, over my hips. He hooked his fingers into the waist of my simple cotton underwear and tore them down my legs. The sound of the fabric ripping was the most erotic thing I’d ever heard. Then his hand was there. Between my legs. On my pussy. A big, rough-skinned palm cupping me, his middle finger sliding through the wetness I couldn’t control.