Medieval Erotica Novels & Stories

But it didn’t end there. Eva lay stretched across the velvet bench, breathless and dazed, her thighs glistening, lips swollen from him. The older woman crouched between her legs, licking her clean — slowly, reverently, with moans that echoed off the confessional’s walls. Father Luca stood watching, cock twitching again, drenched in guilt and desire. He wasn’t sure if this was a punishment or a reward. "You like watching?" the woman whispered. He nodded. Eva moaned and curled her fingers into the woman’s hair, her hips rising, surrendering. Luca stepped forward, hand tightening in her curls. She looked up at him, mouth already open.

As he poured it all in, Imam Tariq simultaneously raked the image of Jesus cruelly over her sensitive cunt walls again, making the exhausted girl squeal once more with delightful pain. Gasping from all the efforts, sweat pouring from his face and dripping from his beard onto Abigail’s equally soaked white body, the old man slowly pulled his slimy cock from her steaming hole. A loud clanging of the crucifix, soaked and incredibly coated in their mutual cream, bounced off the floor below them, another huge evidence of their sin. Exhausted, Abigail laid back on the desk huffing and moaning, her mind a happy fog and her entire being totally satisfied from being so thoroughly and fantastically fu

“Although the erotic scenes are beautifully written, the plot is hella boring.” Theo let out a deep chuckle, leaning back on the couch. “Finally, someone that gets it. I mean, it has so much potential to be a blast, right?” “Exactly,” Nico continued to flip through the book. “Sex is cool and all but it’s boring when it happens without any plot. You know what I mean?” Theo scoffed. “You mean like these p**n videos that just get into the whole thing without any prior action.” Nico watched him quietly, the corners of his lips tilted up in a small smile. “You sound like you know your game.”

The lock was flimsy, more for show than security, and it gave way with a simple click. Her breath caught. Good lord. Neatly arranged on a bed of black velvet lay a collection of items she had never, not in a million years, associated with Barbara and Mark. Silken ropes, a black leather blindfold, several vibrators of varying size and apparent intensity, a gleaming silver butt plug, a soft-looking feather tickler, and other, more intimidating implements she couldn’t name. Her face flushed with a heat that was part shock, part voyeuristic thrill. Her prim, perfectly-coiffed mother-in-law… and Mark, the stoic, retired accountant… into this?

The paper fell away, revealing an old leather-bound volume, its cover embossed with faded gold lettering in a language that looked like a mix of Latin and something far older. “Tah — Rituals of the Eternal Flame and Flesh.” A sex god. Not just any fertility deity — a lost god of desire, ecstasy, and carnal dominion. The dealer’s notes had been vague, but the title alone sent heat rushing through me. I opened the book carefully. The pages were thick vellum, illuminated with intricate drawings of a towering male figure with glowing eyes, surrounded by writhing bodies in states of rapturous abandon. As I turned the first page, a faint warmth spread through the room. The watching feeling returne

Everything from polaroids depicting the lifestyle of BDSM to raw images that illustrated every sexual position you could think of and more. Every kink you could imagine had played a role in each of the pieces as well—this place was purely, uncensored sex. A place dedicated to exploring every aspect of sensuality, at its finest. Reaching the back wall of the room, I was brought face to face with the sole reason I had fallen in love with everything art had to offer: Raimondi's I Modi. The surviving album of engravings dedicated to the sixteen pleasures; the positions. Erotic art created during the early ages—a true primitive art form. A piece of work I could never get tired of looking at.

“It’s the same energy. Worship it. Tease it. Make her drip down your chin before you even put a finger inside.” She stood up gracefully, hooked her thumbs into her long skirt, and slid it down her thick thighs. Black lace panties followed, revealing her completely. Her pussy was smooth, puffy, and already glistening with arousal. My mouth watered. Elara sat on the edge of the velvet-covered table, spreading her legs wide. The crystal sphere sat beside her like a silent witness. “Come here,” she beckoned. “On your knees first.” I knelt between her thighs, staring at her wet folds. Her scent was intoxicating—sweet and musky.

I held my neck with my hand like a slut, hoping he barges in again. I hit orgasm, he still isn’t here like I wished. I walked to his room still soaked, and I found him touching himself while looking at my picture. His shoulder carved, and the deep v of his torso, his tight abs, and the thick curved cock in his hand. He walked to me, grabbed me and I kissed him. His hands went down to my ass and he carried me. Four steps and he dropped me on the bed, spreading my legs. I pulled off my panties as he squeezed my hard nipples, I gasp and moaned soflty,

She had never craved for a man's cock as much as she craved his at that moment and she had no idea why. Perhaps it was his dangerous calmness, or how he reaked of sin. Or maybe it was because he was the hottest man she had ever set her eyes on. Whatever it was, she wanted it. She wanted that darkness to be wrapped around her like a blanket. Thinking about him all night gave her goosebumps. She remained wet until morning. She had no other choice but to pull out her rose toy. Cummig for the third time that day seemed to do the trick, and she ended up sleeping like a baby early the next morning.