Momsonsex Stories Novels & Stories

Warning: 18+ only. Featuring hardcore taboo and age-gap erotica. This is an erotic boxset containing twelve stories of irresistible steam, steam, fun, and naughty stories. If you're not up to eighteen, this book is not for you. Get ready to be intrigued. To feel. To...sin. ---------- “I made myself tight for Big Daddy,” she leans up and whispers in my ear. “Every morning and night, I clenched it really tight, released, clenched, released…”

"Is that really all she is to you?" "To be completely honest with you, Hillian, I cannot even bring myself to sleep with her," my father confessed, stepping closer and lowering his tone like he was sharing a secret. "She is gorgeous to look at, yes, but I am simply not sexually attracted to her at all. She fulfills her duties as the lady of the house, and I give her an unlimited credit card. It is a business transaction." A surge of strange, conflicting emotions churned deep in my chest. I felt disgust at his callousness, but deep down, a dark, dangerous sense of relief washed over me.

He just nodded, jaw tight. I slipped out and hurried to my bedroom, closing the door behind me. My body was still on fire. I leaned against the door, replaying everything — the way Sean had kissed me like he was starving, how his fingers felt rubbing my clit, the way he spanked me while calling me a good girl. And then Mom’s voice cutting through it all. The risk of almost getting caught made everything feel ten times hotter. I couldn’t help it. I climbed onto my bed, pulled my leggings and bra off, and lay back. My hand slid between my legs. I was still soaked. My fingers found my swollen clit and started circling fast.

He was never late. I leaned back slowly, taking deep breaths to calm the heat burning in the pit of my stomach as fragments of my research replayed inside my head. BDSM contracts. Consent. Dominants. Submission. Orgasm denial. The words alone had kept me awake half the night. And the truly terrifying part? If Maxwell asked, I knew I would give him almost anything. Actually I would give anything. The realization made my cock twitch hard beneath the table, I squeezed my thighs together.

She already knew that would be expected. Damon’s bedroom was even larger than hers. The massive king-sized bed dominated the room, covered in black silk sheets. Damon stood by the windows wearing only a pair of dark gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips, revealing the deep V of his sculpted abs and the outline of his heavy cock. “Close the door,” he ordered. Ara obeyed. “So today’s scene,” he said, “is about a submissive woman meeting her ex one last time before her wedding. She knows it’s wrong. She knows she shouldn’t. But she can’t resist him. She lets him ruin her for her future husband. That’s the energy I want.”

I turned my head to look at him just once. The sight was majestic. Veins pulsed on his forehead, and his dark curls fell over his shoulders, desperate for a haircut. He plunged his nails into my waist, and I screamed. My moans filled the room, mixing with his gutteral grunts and the filthy words spilling from his lips. "Take it like a good girl, baby. Take it so good," Damon growled. "Who’s daddy’s favorite whore?" He wrapped his hand around my throat, squeezing. I choked, unable to find my words for a hot, breathless minute. His thrusts turned beastly, his grunts sounding like a low, primitive cry from his chest as he curved his spine over mine.

And I wanted to be punished: Perhaps that, more than anything else. I began reading erotic BDSM stories. For a while this seemed to be enough. It allowed me to escape my life, if only for short periods of time. Erotic BDSM stories were challenging to find in my small town and soon found myself searching sites on the internet. This opened up a whole new world: Before I knew it, I was placing ads on personals sites, trying to make my dream a reality. Initially the responses were just crude. Even the ones I decided to contact, seemed a little beyond what I was looking for: Cruel men, perhaps dangerous too. Finally I received a response from Tony.

Jennifer: Shrug emoji. I decided to take a different tack. This time, rather than pick safe, general stories, I chose a bunch of different categories and sent my favorites from each. One was romantic, about a couple falling in love. The next was about a wife who sleeps with another man. Another had a husband bringing in his best friend for a threesome. I chose one that had some bondage (not my thing, but I picked a story that was highly rated). I sent a Lesbian story and a Gay male one (again, I relied on the ratings). I linked a story about watching two people have sex in the woods, and one about a girl riding a sybian for the first time. I skipped two categories: nonconsent and incest. As

A smile crept onto my face as I adjusted my grip on the novel, its cover barely hiding the kind of story that made my heart race. A dark, depraved mafia romance. It had a male lead who didn’t ask permission so much as demand surrender. A man who played with consent the way a composer toyed with notes—artfully, deliberately, with the kind of confidence that made my skin prickle and my thighs press together. One that was over too soon. The kind of book I devoured in a fever and now I was in need of another. Most folks wouldn’t think of the local library as a treasure trove of scandalous reads, but I knew better. The librarians were in on the secret, intentionally filling the shelves with books

**Lust's Asylum: Twisted Confessions** **Story 8: Queen of the Pack** **Chapter 2** The full moon still hung high as the ritual continued deep into the night. Selene lay on the moss-covered stone altar, legs spread wide, body glistening with sweat and the cum of three powerful alphas. Her pussy and ass were red, swollen, and leaking thick rivers of seed. Her breasts were marked with bites and handprints. She had never felt so thoroughly used… or so powerfully alive.