Momsonsex Stories Novels & Stories

She was given permission to cum as needed. I recounted the story of Memorial Day. Who was there, what activities Master had arranged and who did what to whom. Cindy heard me tell of her parents having sex with slaves; her Mother with both male and female slaves. She heard both of them had sex with Lisa. We were only four minutes into the telling when Cindy climaxed the first time. She orgasmed four more times before the story was told. "Oh, damn, that's so fucking hot, Domina," Cindy moaned, climaxing for the fifth time. "I wish I'd been there."

One wrong sound and Mom would open the door to find her husband fucking her daughter senseless. Marcus pressed a hand firmly over my mouth, his eyes blazing with dark lust. He slowly rolled his hips, grinding his cum-slick cock deeper into my overflowing pussy. I whimpered helplessly against his palm. “Shhh,” he breathed into my ear. “Not a fucking sound, princess.” The footsteps continued down the hall toward the bathroom. The door clicked shut. We had minutes, maybe less. Relief and adrenaline mixed into pure filthy fire. Marcus pulled out of me with a wet, obscene sound, thick ropes of his cum leaking from my stretched hole and dripping down over the plug in my ass.

I can hear some more shuffling and then he was telling me, "Yes, mistress, I'm naked." Mistress? I sighed internally. You seriously wouldn't believe how many men were into the whole dominatrix kink. In the beginning, it was kind of fun but by now it was getting pretty old. Mentally awakening my inner dom, I relaxed further into the sofa and flipped through the magazine."Good boy," I cooed, finding a 20 sex tips for women article. Huh, how fitting. "Now, here's what I want you to do, and you better listen closely, pet."

“I love your cocks more than I should. Please—fuck me harder. Use me.” Damian made a broken sound from the corner, but they ignored him. The rotations got filthier. They started switching holes more aggressively—pussy to ass to mouth without pause. Lube made everything slippery and obscene. I lost track of who was where. All I knew was constant fullness, constant pleasure, constant dirty words whispered against my skin. “Such a perfect little breeding hole.” “Gonna fill every part of you until you’re leaking for days.” “Bet you never thought you’d be airtight on your wedding night, did you, Mrs. Romanov?”

She looked comfortable, like she owned the place. “Getting late, Matt,” she said softly. “You look tense. Why don’t you tell me a story? Or better yet, let me tell you one.” She started talking in that low, husky voice. Stories about late-night deals, fast cars, and men who thought they could control her. Every one had a dirty edge. How she once made a rival boss beg on his knees. How power felt better when it came with pleasure. Matt listened, pretending it was just work, but his dick stayed rock hard the whole time.

I swallowed what I could and let the rest drip down my breast and chin and my third orgasm ripped through me, milking Marcus dry while I whimpered and trembled. We collapsed together in a sweaty tangle, with me in the middle and Father and son beside me, cocks softening and the room reeking of sex, sweat, cum, and satisfied breaths. “You’re more than a debt now, Clarissa,” Marcus whispered.

BLAIRE The bathroom mirror didn't lie. My neck was a map of dark bruises, and my pussy throbbed with a heavy, relentless ache. I stood under the spray of the shower, the hot water hitting my sensitized skin like a thousand needles. I watched as the milky remnants of Raymond’s thick cum swirled down the drain, mixing with the steam, but I couldn't wash away the intense, complicated realization settling in my gut. I wasn't just Manuel’s widow anymore. I was the center of a storm I had walked into willingly, a woman caught between two brothers who wanted to claim every inch of the life I had left. I must confess ,I like every bit of it

"It feels amazing! Your big dick is ruining me! Don't stop fucking me!" I stroked my wet pussy harder, matching their rhythm. My clit swelled under my thumb while I peeked, watching his balls slap against her. The room smelled like sex, heavy and musky. Mom came hard, her body shaking as she screamed, "I'm cumming! Fuck yes, fill me up!" But he wasn't done. He flipped her back to doggy and kept going, rougher than before. "You want more? Beg for this cock." Mom did, loud and filthy. "Please, fuck me more! Use my pussy, make it hurt so good!"

I think it made her feel worldly, to know about sex. The thing is, I do know about sex. I sell sex for a living - the promise of it, anyway. And I've learned a lot about what men want and like. I know how to play the game. But growing up a bit of a "daddy's girl," I guess I've absorbed the idea that I am special, that being with me is special. That seems kind of ironic now. When we get to Samantha's house, I go in for a while to hang out before going home.

Every woman I had ever tried to be with ended up crying in pain, passing out before I could even get halfway inside, or bleeding so badly I had to call private doctors to patch them up. My own body felt like a heavy curse. I'm forty-three years old, extremely wealthy, and feared by everyone in the city, yet I couldn't even have normal, simple sex. The furthest any woman could ever go was using her mouth, and even then, most of them choked, gagged, or gave up after just a few minutes because my dick was just too thick for their throats. Things got so bad that women almost died on me.