Novel Touch Novels & Stories

Cool air hit my exposed pussy. I gasped softly. Nova spat on his hand. The wet sound was loud in the quiet room. A second later, his warm, slippery fingers came down between my thighs and touched my pussy. The first stroke made my whole body jerk. He rubbed me gently at first, spreading his spit over my folds. His fingers moved slowly, teasing my clit before sliding down to my entrance. I stayed completely still, biting my lip hard. My mind was screaming one thing, but my body was already responding. I could feel myself getting wetter under his touch.

I let out a groan and closed my eyes while she caressed my skin, her hands dipping lower until they made their way to my dick. My eyes wrenched open at her touch, and I’m powerless to stop her right now. She starts to stroke my length slowly, down to the base, then upwards, teasing the head with her thumb. She then gets on her knees in front of me and teases me with the tip of her tongue before taking me all the way down her throat. “Fuck,” I groan, desperate for more than this… but something feels wrong. For one, Nova’s scent isn’t the same.

Her skin was electric, hot to the touch. "Let us see what you have found, Pearl," I murmured, flipping the folder open without taking my eyes off her face. I began to read her analysis aloud, my voice dropping an octave, turning her own words into a slow, deliberate caress. I leaned in closer, my chest almost brushing her shoulder, until the scent of her was all I could breathe. "You wrote here about the 'anticipation of touch being more agonizing than the contact itself.' Is that an academic observation, or a personal one?"

When he finally broke away, Nova slumped against the cool kitchen floor, her chest rising and falling in ragged gasps. The hidden space behind the counter felt like their own illicit world. Adam's gaze raked over her disheveled form, her nipples hard peaks tenting the thin fabric. "I would like to touch your breasts," he said, his voice husky with desire. "Do you want me to touch your breasts?" As he spoke, his fingertip traced the edge of her boobs along the low neckline of her dress. The light touch made her arch involuntarily, a soft whine escaping her throat.

Nova jerked, embarrassment surging through her, and cursed at him. “Don’t fucking touch me—” His thick finger-like tentacles slid straight between her legs. Two pushed inside her pussy without waiting for command, deep but clinical. He twisted them, feeling around. “Warm. Tight. But it will stretch,” he said flatly. “Good breeder material.” Nova’s face burned with shame, but her body betrayed her as his tentacles pumped deeper slowly, spreading her wetness. He pulled them out then, examined the slick coating, then pushed three back in, harder. The wet squelching sound filled the room.

Nicole felt her skin prickle with Goosebumps as she realized that Gage's touch was not just comforting but also sensual. She shifted slightly, feeling Gage's chest move against her back. His hand on her thigh tightened, holding her in place. Gage's hand slipped inside Nicole's shorts, his fingers brushing against her skin. Nicole felt a jolt of surprise, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she let out a soft breath, her body relaxing into his touch. Gage's fingers moved gently, sending shivers down Nicole's spine. She felt a flutter in her chest, her heart beating faster.

_*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> EVE _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> The moment their fingers met she understood that she had not actually known what touch was before this. _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> Everything before this had been approximation. The silver fire, the Dreamveil contact, the energy merging, the light moving through her nerve endings in the Dreamveil's charged atmosphere, all of it had been the outline of this, the sketch before the painting, the approach before the arrival. Real touch, his actual hand closing around her actual hand in the actual physical world, was something for which none of her previous experience had been adequate preparation.

he stiffened realising what all those was meant for. “Touch is the first sense to wake when you’re born and so does it wake up a soul who wants to commit suicide,” Justin interrupted, his voice deep and measured. “But it's the last to feel before death and you’ve been trying to skip everything in between.” Greg opened his mouth to argue, but Justin was already lifting the feather wand from the case. He twirled it lazily between his fingers, the soft plumes catching the lamplight. The first touch was a sweet sensation at the base of Greg’s throat. So light it might have been imagined.

He asked, his voice deeper than natural. His right hand unfisted, gracing her bare skin as it reached her neck, and with his thumb, he rubbed the mark on her neck. Electricity erupted through her body; that's all it took to make her forget what she had intended to confront him about. His touch was cold and refreshing on her hot skin, like a cold glass of water after being in the Sahara desert for a year. 'Was it hot in here?' Her breath came out raspy, it was beginning to become hard to breathe, and she wasn't sure why. Well, she knew why? His being this near her affected her in ways she couldn't explain, worst this time around than ever before.

When his fingers dipped into my underwear, I grit my teeth. “You’re so wet, Nova,” he said softly, lips and nose pressed into my neck. Damian was the one touching me, but he sounded just as affected as I was. His finger slipped past my clit, finding my hole where he spread my arousal around. I peered down, seeing his tattooed hand disappearing into my lacy underwear. I smirked—I liked how that looked. The tip of his finger dipped into my hole, feeling me just for a second and I heard him groan.