Open Your Legs Novels & Stories

One man takes my left leg, another my right. Lifting me at the ankles, my legs are raised, bent at the knees and spread, my pussy fully exposed, stretched open. My legs supported, I can move. Arching my back, lifting my hips, I present myself for fucking. The man between my legs, stands back, peering into me. "Gorgeous," he says, and pokes a finger inside me, twiddling it around in circles, pressing his thumb against my clit.

she mumbles, trying to take a step forward. I wrap my arm around her middle and place it against her stomach. Her stomach tightens underneath my touch. “Stay still,” I demand, my throat feeling thick while uttering the word. Before she can say anything else, I push my foot between her feet and tap her shoe with mine. “First, you need to spread your legs a little wider. They should be shoulder width apart.” Lucy does as she’s told and inches her feet a little farther apart.

“Lay back.” I didn’t argue. My body moved before my mind caught up, retreating inch by inch until the headboard pressed into my spine. My chest rose and fell in shallow bursts, legs weak not from fear but from the throbbing ache between them that had me trembling. I was wound so tight I thought I’d break apart if he so much as touched me. “Part your legs.” The command burned into every layer of my skin. My knees pressed together on instinct, but one look at him told me no wasn’t an option. Slowly, God, so slow, I let them fall open.

The slickness already soaking through. She squirmed, thighs trying to close, but I held them open. “Easy,” I murmured. “You’re tight here. Need to open those hips more. Breathe through it.”

A low gasp escaped my lips when Lucas pulled me closer to him with his hands wrapped against my legs, then he bent and undid the straps of my heels removing them one by one. He kissed my toe up to my leg as his other hand slid up and down my left leg. Then he got to my knee and placed his hands firmly on it before looking at me. "Open your legs for me, baby," He said huskily as I felt another fluid in me leak out. I nodded while heaving deeply and spreading my legs open to some extent. "Wider baby," He muttered and I widened my legs that the side of my thigh and knees touched the bed. I was fully exposed to him and my eyes traced him till they met his eyes aga

To make my legs shake in anticipation of his touch. Wyatt kneels in front of me, his face in front of mine while his hands move to my legs, his fingers rubbing slightly, and then he moves up to my waist and starts pulling on the leggings. I move my ass to help him remove the fabric between us and when he notices I am not wearing anything else, his eyes spark with desire, and his mouth falls to my legs. Kissing every inch of skin on my thighs while he spreads my legs wider and positions his head between my open legs.

It would do you a lot of good. What was an open relationship? I had no idea. But I listened to him. He wanted me to explore myself, so I did. That was how I met Morgan McLeary at a bar. He had accidentally smashed a bottle of red wine worth 8,800 dollars, and the manager refused to let him leave. He wore a collared shirt that had been bleached and washed so many times it had almost lost its color. An old bag with fraying seams hung from his shoulder.

“Open your legs, Anastasia.” “But…” “Open.” My pulse roars in my ears at the non-negotiable order and I do. I let my legs part, releasing the friction I’ve been fruitlessly attempting to keep there. “Now place your feet on the desk,” bend your knees, and keep your legs wide apart.” With each order, he strokes and squeezes my nipple until I’m gasping for air. But I do as I’m told, stretching my skirt up and opening my legs. “Wider. Let me look at that pussy.”

"And then you're going to fix your skirt and walk back out there and every time Tyler looks at you tonight you're going to think about my hand between your legs." His hand finds the hem of my skirt and slides under it, his palm warm and certain against my thigh, and my breath shallows immediately. He takes his time, moves up the inside of my thigh slowly, and every centimetre makes my pulse jump somewhere new. My thighs press together and he makes a low sound against my neck. "Open," he says. I don't. His teeth graze my throat. "Open your legs, Layla." My thighs part and I hate myself for how quickly they do it.

His fingers gripped the fabric and pushed it up‚ bunching it roughly around my hips until my thighs and the white lace panties between them were completely exposed. "Spread your legs‚" he said. "W—what?" "Did I stutter?" My thighs were pressed together and trembling. "I can't. This is — we shouldn't be—" *Open your legs‚ Skye. You know you want to. You've wanted to since the moment you stepped into this elevator. Stop pretending.* "You can." His hand came to rest on my inner thigh‚ warm and impossibly heavy. "Open." My breath shuddered out of me. Slowly‚ shaking‚ I shifted my feet apart.