Pegging Erotica Novels & Stories

“Fuck, baby. That hit the spot.” Baby. The word prompted Jeremy to swirl his tongue around the thick veins enclosed in the walls of his warm mouth, then he started to move his head, slipping the cock in and out in a slow, steady movement that eventually built up to an intense rhythm. Marcus grabbed the back of his head tighter, ramming his cock into his mouth. Jeremy enjoyed every bit of the pain and pleasure that washed through his body, his cock growing thicker and thicker he knew he would explode soon. A release was imminent. Closely so.

He stepped back, his voice filled with mockery. Azrael moved towards me and slowly slipped the massager inside my hole. I couldn't resist or shake, the strap held my body in place. The moment it turned on, my body seized and a loud guttural moan ripped through my throat. Drool slipped down from my lips as my head dropped. The massager vibrated on my prostate mercilessly, stopping every ten seconds before starting up again after a ten second pause, all while my prostate kept getting edged and denied.

The way her breath had caught when I touched her last week, the soft swell of her mound under my gloved fingers, the faint sheen of arousal I’d seen between her thighs when she thought I wasn’t looking. I leaned against the wall in the private room, unzipped my jeans, and pulled myself out. Thick and already leaking. The head flushed dark, a bead of precum sliding down the underside. I wrapped my fist around the base and stroked once—slow, deliberate—picturing her on my table again. Soft curves. Full tits straining against her bra. That delicate flush creeping up her neck when I’d said her skin took the lines beautifully. I remembered the others: Claire, married ten years, wedding band flash

Her lips drooled in rhythm with her incensed breathing. “Oooohhhhh you know I do, darling. Please quit teasing me; I want your cock. Gimme your fucking cock!” Thaddeus rubbed his prick against her wet velvet opening, pressing it against her clit’s metal studs. Erica gave a shrill cry and again lifted her hips but Thad was still mentally punishing her with evasion. “Thad, for fuck’s sake, quit teasing me,” she cried shamelessly. “If you really want this dick then answer my question. Tell me what goes on in your club.”

And the spells were only for one thing. Sex. I flipped through all the pages, dumbfounded. There were pictures of naked people with arrows pointing to boobs or pussies or cocks, and instructions on the spells to cast to make them bigger or tighter or thicker. My jaw dropped when the next page I turned had a picture of a woman being fucked hard in the middle of a pentagon, by a wonderfully handsome man with horns and a tail. No shit. Demon sex.

My muscles are taut as I try not to get my cock into her pussy like I want to. Layla rubs her tits against my face, moaning and shuddering as the orgasm crashes into her. Her pussy gushes against my thigh, her release all over me. Everything becomes quiet in that moment, till it’s just her breathing mingling with mine. Maybe this isn’t so bad. Maybe I could give in to this power that we’ve created, and it would be okay after. She wants me too. I could show her what big, bad Daddies do to their little girls. But a flash of lightning illuminates the pink in her hair.

We thanked them by cleaning every cock spotless with our tongues. As the weeks passed, our confidence skyrocketed. We were no longer just horny and desperate—we were professionals. Seductive. Addictive. We learned what these powerful men craved: the taboo thrill of mother and daughter, the way our dark skin glistened with their cum, the filthy talk, the total surrender that still felt like control. One quiet night after a particularly intense session with three hedge fund guys, Mom pulled me into the shower again. We washed each other slowly, fingers gentle between sore thighs.

I tapped on another picture of me sitting against the wall in a set of black lacy lingerie with my legs spread apart. I was holding a small silver vibrator against my underwear. “Just send both, stupid!” She smirked. I raised my eyebrows at her. “What? Might as well. It’ll give him some different options when he looks at your pictures to, ya know”—she made a jerking motion by her pelvis—“come.” " You can't just leave the poor man to stare at just one photo, can you? There's a reason p**n videos are long and dynamic" Angela said, still staring at the photos, scrolling and swiping through the numerous photos we took.

I jerked, sending shiver like lightning down my spine. He licked my pussy, using his tongue to lick every wetness on it. He moaned as he lick it, letting out air from his mouth against my wet pussy. He used his tongue and found my pussy, he moved his tongue in slow teasing circles, rubbing my clit slowly. Then he sucked it hard, hard enough my legs felt numb and I jerked as he used his teeth to grave my clit, shaking on his desk. He shoved two fingers inside my pussy as he flickered his tongue on my clit, curling his fingers hard.

Something aching to be molded. I met him in my Tuesday night workshop. "Erotics of Language"—a curated space for writers who wanted to learn how to use sensuality in storytelling. Most came in with curiosity or thinly veiled hunger. He came in with a notebook gripped like a lifeline and questions trembling on his lips. I noticed him in the third session. He waited until everyone had left to speak to me. “I—um—can I ask you something… off the record?” I folded my arms, tilted my head. “You just did.”