Petticoated Stories Mga Nobela at Kwento

Pinky squinted to read it, her eyes tracing the loops and crosses. "Collection of short stories for ladies," the title read. "Stories of desire, of awakening, of the first time." Pinky blinked, her eyes widening as she read on. The handwriting was feminine, secretive, as if the writer were sharing her most guarded thoughts with only the pages. It was a confession. A revelation. As she began to read.

“Oh! God I'm sitting completely nude on my brother's lap as he kneads my boob and his friend is touching my core. God ! Please forgive me for my sins.” Nicolas finally slid two fingers inside my core and started moving it back and forth earning a moan from me. “Ahhhgh…” I moaned. Clover was licking all over my back. Nicolas started nibbling and sucking my nipples while he fingered me and soon Clover stripped off his pants. Nicolas removed his fingers and Clover slipped his manhood inside me in one go. “Ahhhh….” “No…No. Clover isn't wearing any condoms.” “Don't worry sis, we already got the contraceptive pills for you.”

"We will now read out the crimes of Kyra de Leta. Attempted murder of the saintess candidate, use of witchcraft to seduce the crowned Prince and plotting treason against the royal family with the entire De Leta family. She shall be beheaded by the Kingdom's Swordsmaster, Duke Kion".

he whispered, his lips brushing her forehead, “was merely the first page of our story.” Their story ended there, with Cora wrapped in the arms of a demon, her body sated, her soul promised, and her future a terrifying, exhilarating blaze of unknown passion. She had gotten everything she had ever fantasized about, and she had never been more perfectly, completely damned.

Marcus leaned back against the desk crossing his arms so the fabric pulled tight across his chest. “Predatory depends on consent Sarah. If both parties are adults and they want it, who the hell are we to judge the heat between them? Take these classic stories. The men aren’t saints. They’re flawed hungry bastards who see something they crave and go after it. The women aren’t victims either. They’re dripping for it. Wet and reckless because the forbidden touch sets their skin on fire.” Fuck. My face burned. I uncrossed my legs and felt a slick rush between them. The way he said dripping made my clit throb.

Then she slid her shorts and panties down her legs, standing completely naked in front of him except for her cute glasses. “You shouldn’t feel guilty about being my first cock, Jackson,” she said softly, her voice turning husky. “I’ve already broken my hymen. I did it with a thick cucumber after watching a p**n video where a girl fucked herself with one. I’ve kept it a secret from all my friends. They still think I’m just the innocent virgin bookworm who only studies and touches herself… but I’ve been addicted to p**n for years, wondering what a real dick would feel like stretching my pussy. Now I want you to be the one to fuck me.”

But today I was thoroughly transfixed by the way the peach-colored bra offset her lovely, creamy skin. I wanted to know if she had peach-colored panties. “Up,” I told her, nodding at her skirt. Tess said, “Yes, Sir,” and raised the thing up to her waist. My eyes went wide. My jaw dropped. I gulped. My secretary wasn’t wearing peach-colored panties. In fact, she wasn’t wearing a damn thing under that skirt. Not even pubic hair—not a whisper of it. Her red lips twisted in a smile. She panted slightly, obviously pleased. “I shaved this morning after you left for work,” she said. “Do you like it?”

I command, my tone assertive, leaving no room for hesitation as I beckon her towards me. She instantly complies, positioning herself on the desk in front of me. My eyes sweep over her as I slowly tug on the strings of her bottoms until they come undone, and then I do the same to the top. I toss them aside, marveling at the naked goddess before me, wearing my collar and ring.

“This hole is mine now. I’m gonna breed it every day until you forget your own name.” Skin slapped against skin, loud and obscene. He reached around and stroked my cock in time with his thrusts, driving me insane. “You feel that?” he rasped, leaning over my back. “My cock owning you. Say it.” “It’s yours,” I gasped, broken. “Fuck…your cock owns me. Breed me, Vincenzo. Please…” He fucked me harder, relentless, hips slamming forward. “That’s my captive. Begging for my load like a good little whore.”

The crowd erupted into a chaotic blend of boos and cheers. Across the pitch, Tatum stood perfectly still. She didn't scream. She didn't pace. She simply crossed her arms over her chest, a slow, predatory smirk spreading across her lips. She caught Sloane’s gaze and gave a tiny, mocking tilt of her head. It was a silent taunt that said everything. It said that Tatum had won, and she had done it by manipulating the game better than Sloane could manage it.