Play Dirty By Sandra Brown Novelas e Histórias

My mouth was chapped and empty; my fingers slid out of me and were suddenly replaced by his. “Oh my god,” I whispered as soon as I felt him touch my clit. “I missed this,” he said. “You still get wet for me. Tell me, did your little gay boyfriend finger fuck you this way?” That little rumble in his voice when he spoke dirty. “He wasn't as good as you.” “You don't exactly break up with your boyfriend and let another man ruin you, do you?” He slid two fingers in, his thumb grazing my clit—and good god, I could see stars from the heavens. In and out they went, making flapping sounds as I held on to him. His dick touched my stomach, and in that moment, he moved forward and back.

I added a fourth finger, the stretch burning so good my eyes rolled back, my thumb smashing my clit in brutal, punishing circles. The squelch of my pussy was obscene, perfect, the kind of sound that would make a p**n director cream his jeans. I was already close—too close—but I wasn’t here to be polite. I wanted to wreck myself. I yanked my hand free with a filthy pop and lunged for the glass dildo—thick, ridged, cold as sin. I spat a fat glob right onto the head and smeared it down the shaft with my cum-soaked fingers, then rammed it home in one brutal thrust.

I'm a mess – a perfect, filthy, destroyed, worshipped mess. "Don't clean up yet," Ethan says. He grabs his phone. Photographs me – covered in cum, spread on the sheets, the bowl of unused condoms visible on the nightstand, evidence of a night that exceeded every fantasy I've ever had. "Now," he says, setting the phone down. "Who wants to go again?" Round two is dirtier than round one.

Be honest, what’s the worst, filthiest thing you’ve ever done for money? I’ll give you a minute to think about that. Think very closely… Great, now I’ll tell you what mine is… sex. Filthy dirty sex where I was used like a whore and worse; it wasn’t even by a man. It was a woman. A powerful, rich woman who turned out to be exactly the kind of dirty fantasy my body had been craving for years.

Her high-pitched moans echoed beautifully in the quiet office. This was exactly what Mira lacked. The woman in front of me didn’t care about pride or dignity. Right now, Sandra belonged entirely to me, acting like nothing more than a bitch in heat. “I’m cumming,” she gasped, the wet, friction-filled sounds of her body filling the room. “Yes, give it to me, baby,” I growled, leaning up to bite hard on her earlobe. I drove my fingers in deeper, curling them upward. With one last, hard thrust of my hand, Sandra shuddered violently, her body tightening as she emptied her wetness all over my fingers.

Instead of eating it, she scattered it toward a few wild birds by the trail that clearly weren't afraid of humans, then lifted her phone and started filming a short video. "Guys, look at me, getting up close with nature. Aren't these little birds adorable?" Her sweet voice made my stomach churn. Suddenly, one of the birds swooped down. A splatter of droppings landed squarely on the biscuit in her hand. She screamed shrilly and flung the entire pack away as if it were contaminated. Then, she twisted open a bottle of precious drinking water and poured it over her soiled hand. That was our life-saving water.

“Well one idea is that she just squats down right in the middle of that long line, and she pulls her bikini bottoms to the side, and she just lets her piss go right there in all that hot sand in front of all those people.” “You’re such an asshole.” Sandra is clutching at her crotch with both hands as she bounces up and down. “What does this even have to do with watches?” “Or another idea is that she sees the men’s room doesn’t have a line. So she runs into the men’s room, saddles up to a urinal, reaches one of her sun-tanned legs up on the dirty bathroom wall, and right there in front of all those pissing men she lets her own pee spray all over the urinal and some of it trickles down her leg

"I want you. I want this." Noah then draped one of her thighs on his arms and started grinding against her. Slow, sexy crushing motions. Now this was what she called real dirty dancing. This was what it felt like to grind with their bodies intertwined. She whimpered as her clitoris throbbed from the stimulation. The man slowly moved in and out of her. "Ingrid, you feel so good," Noah whispered as he moved smoothly.

“Get your dirty hands off me. Don’t touch me!” “Dirty?” Adams sneered at her and threw what was left of wine in her face. He stormed back to her and slapped her face twice. “Bitch, how dare you call me dirty? How clean do you think you are? You seduce me and beg me to fuck you. All the women I have slept with have bigger breasts than you. They are prettier than you. And I am more comfortable when I fuck them. Who the hell do you think you are? If you had not been of some use, I would never hook up with you. You think I’m dirty, don’t you? That's because you have never seen anything dirtier!”

I looked back up at Sandy, who’s eyes were a mix of angry suspicion — and some serious jealousy. “God, you’re pathetic,” she sneered, dropping my arm and pushing me away. “I know Kevin dumping you for me was hard, but you’ve really let yourself go.” “First, you hook up with some guy with an expensive car who was definitely just using you as some sort of plaything,” Sandy said. “Then, you sell your body for an ugly necklace, just so you can feel desirable. You’re disgusting!”