Novelas y relatos de Play Dirty By Sandra Brown

“You are fucking soaked, I haven’t even touched you yet.” My fantasy of getting fucked over his table is now coming to reality, I whimpered as his fingers moved my panties and touched my pussy. He raised my skirt up to my waist with no hesitation, the cold air hit my wet panties making it extremely cold on my pussy. He carried me like I weighed nothing, and set me down on his cold glass desk, he removed my panties and shove my legs apart, wide and open, like a slut. His fingers traced the juice running down my thighs back to my pussy, rubbing my pussy and looking into my eyes. My skin tingled and breath hitched.

“Cum for me, slut. Squeeze that ass around my dick while I fuck you like an alley whore.” Carla moaned loudly, the slap sending electric shocks of pleasure up her spine straight to her swollen clit. She shoved her fingers into her dripping cunt, masturbating furiously—three fingers pumping rhythmically into the soaked slit, feeling his cock through the thin wall separating her holes, like an improvised double penetration. Juices ran down her legs, pooling on the ground and mixing with the filth—pebbles, trash, and old piss now contaminated with their hot bodily fluids. “Fuck, I’m getting ass-fucked while I finger myself—this is dirty paradise,” she thought, circling her clit with her thumb,

Hiking the hem of my gown up my thighs, I jolt when his fingers connect with the crotch of my panties. I’m ashamed the spot is already soaked. He rubs my pussy through my panties, pressing his thumb down on my clit before shoving his finger into my hole together with my panties. It’s crazy and dirty, but that’s exactly the kind of man Mr Walter is. What sane man fucks their help right under their wife’s nose anyway?

I slid my cock into her pussy a few times to lubricate it and then slid it up her arse; straight to the hilt; she gasped as it went in. "Here bitch", I said to Sandra, "Lick my arm clean while I fuck your slut mother's arse". She obeyed, holding it steady with one hand while she ran her tongue along my arm, cleaning her mother's juices from it while she fingered herself with the other hand.

We can be friends. The phrase fired me up. I didn’t want to be friends with him. I wanted to be the dirty girl in the photos, and I could take it if only he’d let me. I dropped my backpack on the floor, somehow managing to find the strength of confession. “I have sides to me, too,” I said, then launched into a stream. “I looked in your wardrobe drawer, Julian. I shouldn’t have done it, but I was curious when I was taking one of your shirts out. I saw the pictures, and I saw the toys. I do know those sides of you, and it doesn’t make me want it any less. It makes me want it more. I’m not as innocent as I look. I’m not a baby who doesn’t know what sex, smut, and kink is. I love that stuff. I l

Sandra had to find out what he meant. She'd never been very tech-savvy, but she had a phone, so it was simple enough to fire up a web browser and type in the word. As the search results began to load, Sandra realized she was shaking. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been this angry, this disappointed in her own offspring. The first page of results was p**n, but she scrolled down until she found some sort of online dictionary. She clicked the link, and gasped. Fuckmeat:

She described blowjobs in alleyways, her lips wrapped around strangers dicks, slurping and gagging as they face-fucked her against graffiti-covered walls. 'I love the way a cock pulses in my throat, Father,' she'd purr. 'The way it twitches right before it explodes, flooding my mouth with hot cum. Makes me feel so alive, so fucking dirty.' I'd clench my fists, reciting Psalms in my head to drown out the roar of blood in my ears. The chapel's stained-glass saints stared down in judgment, their painted eyes accusing as I battled the erection straining against my vows. Sandra's outfits grew bolder... a sheer blouse that outlined her hard nipples, a skirt so short I caught flashes of her thong w

"So it's true. It's true that you're a drug-dealer and that you are involved with some crimes." Sandra plopped on the sofa again and looked at me smugly. "Are you now realizing how powerful I am compared to a cockroach like you? So what if I am? You don't know the dark side of the industry, Deena. Why? Because you're boring and you pretend to be a nice and innocent girl. You don't know that a lot of artists and directors you've worked with are dirty people." "That is enough, Sandra. You're talking too much." One of the two men beside me hissed at her.

No sand, no dirt–just clean… I looked down, frowning. “… marble?” My hands leapt from the floor like they were made from lava. They weren't as I remembered them–dirty, grimy, stained with the scent of piss and rat shit. Instead, it was clean, sparkling… rich. Where the hell was I? “Miss Mira?"

“You have no idea how bad I screwed up. I mean, she was just there and looking at me all innocent. Fuck, I should have stopped myself from getting so close to this girl. Now, it’s too late to forget her. It’s like she’s everywhere I go. What would you do if you were in my situation?” “You can start by telling me who this girl is that has my best friend so conflicted.” “July came to me and wanted me to be her personal trainer. Then, the next thing I know I give her a job as a receptionist. This is where it gets bad. I started hanging out with her after hours and before I know it, my lips are on hers. It didn’t end there. She started calling me a name and it made something inside me come alive