Playing Dirty Book Novels & Stories

She knew it was wrong, but the idea of being used and abused by these men turned her on more than she cared to admit. As she crawled out from under the desk, Ron's cum still smeared across her face, Pam knew she was in for a wild ride. She had no idea what the future held, but she was ready to embrace it, no matter how dirty or depraved it might be.

Her body flinched at my words, but another wave of shivers covered her arms. “Dirty little doll.” The more I talked, the more her nipples were standing at attention, the more her breathing was getting heavier, the more her hands were gripping the fabric they were tied with. My fingers traced her leg. “I bet you are one of the people who like reading p**n books in public. ” I moved to her other leg, gripping her ankle. “I bet you keep a straight face while your panties are getting soaked.

I drop to my knees with my hands behind my back as Damian stands in front of me. "Now, you're going to strip for me and do an enema. Then you'll go to the playroom and bend over the bed so I can fuck you until you forget your name," he says as he puts his foot against my erection. "Yes Master," I say and he steps back for me to strip off. I get naked then go up to the playroom quickly as he walks behind me slowly. I go into the bathroom and shut the door so Damian can't see as I get the enema kit and fill it with water. I'll never get used to the feeling of water in my ass but I do it a couple of times so I'm clean.

I whispered, shoving the door open and pulling Sophie into the dark living room. I locked the door behind us, sliding the heavy security bolt into place with a loud click. The apartment smelled exactly like it had last night cold, stale, with the faint scent of the tea I never finished. The brown manila envelope filled with Sophie’s fake papers was still sitting right there on the kitchen counter, looking completely useless now. I went straight to the small desk in the corner, dropping my canvas backpack onto the floor. I pulled the dead audio recorder out of my pocket and set it on the wood.

His free hand dipped into her leggings, finding her panties soaked. "Fuck, you're wet," he said, fingers circling her clit through the fabric. She bucked, moaning his name. The realism hit her—the scratch of the rug, the pop of embers, his stubble rasping her skin. No fantasy; this was Max, the guy who'd bandaged her scraped knees, now unraveling her.

I felt so dirty having that plug in my ass. After inserting the butt plug, I went back into the bookstore. I was almost too ashamed to go back in because I was sure everyone would know what a dirty slut I was. But I needed to be a dirty slut. I wanted them to defile me and ruin me. I meekly asked the clerk about how many coins were needed for the video booths. He said, for me, it's free to go in. He laughed and said, "Enjoy yourself."

His tongue…and holy shit, that big cock. “You’re disgusting.” He raises his eyebrows. “I did remember correctly. And you never thought what we did was disgusting before. I seem to remember one particular night in vivid detail that involved you, me, and the roof of your parents’ house. What you wanted me to do to you…I still think about my head between your legs while balancing two stories above the ground.” “Jackson might hear you,” I hiss, getting turned on and annoyed by Owen’s open dirty talking. “Nah, he’s too far ahead. Hey, Jackson, we’re going to Disney World,” he says just to prove his point. The boy doesn’t so much as turn around. “See?”

She was still a little puffy and sensitive from last night, but so fucking wet that my fingers made obscene squelching noises as I pumped them deep. “Oh shit—Leo!” she gasped against my lips, her hips bucking wildly, riding my hand. Her juices ran down my wrist. “You’re such a dirty little slut,” I growled, curling my fingers to rub that spongy spot inside her while my thumb attacked her swollen clit. “My own stepsister getting finger-fucked in a closet because she can’t stay away from my cock.”

It was Damian Knight’s voice when he said, “You belong to me.” Because a part of her believed him. And a darker part didn’t want to argue. She stood restlessly and wandered the room. Her fingers trailed along the bookshelves. Most were hardbound. Thick, glossy, untouched. Titles like Power & Play, Behavioral Strategy, and Psychology of Loyalty. One book was crooked. She tilted her head. It was the only one not aligned with the rest. She reached out. Pulled it. Nothing happened. No secret door. No dramatic reveal.

The rest of us took her lead and seated ourselves around the basement, Jonie and Mitch together on the couch with the rest of us finding chairs. “I’m not exactly sure. Whatever it was had to do with their personal dirt.” “Personal dirt?” “When the Dirt blows in, it brings with it everybody’s personal dirt.” “What do you mean?” “Those things in our lives that we’d like to stay buried, forgotten, in other words, our personal dirt. Here’s mine.” She went over to the computer and jiggled the mouse, dismissing the screensaver. Underneath the screensaver was the F******k page of a man in his late forties.