Prison Erotica Novels & Stories

I was so ready for this. But now what? Just blatantly put a move on him? I stared at his lap top and recalled Richard saying he caught him watching p**n. I looked over my shoulder to make sure Max wasn't already on his way back. I figured he would take his time and try to calm himself down and that was fine with me. I went into his history and scanned through the sites he visited. My eyes lit up on "My First Sex Teacher" and I clicked it. "Oh, you naughty boy." I whispered as I saw it was an entire site dedicated to teacher student fantasies, Richard hadn't been kidding.

I spread her pussy wide and her hands held her thighs for me as I bent down to lick at her, lapping at her pussy, finding her nub, but then tracing back to her ass, unable to resist something so forbidden as rimming my plump, cute, nineteen-year-old student's ass-hole. As I tongued her tightest hole, spreading her cheeks wide, her hand rubbed desperately at her clit. "Oh fuuuck," she moaned, craning her neck to look at me tonguing her ass. Holding my tongue stiff, my head bobbed at her asshole, and I knew I was showing her something that she'd never experienced before. It felt so taboo, and so deliciously naughty, that my own precum was out of control. "Do you like that, Lucy?" I said.

"Goddamned you-." He suddenly came down on top of me, pinning my trashing leg beneath his weight and trying to bury his lips into mine. I felt his manhood growing bigger and shoving forward, and I closed my eyes against the awful pain I knew would come when his manhood forcefully shoved inside me. But I couldn't remain still for a second and immediately struck his shoulders with my fists, bit his lips when he tried to kiss me, and then scratched and pounded at his muscled arms. All was like pissing in the rain. Useless! My mind flashed back to my nameless prisoner back at the Moonshine pack's fortress. Is this a kind of punishment for my sin? Karma must be a bitch then. Leaving those who hur

we can fix it in another way. I abruptly let go of his grip, I could see that his "girlfriend" was not happy with how close we were. So I moved closer to his ear while my hands rested on his chest, I could feel his breathing change rapidly. —Now I understand why I never slept with you, you're a piece of shit that I would never let sneak between my legs, in case you didn't know, ... while you were fucking Erika, she was sleeping with Taylor too. —I let out a wicked laugh, "Surely you're not enough to leave her satisfied because if not... because she was looking for another dick to satisfy herself.

He reached for a length of soft, black rope, looping it around my wrists and securing them to the crossbars with a practiced knot that left just enough give for me to feel the stretch but not enough to slip free. He repeated the process with my ankles, fastening them to the lower bars, spreading my legs wide and exposing my slick, glistening pussy to the cool air. Ethan stepped back, admiring the sight of me, bound and vulnerable. He picked up a flogger, its tails made of supple leather, and ran them lightly over my inner thighs, eliciting a shiver that traveled up my spine.

The slap I wanted to give him this time around didn't escape him; it landed right on his face, perfectly. I stared at the artifact. It was a sculpture of a fragile lady in a worldly bent position, like when your partner is about to serve you from the back. The sculpture's legs were straight; the lady’s back arched in a manner that spelled out a lot: sexual conceit and exploring the satisfaction that comes with being intimate with someone you love. Her hands were spread wide above her head, while her mouth was open in sexual satisfaction. I rolled my eyes at the sculpture before I left the place. And do you know the worst part of all? He named the damn sculpture after me.

The heavy steel door of the cage burst open with a clang that echoed through the underground arena. Two large men in black tactical gear rushed in, carrying long prods crackling with electricity. They moved with practiced caution, their eyes fixed on the massive beast still buried deep inside me. The creature was still knotted inside my pussy, both thick cocks pulsing as the last spurts of his cum leaked around the stretched rim. I hung limp in his powerful arms, my body trembling from the endless orgasms, my mind floating in a fog of exhaustion and the lingering burn of his aphrodisiac saliva.

The age gap, the taboo, the constant risk of getting caught — it all makes the pleasure so much stronger and dirtier I am completely addicted to my stepfather now just as he is addicted to my body. Body and soul, I belong to him. Even when my mother is home cooking or talking to us, even when Junior is playing nearby, I am thinking about Mike’s cock. I am his filthy little secret. His young cum slut. His forbidden stepdaughter and I want it to always remain that way… I never want this dark, raw, offensive pleasure to stop

In the next series, it will be an explosive and infuriatingly hardcore Gay short erotica stories compilation where filthy boys and dangerously hungry men chasing the very thing they shouldn’t crave. They just want to be ruined, reshaped and overly pleased because their bodies bleed and burn with an obsession that runs deeper for any cure, except one. High voltage desires to have their tight cracks shed apart, rimmed with sizes they never imagined exist and their girths straining, covered with slick. You’ll be left glancing through the pages in the most hidden corner of the world where no one would see you squirming. If you will be reading with a partner, fair warning: you’ll either test thei

“My after-class project. My desperate little slut who traded her dignity for a letter on a page.” His words were filth, and they poured over her like hot oil, searing her shame and transforming it into fuel. Her climax built with terrifying speed, coiling from the very brutality of his fucking. She was sobbing, pleading, begging for it, for him, for the oblivion he offered. “Please…” “Come for me, Elara,” he commanded, his own control fraying, his thrusts becoming wild, uncoordinated. “Come on your professor’s desk. Show me you accept your terms.”