Psyche Cupid Novels & Stories

The slaps were so hard that she felt dizzy like anytime she will faint. This time Erina couldn't tolerate it anymore and said with her trembling angry voice," you are not normal. Take some medicine to treat your psychotic brain or admit yourself to a mental hospital because you badly need it." Zayed heard her and this time he was furious beyond level. When we call a crazy person crazy then he surely reacts. And that's happened with Zayed. He didn't like it when Erina called him a mental patient. " Psycho!! Huh!! Yes, you are right. And, I am going to show you what this psycho can do with you. You are going to be punished for hugging and smiling at another man," Zayed replied laughing as a ps

Her heartbeat rose, but she forced herself to stay calm, to stay measured. He finally turned to her. His gaze held hers—not sharp, not accusing—but heavy, like it was weighing the truth of her every thought before it reached her lips. “I don’t know if that’s wise,” he said quietly. “Neither do I,” she admitted, and the words felt like permission as much as confession. The pause that followed was filled with the sound of rain dripping along the roof outside. A soft, steady rhythm, marking time in a way that made the silence between them unbearable.

Isabella’s pussy clenched around his fingers, the pressure building to an almost unbearable level as he thrust deeper. “I… I… I want to pee!” Isabella cried out, her voice shaking as she struggled to regain her bearings. The pleasure that had consumed her moments ago had left her trembling, her knees weak as she tried to dismount the chair, a sense of urgency flooding her body. His smirk. “I want you to squirt in my face, baby girl. I want to taste your squirt,” he purred, his words dripping with lust as he pumped his fingers even faster, the wet slapping of skin filling the room.

His legs were spread apart, bare feet resting on the floor, his elbows plopped on his thighs as he perched a cigarette stick on his mouth, bringing it away every now and then to exhale whiffs of smoke. I paused breathlessly on the doorstep. The grey smoke clouding before his face and outlining the perfect shape of his side jaw made looking at him felt like an immoral act. Those veiny arms amid the crimson light, and the soft tufts of golden brown hair that falls against his forehead, his greek nose and protruding adam's apple with every tilt of his head, all made him an angel with crude vices. He made me know hell and heaven on earth; with this flame-like light and his perfection of Raphael.

The three of them had developed a language in the past few days that required no words… the touch that meant I've got you, the glance that meant stay with me, and the pressure of a hand that meant not yet, keep going. The festival noise filtered up through the ventilation shafts in the walls. Moans layered over music, the wet sounds of bodies and the occasional fractured scream when someone's loop tipped past pleasure into something the nervous system wasn't designed to sustain. The crowd had stopped being a collection of individuals and had become something collective… a single organism pulsing with overlapping fantasies, and Echo was the current running through it. They were on the fourth