Novel & Cerita Sex Stories For Free

**Story 16: The Breeding Festival** **Chapter 2** The roar of the crowd was deafening. Serena lay on her back on the cold stone altar, legs still spread obscenely wide, her body glistening with sweat and the cum of five powerful men. Her pussy throbbed and leaked a steady river of thick seed down her ass crack onto the ancient stone. Her full breasts heaved with every ragged breath, nipples hard and sensitive from being pinched and sucked.

"Like this?" When Casandra's long hair is neatly tied. Cassandra's smooth neck looks very sexy. Eric Adam Apple started to move irregularly. Something strange happened to Eric. "What perfume are you wearing?" Eric closed his eyes. Eric's handsome face looks masculine when asleep. "Mmm just a cheap imitation perfume." Cassandra misbehaved. Eric opened his eyes. "Your body smells so good." Tbc

Secretly, I want to pull his luscious lips back to me, but our relationship must remain a secret. Too many people already know. I don’t want more to find out. A soft, hearty chuckle spills from him as he leans back upright and glances down at his own script. “I don’t know if I can stop myself and do nothing.” Pleasure rushes through me and my body stirs to life at his deep and sexy voice. My mind races through the various naughty things we can do while working in a secluded corner. There are many dark corners here.

The dimly lit loft pulsed with a low, sensual hum, velvet curtains drawn to shield the night outside, the air thick with perfume and anticipation. I stood near the bar, my silk dress clinging to my skin, the fabric teasing my curves as I surveyed the room, my adventurous spirit drawn to the whispered rumors of this exclusive gathering. I’d explored my desires before, but the promise of a lesbian orgy—a tangle of women lost in pleasure—ignited a wildfire in my core, my pussy tingling with eager curiosity as the first guests arrived.

He grabbed my arm and pulled me to him. “Let me go.” “Wellsy, for fuck’s sake, can you just be a little bit patient?” I stopped. “There's nothing you can say to make me feel better about this.” “Fine. See it as a threesome, that's something everyone has undeniably wanted to try out.” “Not as a normal thing, Adrian. You're telling me that every time you like a girl, you…” “No!” He cut me off like he knew what I was about to say. “It's just the sex.”

Sex should be a gift I deliver, not something I surrender to. Apparently, this made me weird, at least according to some chat forum I joined. Like, who wouldn’t want to be in control? I know I did. So when my friend Michela handed me a card that said FREE ME and said they could match my “exquisite taste,” I figured, why not? She’d been glowing lately. Whoever was fucking her clearly knew their job. But me? I didn’t want to be fucked. I wanted to do the fucking.

No foreplay was required in this ecstatic world of perfection, and penetration was effected in a single snag-free glide. Tumbling back to reality, and almost falling off his stool in the process, Elliot sighed with regret. He really loved the ‘hotel room’ fantasy, although he had to admit it wasn’t entirely all his own work. The protagonists - Diamanda and himself — were his choice of course, but the scenario, the setting and the nitty-gritty of the bedroom action came straight from one of the lady’s own stories, The Spider's Web, which was all about a beautiful, sexually voracious woman who picked up young men in bars and lured them to hotel rooms to fuck them.

The e-mail showed that Selena was Googling pornographic websites - specifically sites which catalogued and stored sex stories. As he checked the screenshots and the text which was being typed into the search bar, he found that she was looking for stories which dealt with S&M, dominance and submission, bondage and humiliation. The next e-mail had a screenshot of the story that she was apparently reading, since the next several e-mails all had screenshots of the same story, just pages later.

CHAPTER 51. THE RELENTLESS STORM SELENE'S POV "Fuck, fuck." The word tears from my throat, a raw, ragged sound, yet it’s drowned out, absorbed by the relentless rhythm of his body against mine. I’m crying out loud, guttural pleas, desperate whimpers, but he doesn’t give me a chance to breathe, not even a single, fleeting gasp. He moves faster, a primal force, pounding into me, slamming his hips against mine with an unyielding power that leaves me breathless and utterly consumed. The sound of our skins, slick with sweat and desire, is getting louder, a wet, rhythmic slapping that echoes through the room. It’s much, *much* wetter than before, a lewd, visceral symphony that reverberates through