Sex Stories From Women の小説・ストーリー

"Maybe he is. They both had sex on our matrimonial bed. I got so mad hearing her moan under my husband. It then dawned on me that he wasn't going to send me away instead he wanted me run away myself" "I can't believe that's the same Xander in our sitting room" "Me too" "I disrupted the sex they were having and I ended up chasing the girl out and also got myself beaten" "I did what Darrell asked me to do, try being a better wife to him. I cleaned the house, did the laundry, washed the dishes, cooked his food and I also prayed" "Didn't you guys have a maid or something? It must have been really stressful" I chuckled, "A maid? no one wanted to live in the same house with him not even a maid"

It has never felt this good having sex with any other woman. There was something about Angelina which I couldn't quite wrap my fingers around. In my forty years of living, I have had sex with countless women but none of it can be compared to this. I usually have sex once with a woman because I'm a Mafia, keeping a woman around for way too long was not good. Some can be used by your enemies to get your secrets. That's the reason why I never kept a woman around for way too long.

"There's also Causing a child to engage in sexual activity, Causing or encouraging prostitution of girl under 16, Causing or inciting child prostitution or pornography. Paying for sexual services of a child, Sexual activity with a child, Trafficking within the UK for sexual exploitation." My eyes widen, well shit. "He didn't get the rape one, though, but there was more, as they also read the charges to do with all the reports from women here, and a few of them were rape charges," she says while smiling. Moving, I hug her. "You're a fucking powerhouse Clara, you realise none of the women were going to speak up, they only reported things because you could!" I explain. They did. Eros and I trie

When I was done, I headed for my office, shutting the door behind me. Walking to my desk, my hands shook as I pulled the bottom drawer open. In it, several worn paperbacks of my secret stash were laid out. With titles like- CLAIMED BY THE PACK, BRED BY THE BEAST AND TAKEN WITHOUT MERCY. I grabbed Taken Without Mercy, the cover showcasing a naked curvy woman with a fucked out pussy, big tits and two guys by her side with huge mighty cocks. I slid onto my chair, the urge to resist failing me. It's being months and I told myself I'd stop, but the ache in me needed to be satisfied.

The women surrounded me, their eyes dark with lust, ready to deepen the ritual. The brunette lifted me onto a soft rug, spreading my legs wide. “Take us all,” she commanded, straddling my face, lowering her wet pussy to my mouth. I licked her folds, sucking her clit as she moaned, while the blonde knelt between my thighs, her tongue diving into my cunt, licking deeply. The redhead joined, sucking my tits, biting my nipples, and the muscular woman produced a strap-on, slicking it with lube and entering my ass slowly.

Alia had earned her reputation the honest way—by fucking like it was her favorite subject. At twenty-one, with a body that turned heads in every hallway, she didn’t bother hiding it. Long dark hair that fell in messy waves down her back, full tits that strained against her tight white crop tops, and an ass that made even the quietest guys stare. She wasn’t ashamed. Why should she be? Sex felt good. Power felt better. And Alia loved both. Unlike Sarah, who loved getting railed in public places where anyone could walk by and watch, Alia preferred the thrill of almost getting caught. Quick, dirty fucks in bathrooms, empty lecture halls, or behind the gym. Today, it was Jackson.

The touch lingers. I shift, pressing my thighs together. My pussy is already getting wet. This is ridiculous. They’re just being nice. But my body hasn’t been touched properly in weeks, and something about the way they look at me—like they can see straight through my polite smiles—makes me clench. Clara sets her wine down and scoots closer on my other side. “Let’s help you relax. Tell us what you really need out here.” The conversation drifts. They share stories about the other wives in the neighborhood. The secret parties. The way certain husbands travel and certain wives… entertain themselves. Their laughter is low and knowing.

The shower felt like heaven on my well-fucked body. Hot water cascaded over my skin, soothing the delicious ache between my thighs. I had turned on the massive wall-mounted screen in the bathroom and picked one of the resort’s exclusive erotic channels — a scene of two women passionately devouring each other while a well-hung man watched, stroking himself.

“This world is filled with guys who gouge themselves on lesbian porn, yet those same guys would swear up and down that girls loving girls is not a real thing.” “Right,” Bianca said, “because they can’t fathom that there are women out there who have absolutely no interest in men.” “Women who aren’t attracted to men? Where did you get such an outlandish concept from?” Bianca giggled at my sarcasm. “It was probably invented by feminists.” And that led us into a conversation of our favorite feminist authors and concepts. I descended into a rant about how Simone De Beauvoir’s Second Sex is an absolute masterpiece that radically changed my way of viewing the world.