Novel & Cerita Short Fiction Adults

Ariel I’ve always had a slut kink. I wanted to be manhandled, pulled, slapped, and fucked in every hole. But by who? That was the problem. I wanted someone strong enough to handle me and someone I was attracted to at the same time. I looked at the clock on my nightstand and it felt like it was mocking me. It had been exactly ten minutes since I’d swallowed the "special" tea I’d bought from that underground shop, and only two minutes since my boyfriend, Mark, had shattered my pride over the phone.

His massive 11-inch cock pressed against my entrance again. “Your pussy is so small and your ass is tiny like meat pie,” he whispered darkly, thrusting into me in one slow, brutal stroke. I gasped, back arching as he stretched my tight walls. “I feel like spanking your ass and pussy until they’re red and swollen.”

Iman's eyes widened at this new information. Dabir loves to read? She was the one who used to encourage him to read more, and sometimes she suggested herfavouritee books, but he never read them. "And this is my room..." Madiha was about to take Iman to her room when Zamin entered and called them for dinner. After dinner, everyone sat in the living room with cups of tea. Kashif and Kamraan discussed politics and business, in which Zamin also participated, sharing his opinion.

[Kinks:Mirror Play, Light Bondage, Slow Seduction] Ahbee never expected her art class would lead to this. It started innocently enough—a local figure drawing course meant to help her escape her overworked life. She liked sketching. She liked quiet. She didn’t like men staring. Until he stared. Luca Vale. The artist and her mentor. The man with ink-stained fingers and a gaze sharp enough to carve her open. Ahbee had been his student for two weeks. He never touched her, never said anything inappropriate. But when he watched her, it felt like being undressed, piece by piece.

SYNOPSIS When a twenty one year old man bumps into the woman that used to babysit him when he was thirteen, he confesses that he fantasized about her and told his friends she was a MILF. He owns up to the fact that on a few occasions when she fell asleep on the sofa he came into the room to look up her skirt. The older woman gets turned on by the confession and asks if it is still something he dreams of. When he says yes she offers to let him play it out and his fantasies of fucking his MILF babysitter come true.

“That’s rare around here. Everyone else just writes checks.” Adrian laughed. “Yeah, I noticed.” They stepped away from the crowd slightly, finding a quiet pocket near a window that looked over the garden. Eli leaned casually against the wall, swirling his wine. “So, what do you write?” “Articles mostly,” Adrian said, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Some short stories. Nothing glamorous. Magazines, online journals. You wouldn’t know any of them.” “Try me.” Adrian smiled, surprised by the interest. “I like peace and Quiet. Most of my stories are about small things. A town nobody’s heard of. A man who grows trees in his kitchen. Real stuff.”

Forgot to give this friendly warning… This story contains: Gangbang, Anal, DP, TP, dirty language, and some others. Read at your own risk… . . Maddison stepped into her favorite underground sex club, hidden deep in the city’s seedy underbelly, and the second she crossed the threshold, the air hit her like a drug. It was the only air she’d ever truly breathed since she first started having sex. Inside, the energy was chaotic, every corner a fuck-fest begging to be joined, and her mouth watered, her body aching to dive in.

That was all he said as he took his briefcase and made his way out of the house while I watched him leave helplessly. “I could be good for you.” I whispered in frustration and stomped my feet before clearing the table and dumping them in the sink. I spent the rest of the day as usual, stealing Nick's shirt and hiding it in my room so that I could fuck myself to it at night. When 6 PM struck, I got a text from Mom with a message that had me sighing in despair. Mom: “There's unfortunately too much work. I think I'll be home by midnight. Or in the morning. Take care baby, xoxo.”

A father figure. But by the time I was thirteen, having playdates with his daughter Jane, I wasn’t writing about boys my age in my notebook. I was writing love letters to him. Fantasies about a future where I was older, wiser, and finally worthy of his attention. As I got older, the fantasies didn’t fade. They got sharper. More intimate. More… specific.

Anything to avoid walking into Rhett again while he was dripping and glowing and smug. But the man had no boundaries. By noon, he was shirtless again. This time in joggers that did nothing to hide the fact that God clearly had favorites. “I made coffee,” he said, holding out a mug like peace offering number two. I took it without a word and sipped. It was good. Of course it was. He leaned against the counter. “So what’s your story, Lana?” “My story?” “Yeah. Everyone’s got one. Especially women who move into apartments expecting old ladies and get dick instead.”