Smut Short Stories Novels & Stories

Precum smeared across my skin. “Look at you,” he growled softly. “Begging your Stepdaddy for a job with your tits out like a little slut.” I moaned quietly, squeezing my breasts tighter around him. The friction felt so good. My pussy was soaking wet under my skirt. I started rocking my body in rhythm with his thrusts, milking his cock with my tits. Staff voices drifted through the door — someone asking about a meeting. The danger made me even wetter. Damien fucked my boobs harder, his thick shaft gliding faster between them. The head kept hitting my jaw, sometimes brushing against my lips. I stuck my tongue out, licking the tip every time it came close.

he smiles, running his fingers through my curls as I pull out of his arms. “I thought so too.” I smile, still refusing to cry. “Okay, so remember, tomorrow you need to set your online profile up, and I want you to use the pen name “The Smut Slut”. I nod, making a mental note of the name. “The quicker you set it up, the quicker you can start working. All dates will be run by me first just to make sure you're not being sent off with a fucking weirdo, a killer, or someone who's just bad news. I'll take care of you like I promised, Savage, so don't worry your pretty little head about a thing.” He knocks back a shot of tequila and smiles, grabbing Lexi and pulling her onto his lap. “Alright, I'll

Until now, strange short stories had only very short stories. But from volume two I intend to add stories that have 10 to 20 captains as well. These stories are not so long nor have so much visibility as a separated book. For this reason, I decided to move all then into strange short stories, that is already a storybook of different themes.

Luka groaned and flooded him with hot cum, pulse after pulse, filling him until his belly pushed out again, round and heavy. They stayed knotted on the ridge, hidden in the shadows, while the hunters below packed up and moved on, still searching for their missing friend. When the knot finally went down, Luka pulled out slowly. Cum poured from Damien’s wrecked hole in thick white streams. Luka turned him over and kissed him deep, tasting the blood on his lip. “You did good,” Luka murmured. “Stayed quiet for me. My perfect hunter.” Damien lay there breathing hard, body trembling. “They were so close. If they had looked up…”

She was out of a village around three miles off and was the polar opposite of me. Gemma was quite self explanatory, she drank, smoked and swore like a trooper and she liked cock. She enjoyed penis in any shape and size (and sometimes other colors!). She simply loved penis. In the tales she regaled us on a Monday morning, I was amazed how she could walk straight!

My pulse hammered in my ears. “I… I’m your cumslut,” I whispered, voice cracking with shame and heat. The second the words left my mouth he pushed forward, the thick head popping inside me, stretching my walls in one slow, burning slide. I had to slap my own hand over my mouth to muffle the whimper that tried to escape. “Fuck, you’re soaked,” he groaned quietly, sinking another inch deeper, his hips rocking in shallow thrusts that made the plug in my ass shift and press against his cock through that thin wall. “

There was one solitary, big book on a low table between them. "The title of the tale is The Binding of Autumn," he began, his voice an entrancing whisper just in harmony with the shriek of the fire. “It's the tale of a harvest god who offers a mortal woman a choice: one night of absolute freedom for one year of unimaginable riches for her people." He didn't move as his eyes met hers. "The consent is the matter at hand. It must be freely bestowed, not coerced, and whispered three times into the skin of his throat." “Do you have any idea what sort of story you're going to be reading me tonight?”

Story Note: “Room for One More” is a standalone short from my erotic collectiona mix of intense, sensual, and sometimes forbidden stories that explore the raw edges of desire. Each story introduces new characters, new fantasies, and unapologetically explicit encounters. This particular tale features a taboo dynamic between step-siblings, told with heat, dominance, and no holding back. Reader discretion is advised. *************************************************

No one sees his hand slide beneath my skirt. His fingers find me instantly, all wet and throbbing, and he smirks. “Such a good little slut. You got on this train for me didn't you?” I shake my head, but my hips betray me and instead of stiffening at his touch, they begin rolling against his hand. Suddenly he pushes two fingers inside me and I gasp, grabbing his arm, but he doesn’t stop. “You’re going to come right here, where anyone could see you.” “This is---- ah---- wrong-----”

The seduction bloomed unintentional: humidity making my skin glow, his drunk haze blurring lines, our the steam. He leaned in, nose grazing my hair, inhaling deep. "You smell... fuck, so good." Words accidental, but they ignited. I turned my head, lips brushing his jaw soft, unintended. His hand settled on my waist, fingers splaying over the bare skin where tank met shorts, burning through me. "Jax... we can't. Mia..." But my body arched subtle, traitorous, the ache between my thighs growing insistent. He groaned low, forehead pressing to mine, shifting his hips and there it was, the hard length in his shorts pressing against my hip, thick and unyielding.