Smut Short Stories Novels & Stories

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!

“Look at this mess you made all over yourself, you dirty little cumslut. Open that mouth.” He pushed his cum-covered fingers between my lips and I licked them clean, sucking greedily on each digit and tasting my own salty load while my body kept twitching from the hands-free prostate orgasm. Liam continued breeding my wrecked hole raw and deep the whole time, his cock driving through my still-spasming walls.

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.

Madison had never liked me. She had always treated me with cold indifference. But ever since I moved into this house, she had never outright insulted me before. This was the first time. The word mute pierced into my chest like a needle, crushing the excitement I had foolishly let myself feel moments earlier. She stormed upstairs in just a few strides and returned to her room, leaving me standing there alone like an idiot. "Mr. Simpson, even though you and Miss Clarke are getting engaged, everyone knows about your condition. Wouldn't it be better to just behave yourself and keep the peace?"

Tears run down my cheeks as I relive what I had been trying to put behind me. "The first guy kept trying to kiss my face and squeeze my breasts. The other one kept telling him to hurry up before they got caught. When he ripped my panties off, I tried to squeeze my legs together, but he forced them apart. I was crying so hard, and he laughed while he jammed his fingers inside me. His friend kept taunting him, telling him to fuck me hard. When he pulled his pants down, he rammed into me so hard I felt like I was going to be sick. No matter how hard I tried to get him off me, he wouldn't budge. He went fast and hard. When he was finally done, he laid on me and asked if it was as good for me as

he says with a smirk plastered across his face. “Please no …no. Stop.” *SMACK* “Ahh…I'm a whore. One” *SMACK* “Ahhhh.. I'm a whore. Two” …..Five,....SIX…..Ten…... .Twelve….. Nineteen. “So this is the final deal” Clover fondled her head gently stroking her hair and caressing her ass cheeks with the stick. Her ass was all red and bruised. *SMACK* “Ahh.. I'm a whore. Twenty.”