Smutty Novels & Stories

Maybe they were just growing up. I swallowed, reaching for the sponge. It was soft, already damp, the faintest trace of mildew in its fibers. I shouldn’t be able to smell that. But I could. Hyper scent. That’s what Liam had called it. Like it was just another piece of this—this thing that lingered. I have gottan control of these hunting urges, the squirrels now safe in my yard, (Ugh embarrassing.) But suppression didn’t mean I stop feeling them.

My mood dropped. I drew the curtains apart. The light hit instantly, golden and warm as the soft evening sun filtered through the narrow gap. It stretched lazily across the floor, claiming the space little by little as I spread the fabric apart. The warmth kissed my face, and without thinking, I smiled. It wasn’t much — a faint, tired smile — but it felt good. The sky outside was a rich, fiery orange, the kind that made everything look softer, calmer. I stood there, letting the glow wash over me, allowing my smile to widen just a little more.

Slim I leaned against my car in the parking lot, waiting for the familiar sound of the bell to signal the end of the school day. Feeling restless, I absentmindedly touched the cut on my cheek, then reached for the cigarette I had tucked behind my ear. I lit it up and took a deep drag, letting the smoke fill my lungs before exhaling slowly. As the bell rang, I dropped the cigarette on the ground and extinguished it with my shoe. The doors swung open, and students spilled out, eager to escape the building. People approached me, much to my displeasure. Being popular seemed to make sense to others, but it held no appeal for me. I disliked social interactions of any kind, but I tolerated them.

I slightly arched my back trying to hold in my climax not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he had the capability of making me orgasam. His lips detached and he removed his fingers before I was able to cum, making me extremely grateful. "Can you please untie me?" I croaked as I started to feel more and more disgusted with myself. I almost wanted to cry, I felt so dirty and used. I wanted so badly to be untied so that I could take a shower and try my hardest to wash this feeling off of me. "Why? Aren't you having fun princess?" Justin smirked as he stood up and looked down at me.

She foll⁠owed the‍m, b‌reath s⁠tea‌dying‌,‍ sen‍se‌s na​rrowing int‌o‍ something fer⁠al and precis‍e. The scent hit h​e‍r first faint b‌ut familiar. A mixt‌ure⁠ of s​teel, smok‌e,⁠ and somethin‍g rot‌ten.‍ H‌er jaw cl‌enched.⁠ He⁠ wa‌s close. ‌

Her green eyes were far too alive. I couldn’t do sad toast, formal eggs, or a croissant that tasted like expensive decoration. So I made a breakfast that made sense. Hot pan. A little butter. Syrniki, golden at the edges, soft in the middle. Cold smetana. Raspberry jam. A little honey. Salma chopped dill and watched me like she was holding back a thousand comments. “I like the house when it smells like butter,” Poppy said, her little feet swinging. “It makes me feel rich.”

She swallowed it all greedily, her tongue milking me dry, not releasing me until I was a trembling, boneless mess slumped against the wall. She popped off with a wet smack, her tongue darting out to lick the last drop from her swollen lips while locking eyes with me, her gaze pure fire. "Better, baby?" "That was... fuck, I can't even think," I panted, my brain fried, but she just smirked, that predatory gleam making my spent cock twitch.

Whitman said, with a teasing smile. “She just gets more irritable the further along she gets,” I said to him. “Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do about that, it’s the hormones, and it’s different for everyone,” he said. “Let’s take some measurements.” Dr. Whitman applied the gel to her stomach and started with the ultrasound. He checked things, pressed buttons, and made notes in her file. He was quiet for a long time, so much so, that I was getting a bit worried.

silhouettes that have adorned the mud flaps on semis for decades. The smurf was on hands and knees behind a bush. At one side of the bush her head and upper chest, suggesting a bit or cleavage, were peering out. The face looking very much like Rose with a "escaped with the cookie" smile. At the other end what looked like her bare bottom was sticking out because the bush was too small. The art was on both doors, with miniatures versions on the front and back. Sam had rigged a sort of NASA grade lo-jack and security system. Rose understood.

The smoothie or the cock? "Both...you think you're funny, but they're both amazing." Her fingers trailed over the head, probing the slit with a fingertip and grinning, "You know, I'm sort of a cumslut, but after a cum-covered corn dog and now a smoothie, I'm even more into it. Maybe you could give me another shot of that banana cream?"