Smutty Short Stories Novels & Stories

She lifts it to look at it then looks up at me. "Smut slut?" she asks. I chuckle a little and nod. "That's what's kind of embarrassing. The type of book it is. When we first showed up, we thought it was a fantasy war kind of book. Turns out, it's smut." I say. "What's smut?" she asks. "A uh... descriptive romance. Literary p**n. Cliterature, if you will." I say with a grin. I watch as she processes my words, her face going from scrunched and confused, to surprised until a wide smile splits across her face.

No penetration, but I would be okay with kissing someone and maybe some foreplay. By the time dinner rolled around, Tara and I were clutching our sides from laughing so hard. I found out that Tara Loved Smut Books. She told me the Smuttier the better. She even let me look at some of the books she brought with her, and she told me I could borrow to read any one of them that I want. I picked out one called ‘For Whom The Belle Tolls’ by Jaysea Lynn and Tara said I would love that one, and it’s one of her newest favorites.

“By the time Jake goes back to work, you’re going to be walking funny and dripping my cum every single day.” I smiled in the darkness, my body sore, satisfied, and completely ruined for my husband. End of Way 2

The convent prohibited indecent movies, yet I could not suppress the sinful desires that the video awakened inside me. This was not the life I chose, yet I did not reject it. I hoped becoming a sister was the best path. After the first time I came across the page, I had sneaked to watch those films and engaged in repeated masturbation. I even fingered my cunt while thinking about the priest. I knew it was shameful, but I could not help it. That was how slutty I had become. "Let us share the Lord’s prayer,” the Priest’s voice echoed. We all rose, recited the familiar prayer, and then, we were about to walk back to our chambers.

She complained, but I could see the small smile tugging on her lips as she leaned closer to me, and I captured her mouth in a passionate kiss. “Then I'll make sure you can't walk on your feet tomorrow,” I muttered against her lips as I flipped her onto the bed and she giggled softly when I placed soft kisses all over her chest. “I heard you every time.” She suddenly whispered and I raised a brow in confusion. “Whenever you jerked off, moaning my name, I heard you. And I… it was so fucking sexy that I touched myself too, while thinking of you. I never told you because I didn't want you to think I was a hoe or a whore.” She explained and I shot her a knowing smile as I traced her bottom lip wi

I want a cock in me, both, if they let me. The scent of sandalwood still lingers. Smoke curls lazily above the table, and in it, I feel suspended, caught between exhaustion and a peace I don’t trust. For once, I don’t reach for her defenses. I just breathe, eyes half-closed, knowing this calm won’t last but allowing it to exist for now. At the very least, I know they won’t kill me now, not when their cocks are rock hard.

The kind of smirk that said you'll be dripping down your thighs before breakfast is done. He was right. And I was seconds from breaking in front of my best friend. I couldn't take it anymore. "I—uh, I'll grab some more juice," I muttered, pushing back from the table, hoping Layla wouldn't notice the shake in my voice. She barely looked up. "Cool, grab me some too?" "Sure," I breathed, practically fleeing into the kitchen. I gripped the counter, trying to catch my breath. My thighs were sticky, aching. That man was going to ruin me—and I didn't even want to stop him.

WARNING : This is a collection of short erotic stories. It is extremely explicit, raw and unfiltered. Not suitable for readers under 18. Step into a world where every shade of temptation comes alive. Where obsession feels like love, and ruin feels like pleasure. Every tale drags you into a secret desire, a toxic attraction. Where heroines love being ravaged, and still beg for more. Stepdads who claim what they desire while mom is away or sleeping. Dominant piano tutor who turns practice into breathless, handcuffed restraint, and a junior brother who blackmailed their sisters into a threesome.

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?"

Easy access. The whole Uber ride to the coffee shop, I kept my thighs pressed together, acutely aware of how wet I was, how exposed I felt. Every bump in the road made the friction unbearable. I wanted to slide my hand between my legs and finish what I'd started last night, but I didn't. He'd told me not to come. So I wouldn't. Good little slut. Following Daddy's orders. I arrived at Brew Haven ten minutes early and ordered a latte I didn't want, just to have something to do with my hands. The coffee shop was busy—businesspeople on laptops, students studying, couples on dates. Normal people doing normal things.