Spanish Short Stories Mga Nobela at Kwento

“You’re high. There’s nothing to tell.” “Aha! Now I know you’re lying. You make that funny little half-laugh when you’re lying through your teeth,” I said. “Fess up. I want to know all the juicy details.” “Damn it, Lance,” Randell growled, shutting his book with an agitated movement. “Now she’s not going to stop until you tell her.”

"Tell me what you want." "I want you to fuck me on this table," she said, her Spanish accent thickening with desire. "I want you to make me forget about every other person at this conference. I want marks tomorrow that I have to hide under my clothes." Marcus felt his cock harden instantly. They'd been together for months now, but Sienna still had the power to reduce him to pure animal response with just a few words. He spun her around, pressing her against the mahogany table, and lifted her dress.

She was looking over my shoulder at the same wall and reading some of them softly under her breath. “Hmmm, look at this one,” I said. “This person seems to have described our date last week in perfect detail.” It was a story about a woman who liked to be spanked and punished. “I like this one,” Carrie said, pointing to another. “I really think we should try and work this one into our next date.” The story was about a couple who arranged to act like strangers and meet up at a trashy bar and pick each other up. There were long descriptions about them fucking in the back of the bar as the guys playing pool watched and stroked their cues.

I look you over, my eyes lingering on your body, assessing. A slow smirk plays on my lips as I lean against the desk, crossing my legs. “Hello yourself. You’re here for the writing job, aren’t you? Let’s see if you’ve got what it takes. Or maybe you’re just here to waste my time.” My gaze is intense, unblinking, as if I’m already deciding your fate. ( you hand over a file containing a CV and a short story ..it was an erotic story ,titled the hot kidnapper)

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He had a unpleasantly raspy voice, like he smoked constantly. “How do you know I'm not from here?” She asked. He rolled his eyes. “Oh please. You yankees all look the same.” Yankee? Well that's rude. She wanted to ask him to leave but decided against it. After all, she didn't know anywhere in spain. She nodded her head at him and told him what hotel she was going to. The man got out of his taxi and helped her put her luggage into the trunk. When she was set, he started the car and began driving. They drove by cliffs and she noticed the houses had white walls and orange roofs on the hills. One of her wishes was to live in a house that looked like that. She didn't now why, but she had a feelin

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.”

“She loved this place. She passed last spring.” I glance at Dominic. His face doesn’t change. But his hand, around his wine glass, goes white-knuckled for half a second. D’Angelo talks for two hours. About Venice. About loss. About how you rebuild a city after it floods, and how you rebuild a life after it doesn’t. Dominic listens. Really listens. He asks questions. He doesn’t check his phone. He doesn’t talk about market share. I’m watching a man I don’t recognize. Or maybe I’m finally seeing him.

Chapter 2 “I wrote about you spanking me, about how it would make me so wet, so ready for you.” Hearing her say it out loud sent a jolt straight to my groin, my mind racing with images of burying myself inside her, but I wasn’t rushing this. No, I wanted to draw it out, make her beg for every bit. I set the journal down for a moment and ran my hand lower, my fingers brushing teasingly close to her pussy without touching it directly, feeling the wetness on her inner thighs.

His hand slid back between my thighs, fingers thrusting into me with precision. My body betrayed. I was arching, grinding and chasing his touch even though footsteps drew closer. Maybe I was a slut just like he had said. “Smile,” He whispered into it ear. My lips curved into a shaky smile just as a pair of strangers passed by, shooting us a glance. To them, we looked like a couple tangled in a heated kiss. They couldn’t see his fingers buried into my hole, and couldn’t here the dirty wet sounds each thrust made. I bit my lips hard as I clenched around him, another round of pleasure rippling through me. He felt it of course, curling his fingers until my thighs quivered.