Spell Fantasies Novels & Stories

She imagined the way his strong arms would feel wrapped around her, the warmth of his skin pressed against hers. In her mind's eye, she pictured him slowly undressing her, his touch sending tremors barreling through her body. She could almost feel the heat of his breath against her skin as he leaned in to kiss her. With each passing moment, her fantasies grew more vivid, more intoxicating, until she could barely distinguish them from reality. And soon, her fantasies turned into reality. Phoenix's hand found its way to her thigh, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt of euphoria through her body. She gasped softly as his fingers traced delicate patterns along her skin, each movement stirring

“That’s was I thought. I’m not sure of the full story but I think she was a fling and she got too attached or something. Anyways, things got sort of messy when Felix showed up. She demanded an apology from him before she unlocked the door. He refused to give her an apology. Then, he broke the door down. They had this long argument and Sapphire was ranting about how Felix cost her a job at Fantasies…” Isabel looked up from administering a shot of insulin. “Wait. Sapphire said she was from Fantasies?” “Yeah. Is that supposed to mean something?” “Fantasies are like this super elite at-home prostitution. Guys get to pick and choose the specific qualities and outfits that they want in a girl and

“And she enjoys that?” Her body twitched excitedly, slutty little minx that it was, giving her away. “Um, yeah. I mean…there’s a massive, massive difference between fantasy and reality. She wouldn’t really want to be tortured by the KGB. But being tied up and sexily menaced by someone she liked could be pretty fun, don’t you think?” “I think,” he murmured, “the boundaries of fantasy are less permeable than people realize.” “Um? What?”

The room was thick with heat and the sound of skin against skin echoed off the walls. The air was saturated with pheromones, so potent they could be tasted. Taka’s body trembled, slick and sensitive, flushed with need as his heat overwhelmed every rational thought he had. He lay facedown on the bed, body arched, skin glistening with sweat and desperation. His lips were parted, breath ragged, a trail of drool slipping from the corner of his mouth as a long moan tumbled out of him.

How can we put an end to this if we don’t stay away from each other? We were not in any kind of relationship, but when I write my diary entry that night, it feels like I’ve been jilted. I strike through the whole entry, determined not to let him mar my sexy fantasies. Just because I stopped acting on these fantasies doesn’t mean I can’t write them. This time, I’m writing from experience. When Rhys touches me in my fantasies, I feel his touch as though it were real, the scent of his skin when he embraces me so unadulterated that the lines between imagination and reality start to blur.

“And you wanted me to notice.” “Yes.” He hooked his fingers into her thong and dragged it down her thighs, letting it pool at her ankles. Cool air hit her soaked pussy. He groaned softly. “Look at you. Dripping down your legs already.” One thick finger traced her seam, gathering wetness, then pushed inside without warning. She moaned, pushing back. He added a second finger, pumping slow and deep, curling to hit that spot that made her knees buckle. “You’ve been fantasizing about this, haven’t you?” he said against her ear, leaning over her. “About me bending you over my desk and fucking you raw while the campus walks by outside.”

instead of Cressida’s loud, confident moans. The fantasy made me fuck Cressida even harder as I gripped her hips tighter and pounded into her with brutal, punishing kind of thrusts, as my mind overlayed Glinda’s face, Glinda’s body, Glinda’s quieter whimpers onto the girl actually falling apart beneath me. “Fuck—yes, right there!” Cressida moaned, pushing back against me, completely oblivious to the other girl now living rent-free in my head while I railed her. I slapped her ass hard, watching it jiggle, imagining how Glinda’s would look rippling the same way. The mix of real heat and the sweet fantasy pushed me dangerously close as I reached around, rubbing Cressida’s clit roughly while I k

I've had this fantasy since I was nineteen years old. Not the polished version – not the softcore "oh wouldn't it be naughty" version you admit to over cocktails when someone asks your wildest fantasy. The real one. The one I play on the backs of my eyelids when my vibrator is on the highest setting and I'm chasing the orgasm that only this image delivers: me, naked, surrounded by men. Hands everywhere. Cocks everywhere. Being passed between them like something precious and filthy, the singular focus of four, five, six men who want nothing except to use my body until I can't remember my own name.

He ripped my thong aside and pushed two thick fingers deep inside me without warning. “You’ve been teasing me all night,” dream-Jax growled in my ear, voice low and rough. His fingers curled perfectly, stroking that spot that made my knees weak. “Now you’re going to take what you started, little sis.” I moaned loudly in the dream, gripping the counter as he finger-fucked me hard and fast. The wet sounds filled the kitchen. He bit my neck, then kissed me roughly, his tongue claiming my mouth while his fingers drove me closer and closer.

I’m a disgusting, filthy whore. For years, I’ve hidden the darkest fantasies that consume me every single night. Gangbangs. Being used by multiple men at once. Rough, degrading, cum-soaked, no-limits sex where I’m nothing but a set of warm holes for them to destroy. I dream about being passed around, choked, slapped, filled in every hole until cum is leaking from my pussy, ass, and mouth. I touch myself thinking about it constantly — three, four, five cocks at the same time, stretching me, using me, breeding me like a cheap slut.