Spicy Literature Novels & Stories

I couldn't even form words at this point, I just wanted to be fucked so hard my body would remember it for a week. They all shared the same dark, predatory looks; gazing at me like starving foxes who had closed in on a pretty little lamb. And God help me, I was more than ready to be devoured.

I said to Ginger, as I slipped my hands under her nightshirt and felt her bare ass with both of my hands. "Right, they don't know about our sapphic love affairs yet," said Ginger. "Sapphic, I like that word. Why have we not used it before?" I asked. "Probably because I only just learned it last week while reading a story on Literotica," said Ginger. "Literotica, what's that?" I asked. "Only the best website in the world for erotic literature and the like. You should check it out," said Ginger. "I'll do that when we get back home, it sounds interesting!" I replied.

I gasped sharply as the thick dildo stretched my virgin asshole, the burning ring of muscle protesting hard around the fat shaft. “Fuck… it burns so much,” I whimpered, but I didn’t pull it out. Instead, I pushed back harder, forcing more of the veiny toy deeper into my ass. “That’s my dirty girl,” HotFantasy88 growled through the speaker. “Now bounce on it. I want to see that tight little asshole swallowing every inch. Don’t you dare stop.”

It’s like a stare competition across the dinner table, and somehow Mia never seems to notice. Everyone was back home, and the throbbing began. Chloe can’t shake her spicy morning with Damien from her mind. Every replay came with a sharp electric surge throughout her body, and every surge caused a drip from her throbbing folds into her panties. Damien has noticed a few unusual movements from Chloe, and it’s not like Chloe has been his best fuck, but something is exciting about the forbidden nature of their relationship.

The controlled collapse of her will beneath mine. The sun rises, gilding the edges of the curtains. The library, its silent books, its smell of knowledge and dust, waits. It will wait. For now, there is only this room. This warmth. This endless war of which we are the sole soldiers, the sole witnesses, the sole vanquished and the sole victors. And the terrible, exhilarating vertigo is that in consuming her, I feel, each time, something within me burning too.

Her mouth parted without permission. “I noticed you have plenty of other books and sketch magazines like this. So I decided to get these” he said calmly, like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on her fragile emotions. She lifted one of the books carefully, almost like it might disappear if she wasn’t gentle enough. “These novels haven’t been released in the market yet” she said softly. “And these are my favorite magazines” she said, referring to the long magazines. She loved reading when she wasn’t sketching. She loved getting lost in stories. She had been counting down the months for these exact books to be available. She had talked about them without even realizing how often.

"Just do this for me, okay? You two should meet one last time! All these old memories are hitting me out of nowhere!" "Are you insane? After that messy cheating scandal, why should Jean have to deal with him again?" "Exactly! Jean deserves way better than a trash like Conrad!" "Hey, stop spreading lies! Jenny's texts to Jean never actually proved anything physical happened between her and Conrad, okay?" "Even if he didn't sleep around, he's still trash. Cheaters don't change. Once a cheater, always a cheater. Jean needs to move on and find someone better. We're queens. We play men, not the other way around!"

“It’s deliberate. You wrote about a student bent over a desk, skirt flipped up, getting fingered while she recites literary theory. You described her dripping down her thighs, begging for his cock while he corrected every sloppy thought in her head. That’s not analysis. That’s you telling me what you want done to you.” I shifted in the seat, my short skirt riding higher up my smooth thighs. The cool air hit my wet skin and made me squirm. Damn, I was soaked, my clit throbbing with every word he spoke. I looked him straight in the eyes, refusing to back down even as my heart hammered against my ribs. “Maybe it is. Maybe I wrote it so you’d finally stop treating me like just another student. Y

She merely chuckled in response, rich and knowing. "Then you've clearly misinterpreted the dear thing's wholesome intentions, I fear," Lilly sighed dramatically. "Because from my literary trainspotter's perch, connecting on such an exalted cerebral plane appears to be foreplay in full swing for your enigmatic young ghostwriter." Once more, the memory of Chris's intense stare and resonating timbre rising in fervent defense of feminine perspectives enshrined through erotic literature crashed over me unbidden. The memory sparked an unexpected frisson low in my abdomen - one that spoke of anything but sanitized literary discourse.

Lila’s POV The university’s bell has finally rang after waiting for almost two hours for this boring subject. I never liked math. For me, that was the most boring subject ever. Numbers, after numbers, and then numbers again. Tsk tsk. All I want to learn is cocks and cocks and dick. Smirking at my own thoughts, I took all my things and immediately left our room. The next subject is my favorite one. Not because I actually love the subject, but because our Prof is so hot I want to bed him even for a night.