Steamy

In the bedroom, I am being manipulated into various positions. A strange man reaches out toward me and fondles my body roughly with his callused hands. He leans in closer and tells me to relax because it will help release the milk quickly. The man before me is my husband's best friend. He was hired to be my lactation therapist. His hands roam across my waist slowly and pause right at my chest. I can hear him saying in a hoarse voice, "I'm going to start massaging here." I can't help but shudder before closing my eyes tightly.

I failed my university's mandatory physical education class, but I didn't want to go for the training. Uncle Grant came and helped me, but I only did a few squats, and I could already feel my chest hurting so much. I fell right into Uncle Grant's arms, and I said, "No, I can't do this, Uncle Grant… Do you have any sports bras…?" My uncle's breathing became rapid, and he said, "Let me help you, Carmen." I didn't expect that the way he helped me was to use his hands to correct my posture from the front. As he squatted alongside me, it was only getting faster…

"Mr. Woods, what's that thing pressing against me?" I was teaching a freshman girl how to drive at a driving school. I never expected that this innocent-looking but boldly dressed underclassman would actually ask to sit on my lap and have me teach her hands-on. On the way, I held back my urge and forced myself to focus on teaching as I deliberately ignored her brushing against me. But then she released the clutch too quickly, and the car suddenly stalled and shook violently. She fell heavily between my legs, and I could feel myself pressing against her core. She was only wearing a short skirt, with thin underwear underneath.

After my natural delivery, I was diagnosed with pelvic relaxation that left me with almost no muscle tone down there. My husband, whose size was completely mismatched with my condition, refused to sleep with me anymore. When my father-in-law found out, he cornered me in the bathroom with a dark, knowing look. He confessed to suffering from acromegaly and suggested we might be a perfect physical match.

I'm a campus belle who's addicted to carnal pleasures. The frequent triggers caused by my addiction have heavily affected my and Michael Buckley, my boyfriend's lives and studies. Left without a choice, Michael and I can only head over to the campus clinic to undergo treatment that helps me cut down on my addiction. The one administering treatment to me happens to be a well-built doctor. The way he treats me shocks me to no end. Later on, he straps me to the examination table. I'm so frightened that I keep begging him to release me with tears running down my cheeks. But he responds by lifting my legs roughly.

"Don't move!" Coming home late from work, I was sneaking a shower in the shared bathroom of my rental when a warm body suddenly pressed up against me. His rough palm clamped over my mouth, pinning me against the cold tile. He held me there against the damp wall, his skin burning hot against my back as he let out a low, gravelly threat. "My guys are right outside. Just try and scream." Instead of panicking, I leaned back into him, shifting slightly. I tilted my head back and breathed softly into his ear. “So… you want everyone hear? I don't mind… we can give it a try.”

"No... No, you can't..." The patient says his desire is a little too strong and wants me to use my body to help him for a medical checkup. He then makes me lose myself in the moment in just a few moves...

My girlfriend, Phoebe Norton, insisted on bringing her best friend along on our trip. What she did not know was that her friend, Shanine Graham, was a shameless flirt. Wearing nothing but a tiny thong beneath her clothes, Shanine kept finding ways to tease and tempt me…

"Does riding a horse feel good for you, Lola?" My pal's daughter, Lola Ramirez, is currently kneeling on all fours on the floor in a skimpy school uniform with her ass bucked high in the air. Meanwhile, I mount her from behind with my hands tugging on her twintails while I thrust into her rapidly. Lola's father, on the other hand, is still playing poker in the room next to ours.

"Wait… sir, I can't…" While I was performing physical therapy on a patient, the vest I was wearing accidentally tore. In front of the patient's guardian, it exposed my sweat-dampened body. The man's gaze settled on the soft curves that had sprung free, his eyes dark and unreadable. When he pressed me against the mirror and made me watch my own reflection—my body left in disarray under his relentless attention—I knew then that everything was about to spiral into an uncontrollable abyss.