Stories For Adults In English นิยาย & เรื่องราว

The air in the penthouse suite was thick with ambition and expensive perfume. Liza Miller, twenty-three and desperate, watched the final credits of the audition tape roll on the massive screen. Another rejection. Not even a callback. Her agent’s email had been polite, professional, and utterly devastating. ‘The director felt your performance lacked the necessary… depth.’

Every time I thought I was at my limit, Kade would whisper something cruel in my ear, or Brian would deliver a spank that reignited the fire in my blood, and I’d find a second wind. By mid-afternoon, I was lying splayed out on the rug, my legs shaking uncontrollably. I was covered in a film of their cum, my skin tacky and smelling of musk. The sheer stockings were torn, and the maid’s apron was hanging by a single string. Kade walked over and stood between my spread legs, looking down at me like I was something he’d found on the bottom of his shoe. "You're holding up better than I thought," he admitted, his voice a low rumble. "But we’re only halfway through day three. Brian and Ken have som

Kathy, a 51 year old housewife becomes a sugar baby. Enjoy.. ******** My name is Kathy. This series of stories focuses on my most recent experience in pushing the erotic envelope. They are inspired by real life experiences, but are still largely a product of my imagination. In other words I took literary license to deviate a bit from actual events. What is authentic is the fact that at middle age I entered into a sugar baby lifestyle. The feelings and emotions I experienced are very real, even if I have altered the characters a tad.

More, and more. End of Book 1

I adore you more than words can say 18+ only, please 🔥 This story is intended for mature readers and will contain adult themes. With all my love, Your slightly sassy, very grateful author 💋💖

it was an erotic story ,titled the hot kidnapper) I raise an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in my eyes. I push off from the desk and walk closer, my heels clicking on the floor. “A story, huh? You think you can just walk in here and write a tale for me? How about you show me what you’re made of first? Tell me, what’s your fantasy? What gets you going in the dark?” I lean in, my breath warm against your ear, my large breasts pressing against your arm. (Pushing the paper to you I ask you to read it aloud ,you cheeks turn a faint red as you try to explain you brought the wrong story,I press a finger to your lips shushing you and telling you to read, you read it all)

The air in the library was thick with the scent of old books and the faint hum of fluorescent lights. Sadile Marconi, her fiery red hair cascading over her shoulders like a river of flames, sat at a secluded table, her green eyes darting between the pages of her textbook and the clock on the wall. The numbers seemed to mock her, ticking away the minutes until her next class, a class she was dangerously close to failing.

“Always be vocal, and if he won't listen, kick him out of the bed.” “How about a compromise?” she asked. “If you're going to enjoy it. Next.” “Two: I learnt that having an orgasm is not a bad thing.” “Alas, it's not. It's a damned good thing.” “I learnt that I shouldn't be afraid to try new things. Like the Bdsm thing. Even though we stopped somewhere and didn't go all the way.” He was nodding. “Good, good.” “I learnt that I should not liken myself to pornstars because they're too good to be true.”

Stranded, no rules? Thea laughed, sipping her water. “Wild. You gotta get creative to survive.” Jon raised an eyebrow, sitting beside her. “Creative, huh? Sounds like a story.” Adam grinned. “Let’s just say we kept each other… entertained.” Nate chuckled. “Oh, I bet. Spill it.” Thea leaned back, a familiar sparkle in her eyes. “What happens on a deserted island stays on the island, right?” Jon’s gaze darkened, intrigued. “Not always. I’m into stories like that. Ever try an orgy? Threesomes, foursomes… gets the blood pumping.”

The English department building was almost empty by 9:15 p.m. Most offices were dark, doors locked. Only the faint buzz of the vending machine down the hall and the low hum of fluorescent lights broke the silence. Quinn sat across from Dr. Malcolm Reed at his wide oak desk, laptop open, pages of her thesis draft scattered everywhere. She was exhausted. Twenty-five years old, third year in the grad program, and this chapter was kicking her ass. Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun, glasses sliding down her nose, hoodie zipped halfway because the building AC was always too cold at night.