Romans & histoires Stories Of Erotica

Her pussy vibrated, and she could feel her clit begging for attention, Helena was no stranger to this feeling, they’d not only helped each other masturbate multiple times before, but they had really fucked, fingered and scissor each other before. “And that too in the same hospital? Talk about fate.” Elora added, trying to stop herself from thinking about how delicious Helena’s nectar was, she wanted to have that cunt in her mouth and suck on it like her life depended on it. She loved the kind of face that Helena made whenever she was on the verge of orgasm, she loved the sound too, and there was nothing she loved more than being the one drawing that reaction out of her. Helena loved it too,

God, I’m turning him on as well. Thirst Trap returns carrying a bunch of things that look like sticks, but I quickly recognize those as a special type of incense. I’ve seen those in the black market while I was on a mission. I don’t know the specifics, but I do know they’ve been used for centuries as mild aphrodisiacs. Why are they doing this, though? I’m already longing for them, and I’m doing fine without this type of assistance. Why would they need it? Something tells me this is not as simple as it seems.

Pressing his tip against my entrance, he pushed his cock forward just enough to stretch me, the ache was delicious and maddening. Then he pulled away, leaving me gasping for more. They alternated, one teasing my pussy, the other rubbing against my clit or ass and always stopping at the brink. My juices coated their cocks as the room filled with the wet sounds of my denial. I was trembling, my orgasm built and receded like a tide. Gerald's fingers found my clit, circling it fast while the coordinator's cock pressed against my asshole, teasing the tight ring. My body convulsed, a dry orgasm ripping through me without penetration. I collapsed onto the bed, shaking. Gerald and the coordinator bo

Sam actually blushed, "I'll send you the links. It was tough to track the origins of the vids, other than that one filmmaker, but the Reddit stories were easy. A lot were fakes, but I ended up making contact with quite a few posters whose stories were real. I also started reading stories posted on erotica sites and looking up the authors. A couple said right out that they were in incestuous relationships. The stories they wrote had a different feel, I got so I could tell." Deb smiled. I wondered what was in her coffee, "Reading and seeing all that must have been—exhausting." Sam looked right at my sister, "I'd do my work on a wooden chair with a suction cup dildo and towel under the chair. M

As she watched him being driven away, she knew that this was just the beginning of a complex and dangerous dance, one that would test the limits of her professionalism, her desire, and her very soul. This was the fourth criminal she was fucking and she knew she wasn't stopping anytime soon. These criminals are so hot and she wasn't ready to let go. Note: if you want more of Camila, you can request for it and I might create a book for that purpose.

She felt him throb inside, hitting deep, pleasure radiating from her core. They fucked until dawn, exploring every position: her riding him on the couch, breasts bouncing as she ground down, feeling him nudge her depths; him eating her out on the stairs, tongue delving deep until she squirted; doggy in his bed again, his hand in her hair, pulling as he claimed her. By morning, bodies sore and sated, Ethan whispered, “We can’t tell anyone.” Lila nodded, but inside, she knew—this was her victory. He’d begged in actions if not words, and she’d give him more reasons to crave her.

The silence made my thighs clench. "What kind of dreams?" he asked, still calm. "I shouldn't say." "You came here to let it out," he answered simply. I held in my breathing. "They're... sexual. I wake up soaked. Aching. And ashamed." "Go on." I let my head rest against the wooden panel behind me. My eyes closed. "He touches me in ways no one ever has. And I let him. I want it. God, I want it so bad." The words spilled out, broken and messy. "Sometimes it's in public. Sometimes I'm tied down. Sometimes he just whispers in my ear and I'm already falling apart. I wake up wet, panting, and I can't stop thinking about it for days."

It took almost three hours of typing and his encouragement until I had fully unloaded my crappy life onto his shoulders. As he started to tell me more about himself, I found that he was a 55-year-old man who lived about five hundred miles away from me and had led a not dissimilar life. He had been married and divorced twice, and his current wife was not sexual at all. He had been using the chat room as an outlet for his sexual frustrations for two years now and occasionally wrote erotic stories for an online site. All his stories were about his fantasies of having sex with another man, although he claimed he had only tried it twice—neither time was all that satisfying. I asked him to direct