Stranded Sex Story

Do you know what he must go through in order to attain her? This is his story; of a most unlikely love and of danger: Willy is a disadvantaged man in New York city— who suffers from amnesia and sadly cannot remember his past; The only thing that he could vaugely remember was his name. He finds himself stranded on the streets as a homeless man. His past shrouded in a deep cloud of mystery; there were deep unresolved questions: Who was he? What had happened and now he is on the streets? One day he met a strange man who proposes to him— a life changing offer: Willy saw that as an opportunity to lead a normal life and to marry the sweet girl of his dreams.

Warning! Not for readers under the age of 18 "Spread your legs!" He ordered, whispering into her ear and sending shivers throughout her body. "I...." She stared into his beautiful blue eyes as he slowly thrust into her. "I am going to fuck you until you can't walk!" He leaned in and kissed her as their hips moved in rhythm. ~~~~~~~ Alpha king Fenrir referred to himself as the Sex Beast after getting possessed by a sex Demon who feeds on women's energy after sleeping with them. Aside from that, he hated humans for causing him pain, making life unbearable for them, turning each of them into slaves, but then he met Lorena, his slave who was auctioned off as a sex slave. Lorena is a human who hates Werewolves for ruining every human life. When she got auctioned off as a sex slave, she never expected to end up with the Alpha king. The man he hated the most and vowed to kill. But To survive, she must accept to become his sex slave or end up dead like every other slave who disobeys the Werewolf's law. Would she agree to do his will? Or would she accept his wish and become his sex slave? This is a story about love, sex, Heartbreaks, death, tears, and power.

Warning! 18++ Dark romance, violence, sex and lots of sex, BDSM, age gap, sugar daddy/baby kink, kidnapping, etc. *** Series of stories of sizzling hot bad boy billionaires, who are devils in the sheets and out of it, tamed by feisty female leads. Each story can be read as a standalone, but some characters make appearances in various stories. Dive in for a long thick...I meant a good long ride, Unless you would rather be bad, Very bad.

A sexy story with an interesting and unique plot. Mythology with a twist and Reverse-Harem relationship. Join Mila on her new journey... after death. Angels are indeed real... and so are the Greek Gods of Greek Mythology. What happens to Mila when she is gifted by Aphrodite, Eros and Peitho themselves? With so much love, beauty, sex and seduction, your bound to many intimate, lustful, romantic, moments... and multiple lovers. This story is mature. With 6 different relationships... there will be many sexual adventures, to sweet vanilla sex to rough/ light BDSM play. Their will be Girlx Girl action and also BoyxBoyxGirl included in this. So if your naughty minds think you can handle this... give it a read.

"The Rossi family doesn't need a Don. We just need a Donna." As the only heiress of the Rossi family, this was the law that I had set when I received the Browning pistol—a pistol that resembles the ultimate authority in the Rossi family—from my Papa when he was on his deathbed. But three years ago, the police relentlessly investigated the money laundering business that my fiance, Lorenzo Moretti, was in charge of. If that business were to get exposed, the Rossi family's hundred-year-old legacy would be ruined. In order to protect my family's legacy and to allow Lorenzo to continue legalizing my family's businesses, I decided to become the scapegoat for all the crimes. On the rainy night of my arrest, I personally handed the pistol over to Lorenzo. "Protect my family for me before my return." This gave Lorenzo legitimate authority to run my family. He used the pistol to purge my subordinates and take over the family business. He even broke my law by announcing to the public that he'd become the next Don soon. An invitation with golden borders is soon leaked from the family's inner circle. Lorenzo's and another woman's names are printed on the cover. During a visit, my private lawyer says mockingly, "If you don't get out of prison now, the Rossi family might take on another man's last name for real." I just sneer in response. After that, I get bailed out of jail in advance and return home to celebrate Lorenzo's "funeral". But no matter how many times I scan my iris at the biometric scanner in the estate, the result always comes out wrong. A young woman, who's toying with the pistol, opens the door at that moment. The contempt and disdain in her eyes are plain to see. "Where the hell did a crazy woman like you come from? You came to the wrong place. This is my private turf, you know."

It was the climactic moment of my game, but the enemy's flash bang blinded me. After I reopened my eyes, I found myself in the world of the post-apocalyptic underdog comeback story I'd ranted about to my friend the day before. No, I wasn't the protagonist with a cheat for a system. Instead, I was the cannon fodder who suffered the worst fate. He also had my name. I found myself locked outside the armored vehicle while a swarm of high-level zombies had surrounded me. 'Blast,' I thought. 'All this just because I flamed them? And I just made a pentakill after my 8-win streak!' I told myself to calm down and let my mind do its work, but then the laughter of this body's wife echoed from the walkie-talkie. "Stop covering for him, gunners! We're livestreaming to the whole camp. My husband's going to rip these Tier Six zombies to shreds!" Then, the woman's useless male best friend buzzed with excitement. "I'll have a permanent spot in the inner city if he distracts the horde and they rip him apart in the process, babe!" If this went the way of the original story, I'd beg for help only to get no answer and be ripped apart by the zombies. Fortunately, I wasn't the same coward this guy used to be. The woman kept egging me on. I sneered. I didn't spend years playing competitive games for nothing. And so, I grabbed a high-frequency concussion grenade that could get the attention of every single zombie in a 3-mile radius, smashed the ventilation valve of the armored vehicle, and hurled the grenade inside.

After returning home from a flight, I realize that my bottle of hair conditioner has run out in the bathroom. The thing is, my husband, Carlos Zappa, doesn't use hair conditioner at all. Seeing Carlos through the frosted glass, I decide to probe him for answers. "Did any guests stay over lately? Or have you started doing hair care?" Carlos flips through the documents, which are stamped with the Zappa family crest, impatiently at my questions. "Maybe a maid accidentally toppled the bottle over when she was cleaning the bathroom. Also, why are you annoying me with such minuscule matters?" When I put on the bathrobe, I feel a ticklish sensation coming from the collar. As soon as I look down, I notice a strand of dried yellow hair being entangled in the collar. The moment the steam dissipates, I see two pairs of intertwining handprints on the bathroom's glass door. I never thought that my home would grow this popular during my one-week trip away from home. I've been married to Carlos for three years, and yet this is my first time finding out that he's actually this wild in bed. So, I secretly text my father, the Don of the Carozza family. "Dad, Carlos has cheated on me. Does the bet we made three years ago still count?"

I had a best friend who was sweet as honey but only with her mouth. Behind my back, she was a demon. She stole my boyfriend, the underboss of the Chicago Outfit. Her excuse? She wanted to keep me away from the darkness and the blood, so she'd take the suffering in my place. She pawned her wedding ring and fed her husband some story about a limited edition bag for me. She skimmed from her husband's company accounts and pinned it on my male escort habit. She was pregnant and still wanted thrills. So she went to a full-blown orgy with her husband's uncle and a group of his associates. That's how she ended up hemorrhaging. But somehow it was my fault. I was the one who organized that kind of party, according to her. And her story? She tried to stop me, so I pushed her down and made her lose the baby. In the end, her husband sent me to a cartel hellhole in Mexico to atone for my sins. There, her lover sold me to the red-light district. First came the addiction. Then the streets. I served every man in their outfit, one after another. My body rotted. I died slow, sick, and alone. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the night my best friend miscarried because of her own filthy party.

My husband, Luca, had a childhood sweetheart named Sophia. Years ago, during a brutal gang shootout, Sophia shielded him from the worst of the bloodshed, and since then, she had suffered from severe PTSD. Because of that, Luca would push aside family business every year and fly to our estate on a secluded island off the coast of Sicily to spend three months “helping her recover.” “Victoria, she lost her mind because of me,” he told me. “I’m responsible for her. I hope you can be magnanimous.” So, I nodded. And eventually, I got used to the fact that every year, my husband would disappear for three months to fulfill what he called a moral obligation. That was until the day I flew in without warning to inspect the family’s money-laundering network on that island and saw him. In the town square, under the bright Mediterranean sun, Luca was standing there with a five-year-old boy by his side. “Papa, how long do we have to hide on this island?” the child asked. “I want to go to New York. I want to see the Empire State Building.” Luca laughed gently and scooped him up in his arms. With his other hand, he held Sophia’s. “Antonio, be good,” he said affectionately. “Papa’s position is… complicated. When you turn eighteen and pass the family’s initiation ceremony, I’ll kill that woman and her dead old man. Then, I’ll take you back to New York to inherit the entire Corleone family.” I stood in the shadows, unseen. Slowly, I lit a cigarette. The smoke curled around me as their voices drifted over, the conversation getting more vicious as it went. Sophia leaned into his chest, her tone sweet and coy. “Luca, I’ve been with you for seven years without a name or a title. How much longer are our son and I supposed to live like ghosts?” Luca sighed. “I don’t have a choice. The old man in the Corleone family is still alive. I married Victoria just to get her territory. Don’t worry. I’ve been adding something to her milk every day. She’ll never get pregnant in this lifetime. My family bloodline will only continue through you.” The last thread of reason in my mind snapped. In the six years of marriage we shared, I had been infertile. I’d taken countless hormone injections to stimulate ovulation. I’d knelt in church and prayed more times than I could count. Yet, all along, the devil poisoning me was my own husband. The initial shock faded quickly into rage. I crushed out my cigarette and pulled out my phone. Then, I dialed my uncle, the family’s clean-up man. “Uncle Rocco,” I said calmly, “Luca betrayed me. He betrayed the family. Order a coffin in the finest black walnut for me, and make it large, large enough to fit a family of three.”

SINFUL NIGHTS – Extremely Dirty & Explicit Erotic Short Stories Collection (18+ Filthy Sex) by SWAAN He shoved her against the wall, yanked her skirt up, and buried himself deep in one brutal thrust. “Say please if you want me to stop,” he snarled. She never did. 100 % raw, shameless, panty-melting erotica. Zero sweet romance. This filthy collection is packed with: • Rough dominant sex & dirty commands • Forbidden age-gap one-night stands • Boss/employee office sex on the desk • Best friend’s dad / brother taboo fantasies • Stranger sex after she hears him through the wall • Professor/student extra-credit on her knees • Enemies-to-lovers hate-sex that breaks the bed • Explicit breeding, choking, spanking, and filthy talk Every story is short, hardcore, and ends with shaking orgasms and dripping satisfaction. If you search for: dirty sex stories, explicit erotica, rough filthy short stories, forbidden age gap erotica, dominant alpha male sex, one-night stand smut, taboo cheating sex, or extreme adult erotica… this collection was written for YOU. Lock your door. Turn your phone on silent. One click = hours of sinful, soaking-wet nights. 18+ only • Extremely graphic • Not for the faint-hearted #DirtyErotica #ExplicitSexStories #FilthyShortStories #AgeGapSmut #RoughSex