Stud Woman Novels & Stories

Tricia graduated with an essentially useless diploma with low G.P, so she had to find a way to get by professionally with her special skill which she had mastered in University. If there was any award for sex, she would have gotten many awards. And if there was any professional course like fuckology, she would have been the best graduating student with highest G.P. She would have joined prostitution but she needed a job. She love to work in an office.

It was a woman who looked her age wearing a uniform with her hair stylishly cut short and eyes so sharp that Elinor wondered what she could see with them. “Good afternoon,” Elinor said and the other woman nodded, “Good afternoon, I’m Stella Courelle, I’m the female students’ representative,” Stella said, “It’s an honor to make your acquaintance, Miss Elinor,” “It’s nice to meet you, Miss. Stella,” Aira responded as she shook the woman’s hand, “I’m Elinor Pendragon. I look forward to studying with you from now on,” “We may not have many classes together but the other female students are looking forward to make your acquaintance,”

My hatred of The nonsense Concept-of-Women's-Happiness-bullshit sister Elise taught me once, two years ago. I remember she said, "--at the end, a woman's ultimate happiness was to fulfill her destiny. To do so, thou shalt be modest but charming, full of smiles, calm in her nature, smooth in her speech, forgiving, loyal and devoted to thy husband, never rejects the will of thy husband and thy attitude towards his wives has no prejudice; sincere and full of understanding--,"

I look at Marco, who’s now busy speaking with Reign and her friends, before continuing, “dating.” Sara nods. “Nice to meet you then, Ryle.” “The pleasure is mine,” Ryle says. “Colton, let's go to Lee’s university together,” Lia cuts in. “What? Is your dream college even there?” Colton says. Lia sighs and then rolls her eyes. “Yes. I’m getting a degree in interior design. There's a college for that there, right, Ryle?” she asks. Ryle just bobs his head. “How about you, Stella? Where are you going?” Sara asks.

Lucy nervously adjusted her skimpy lingerie as she waited backstage, her heart pounding with anticipation and anxiety. At just 19 years old, she had never even considered doing p**n, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Her college tuition was due, and her part-time job barely covered rent. When the opportunity to be in an adult film presented itself, she jumped at the chance, despite having no experience in the industry or with anal sex.

Chapter 1: I Leak My Strict Pornstar Professor’s Filthy OnlyFans and My Pussy Throbs While the Whole Class Teases Her I slouch in the back row of the lecture hall, arms crossed tight under my heavy tits, glaring daggers at the front of the room. Professor Nadia Vale is up there again, commanding the class in her crisp white blouse that strains obscenely over her massive breasts, tight pencil skirt hugging her perfect ass, and those sexy librarian glasses perched on her nose. Mid-twenties, stunning, and a total bitch to me specifically.

"I've always known you to be one hell of a confident girl. Why is your esteem injured this morning?" Elora adjusted the stiff, designer blazer of the Saint Jude's uniform. It felt like a costume. "It's a school for the elites, Maya. I'm not going there because I'm an elite-I'm going because I won a scholarship. You know how these rich kids behave. They bully people who aren't of the same class."

Beth felt sick to her stomach as she watched herself sucking up his sperm like a wild animal. "Here's the deal," he said to her. "For the next four weeks, your going to do everything I tell you to do or I show this video to your husband, mother, and I'm also prepared to send copies to those fucked up college professors you seem to be so fond of." Beth felt the tears pouring out of her eyes and collapsed sobbing. The girl in the video was exactly the kind of girl her feminist professors were always raving against. Real woman didn't perform oral sex on men and they certainly didn't get pleasure out of it.

The next morning came too quickly. Amara woke before the alarm, her mind already restless. Sleep had offered no escape—only fragments of thought stitched together into dreams she couldn’t quite remember, but felt lingering in her chest like unfinished sentences. She dressed in silence, smoothing every crease, pinning every strand of hair into place. Control. Precision. Distance. By the time she stepped into the hallway, she had rebuilt herself. Or so she thought. The study door was open. That alone was enough to unsettle her.

That afternoon, as Stellar stepped out of the library, a slender figure suddenly emerged from the bustling crowd, blocking her path. "You’re Stellar Rivers, right?" The woman in front of her had wavy, styled hair and a designer handbag slung over her shoulder. Arms crossed, her expression was haughty and condescending. She looked to be in her early twenties, clearly a student, and somewhat familiar. "And you are?" "I’m Camille Dawson, a graduate student under Professor Stone."