Sweat Stories Novels & Stories

He kept thrusting, pushing his seed deep until it leaked out around his cock and down my torn leggings. He quickly pulled my jacket down to cover the huge rip in my crotch. “Good workout today,” he said loudly for anyone listening, then whispered in my ear, “You’re going home full of Daddy’s cum. Walk carefully.” My legs were jelly as we left the gym. Cum ran down my thighs with every step, soaking into what remained of my ruined leggings. Thanks to the long jacket, no one could see the torn fabric or the mess dripping out of me. In the car, I leaned back, still twitching from aftershocks.

Her breasts were out and I could see her vagina and ass, both dripping with semen. "Hay, thanks, it's done!" I heard Mom say. We both looked at each other. We immediately adjusted our clothes. When I saw that she was dressed, I hurried to leave. "Samantha, why are you sweating so much?" Dad asked, stopping me from climbing the stairs. "A-Ah, it's nothing. I got hot from putting my jacket on because I was so scared." She laughed awkwardly. I just shook my head and went up the stairs.

The man paused and shook his head to get the thoughts of impossibilities out of his head before he continued to his hard digging. After what felt like hours, he was finally done. His jacket had long since been tossed to the side. The black V-neck shirt was soaked with sweat. He looked like he forgot to take off his shirt before diving into a pool. Taking a deep breath, he walked to his duffle bag and took out a slightly large container filled with red liquid. Even with the closed lid the container released a putrid smell and yet his face did not even scrunch. Who knew, maybe he was at the point too tired to make time for that.

I turned round a sharp corner and warm liquid spilled on me. Told you this was a bad morning. I stared at a guy with glasses. Every visible part of his body was covered with tattoos. He was like Ryder but looks like a nerd. ''Sorry, I spilled my coffee on you by accident. I wasn't looking.'' I looked down at my shirt that had a mixture of purple and golden brown. He brought out a napkin and dabbed at my shirt. I took it from him. ''It's fine.'' ''Hey, you're Tess Harvey.''

His sweat soaked shirt clung to his broad shoulders and muscular torso. Grace was used to men being thin, even if they were strong, not big the way he was. He pointed to the terraces of pools. "Start in the lowest ones. The flow from the springs pushes the water out over the sides into the lower pools. So, you use the lower pools to get clean, so you don't contaminate the other ones, and move to the higher ones once you're clean. And they get hotter." He pointed, "Until you get to that one. It's too hot for anyone, I think." He kicked off his boots and grabbed some bags from a storage bin.

I was glad as the workout paid off. As the session continued, Harry grew increasingly bold in his pursuit. He became rather handsy. I was burning up from his constant, lingering caresses. Part of me was screaming for him to overpower me, but I kept my lips sealed. The urge nearly destroyed me by the time the workout ended at ten at night. With great reluctance, I left the gym and headed home. Back home, Kent couldn’t stand as I stood there, covered in sweat. He said in disdain, “Take a shower and wait for me in bed.”

I said, lowering my voice, sit close to anyone for too long” “but I have a medical issue that gets worse when I She frowned. “What kind of issue” she asked. “It is called necrotic sweat syndrome” I whispered. Her mouth fell open. “My sweat changes when I get warm or stressed. The doctor said it reacts like a weak acid” I said. Her face lost all color. “Acid” she whispered as she stepped back. “Yes. Acid. It already damaged three shirts this week” I said. She stepped farther away with panic in her eyes.

Chapter 6 We stayed like that for a long minute—me wrapped in the blanket on the chair, legs still trembling, their cum slowly leaking out of me in thick, warm pulses. Jax and Marcus knelt in front of me, shirts off now, skin shiny with sweat, chests rising and falling like they’d run a marathon. Their cocks were softening but still heavy between their thighs, glistening with lube and me and them. The shop smelled like sex—musky, salty, mixed with the faint antiseptic that never quite left.

Sloane’s body trembled on the edge again and again. Finally, Sloane broke free. She twisted her wrists hard until the resistance band slipped loose. With a surge of strength, she flipped them over. They wrestled for dominance on the sheets. Limbs tangled. Nails scratched. Sloane pinned Tatum down briefly and rode her face, grinding her wet pussy against Tatum’s tongue. Tatum fought back, flipping her again. They rolled across the bed in a sweaty, nasty battle. Moans and curses filled the room. “You think you can win?” Sloane panted. “Fuck you.” Tatum laughed breathlessly and thrust the strap-on up into her again. They came together in a final explosive clash. Orgasms ripped through both of t

I remember every near-miss, every close call, every time we almost got caught and kept going anyway because stopping felt impossible. I remember the weight of his hand over my mouth. I remember the bruises on my hips that I hid under high-waisted skirts. I remember the way his cum felt sliding down my thighs as I walked back to my desk trying to look professional. I remember coming so hard I saw white while the machine beeped beneath me like it was judging us both. Those memories are mine. They live under my skin. They surface at the most inconvenient times—during meetings, during dates, during the quiet moments before sleep. And every time they do I get wet all over again.