The Grind Is Real 소설 & 이야기

We have another roommate, but he’s not gonna be here for a couple more days. Later, back in my own room, I start to get horny. My favourite thing about living away from my parents - who i’m not out to - is that I can just go on grindr whenever I’m in the mood, get a guy over to give head to/pound me and then move on without anyone thinking anything! So, I think, fuck it - let’s have a moving in celebration. Besides, I like to go on grindr in new areas just to see the talent 😂 So I log on and take a look. There’s two faceless profiles who are insanely close, “DL” and “🍑”, I figured they’re probably in the same building… hot. But I normally don’t message faceless folks until they hmu with a

The creature's body was slime-like, yet it seemed to have short limbs and a small mouth that produces a harsh hissing sound when it opens. "Don't call them junk," the elderly professor replied. Struggling to stand up from sitting on his chair, he gently placed the book he's reading on his desk, which was also filled with empty laboratory flasks, notebooks and pens. There was a stain of spilled ink covering the upper corner of his disorganized table. His hair and beard are almost white, with visible streaks of gray, and along with his crumpled and stained lab coat, they all seemed to have been unattended for a long while now.

He would have his pick of eligible graves. He’d had two so far, and now he intended to take a third. Jim decided to dispense with foreplay, he was already hard from the anticipation. He knelt down and ran his fingers over the grave’s turf, fondling and probing until he found the sweet soft spot. Every grave has that perfect place for penetration, where the soil gives the most. He took out a trowel and cut through the turf, removing a core sample and leaving a hole just large enough for him to enter. A little water from a bottle in his other pocket turned the earth to mud, a perfect lubricant.

That afternoon, Serena's phone wouldn't stop buzzing. Unknown numbers. Nonstop calls. Her screen lit up with message after message—vile, cruel, endless. She could handle the hate. Barely. But what cut deeper? Her studio was getting dragged with her. Angry users swarmed the company's page: [Fire the homewrecker! What are you waiting for?] [Only trash studios hire mistresses—hope you crash and burn.] [Serena Saun better get on her knees and apologize to Maggie Cheape!]

The friction is insane. “Look at you,” he groans, gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. “Spreading your legs for your married professor like a desperate campus slut. My wife is at home right now and I’m grinding my cock on your dripping teenage cunt.” I moan shamelessly, wrapping my legs around him and grinding back. “Harder, Professor— please— I need it.” He fucks me with his cock like that — no penetration, just raw, slippery grinding that makes my clit throb and my pussy leak everywhere. The head of his cock catches on my entrance again and again, teasing me mercilessly.

Rocked. A slow, tentative grind. Then another. Friction, thick and devastating, sent sparks up my spine, and I whimpered, grinding shamelessly against his thigh like a girl possessed. He groaned, dragging his lips down my jaw, teeth grazing skin before he bit my earlobe, just hard enough to make me jerk. “That’s it, baby,” he growled. “Fuck yourself on me. Show me how desperate that sweet little cunt is.” I whimpered, hips rolling harder.

I didn't need to thrust, the slow, deep grind was enough to drive us both mad, for now. My tight clutched around him, fighting to keep the wave from breaking too soon. I closed my eyes, letting the sensual sounds fill the air—the damp friction of skin on skin. His ragged breathing, my own choked pleas. I pushed deeper into the grind, my core trembling as the heat became unbearable. “Good girl, keep that rhythm,” he managed to speak, but his words were nothing more than a broken plea.

And Claire’s whole body dissolved in the molten lava of her release. “Fuck, yes,” Griff growled, and let himself finally take his own pleasure. He pushed deep – as deep as he could go – and then held himself there. His large body strained, tensed… and he rode the undulating, pulsing waves, just let them wash over him, crash over him, over and over, before slowly relaxing.

I could feel his pulse in his cock, a frantic rhythm inside me that matched my own. “Mine,” he whispered, the word a soft growl of absolute truth. “Yes..yours,” I answered him with a moan. He began to move. There were no sharp thrusts. It was a deep, rolling grind of his hips, a gentle undulation that pressed his pelvis firmly against my clit with every inward stroke. The angle was perfect, each slow, circling motion rubbing a spot deep inside me that made my vision blur. I wrapped my legs around his waist, locking him to me, meeting his slow, grinding rhythm with one of my own.

that sounded so bad because it sounded like a moan and I wanted the opposite to happen, it made him laugh and crawl and kiss me in face and I moan from the pain as my legs are still on top of his shoulder and his burn deep into mine. “I so fucking love you. He whispered as he start moving and I lost my mind as it turn pretty wild and I didn’t even last long… and that’s pretty embarrassing. He kiss my forehead and I notice the scratches on his chest that made me shake my head and smile… damn, I’m pretty wild. **