The Grind Is Real Novels & Stories

“I told myself it was nothing just guys being guys but shit now that I got you here grinding on me I know I was lying to myself the whole time your ass feels way too good to ignore anymore.” His words hit me deep and my cock jumped hard in his hand leaking a fresh spurt of precum that ran down his fingers while shame burned hot in my face because this was my best friend saying this shit out loud. He shifted under me and pushed his shorts all the way down, freeing his thick cock completely and it slapped up heavy and bare against my ass, the hot skin on skin making me suck in a sharp breath. Jordan started grinding it slowly between my cheeks, the fat head catching on my hole every time he sl

“Grind against my hand like the needy little slut you are. Try to get closer—go on, chase it.” I do—hips rolling shamelessly, trying to press my clit harder into his palm, but he keeps the pressure just out of reach. Every grind makes my pussy clench, slick dripping into the bathwater, mixing with the steam. My entrance flutters around nothing, begging to be filled.

My younger brother, Victor Bishop, has a silver tongue. That's why our parents, Paul Bishop and Jenna Cole, treat him like a treasure. I am socially awkward and blind to social cues, so they send me to the countryside to train. They even say there's no need to treat me well. They feed me scraps and make me sleep in the barn. After I turn 18, they put me in the family company to test me. Because of me, the Bishops become the richest family in Caldera. But Victor teams up with our parents and steals the credit that should've been mine. Everyone in the business world treats him like a star. Later, a building he cuts corners on collapses and kills dozens of workers. He makes me take the

“Grind for me. I want to feel every bit of that little needy pussy through these clothes.” I obeyed, my movements becoming faster, more desperate. I was losing myself in the friction, my head rolling back as the internal coil tightened to a maddening point. It was a torment, a delightful torture—the wet sound of our bodies colliding, the throaty breath we could barely manage and the possessiveness of his hands on my ass. I felt that old but familiar, white hot-strain blooming inside of me. Damn it, I was going to cum. I was going to fucking cum from just grinding against this man while I had been denied of this for months even with Silas being inside of me.

With greater intent than before. The knot starts to swell. I feel it nudge at my rim every time I rock back, a little bigger each time, and neither of us speeds up for it. I just keep taking it, a little further, a little fuller, until one last push seats it and it won't come back out. He's locked inside me, as far in as he'll go, and all that's left to do is grind. So I grind while his thumb keeps rolling, and I cum over his fist and both our stomachs with my face pressed against his. "I love you. So fucking much."

The logical part of my brain, which hadn't shut down yet–raised alarm–warning me to stop before it went too far. I wanted to listen to the warning but, I couldn't. All these foreign emotions were clouding my brain and channeled my focus to the pleasure coursing through my body. His grinding became urgent and the pressure was building up within me. I felt like something was out of reach and just when I was about to reach it–his mobile blared. "Fuck!" He cursed and I let out a whimper when I lost contact. "I need to take this," he hissed when he saw the caller ID.

“You feel so good, baby. Grind harder, Mia, make us both cum like this.” She sped up, now mashing our clits together in a frantic motion. Every grind sent fresh sparks through my core. I could feel her pussy clenching against mine, indicating her readiness to explode. “Look at us,” she whispered in a shaky voice, looking down at where we joined. “Look how wet we are. See my pussy grind all over yours. Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum soon.” “Me too,” I moaned, digging my nails into her snapping hips. “Keep going, don’t stop. Rub that clit on me, baby. Make me squirt all over you.”

Already rocking in sync with the tune, the grinder began to dance. The crowd clapped along to the rhythm. The fellow came closer, his body managing a mad jig badly at odds with the beat of the music he played. Kathy backed away when she saw the exhaustion on the man’s face. Sweat was pouring down his scalp and over his eyes, probably all but blinding him as he continued his performance. Looking around, Kathy saw some members of his audience begin to mimic his movements, dancing close enough to drop a coin into the little container fixed to the top of the organ. The grinder danced more wildly with each donation. His extra effort brought Kathy’s attention to the soles threatening to tear loose

From the helicopter, I watched Alfred race to the crash site, clutching the fallen license plate, crying out, "Helen, Ruby..." It did not take long for the internet to explode with news of Ruby and I dying in that fiery wreck. I held my sleeping Ruby tight, put away my phone, and whispered, "This is it, Alfred. We're done for good." Alfred was haunted, thinking it was all some nightmare. He would slap himself, pinch his skin, and even jab himself with a knife, desperate to snap out of it. However, the pain, sharp and undeniable, kept telling him the brutal truth.

"Oh they do, do they?" "Yup." In an attempt to prove my point, I ground my butt down into him--a soft hiss escaping my lips as the action only further stimulated my clit. "Almost as good as a pillow." I flushed a bright red at the words, thankful my brother couldn't see my face as I imagined one of my favorite ways of getting myself off by grinding against a pillow.