Wikisource Erotica Novels & Stories

My thighs pressed together on instinct, but it was already too late. A slick rush of wetness flooded my panties, hot and sudden, soaking the delicate lace until it clung to my swollen fold. My clit pulsed hard, as if his voice had whispered the command straight against my skin. God. I was dripping. Just from an email. Just from the knowledge that the most explicit thing I’d ever written...forty-three pages of raw, shameless fantasy...was now sitting in his inbox. I had submitted the wrong file. On Monday night I’d been running on cold coffee and three hours of sleep, watching a course submission portal count down the last two minutes before the deadline.

The pain and pleasure mixed until I could not tell them apart. “Again,” Marcus demanded. Lila grabbed the powerful wand vibrator. She pressed it mercilessly against my clit while Marcus pounded my cunt and Lila worked the dildo deep in my ass. The triple stimulation felt overwhelming. My body could not handle it. . I sobbed and shook. My holes clenched and fluttered around both intrusions. I tried to beg for mercy but only broken whimpers came out of my mouth. Tears ran down my cheeks. Marcus pulled out suddenly. His cock shone with my cream. Lila immediately took him into her mouth. She deepthroated him clean. Then she guided him back to my gaping, dripping pussy.

Shamefully, eagerly wet. His fingers traced the edge of my panties, feeling how soaked the fabric had become. A quiet shiver ran through me as he pressed the flat of his hand firmly against my center, rubbing slow circles over my swollen clit through the drenched lace. The pressure was perfect, teasing yet deliberate. On the screen, a woman screamed as something monstrous chased her through a pitch-black forest, but I could barely register it. All my mind was focused on was Lucas’s hand working between my spread thighs in the dark.

"Bend over the desk. Ass up, legs spread." I scrambled up, skirt hiked to my waist, tits spilling out as he ripped my blouse open—buttons pinging across the floor. Cool wood hit my nipples, hardening them more. I arched my back, pussy exposed, lips puffy and dripping, clit peeking out begging. He stepped behind, rubbing his cock along my slit slow, coating himself in my juices. The fat head nudged my entrance, parting folds, but didn't push in. "Beg for it, Mira. Beg your boss to ruin this married pussy."

The assigned text, Bataille’s Erotism, was a descent into philosophical darkness. It spoke of the sacred and the profane, of violence as a gateway to ecstasy, of transgression as a necessary rupture of the mundane world. Elara read it in her small apartment, her body still sore and marked from the last session, the words resonating in her bones. She understood, now, that her thesis was not merely an academic exercise. It was a lived experience, a mapping of her own violation and transcendence.

Something aching to be molded. I met him in my Tuesday night workshop. "Erotics of Language"—a curated space for writers who wanted to learn how to use sensuality in storytelling. Most came in with curiosity or thinly veiled hunger. He came in with a notebook gripped like a lifeline and questions trembling on his lips. I noticed him in the third session. He waited until everyone had left to speak to me. “I—um—can I ask you something… off the record?” I folded my arms, tilted my head. “You just did.”

I said to Ginger, as I slipped my hands under her nightshirt and felt her bare ass with both of my hands. "Right, they don't know about our sapphic love affairs yet," said Ginger. "Sapphic, I like that word. Why have we not used it before?" I asked. "Probably because I only just learned it last week while reading a story on Literotica," said Ginger. "Literotica, what's that?" I asked. "Only the best website in the world for erotic literature and the like. You should check it out," said Ginger. "I'll do that when we get back home, it sounds interesting!" I replied.

“Just like that, Erica. Keep bouncing on me and beg for my cum. You want my fucking cum don't you?" “Yes! Please, give me your cum,” I whimpered, feeling like I was about to explode around him. “Please, Dr. Evans, fill my tight little pussy with your cum. I need it so badly. It’ll make me come all around your hard cock.” “Oh, Fuck,” he grunted, slamming my hips down on his cock and forcing them still. I knew he was trying to stop himself from coming already, but he didn’t tell me to stop bouncing. So, I continued to buck my hips back and forth, my breasts moving against his chest and my pussy exploding around his cock.

Jack growled, stepping up into my space. He reached into a heavy leather bag on his workbench and pulled out a solid, polished steel cock ring. With a single, forceful shove, he snapped the cold metal ring tightly around the base of my shaft and balls, locking my erection into a throbbing, agonizing trap. I let out a sharp gasp as an intense, suffocating pressure shot straight to my core. The steel was merciless—I couldn't ejaculate if I begged for it. My pleasure was locked away, firmly under his control.

“Is that all?? You can go ahead.” Naomi walked to the bookshelf and bent down. Her skirt lifted high, showing him the blue lace stretched over her ass. She dragged her finger slowly across the spines. “You have a nice collection,” she murmured, pulling one free. She flipped the pages, pretending to read. “Romance.” Her eyes flicked back to him. “Do you have something raw? Something erotic?” "Is that what you want to read?" Raymond asked. "Yeah," she replied. "I love reading erotic stories."