Written Sex Fantasy Romane & Geschichten

"Such a dirty little fake. You wanted this so bad, didn't you, Jay?" "Fuck, yes, Jake, please," I whined in my sleep, my body arching off the mattress as he teased my sensitive skin with a vibrating wand until I was crying out his name. "Take it," he whispered softly, driving a thick dildo deep into my core and spanking my ass with a loud clack until I was writhing against the sheets. "Ah, ah, fuck," I gasped in the dream. And the worst part was that I loved every single second of it. I snapped awake, gasping for air, my heart hammering against my ribs.

I want the real thing, right here. 'Wait,' I whisper, my voice husky from their cocks stretching my throat. I sit up slowly, knees drawn to my chest, feeling the mess on my skin as I meet their gazes. 'I... I want to watch you two. Fuck each other. Like in the video. Jake, fuck Alex. Please.' The words tumble out, bold and needy, my cheeks burning under the cum splatters, but the thrill of voicing my fantasy makes my clit pulse. Alex's eyes widen, a flicker of surprise mixing with that dominant hunger, while Jake's lips curl into a wicked grin, his cock twitching back to life at the idea.

I felt like clay in his hands, ready to be molded. My treacherous mind decided to play steaming images behind my retinas. *Me, bent over my desk, my skirt hiked up around my waist, his hands gripping my hips so hard they’d leave bruises as he drove into me from behind, his thick cock stretching me, filling me until I screamed. His breath hot against my ear as he whispered my name like a prayer.* The fantasy was so vivid I could almost feel the ghost of his possession, a deep, hollow pulse blooming into a slick, wet heat between my thighs.

was some kind of campus Casanova, a mysterious god of sex who’d seen it all, done it twice, and written the manual. The truth was, I was a fraud. A beautiful, well-structured, grammatically perfect fraud. I was a virgin whose only sexual experience was the chafing on his own dick and the bitter taste of his own cum. Lately, the stories were getting harder to write. The well was running dry, and my own hand was getting tired. I was recycling my own pathetic fantasies, and they were getting stale. The latest comments on the magazine’s online forum were a public execution. ‘The author is obviously a virgin. Total turn-off.’ That one line had burned itself onto the inside of my eyelids. They kne

Elena’s voice was a soft, breathy whisper. "I want you to throw me against the wall," she whispered. "I want you to rip that red thong off my body. I want to feel your hands everywhere. I want you to lick my pussy until I’m screaming your name so loud the neighbors hear. And then, I want you to fuck me until I can't stand up. I want to be your toy, Dante." Dante’s breath hitched. He felt like his heart was going to explode. The erotica of her words was too much. He couldn't sit in his office anymore. He was a man of action, and his wife had just issued a challenge.

My pussy clenched around nothing, a fresh stream of wetness leaking out as my legs shook violently against the bed. "I'm going to ask you again," He whispered staring at his juice covered palm. "Did you go through my stuff?" “I… I looked through your stuff. I saw the toys and the pictures.” I whimpered my voice cracking. Sameal nodded slowly, a dark smile tugging at his lips. “Good girl for telling the truth. Now touch yourself. Show me how you were playing with that greedy little cunt.” My hand trembled as I reached down and slowly I started circling my clit with two fingers. I was slow at first but my pace began to increase.

Every kiss made me weaker, until resisting felt pointless. I kissed him back. His hands slid down my thigh, and the shiver it sent through me was too good to deny. He pulled me close, guiding me onto the counter. My whole body ached with pleasure and excitement as he pushed my legs open. Every touch sent shivers through me. I had to bite my lip to suppress my loud moans as he was finger fucking me fastly. He slipped his middle hand to join his index finger, stretching me up. He pulled out his fingers and placed them in his mouth, staring deeply in my eyes.

"Usually, I fuck. Hard. No bullshit. No romantic kissing crap. I like to grab a woman, spread her legs, thrust deep, and hear her scream while she cums on my cock." Clara felt her clit pulse hard, a hot jet of lubrication dripping down her slit and soaking her lace panties. Her nipples ached from how hard they were. "That's good..." she murmured, uncrossing her legs again, opening a bit more so he could see the dark fabric of the panties clinging to her slick lips. "Because in my book, the firefighter fucks the writer until she forgets her own name. He shoves that thick cock in her pussy, then her ass, uses her like a slut until she can't walk. Want to help me write that scene? For real?"

The first thing that comes to your mind. I took a deep breath and wrote in the most honest tone I could muster: I want to be tied up, blindfolded and fucked by men I don’t know and will never see. My heart raced so hard I could feel the pulse in my throat. With a shaky hand, I reached for a second piece of paper from the pad. I want to taste pussy. I couldn’t believe I wrote that. I was so hot and so wet just thinking about it. I reached for a third piece of paper and thought about what my very last sexual fantasy might be.

No foreplay was required in this ecstatic world of perfection, and penetration was effected in a single snag-free glide. Tumbling back to reality, and almost falling off his stool in the process, Elliot sighed with regret. He really loved the ‘hotel room’ fantasy, although he had to admit it wasn’t entirely all his own work. The protagonists - Diamanda and himself — were his choice of course, but the scenario, the setting and the nitty-gritty of the bedroom action came straight from one of the lady’s own stories, The Spider's Web, which was all about a beautiful, sexually voracious woman who picked up young men in bars and lured them to hotel rooms to fuck them.