Young Bruno Mars Novelas e Histórias

After we finished making love, I lay against the edge of the bed, catching my breath as the lingering warmth slowly faded. In the past, my husband would always smile and ask me the same question: "Satisfied now?" But tonight was different.

After giving birth, I underwent body restoration surgery, but I never expected that the doctor would turn out to be my student's...

On a bunk bed that's installed in the back of the truck, my husband, Dylan Gallagher, kisses me passionately while groping me incessantly. "Honey, I'm definitely taking you with me to work all the time." I can only squirm awkwardly beneath him. "B-Be gentle with me, geez…" Then, I look in the direction of the top bunk, where a certain someone is spying on us from behind the bed…

I was a woman with a strong appetite for intimacy. After a car accident, however, my husband couldn't get it up anymore…

"Coach, please stop. I came here to learn how to drive, not to have an affair." Inside the instructor's car, because I kept failing to control the clutch, Coach Reeves, who happened to be my husband's friend, made me sit on his lap to teach me. The problem was, I was wearing a short skirt that day, and underneath it, I wasn't even wearing safety shorts. Even worse, he actually pulled his member out and pressed it straight against me.

"Ouch, that hurts!" Underneath the bright lights, the man makes me lie facedown on the bed. Then, he pushes my waist down from behind, seemingly looking for the best spot. I feel something odd press against me and cry out, telling him to stop. He doesn't, though. In fact, he grabs hold of my belt.

My mom, Allison Ramsey, runs an adult store. One day, I'm so tired that I doze off inside, only to end up accidentally trapped in one of those pleasure beds. When Mr. Palmer from next door walks in, he mistakes me for the store's latest doll and proceeds to pull down my hot pants.

“No… I can’t… Uh… My body belongs to my husband…” At the gym, I hired a personal trainer to work on my glutes. To make sure I was training my hips right, I wore a pink mini skirt with a hint of my plain white underwear peeking out from underneath. As if I wasn’t sensitive enough, the personal trainer lifted my skirt and pressed against my thighs. I felt a tingling sensation coursing through my body. The personal trainer tugged down my damp underwear. “Are you getting an itch you can’t scratch? Let me help you there.”

"What's that bulge? It looks different from mine." My eighteen-year-old neighbor, sweet but simple, stared curiously at the place between my legs, a hungry glint in her eyes. I played dumb. "Why don't you show me what yours looks like?" To my surprise, without the slightest hesitation, she suddenly tugged off her little white skirt, revealing a smooth, bare patch of skin. "See? Right here—it's totally flat. There's nothing at all."

I'm at the amusement park with my husband and our daughter when my blouse—still damp from breastfeeding—catches the eye of a father from my daughter's kindergarten class. He secretly takes pictures of me and starts blackmailing me, demanding a taste. My husband and our daughter are close by, but he grows bolder by the minute and orders me to undo his belt.