Erotica Archives — Page 1721 of 1751 — NSFW story

Slut gets an unexpected initiation. [Mdom/fsub][bdsm]

"How do you like Amber's tongue in your pussy, slut?" I ask her as I roughly pinch her nipples- watching her face contort with every flick of her swollen buds.

"Mmhmmphmphugh," she moans in reply. Saliva and cum dripping from the sides of her mouth as she tries to voice her pleasure.

Of course, she couldn't verbally answer me, as I'd ring gagged her so I could shove my cock down her throat whenever I pleased, and blindfolded her for good measure. Not that it would matter anyway. My questions were all rhetorical- and whether she liked it or not, I would do whatever I wanted to her. This time though, she definitely liked it. I was slightly surprised at how turned on she was for her first time with another woman, but then again sluts love all sex. Read more »

The bartender

[First attempt at writing erotica, CCW]

Mona walked up to the door and rang the bell; a handsome bearded man with honey coloured eyes answered the door. "Are you the bartender?"

"Yes, sir." She replied with a perky smile on her face. Her eyes were like emeralds and her smile was infectious; she seemed sweet and innocent despite being covered in tattoos and having facial piercings–they all just seemed to fit together, despite most indie girls Jason had seen.

"Well, I'm glad that you came. It's kinda hard finding someone to work at a party like this."

"Oh, I'm not picky at all! You guys have fun and I'll make sure to stay out of the way as much as possible."

The inside of Jason's house was decorated with assorted shackles, couches, planks, and toys. An actual bar was in the back of the living room, near the kitchen. "Do you all actually have sex at these types of parties?" Mona's eyebrow raised high and she fidgeted with her backpack.

"They're mostly for display," Jason said with a smirk. Read more »

The itch (work in progress, possible more parts to come.)

Erica walked back to her desk, her tight black skirt barely covering her plump ass. She knew everyone was staring, even though she wore them to get someone elses attention, she still felt a wet spot when she caught someone looking.

When she sat down she made sure she was alone. Her work was meaningless but she kept at it because her boss, the man she wanted to see staring at her was givig her tons of fuel for her unsatiable lust.

After shaking out of a daze she found her hand underneath the skirt, gently rubbing her clit.

"Fuck." She muttered, looking at the clock. She bit her lip as she saw it was far too early to leave.

She looked around her area in the back of the office, fairly empty for a Thursday.

"I guess it cant hurt too much." She said to herself, rummaging through her purse.

A moment later she pulled out a small vibrator, the size of her finger with a cord and setting button trailing behind it.

With a soft moan she pushed it inside her pink, hungry lips. Once it was firmly inside, she turned it on low. Read more »

Moving In – Part 2 – [MMF] and a truckload of [dirtiness]

Waking up, I smelled the familiar scent of my wife’s perfume as I became aware of my surroundings and, more pressingly, her hair, splayed across the pillows before me. She had her back turned to me, and the sheets had pulled themselves back to reveal her marvelous figure. She’d never agree that it was, no matter how many times I told her, but she seemed to have accepted, and embraced, the fact that I’d never get tired of her.

I moved up behind her, and wrapped an arm around her waist, smelled the sweetness that seemed to be her natural odour, and kissed her neck. With a soft murmur, she shifted, pushed herself back against me, and for a second, we were only a single being.

"Did yesterday really happen?" she asked.

"It seems so."

I paused.

"Any regrets?"

"Not really. Do you? Aside from any physical… discomfort?" she asked with a sly smile.

"No, I’m fine, thank you." I said as I squeezed her breast, eliciting a slight giggle. Read more »

Moving In – [mmf] and a laundry-list of dirtiness.

These gathered a little bit of traction on tumblr where I first posted them, but not more than a few hundred notes. Someone else posted them elsewhere, gaining over 5000 in accumulated views and likes, so I figured I'd post them here, for posterity.

Without any further ado: Moving In, Part 1.

I walked up the stairs to the small studio we were going to move in to, two stacked boxes in my arms. My wife was still in the car, getting some smaller things. I tried to peek around my heavy load, and saw that the door was slightly ajar. The landlord had insisted on helping us, and it seemed he had already arrived.

I walked in, and set the boxes down, wiping my brow. This was looking up to be one of those hot and dry afternoons, the clouds having dissipated after the morning rain. The landlord was already naked from the waist up, trying to cool off in the heat. Some of the windows were open, and he was looking out one of them. He looked young, tan, muscular. Though I was still fairly young, those other two were more aspirations for me than actual reality. Not to say I’m fat, I just have some extra grip around my waist. As I was contemplating this and my host’s supple buttocks, my wife walked in after me, and put her boxes down as well. She turned to speak, but saw the landlord. Read more »

Sext Daddy [MF] [BDSM]

The text alert was set to vibrate. In theory, it was because she didn’t want to interrupt the class. Finals were next week, she had to pay attention.

But in reality, she knew it was because she wanted to feel the tingle, the jolt of excitement the moment his message came in. She carefully pulled the phone out of her front pocket, and saw one message waiting. A text from “Daddy.”

It wasn’t her real Daddy. It was just someone she met online. It started off innocently enough, an almost vanilla sexting affair. But she couldn’t resist. She had to try, at least once with him. She finally worked up the nerve to call him daddy, then felt smothered by the anticipation of waiting. Every second ticked by, until finally he replied back, calling her his little girl.

She wanted to ask for more. She wanted to beg for him to call her a dirty whore, to describe her getting spanked, to tell her what to do. But she didn’t want to lose her Daddy. So she took what she could get.

Today’s text was a bit tame, a simple “What are you wearing?” Read more »

Put on a show [mf] [exhibitionism]

The curtain slowly crawled up the walls of the dimly lit theater. There’s a spotlight on the stage, and you know what you want to do. You can feel the anticipation and desire welling up inside of you.

Two spotlights flicker to life, burning down on you. You can hear the audience shuffle, readying themselves.

It’s time to put on a show.

You slowly walk around the stage, sauntering your hips. Teasing with a glove, a garter. Slowly, the creeky floorboards are littered with your once-treasured lingerie. You’re left with nothing but 5-inch stiletto heel shoes and a smile.

One of the spotlights is now having trouble tracking your movement. You can almost make out the silhouette of the operator, you know that he’s long since unzipped his pants and has been slowly stroking his cock.

There’s a single, solitary chair in the center of the stage. The crowd is trying to not make a noise, but you can hear the muffled sounds of lubricated flesh. Your heels clack against the wood. You put one foot up on the chair. Your fingers go slick the moment they touch your already dripping pussy lips. You slowly spread for the crowd. Read more »

Heather and Michael Part Two

Heather and Michael Part Two Read more »

Heather and Michael Part One

During my first sexual experience, I was not touched, even kissed.

I found them on Craigslist. My friends and I would browse the Casual Encounters Personals–and the even more amusing Missed Connections–for entertainment, and I kept the pastime when away from my friends.

Under “mw4w”, I found them, seeking a young girl to watch us. Teen but legal or young looking up to 21. I was sixteen, and wanted to know about sex. I wanted to fill the gaps in the sexual education I should have received from my pious parents and their parochial surrogates at school but had instead received from my rebellious older sisters. This, it seemed, was the most dangerous way to go about it, and real, palpable, with the flaws, the scuffle, the messiness and imperfections I was certain were missing from the pornographic films ubiquitous on the internet. Read more »

Taha and Sasha: Letter for my lover [mf]

Dearest Sasha,

My love I won’t say I miss you anymore. You should enjoy. You don’t need to hear it from me again and again. At least not at such regularity. It’s strange waking up and not having you in bed next to me, not kissing you within a hearbeat of opening my eyes, not marvelling at your beautiful face in the morning, the way that the sunlight bounces so softly off your skin that you look like something not of this world. Something divine, heavenly.

In that moment, I’m filled with thought of the way we have been recently. I just wanted to say that the we are, the way we feel, it’s perfect. I love it. It’s so hard for me describe exactly what I feel. Is there even a name for such a feeling? It starts like desire, you and I, holding on to each other. We drink the other’s lips as if we’ve been wandering in the desert. We pull the other closer and closer, as if trying to mesh into one body, demanding more and more closeness, but it’s never enough. The feeling builds within me, overtaking me, controlling me. It overflows and I think I’ve found the words to let it out and so I say, “I love you”, but it’s just not enough. The words fail to convey that which is begging to get out. It’s almost like torture, not being able to tell you. It’s a higher emotion. Oneness, unity. As you say, two bodies one soul. Read more »