Erotica Archives — Page 1742 of 1751 — NSFW story

Excerpt from ‘The Weekender’ [mf]

Let me tell you, the best ever was Billy Morrow during my first year of college. I was home for the weekend and so was he – we'd seen each other at the grocery store. I honestly don't know what it was about him, but at the time I just wanted to surrender everything to that boy. Sure, he was good looking, but I also felt so safe with him. I knew that if we did it, he wouldn't have told a soul. I was ready to hand over my virginity that night when he snuck into my room. But we both got too freaked out that my dad would walk in.

So, to mitigate the risk, he sat on the far side of my bed and reached a hand up under my covers. I obliged by pulling my panties down below my knees and hiking my shirt up over my chest. He couldn't see anything, but he had free reign otherwise. We figured if my dad walked in, we'd have at least a passing chance of not getting caught. Read more »

Female friend asked for details about what I was going to do to her

"As I teased her, gently tracing her panty line through her jeans. As I moved to slide my hand inside, she allows me, breathing deeply, her lips twitching. Making a "V" with my fingers I massage the outside of her pussy, stopping and sliding slowly back up again when the base of my fingers have reach her clit, pausing to briefly press and grind against it. As her soft moans become short gasps, begging soundlessly for more, I begin to explore. This being a new pussy, one of have yet to discover, I take my time. My two fingers together, gently moving down, finding her clit, testing with a gentle circular rub to make sure it is indeed her clit, then continuing down, slowly with pressure to ensure that when I come across her wet tight swollen hole my fingers will enter as this is the only way I know to actually find myself inside the proper hole, and not her anus." Read more »

Laura [mf] [historical] part 1. Xpost r/sexystories and r/eroticliterature

Nothing of note was happening. Laura traced the grain of the thick oak table beneath her fingertips, following it under heavy cream linen, and sighed as hard as she could without coughing. Her husband woke with a start, his napkin sliding down his chest and crumpling on his knee.

'She's the very wife of the devil, Lamb' spluttered Paul, hoping the new addition to his young wife's ladies in waiting was still the topic of her grumblings. There was always something wrong. Paul couldn't understand how a young, comely woman like Laura could find so much to complain about, with all her life stretched out before her. In the short time they'd been married he'd felt the pleasures of those soft thighs only once and she'd avoided his eye then, too.

Long gone were the days of Maria, his first wife. She'd welcomed him home from years bathing in the blood of the French with open arms, legs and everything else. The night he'd returned, aching and tired, she bathed his wounds and distracted him from the pain well. He'd left her a timid maid, barely speaking a word of English and had returned to a woman who spoke perfectly, in a warm Spanish purr. In the years since her death in childbirth he'd been alone until Laura was sent his way, rich in land but poor in title. Twenty two, a widow at twenty and apparently barren. Her father had practically begged him. She was a year older than his son. Read more »

That time I never wanted to stop. Part Three: The night that didn’t end

It was hot and we were sticky. The air conditioning and exposed brickwork was doing nothing to cool our bodies in those moments. The shower was all encompassing and inviting, with the dull red tiles rippling in as the water streamed down them. I was behind her, holding her arms tight to her sides with my grip on her wrists. My teeth and lips were being purposeful about her neck and lobes, and the very nature of having her at my whim was casually bringing my cock back to the start. I took a moment to gather her hands behind her back with one of mine, and pressed firmly, forcing her to nestle the side of her cheek to the fresh tiling. And now, with the water beading and running from the small of her back, I teased into her warm pussy; short, shallow thrusts followed by a deep one, nice and slow.

I’m a complete tease at heart. If I could do it all day I probably would; I was torn between reeling myself back in after our initial lust and at the same time just wanting to fuck for every minute of the night. I pulled out and spun her round, drawing her in close to feel her breasts up against my chest. We kissed under the drenching. I allowed her to touch and play with what she wanted. Read more »

That time I never wanted to stop. Part Two: The Hoxton

So I was at Stanstead airport, leaning casually on the the arrivals’ railings with a cardboard S’fucks (scalding the already over-roasted blend), feeling an apprehensive pang in my stomach. Yeah, I wasn’t casual at all. Everyone fucking knew what I was doing – there’s no way you can hide that. The facial reactions always give it away. You can always tell the “nervous to meet because it’s a fuck liaison” in any situation: restaurants, cafés, bars, buses…libraries…you get the picture; body language is a whole other post. Yet, this time really was different; it wasn’t just some booty call – I really wanted to know this girl.

Finding someone with which small talk doesn’t ever exist Read more »

That time I never wanted to stop. Part One: Voice Memo

There’s always someone with which you share your most erotic and fiendishly sensual moments. Someone that your experiences with go beyond one telling. Someone that defies all reasonable and sensible thought because you just have to have that final, lingering, kiss. C was my “someone”.

We’d met by random chance. I was struck down, immediately, by her smile, her laugh, her flowing brunette locks – how could I possibly look away, even for a second, from those effervescent irises… And then, fuck…then she would speak. Her softly accented tone making my name sound fresh and new, like no one had ever articulated it properly before; making it her own and me more hers with every, single, syllable. I was utterly sold. Read more »

Master of Castle Oscarshall Part V [mf] [bdsm]

Part 5:

Jean lead Sabrina over the hardwood floor of the bedroom onto a blood red rug in front of the fireplace. A teapot sat on a warmer on the nearby coffee table. Jean poured camomille tea into a mug and handed the mug to his pet. “For your throat, my dear.” Sabrina sipped at the tea, soothing her sore throat muscles. She remained on her knees on the rug. Jean grabbed some gear from a table away from the fire while Sabrina sat and drank.

Sabrina placed the half-drunk tea on the coffee table. “Master, I'm waiting for you,” she whispered into the darkness of the spacious bedroom. Jean emerged from the dark holding a long, fluffy fox tail and a bottle of lubricant. He turned the business end of the tailplug toward Sabrina, “Down, girl!” Sabrinapushed her chest into the comfy rug, stretching her arms out in front and pushing her ass into the air. She wore a garter belt with no panties beneath, and he naughty parts shined in the firelight in her Master's view. Read more »

The Master of Castle Oscarshall: Part IV [mf] [bdsm]

Part 4:

Steam poured from the marble of the shower floor. Jean sat on the stool underneath the downpour. His eyes were tight shut, his mind was focused. He felt like a king again – and rightfully so, as he currently sat in his castle. The watered trickled and then stopped falling as Jean twisted the knobs tight on the wall. He allowed himself to drip dry, standing in the center of the bathroom, and admiring himself in the mirror. Perhaps it was his rediscovered dominance, but Jean felt like a stud.

Meanwhile in the library, draped in a blanket, but otherwise still obediently nude, Sabrina poured over a book. She was absorbed in the history of the castle's inhabitants. Eleven generations had come and gone from Oscarshall; Jean would be the twelfth. It's original walls all stood strong. Sabrina dived into the memoirs written two hundred years in the past, losing track of time and space.

In the master bedroom, Jean stood before the vanity mirror. He straightened the collar of his shirt and fastened his wrists with cuff links. The tie tightened around his neck. His dark coat slipped over his shoulders. He buttoned it closed. Jean examined himself and the room around him. Perfect. Read more »

Master of Castle Oscarshall Part III [mf] [bdsm]

Part 3:

Sabrina awoke in a haze, her eyes out of focus. Her panties were on, her hair didn't feel like the mess she expected. She sat up and looked around the room. No Jean in sight. Sabrina ambled out of bed and into the hallway. She didn't hear anything or see anyone. She began to think maybe last night's events had been a dream.

Sabrina pushed the door to the bathroom open and sat down on the toilet to pee. Ouch! Sabrina stood back up as she felt a sting from the toilet seat. She peered at her ass in the mirror – faintly visible fingerprint marks remained on her cheeks. Jean must have really been there. She shuddered – where was Jean now? Had he left her again? Sabrina was so sick of being alone. She choked back tears as she sat back on the toilet.

A few minutes later, Sabrina stepped out of the bathroom and strolled down the hall to foyer. The kitchen was located on the end of castle away from the sleeping quarters. From across the foyer, Sabrina heard sizzling. Jean? Read more »

Master of Castle Oscarshall part II

Part 2:

The fog had already cleared from the mirror as Sabrina finally slipped into her chemise and slippers. She had taken her time pampering herself and painting her toenails. Sabrina felt sexy; what a shame she didn't have someone to share the castle with. Maybe she would go to town tomorrow and finally try to find a guy. Sabrina had spent a lot longer in the bathroom than she expected, and she was still supposed to explore the castle. 'Screw it, I'll look around in the morning,' she thought. She opened the bathroom door and headed back to her room.

As she walked into the dark room, Sabrina realized there was no light switch. The bedroom was lit naturally – she had to find the bed by memory. 'Not too tough,' she thought, walking confident toward the bed. Fwump! Sabrina's foot collided with her suitcase. She felt forward, luckily, into the bed. 'Weird, I thought I put the suitcase next to the armoire.' The thought passed; Sabrina was sleepy and the mattress was fluffy and warm. She crawled up to the pillow, flung her arms around it and cuddled it. She drifted off into sleep. Read more »