He tore her leggings down and, in a hurry, pressed her leg up and open. She positioned him and with a hot moan, she stroked along the ultra sensitive head. He had to tense every muscle to hold still for her. She was wet. More than wet. She was soaked, so wet for him he bent, took her mouth in a rough kiss and fucked up into her without a thought other than how bad he needed her. “So wet,” he growled. “For me?” “Yes, oh my God, you’re so perfect. All for you,” she whispered, releasing him but grabbing hold of his shoulders instead and moaning for him. “Give me all of it.”
Because lifting his arms to the doorframe made his jacket rise up enough to expose the top of his low-slung jeans. As well as the thin green line of his boxers hugging his hips underneath. It didn’t take X-ray vision to know that just above that patch of skin, hidden by his white undershirt and whatever else he had on under his black North Face fleece, were two long dimples carved into his lower back, matching the dimples on his face. Officially the sexiest part of any man’s body and the one thing Casey dreamed about on those rare nights when she did, in fact, allow herself to dream. But this was not going to be one of those images she replayed in her mind’s eye. She was already berating herself for noticing. Not only had she turned to putty simply because he slid the hair out of his eyes as if he didn’t know the gesture would make every girl within a ten-mile radius want to extend her hand to his cheek. But she, Cassandra Webb, competent, capable, got dumped on her ass but still got back up again, thirty-four-year-old independent woman, had checked out his twenty-something-year-old butt.
Callista pushed her hand between her tightly clenched thighs and pressed the heel of it against her aching flesh. The sharp tingle spread out from her center flooding her with instant heat. Damn him! She thought as her body shuddered. Why am I allowing him to make me feel this way? Surrender, indeed! The nerve of him. Does he really think he can manipulate my mind with basic NLP? He may be trying to get me in the mood for the project, but I am not his Guinea pig, I am his assistant. I will have to make the terms of this arrangement very clear before we begin. She tried to work for a while, pushing away the thoughts of her earlier conversation with Anbu and his suggestive message. She fooled herself into believing it was working, but when a video on the mating habits of the African Dung Beetle seemed arousing to her, she slammed the laptop shut. King of love, huh! She muttered to herself. Grabbing the cold bottle of Rose′ from her fridge, she headed to her neighbor Chad’s apartment.
Austin wrapped his lips around Beau’s cockhead, his flavor exploding on Austin’s tongue. He leisurely sampled him, memorizing everything he could about Beau’s rigid flesh in case he never had it in his mouth again. He sucked the full tip then dipped into the wide valley to tease Beau’s glans. He swirled his tongue a few times then opened up more, Beau’s soft steel filling the cavern of his mouth, swelling even more. Beau had picked up a slow rhythm, still holding onto his hair with one hand, caressing his cheek with the other. “That’s it, very nice.” Beau thrust harder. “You want more?” His voice was throaty and thick. Austin lifted his gaze and they locked eyes. He nodded as best he could with his lips encased around Beau’s thick cock. He opened as wide as he could, reaching up to grab the base of Beau’s shaft. Beau batted his hand away.
Jacqui Sinclair is one of the most popular writers for EarnTheNecklace.com. Her first novel, The Imperfect Gentleman, is the story of an ambitious, struggling college student whose life suddenly changes when she meets a much older, wealthier man. Seduced by his mind, body, and wallet, this perfect relationship quickly spirals into a twisted tale of sex, lies, and deceit, with a stunning twist that will blow your mind A tribute to sexual exploration and self-discovery, The Imperfect Gentleman is a rollercoaster ride of sexual exploration and self-discovery—and proves that there is nothing better than sex with a much older man.
Having worked in the film and fashion industries for over two decades, Jeanette Lebo is no stranger to the sexual exploits that accompany ambition and fame. Jeanette’s passion for writing and love of erotica combined with her life experience led her to pen her first erotic novel, Off Limits: a story about a successful film Production Director who falls hopelessly in love with a younger guy who is totally off-limits. Jeanette’s second novel, Chandra, is based on one of the naughtier characters in Off Limits, and is scheduled for release in early 2016 . . . stay tuned.
I step out of my boxers, making my way closer to the shower. The cold air from the door opening startles Christy, but when she sees it’s me she relaxes again. The smile that I love spreads over her lips, lighting up her face as she beckons me in with an outstretched finger. I don’t hesitate, needing to be with her. She draws me in until we’re both under the blast of hot water. Fuck! How the hell can she stand it this hot? She’s a self-confessed shower tart. She’d be happy to spend all day under the warm stream if I’d let her. Christy moves for the shower gel, turning me around to lather my back. The slow, sensual stroke of her hands feels so good. The tension starts to leave my shoulders and body. I turn and lean in to gently nip at her neck, while her hands move behind me to massage my ass. She let’s out that little moan that gets me every time. My erection pushes itself into her stomach, wanting in on the action. Laughing quietly she moves a hand around to my front, taking a firm hold of my cock. Shit, that feels so good. She squeezes lightly, massaging up and down my length. Her soap covered hands so soft and slick against me.
And then he spanked again. And again. Little by little, he soothed and spanked, soothed and spanked. It didn’t hurt much, but I was on fire. Something deep in my soul had been ignited and it felt like coming home. He released my wrists from where he’d been holding them, tight above my head. I reached for his cock, gripping it tightly in my grasp. He was rock solid and I couldn’t help feeling relief that he was enjoying this as much as me. He sat up, leaning against the headboard, propping cushions round his thighs, legs out straight in front of him. I lay still, waiting and wondering. Then Matt pulled me over his knee, my body supported by the mattress. He was rougher this time, as though in his mind, he’d worked out what we both wanted and needed. His cock pressed up hard between my thighs, where he’d positioned me over it and I pushed down to meet it. The pre-come on his head smeared across my clit and I circled my hips, working myself over his hard protrusion, wanting the release from the pressure he’d built inside me.
Quinn hadn’t put any underwear on after his shower earlier, so he jerked a little when Robin took a hold of Quinn’s cock. There were calluses on Robin’s palm and fingers that felt amazing against Quinn’s sensitive skin. “Wow,” he murmured and Robin laughed. “You think that feels great, just wait.” Robin wiggled down to settle between Quinn’s thighs.
Aaron assumed Valen meant the cum that kept landing on him. After it hit Aaron’s chin, Valen arched his pelvis closer and Aaron’s cheek and neck were the recipients of the next two shots of spunk. The fourth one landed on Aaron’s shoulder. Aaron opened his mouth up to speak. He got no further than a startled sound when Valen swiped his fingers through his own cum then held them to Aaron’s lips. Aaron’s belly fluttered and he debated what to do for all of a half second. He stuck his tongue out tentatively in case he absolutely hated the taste of cum, then moaned happily when he discovered that the salty flavor wasn’t bad at all. A little bitter. Aaron had always preferred that over sweet. “Gods, that’s so sexy.” Valen pushed his spunk-covered fingers into Aaron’s mouth. “The things we could do together...” Aaron sucked eagerly, both appalled and thrilled with his own daring. “Fuck,” Valen gritted out. “Your tongue feels so silky. It’s made for my—” He pressed his lips together and yanked his fingers from Aaron’s mouth.
Bob McNeil is a writer, spoken word artist and illustrator of some modest renown. Influenced by Jessica Holter and Anaïs Nin, he attempts to address the needs of our human mosaic. Although Bob McNeil is primarily known for political art and poetry, a few of his erotic stories were published by MM Publications, Ltd and New Wave Press, Inc.
Soon, both of her legs were bound from ankle to thigh, her slick lips completely open. Damian moved to the floor. The chair he’d been sitting in hit the carpet with a soft thud when he kicked it out of the way. Tommy pointed to the other chair, and Damian kicked it away too. “Put your hands on your tits.”
“Yes,” moaned Hannah in-between kisses. He was definitely in the right place, and although it felt better than his finger-play weeks before, she still didn’t feel quite the same as when her husband or even she had done it before. So she simply decided to move their play into another position. She spun on top of him, skirt still up, and backed into him in a lap dance. She grabbed for his hand and stuffed it back into the front of her panties, allowing him to pet her while she intensified the gyration as she backed into him. Danny groaned, and then lifted her off of him quickly. “I think I need some air.” He quickly exited the back seat, and stood up next to the car, taking in a few deep breaths. Hannah smiled. She might have made him almost pop right then and there. She felt a sense of pride that she could do so much to him, fully clothed. She wished she could do more. “Are you okay?” she asked, leaning out of the back seat to look at him.
And before he could blink, there was Emily, his Emily, on her knees in front of him, one of her hands gently grasping his balls as the other stroked his rock-hard cock through the soaked fabric of his jeans. He feared he would come from just the touch of her hand, even with the jeans shielding him from the feel of her delicate skin wrapped around his cock. He needed them off now, wished he held some magical power so that one sweep of his hand could make the jeans and his boots disappear. Remove the barrier that stood between him and ramming his cock home in the sweet haven of her pussy. “Oh, Em, I don’t think I’ll last. I want you so much.”
We turned several corners of narrow, winding streets. I smelled garlic, tomatoes on the vine, then he pushed me down a narrow opening against a wall. It was warm against my back and he was very hard as he pressed into me. He kissed me. His breath smelled like peppermint and coffee. “You haven’t been smoking,” I said, as he rubbed his gigantic cock against me. “I never smoke when I want to fuck. I’m really glad you came.” He trailed his tongue down my neck then stopped. He made my heart race and he knew it. “Take it out,” he whispered, moving back to my ear. “I can’t take it out,” I said, as people kept traipsing past us. “Take it out. Now.”
Her breathing quickened at his possessive touch. If she moved her legs apart, anyone at the end of the table would have a view of her pussy. Crap. This was not what she had envisioned for the evening. She considered explaining, but doubted he’d be sympathetic. Screw it, the lighting was subdued and her skirt covered enough—she hoped. Slowly, reluctantly, she spread her legs until her foot was lined up with the corner. “I’m going to place the manacle around your ankle. I won’t latch it, pet. You are to remain still. If you remove your leg, I will be disappointed.”
She sucked a breath between her teeth. So, so much better. “Did I get your attention?” he asked as he rubbed the tender spot. “Yes, Sir,” she said. “Thank you.” “That’s better.” He grabbed her ass cheeks like he had earlier and squeezed again. She surrendered to the exquisite pain, letting her body go limp. “Now, Sydney, I’m going to play with you the way I like to play with submissives. I want to ensure you get off, but this is about what I want, too.”