I cannot help it. I’m already too in love with his wolfdog hybrid story line lol
tw: somnophilia, dubcon-ish. MDNI
Wolfdog hybrid who just can’t help himself. Months of living with you and trying to behave are making him go insane.
You’re sleeping, and you smell so good. He wonders if you’re having a wet dream. He hopes it’s about him. The hybrid slowly lifts the blanket off of you, being very careful not to wake you. He’s already drooling at the sight of your breast, nipples hardening under the cold air. One clawed hand come up to cup one, squeezing softly. A gasp leaves your lips, causing his hips to involuntarily thrust. He swears he could just cum like this. He lowers his head, licking and sucking on your other nipple through the shirt. His ears are up and alert for he would hate to wake you. You’re just so sweet and pliant when you sleep.
Another soft gasp leaves you as he is nibbling at your breast and it’s already making him take off his pants and rub his leaking cock against your thigh. Finally, he lifts your shirt up, and bites into your nipple. Only hard enough to make you moan, but not hard enough to leave marks. He doesn’t want you to know what he has been up to yet. Although, his self control is slowly slipping. His other hand goes in between your legs, and oh, how wet you are. Your dream must be incredibly erotic. He starts humping into your leg faster, harder, muffling his moans by biting into your breast.
When he finally cums, it’s so much his head snaps up, looking at your face, wanting to make sure it didn’t wake you. It didn’t. Fortunately for him, you were out like a light. The hybrid chuckled a little at himself. Full humans were such airheads, so little survival instincts. He must protect you he thinks to himself. Leave his scent all over you so anyone else knows who you have at home.
Of course one time isn’t enough for him. Not with all the months of built up tension. He moves over you, parting your legs and starts to hump you again. His cock was already painfully hard again, still leaking. There is a huge puddle of cum on the sheets already but he doesn’t care. He will release himself over your whole body if he has to. You’re his after all. Even if you don’t know it yet.
Your panties are completely soaked and to a beast in heat like him, it must mean you’re enjoying yourself as much as he enjoys it. He keeps humping you like an animal, biting your shoulder to keep himself quiet until he comes all over your lower abdomen. But does he stop? No. By morning you are so covered in his release there is no doubt about what happened that night. However, you don’t say anything. But you do make sure you wear sexier pjs that night to bed.
You were cursed, clearly there was no other way to explain the constant slipping of your pants, skirts being flipped up, and underwear getting pulled on or tugged to the side whenever you are out in public.
Cursed.
Your friend had given you this shiny new bracelet for your birthday, and ever since, you have been fighting invisible demons of misfortune with your clothes, all kinds just keep slipping down or are messed with, even when you are alone at home, they end up out of place 100% of the time.
You had brought it up with a friend, and they brushed it off, laughing and telling you curses aren't real and to just buy a belt or something, offering to show you the bracelet isn't cursed by wearing it for a day.
They didn't have a single malfunction the whole day, but the moment you slip the bracelet back around your wrist, your pants fell, belt and all, still firmly closed, your friend giggled and joked that you must be cursed after all.
Going home and tossing the godforsaken bracelet into your junk drawer, you enjoy a little bit of comfort and relaxation as you lounge in your bed, blessedly dressed in your comfy clothes, as you drift off in your bed.
Only to wake to the cursed bracelet back on your wrist, a little note tied to it reading 'don't take me off again :((' in scribbled handwriting. Trying to remove the awful thing is met with no luck, tugging, unlatching, trying to cut it off, nothing is making the horrid bangle budge or move; the thing is on your wrist, and it's seemingly not coming off at all.
The incidents with your clothes in public slowly decreased to small tugs and shifts of the waistbands that could be seen as normal happenings, but at home in your little one-bedroom, it was a different situation. Anytime you didn't need to leave the house? Pants missing, skirts pushed to the back of drawers, nothing that was meant to cover your lower half was even available or findable.
You had begrudgingly begun to accept the curse you had been dealt.
But the moment you had grown comfortable with it, whatever entity was tied to the unremovable bracelet began to step it all up again, stealing underwear and tugging them down when you stood still or lay down, soon there were feelings of fingers gripping your thighs and digging into your ass that came with every shift of fabric.
Being teased and groped by an unseen entity wasn't on the cards for the year, but here you are, a cursed bracelet bound to your wrist and being actively bent over your small dining room table as a spectre has made it's ghostly home between your legs, fingers kneading and groping at your ass as the feeling of a mouth working along your sex has you making filth sounds into your empty apartment.
Imagine if pussy portals were real. Imagine all the devious things that you can do with it, like connecting your own pussy to your personal pussy portal meaning that when you eat yourself out you can taste your own cum on your cunt.
Imagine buying a fuck machine online while you have work and just leaving your pussy portal thats connected to your cunt to be fucked by it while it records your pussy cumming as you try to work on your desk job normally after cumming twice and its not even lunch yet. And sending the video to the shop you brought it from when they asked how was it? 10/10 kept cumming nonstop all day long!~'
Imagine all the deals they have when getting a pussy portal, seeing a pussy portal infront of a store with a sign that reads '50% off for a live demonstration!' Imagine going in the store and seeing a big monster of a man naked and fucking a pussy portal connected to one of the employees cunts while she writhes in pleasure while being held down by other employees sucking her tits and seeing his eyes roll back while he gives her a creampie.
Imagine playing with yourself using a pussy portal. Deepthroating a fat dildo while using your other hand to fuck your pussy portal on another dildo-
Imagine being a camgirl that gets herself a pussy portal and makes a video of her fucking a dildo whilst overstimulating herself after by eating her juices out in her pussy portal. Imagine doing this twice, but only this time you'll give it to one of your followers for a week for free!
Well its only a week so, it couldn't be that bad right?
Imagine going on the sister website of the website you cam on that lets you find yourself with your following and lets you pick a random follower. And how lucky are you that you get a werewolf going in heat the day it arrives on his doorstep~!
Tits and face pressed into the concrete as you are bent over on the sidewalk, a ghost gaping your pussy as passerby’s watch your exposed pussy spread around nothing while you feel the invisible cock stir up your insides, leaving ghostly green cum deep in your womb as normal ppl walk by, shaking their heads at what a desperate slut you are
fairy gf grinding on the tip of human bf's cock, her thighs soaked in her juices and the beads of his precum, the slit of his cock nestled against her bare pussy
they physically can't fuck, but she gets to hump his tip until she squirts on it and he gets to jerk off to her pretty self until he drenches her cunt and lower body in his cum
which she then helps him clean by licking his hand until he decides to tongue fuck his cum into her
The tank was sealed, the subject contained. All protocols were in place. You were in control.
But then the subject began responding only to you.
Your voice. Your scent. Your touch.
And somewhere between late-night logs and forbidden glances through the glass, fascination gave way to desire—and then to something else entirely.
That’s how you ended up inside the tank.
Nude. Breath steady through the rebreather. Floating just above the bottom.
And surrounded.
The creature moved like ink in water—its many limbs soft and slick, moving with eerie grace. The thickest tentacle, the one that usually curled closest to the center mass, brushed your inner thigh with deliberate weight. You shuddered.
You’d written papers on xenobiotic arousal triggers. On the elasticity of human anatomy when exposed to external ovipositor stimuli. You never imagined you’d feel it.
A smooth, thick appendage coiled around your waist, pulling you gently downward. Another slid beneath your knees, spreading your legs wide.
Your breathing quickened.
This was it.
Your body hovered weightless in the warm fluid, completely exposed. The creature was silent—but your skin pulsed where it touched you, hypersensitive, reacting to every shift of its suckered limbs. One slick tentacle slid up your stomach, wrapping around your chest, teasing a nipple with a curious, gentle suck.
Pop. Slurp.
You moaned softly into your mask.
Another tentacle pressed between your thighs, thick and warm, the tip pulsing with need. It found your entrance with almost reverent slowness—testing the slickness, the heat, the give of your body.
When it breached you, it was slow. Impossibly full. Stretching you wide as your back arched in the weightless water, hips instinctively pressing toward the intrusion.
It filled you inch by inch, the girth pushing your limits, your cunt fluttering helplessly around it. The tentacle pulsed inside you, massaging your inner walls with gentle undulations.
You felt it move around searching for something and then it stopped.
Then throbbed.
Your eyes flew wide.
Another tentacle slithered up to your chest, wrapping tight around your ribs. A third coiled around your throat—not choking, but possessive. Scenting.
Then came the pressure.
Low in your belly. Insistent. Full.
It was pushing something inside. Before you could cry out it in pain a tentacle played with your puffy clit sucking and licking. You humped the object getting put inside. It’s feeling no longer painful but pleasurable.
It was an egg.
You gasped into your mask as you felt the first bulbous shape push into your slick cunt, stretching you further than before. It was firm but slick, coated in natural lube. The sensation was unlike anything you’d studied—warm, solid, and even comforting.
Your womb clenched around it automatically, trying to accommodate the intrusion.
Then—pop.
It slipped inside.
Your body trembled. You could feel it sitting deep in your core, heavy and warm.
Another came next.
Push. Stretch. Pop!
You whined through clenched teeth, eyes fluttering as your belly began to swell visibly, rounded and tight. Your cunt spasmed around the thick tentacle still buried inside you, milking it, begging for more without words.
The creature responded in kind.
It released more tentacles—five, maybe six—wrapping your thighs, your hips, your arms. Keeping you open, still, helpless. The egg-laying appendage continued its work, pressing the next one in with firm, rhythmic thrusts.
Your belly ached now—full and tight—but you were past the point of no return.
Push. Pop. Slosh.
Each new egg made your walls flutter, your pussy drool around the tentacle still fucking you in slow, possessive strokes.
A suctioned limb cupped your overstimulated clit, rubbing lazy circles against it as if to calm your trembling. You cried out, water muffling the moan but not the feeling. Your orgasm hit hard and sudden, body seizing in waves, cunt clenching hard around the tentacle still pulsing inside you.
The creature held you through it—gentle, steady. Breeding you calmly, like it was fulfilling some biological destiny.
Push. Pop. Push. Pop.
When it was done, it didn’t pull out immediately. It stayed, nestled deep, one thick tentacle still cradling your stomach, almost protectively.
You floated, barely conscious, belly round and heavy with clutch after clutch. The weight was surreal. You felt soft. Ruined. Sated.
One final suckled kiss to your inner thigh, a lazy pulse of thanks from the tentacle around your chest.
You weren’t sure if it loved you—but it chose you.
And as you drifted in the tank, heartbeat slowing, cum and fluid mixing in the water around you, you realized something else.
You’d go back in.
Every time.
note: any ideas for longer fics? or are we vibing with pwp :)
It started subtle. Gentle pressure at your inner thighs while you slept. Warm breath brushing your ear. The slick glide of phantom fingers between your legs in the dead of night, just soft enough to feel imaginary. You’d wake up soaked, panting, your body aching like it had been touched—used. You brushed it off. Stress, hormones, maybe your own wandering hands.
But then the dreams got deeper. Darker.
You started feeling him.
Large hands gripping your hips. A deep, gravelly voice purring filth in your ear. Something thick and heavy stretching your soaked core as you arched into the mattress, murmuring, “please…”
You swore you were moaning in your sleep.
And that voice? It always whispered the same thing before you woke up—
“Good girl. Daddy’s here now. Open up.”
You’d jolt awake, sheets twisted, panties soaked, your fingers already inside yourself. Every time it happened, the ache in your body was worse. Hotter. Needier. Like he wasn’t just touching you in dreams—he was training you.
You stopped wearing underwear to bed. Not consciously, of course. But he liked it. You knew that somehow.
And every morning? The same. Empty sheets. Slick thighs. A soft, pulsing soreness like someone had been inside you all night.
But you never saw him.
Until the day it happened outside your bedroom.
It was a Monday.
Your office was freezing, as usual, but you were flushed—cheeks pink, skin hot. You chalked it up to caffeine or nerves, but deep down… you knew. Something felt wrong.
Or right.
The meeting room was packed. You sat at the long glass table, laptop open, trying to focus on the quarterly numbers—but the numbers blurred. Your thighs pressed tight together. Your breathing hitched.
Then you felt it.
A slow, deliberate stroke along your inner thigh.
Your skirt hadn’t moved.
Nothing was there.
But something… someone… was touching you. Your breath caught in your throat as that phantom hand slid higher, until a warm, invisible palm pressed between your legs. Fingers—thick fingers—rubbed your clit through your panties. Slow, patient circles.
You bit your lip hard to keep from moaning.
But you heard his voice.
“Be good for Daddy. Keep still.”
Your eyes went wide. You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. Across the table, your boss kept talking. No one noticed. No one saw the way your hips shifted, how your thighs trembled as the invisible fingers pushed under your panties.
Inside you.
You gasped—soft, quiet. One hand gripped your chair as he slid in, curling those ghostly fingers against your sweet spot with perfect, cruel accuracy.
“Dripping already? Such a filthy little thing… letting Daddy play with you in front of everyone.”
Your breath hitched. The pressure felt so real—you clenched around him helplessly, your eyes watering, heat spreading low and deep in your belly.
“You’ve been dreaming about this, haven’t you?”
“Daddy filling you up, stuffing that needy little pussy… every night. Every morning.”
“You’re mine now. Say it.”
You whimpered. Quiet. Embarrassed. Turned on beyond reason.
Your lips parted, barely able to whisper.
“Y-Yours…”
The fingers vanished instantly.
You almost sobbed.
You rushed to the bathroom the moment the meeting ended. Locked the door, hands shaking, thighs still slick. You yanked your panties down and gasped—wet. Soaked. But no one had touched you.
Or had they?
Your reflection stared back at you in the mirror—disheveled, panting, your chest heaving.
And there, on the mirror’s foggy surface…
A handprint.
Not yours.
He didn’t visit you in your sleep that night.
And that made it worse.
Your body ached for him now—your fingers weren’t enough. Not anymore. You were already his, and he knew it. Teasing you, denying you, making you beg just with the absence of his touch.
But he came back the next day.
Note: 5 likes and I’ll make more or smth. do u guys like ghosts?
ive been dripping wet for hoursss fuck i just need sloppy neck kisses and hands all over me.. need a pretty girl's strap inside me while she groans about how well im taking it.. wanna see her proud little smile at how my pussy gushes when she praises me.. wanna turn her on so much looking at me, she just has to bury that pretty face between my legs
eating a girl out for the first time? as someone with a couple of decades' experience (i started young, ok?), can i offer some advice?
take your time. your aim isn't to make her come as fast as possible, it's to make sure she enjoys every moment. slow down, revel in the process of finding out what she likes.
tell her how beautiful she is, how tempting her cunt looks, how intoxicating it smells, how sweet she tastes. she might be feeling vulnerable, especially if she's inexperienced too - it's your job to make her feel safe and adored.
enjoy the journey - i know you just want to feel your tongue on her clit NOW, but exploring her thighs, working your way slowly to her folds, trailing all the way up her cunt, drinking her juices, letting her feel your breath before she feels your touch...it'll be worth it. for both of you.
learn to read her body with all of your senses. she might be vocal but she might prefer to bite her lip or enjoy being gagged. you don't need to hear her words to know what to do. you'll feel her muscles twitch and relax - learn what it means when she lifts her hips, squirms or sinks into you. she might taste and smell differently when she is close to coming for you. pay close attention to her clit - if you're lucky and you've done a particularly good job, you might see it twitch as she recovers from the perfect orgasm. enjoy it.
you can be vocal though. moan into her. use every sensation you can. light flicks to determined, long, slow licks. blow gently on her wetness. how does she react to your lip piercing? your teeth?
build and add to the experience until she's completely overwhelmed. play with her nipples. run your nails over her skin. lift her legs and spank her.
chances are, she'll get to the point where she really needs you to fuck her. slip your tongue all the way down and inside her. if you can't breathe, you're doing it right. that means you probably won't be able to keep it up for hours, so save this move for when she's right on the edge and you're ready to let her tip over.
if you're especially lucky and she's a squirter, you will get absolutely soaked. enjoy it. show her you're enjoying it. moan into her cunt; she'll come even harder.
if she needs to be fucked harder, slip your fingers inside her cunt and curl them up towards your tongue as it circles her clit. all of her most sensitive nerves will be between your tongue and your fingers. you'll be able to feel every tiny twitch inside her; it's the most beautiful place in the world to be.
when she can truly take no more, stay close to her as you drift away from her cunt. kiss your way up her tummy and her chest, let her taste herself on your lips as you hold her and let her ride out the aftershocks. trail your fingertips over her back. whisper in her ear. tell her everything you loved about eating her out.
What if I'm laying underneath you and before you sink your new longer and thicker strap into me, you casually let rest on my belly for a second? What if I just now saw that it almost reaches my belly button, and start getting anxious that I won't be able to fit the whole thing in? Maybe you'd just give me a gentle kiss and tell me that you'll make it fit. Spread my legs with your arms, position the tip against my hole and tell me to watch.
Slowly rub the tip against my pussy, knowing I'd start dripping just from the thought of you sliding inside. Not long after you'd slide the tip in, letting me get used to the way it stretches me.
Starting to move your hips very slowly. Just teasing me with the tip. Making me watch it all and the need to be filled to grow stronger. Imagining how it would feel like to have the whole toy in. Having more of you inside of me.
"Aw what's wrong dear?", you'd ask pretending you don't understand the hazy look in my eyes
"Can you slide it all in?"
"Hm?", still acting all clueless
"Can you slide it all in, please?"
"Aww but didn't you say you don't think it would fit?"
"I want to try it", practically whining at this point
And without anything else needing to be said you'd start sinking the strap little by little until you bottom out. The whole time I'd have to watch the little bump it creates in my belly slowly grow.
And of course, when I'm all comfortable you'd start slamming into me, still ordering me to watch how the strap is poking from my belly. So what if we did that, hm?
The ghost in your house who takes care of your sexual needs.
He sees you when you’re at your most desperate. Scrolling looking for a video or something to read to relieve the ache. Once you reach for your toys he springs into action.
Already unclothed, he touches your bare pussy. Rubbing circles on your clit. You can’t see him, so you’re just anticipating what’s going to happen.
You continue to scroll and periodically glancing to your mirror to see yourself. He continues to touch you. Seeing what you’re looking at he does his best to replicate it. Spreading your pussy open with his fingers to eat you out.
Squeezing and sucking on your breasts, leaving marks that you can’t explain to anyone else. Fingering you and curling his fingers to hit all the good spots.
Seeing yourself spread and gaping from the invisible man just turns you on more. Letting this mysterious ghost pleasure you.
Every harpy male has his own schedule and day he needs to be preened, so you’re always seen covered in feathers and love bites.
Your job is to give each harpy male attention and keep them from becoming depressed. Every day you clean their pins, take time cuddling them, and let them fondle you a bit if its mating season.
Because they all view you as their mate, you’re the only human woman allowed inside the farm.
There are three different types of harpies. While any type can resemble a variety of birds, their bodies are different and can be more dangerous.
The first are the least dangerous. They have wings and talons, but possess a mostly human body with working limbs. They are the most docile and act like any normal human would. These harpies are incredibly affectionate with most human females, but become attached to one and view them as a mate.
The second type have wings for arms and scaly bird feet from their lower thigh and downwards. Though they can speak, they are usually more quiet and tend to resemble birds a bit more. They dislike being around any other creature besides their chosen mate, and will attempt to flee if approached by something with an unfamiliar scent. Because of this, they have tracking bracelets on their ankles.
The third are the most dangerously. From the waist down, they have the body of a dragon and bird, like a chimera. These harpies are incapable of speech, and kill any creatures besides their preferred mate on sight. They are usually the size of a small car, but can grow as large as a bus depending on the type of bird they descend from.
Though your primary task is keeping the harpies calm and happy, you have a secret secondary task.
You are to mate with the harpies and attempt to conceive the first new harpy of the century. The species is dying out, and you are the only person any of the males have responded to.
Send asks about this story if you’d like to learn more! I’m still thinking about specific characters rn, so feel free to send ideas for ocs ^^
You and your dad are cuddling on the couch, a blanket covering the two of you. You're the little spoon, pressing your back into him as he wraps you in his arm. Your mom is seated on the love seat to your right, blissfully unaware as she scrolls through reels on her iPad.
You begin to grind your ass, slowly, on his cock. His breathing changes and you can feel him start to get hard. His hand wanders down your body, over your stomach and underneath your pajama bottoms. His thick fingers find your clit and starts to rub in slow circles. It takes all your self control not to gasp as you feel him bringing you to orgasm.
You lower your pajama pants and reach behind you, pulling your father's cock out from his boxers. You guide it between your thighs and to the entrance of your pussy. With a slow thrust, he enters you fully.
The pace is agonizingly slow. You push back on his small, steady thrusts with cautious desire. Each movement so minute that you're barely moving. Each longing push barely perceptable by anyone that looks at you.
The tipping point comes when your mom gets up to go to the bathroom. Quickly, desperately, your dad pounds into you until he tenses up and you can his cock throbbing and pulsing inside of you.
You pull up your pajama pants while he rearranges his boxers. Your mom returns to her place on the love seat, oblivious that her daughter is leaking her father's cum.
—summary: The summer heat has you slipping between sleep and reality. Something not-so corporeal helps you cool off.
—warnings: ghost x human, monsterfucking, piv sex, mirror sex (technically), creampie, dubcon/somnophilia.
—word count: 1,3k
—a/n: no thoughts just horny. also on AO3
The best thing about living alone, you’ve come to realize, is the privacy. You’re free to do whatever: take your time in the bathroom in the morning or whenever you want, spend an eternity soaking in the claw-footed tub this house came with, walk around your home in the skimpiest clothing imaginable (not only does it help to beat the summer heat, it also (technically) leaves you less laundry to do), splay out on your king-sized bed in a starfish position, limbs akimbo, drag the full-length mirror in your bedroom in front of your bed and stare at the way any dildos you own get swallowed up by your greedy cunt.
No point in wondering why the last owner was in such a rush to get rid of it; so much so that he accepted well below market price for a freshly renovated, fully-furnished house with a moderate backyard in a relatively safe neighborhood.
The longer this heatwave lasts, the skimpier your clothes get. There’s barely any fabric to cling to your constantly sweat-slick skin by this point, just a tiny skirt hiked so far up your bare skin touches the wooden chairs when you sit and a shirt that’s more spaghetti straps than torso. The huge, double-door fridge is a reprieve, cool air billowing out and caressing your heated skin. It almost feels like a genuine caress, like someone’s cool hands sliding down your body.
Seriously, you need to get out of the house and meet people instead of fantasizing about the cool touch of your fridge. But the outside is infinitely hotter than the inside.
You kick the bedsheet away from your body, grumbling at the lingering day heat. You’d stripped the sheet from the duvet the moment spring chill had plunged into summer heat and stuffed the latter into the closet until fall. Even then, you tend to wake up without the sheet in the morning, finding it crumbled on the floor. Yesterday was another sweltering day. It has left the air stuffy and the fans only push the warm, stale heat around without providing any relief. You unplug them in a fit of frustration and cringe at the feeling of moisture when you lay against your pillow again.
Sleep doesn’t completely evade you but you’re not fully asleep, either. You think so, at least. There are moments of brief blackouts, where you open your eyes and turn to look at the time only to find not even an hour has passed. Your eyelids feel heavy.
Then, there are the hands on your body. Caressing, petting, groping. They’ve been there for some time now, just touching, feeling. They’re not cold, just cool enough to feel pleasant against your heated skin and inject some relief into your sluggish thoughts of sun and heat. A sigh escapes your lips at the sensation. Fingertips trance the expanse of your skin, draw constellations between your moles and freckles. The other hand moves to rest on your breast. It kneads the soft flesh, gently pinches your nipple between its fingers, runs a thumb over it.
You inhale sharply, heart thrumming in your chest, pressing your thighs together. It does little to quell the desire for friction, or touch. The hand tracing its fingertips down your body reaches your hip, then skirts across your flesh to rest on the inside of your thigh. You blink languidly; the heat is stifling, your head feels thick.
Cool fingers dip between your legs, press against your clit like — like they’re what? Testing the waters. You stifle the half-baked moan in the back of your throat.
The hands leave you all at once and you croak out a sound that doesn’t even sound like you, desperate and needy. They’re back not even a moment later, though, heavy on your hips as if they’re trying to guide you. You reach for a pillow and prop it under yourself. It’s a nice dream, you don’t need it to end because it forces you into an uncomfortable position that drives home the realization that it’s a dream. Because then you’ll wake up, alone again.
Something thick and heavy rests on your pelvis. Maybe this makes you a bad sex partner in this brief dream but you don’t want to reach out and touch it, guide it. If it’s your dream, your partner should know the where and how. The cool hands planted firmly on your hips pull you forward just slightly and the weight from your pelvis disappears. It rests against your entrance, but doesn’t push forward just yet. One hand leaves you and the tip of its cock drags through your slick folds, bumps against your clit.
“Please,” you croak, staring at the ceiling. Your throat is dry.
The stranger’s cock angles itself against your entrance and pushes in carefully. You take a slow, deep breath in, try to relax around the pleasant intrusion. The hands — under your knees now, guiding your legs apart. A body presses against your thighs. Whoever it is, stops, pauses for a moment. You clench around the cock buried in your cunt. A cold, shuddering breath hits you. Goosebumps rise on your skin. The hands push your knees further apart until there’s an ache in your muscles, and then they depart, one finding a spot on your waist, the other your breast.
It moves, then. The cock nestled deep within you sharply pulls back and thrusts in again. You scramble for anchor, to grab onto something but all you come up with is sheet that tugs loose. Their pace is dizzying, thighs slapping against yours, cock plunging into your wet cunt. The sound is so wet and lewd and goddamned loud in the still silence of your home. You go to stifle the half-moan half-groan in your throat but— wait, it’s your house, your dream, who gives a fuck about the neighbors? The cock in your cunt pulls nearly all the way out and thrusts in again and hits that spot, so good, dragging against your slick walls and you swear you feel every groove and dip, every goddamn vein. Your moan slips out involuntarily, and whoever it is here with you, seems invigorated.
The hand on your breast leaves, a forearm rests around your thigh, pulling it up and — fuck, their cock drives in so incredibly deep you nearly choke on your own spit. You scramble upwards, resting your weight on your elbows to look at your partner —
There’s no one there. Your bedroom is empty. But there’s a hand on your torso, cool fingers digging into your flesh and a forearm supporting your thigh and the shape of someone’s shoulder against your Achilles’ tendon. There’s a cock plunging into your cunt and you hear someone’s labored breathing.
The full-length mirror skids across the laminated floor and stops in front of your bed. Something invisible is thrusting into your pussy, gaping back at you in the reflection. Your face burns — your whole body burns. You can’t look away from the debauchery staring back at you. Whoever — whatever — it is, thrusts harshly, cold hands pulling you against their body. Your thighs are wet and sticky, slamming against theirs, your hole gaping back at you, being abused by something you can’t see. It sends you hurtling over the edge.
You come around the phantom cock with something reminiscent of a shriek and a moan and terror and pleasure all combined. Your cunt clenches around the thing your muscles sore and sweat beading on your skin. The cock plunges into you again and again and again and you blink back the tears and the fear and the overwhelming pleasure. The fingers on your body dig into your flesh and the cock nestled in you buries deep, thighs pressing against your own, and spills. It’s so warm, so pleasant. The mirror skids closer, right until it touches the edge of the bed.
Your cunt is forced wide open. Stuffed. The pearlescent cum coats your walls, oozes out from inside you, dribbles onto your bedsheets. The cock in you stays there but the body moves.
A small fogged patch, like warm breath, appears on the mirror, and then, letters.
Hi :)
Oh. So that's why this place was so cheap.
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