Hello guest! (Level: guest) Log in

You can change the width of the story text shown below:
Use how much percent of the screen width?

[ default ] [ 10% ] [ 20% ] [ 30% ] [ 40% ] [ 50% ] [ 60% ] [ 70% ] [ 80% ] [ 90% ] [ 100% ]

Options: Plain text or PDF (fanclub only!) version  |  Mark story  |  Mark author

Don't forget to vote for this story, in the yellow voting box below the story!

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

They kissed through it all, their breaths mingling, tongues mirroring the rhythm of his fingers. When she was ready, her body quivering with readiness, Santiago positioned himself at her entrance, the broad tip of him pressing against her slick folds.

He entered her slowly, inch by torturous inch, pausing every so often to let her adjust. Sadie’s eyes fluttered shut, her lips parting in a silent gasp as she felt him fill her more completely than ever before. The lubrication made the glide seamless, but his size stretched her to her limits, a delicious burn that bordered on ecstasy. “Breathe with me,” he coaxed, his voice strained with restraint, and she did, inhaling deeply as he sank deeper. Finally, with a shared exhale, he was fully seated inside her, his hips flush against hers. The sensation was overwhelming: his manhood throbbed within her, filling every crevice, the tip nudging insistently against her cervix. Each subtle shift of his body sent a jolt through her, making her breath hitch, her inner walls clenching around him in reflexive pleasure.

They moved together in a languid rhythm, not thrusting but rocking, their bodies undulating like waves on a calm sea. Santiago’s hands roamed her curves, squeezing her breasts, tracing her hips, while Sadie’s nails grazed his back, urging him closer. Sweat beaded on their skin, mingling where they connected, the scent of their arousal filling the room, a musky, intimate perfume. Every sensation was heightened: the soft rasp of his stubble against her neck as he nuzzled her, the wet sounds of their joining, the way her clit ground against his pubic bone with each roll of his hips. Sadie’s moans grew breathier, her body coiling tighter, but they prolonged it, drawing out the build-up until it felt eternal.

When the release finally came, it was simultaneous and shattering. Sadie’s orgasm crashed over her first, her walls fluttering around him in rhythmic pulses that milked him dry. Santiago followed with a guttural groan, spilling deep inside her, the condom the only barrier between their complete union. If not for that thin sheath, the intensity of their connection, the way he pressed so perfectly against her depths, would have undoubtedly sparked new life. They clung to each other afterward, hearts pounding in sync, bodies slick and spent. In that moment, the bed wasn’t just furniture; it was theirs, a symbol of their unified future, etched with the imprint of their love.

A few hours later in the dark early morning hours, the house was quiet except for the soft hum of the ceiling fan and the distant murmur of morning traffic filtering through the cracked window. Santiago woke first. He lay on his side, one arm draped possessively over Sadie’s waist, his palm resting against the soft swell of her lower belly. Her breathing was slow and even, lips parted just enough that every exhale ghosted warm and feather-light across his forearm. He could feel the subtle rise and fall of her ribcage against his chest, the way her heartbeat tapped a lazy counter-rhythm to his own through the thin barrier of skin. When he shifted closer, the crisp cotton dragged across his nipples, already half-hard from the cool air and sent a slow, liquid shiver down his spine.

He nuzzled the nape of her neck. Her hair spilled across the pillow in dark, sleep-tousled waves, with a few strands sticking to the faint sheen of sweat at her hairline. He breathed in deeply. The scent was intoxicating: warm scalp, traces of last night’s sex still in her hair, the faint floral note of her shampoo, and underneath it all, the private, rich fragrance of her arousal that lingered. His body, already hard against the small of her back, pulsed with interest.

Sadie stirred with a small, kittenish sound, half moan, half sigh, and arched her spine just enough to press her ass more firmly against him. The movement was unconscious, instinctive, and it dragged the silken cleft of her cheeks along his length in one languid glide. Santiago’s breath caught. He felt every millimeter of contact: the plush give of her flesh, the faint stickiness where their mingled fluids had dried overnight, the way her skin seemed to drink in his heat.

He didn’t rush. Instead, he kissed the slope of her shoulder, lips barely brushing, letting her feel the heat of his mouth more than the pressure. She sighed again, louder this time, and her hand found where it rested on her stomach, threading their fingers together and guiding his palm upward until his callused hand cupped the full, warm weight of her breast. Her nipple pebbled instantly against his palm. He circled it with the pad of his thumb, once, twice, achingly slow, until she whimpered and rocked her hips back in a silent plea.

Only then did he reach for the small bottle of lube on the nightstand. The cap clicked open, sounding loud in the quiet room. He warmed the clear gel between his fingers until it felt silky and warm, then slipped his hand between her thighs from behind. Sadie parted her legs easily, hooking one ankle over his calf to open herself more. His fingertips found her already swollen and slick, even after all those hours. He traced her outer lips first, coating them and feeling how they responded to his touch. When he finally parted her, sliding two fingers along either side of her clit without touching it directly, she gasped, sharp and needy, and her inner muscles fluttered in anticipation.

“Please,” she whispered, voice still sleep-rough. “I need to feel you.”

He coated himself next, stroking once, twice, letting her hear the wet glide of his hand. The sound made her shiver visibly. Then he notched himself at her entrance, the broad head nudging past the first tight ring of muscle with exquisite patience. Sadie held her breath as he sank in, slow, so slow, every ridge and vein dragging against her sensitive walls. The stretch was profound; she could feel the exact shape of him catch against her front wall with every incremental advance. When he finally bottomed out, the blunt crown kissed her cervix and held there, a deep, unignorable pressure that stole her breath and made her toes curl against his shin.

They stayed like that for long minutes, perfectly still, locked together, breathing in counterpoint. Every heartbeat pulsed through his cock and into her. She could feel it like a second heartbeat low in her belly. Whenever either of them shifted, even the smallest movement, the tip pressed harder against that tender spot inside, sending bright, electric sparks up her spine and making her skip a breath. Her clit throbbed untouched, swollen and begging, but neither of them moved to relieve it yet. This was about the fullness, the stretch, the almost unbearable intimacy of being joined so completely.

Santiago began the smallest rocking motion, barely an inch of withdrawal before sliding back in, grinding rather than thrusting. Each glide pulled slick sounds from her body; each return nudged that deep place that made her whimper and clench. Sweat bloomed between them again, a thin, slippery film that let their skin glide wherever they touched. Sadie reached back, nails digging lightly into his hip, urging him to stay deep. He obliged, circling his hips instead, stirring himself inside her until she was trembling, gasping, teetering on the edge without ever quite tipping over.

When the climax finally broke, it was cataclysmic in its quiet intensity.

Sadie came first, silent at first, then a long, shuddering exhale that turned into a broken moan as her walls rippled and fluttered around him in long, rolling contractions. The sensation pulled Santiago with her. He buried his face in her neck, teeth grazing her skin as he spilled deep, pulse after thick pulse, the condom capturing every drop while her body milked him with greedy little spasms. They stayed locked together through the aftershocks, breathing hard, hearts slamming in tandem, until the world slowly reassembled itself around them.

The new sanctuary had been well and truly claimed.

Later that morning Matteo was struggling with the awkwardness of sharing the house with his brother Santiago and his brother's girlfriend. He padded down the hallway in his boxer briefs, rubbing sleep from his eyes. In Matteo's self-absorbed mind the move had been sudden, Santiago inviting Sadie into their place, and Matteo was trying to adjust to the new rhythms of their household. He needed the bathroom, and assuming it was empty he pushed the door open without knocking. The steam billowed thick and fragrant from the shower, it hit him like a warm fog. The steam had masked his entrance; the white noise had swallowed the creak of the door.

Outside the glass, Matteo stood frozen.

Inside, Sadie stood beneath a cascade of water, oblivious to his intrusion. Just days earlier Matteo had successfully shut down any intrusive thoughts of his brother's girlfriend's body, during a harmless yoga lesson.

Instead, his gaze traced the impossible geometry of her body: the dramatic nip of her waist flowing into generous hips, the lush swell of her ass, and that striking thigh gap that framed everything so perfectly. The showerhead poured a steady stream over her, the noise drowning out any sound from the door, and without her glasses, the world beyond the glass enclosure was a blur. Steam clouded the air, turning the bathroom into a hazy sanctuary. Matteo froze, his hand still on the doorknob, as his eyes involuntarily locked onto her form. She was facing away slightly, her back arched as she worked the shampoo into a rich lather, fingers massaging her scalp in slow circles.

The frothy suds cascading down her shoulders in heavy ropes down her neck, between her breasts, over the gentle curve of her belly. The water followed, warm rivulets tracing every dip and swell. It pooled briefly in the hollow of her collarbone, beading on the tight peaks of her nipples before falling in fat drops, streaming along the inner curves of her thighs where that rare, elegant thigh gap let daylight and water pass straight through. The scent of coconut shampoo and creamy body wash saturated the air. The water beat a steady, drumming rhythm against her soft skin. Sadie stood beneath the rainfall head, eyes closed, head tipped back, letting the heat sluice over her closed lids and down her throat. Without her glasses, the world was soft watercolor edges, steam, tile, the vague outline of her own body.

She turned, braced one hand on the wall, and bent at the waist to soap her calves. The motion parted her cheeks just enough; warm water sluiced directly over the still-tender, slightly puffy lips Santiago had stretched and filled only hours earlier. The sensation made her bite her lip, half soothing, half arousing, and a soft, involuntary sound escaped her throat, lost beneath the roar of the shower.

He should have left immediately, but something rooted him in place: an uncomfortable fascination. Sadie’s body was a masterpiece of curves: full, heavy breasts that swayed gently with her movements, nipples pert from the warm water; a nipped-in waist that accentuated the swell of her hips; and thighs that were plush yet toned, leading to that impossible feature, her thigh gap. For a woman as voluptuously hourglass as her, it was a rarity, a defined space between her inner thighs that spoke of some genetic lottery win. Even Judy’s athletic gap couldn't compare; hers was earned through endless squats and runs, but Sadie’s seemed effortless, a natural grace that made Matteo’s gaze linger.

His eyes drifted, unbidden, tracing the path of the water as it slid over her porcelain skin, glistening trails down her back, pooling briefly in the dimples above her ass before dripping lower. She rinsed the shampoo, tilting her head back, and then reached for the soap, lathering it between her hands with deliberate strokes. The bubbles formed a creamy foam that she smoothed over her arms, her chest, her belly, each pass leaving her skin slick and shiny. Matteo swallowed hard, his heart pounding, as she turned slightly, giving him a side view of her breasts lifting with the motion, water beading on the tips before falling.

Then, with her back fully to him, she bent at the waist to lather her legs, starting from her calves and working upward. The movement caused her cheeks to part just enough, her thigh gap framing the soft, pink folds between her legs, the intimate space that Santiago had claimed so thoroughly the night before. It was visible for only a moment, glistening under the water, but the sight seared into Matteo’s mind: plump lips slightly swollen from recent passion, a hint of vulnerability in the way the stream hit and trickled away.

His body betrayed him then, a rush of blood southward that strained painfully against his boxer briefs. The erection was immediate and insistent, throbbing with a heat that made his cheeks flush. Horror washed over him; this was his brother’s girlfriend, for God’s sake. Snapping out of it, he backed away silently, pulling the door shut with a soft click, his breath ragged as he retreated to his bedroom.

Once inside, Matteo leaned against the door, his mind reeling. The image of Sadie lingered, vivid and unshakeable: the curve of her ass as she bent, the way water clung to her skin like a lover’s caress, that thigh gap revealing secrets he had no right to see. His cock ached, demanding attention, and he debated fiercely with himself. Should he indulge the fantasy, letting his imagination run wild with what he’d witnessed? Or summon a safer memory, one from his past, like that wild night with the cum swapping sorority sisters last month?

He chose the latter. Sinking onto his bed, he freed himself from his boxers, his hand wrapping around his length with a firm grip. He closed his eyes, conjuring the scene: the two girls, Sienna and Harper, giggling as they traded his semen between their lips. Harper had straddled him first, her tight heat enveloping him as Sienna mounted his face. As the images rolled through his mind, Matteo stroked himself slowly at first, matching the memory’s rhythm, feeling the build-up in his core.

But as the pleasure mounted, intrusions crept in. Harper’s face blurred, softening into Sadie’s sweet features: her full lips parted in a moan, her eyes half-lidded with desire. He shook it off, focusing on the redhead’s athletic body, but then came the vision of Sadie’s voluptuous curves, her hourglass silhouette bending under the shower, water dripping from her thigh gap. His strokes grew faster, more urgent, the conflict heightening the sensation. Guilt twisted in his gut, but it only fueled the fire, this forbidden mental betrayal of his brother.

At the peak, as tension coiled unbearably tight, the sorority sister in his mind fully transformed: Sadie’s body beneath him, her breasts bouncing with each imagined thrust, her face flushed and angelic. The release hit like a tidal wave, unexpected in its intensity, ropes of cum spilling over his hand in sustained pulses, more copious than he could remember, soaking the sheets as his body shuddered.

Matteo collapsed back against the headboard, chest still heaving, the first massive release still warm and sticky across his knuckles, dripping in slow, viscous strands onto his thigh. His cock hadn’t softened, not even close. It stood rigid, flushed darker than before, the head glossy with his own spend and fresh pre-cum that welled up in steady beads at the slit. The shame was there, gnawing at the edges, but it was drowned out by a deeper, more animal hunger that refused to let the moment end.

He couldn’t stop.

His hand moved again, almost against his will, wrapping slick fingers around the still-throbbing shaft. The glide was obscene now, lubricated by his own cum, warm and slippery, every stroke producing a wet, sucking sound that filled the quiet room. He closed his eyes and let the forbidden reel play out in full, unfiltered color.

In his mind, the shower door was open. Steam curled thick around them like smoke. Sadie’s palms were braced high on the fogged glass, fingers splayed, breasts flattened and sliding against the cool surface with every breath. Water pounded down her back in relentless sheets, plastering her dark hair to her spine, running in rivulets over the dramatic flare of her hips. That impossible thigh gap framed everything perfectly: her swollen, glistening sex exposed and waiting.

He stepped in behind her.

The fantasy was so vivid he could feel the heat of the water hitting his shoulders, the contrast of cold tile under his feet. He gripped her waist, hard enough that his fingertips sank into the soft give of her flesh, and dragged the thick head of his cock through her folds from behind. She was drenched, not just from the shower: slick arousal mixed with the hot cascade, coating him instantly. He didn’t ask; he simply pressed forward.

The first inch breached her with a slow, burning stretch. Sadie’s head dropped forward, forehead thumping softly against the glass, a choked moan escaping her lips that echoed off the tiles. He sank deeper, deliberately, mercilessly, feeling every fluttering inch of her tight heat yield around him. When he bottomed out, hips flush to her ass, the blunt crown kissed her cervix again, that same deep, stealing pressure that had made her gasp under Santiago only hours earlier. In the fantasy, she whimpered his name, Matteo, soft and broken, the sound punching straight through his gut.

He began to move.

Long, punishing strokes that dragged almost all the way out before slamming back in, the wet slap of skin on skin mingling with the steady drum of the shower. Her breasts bounced and slid against the glass with every thrust, nipples scraping the condensation, leaving fleeting trails. He reached around, one hand cupping the heavy underside of her breast, thumb flicking the tight peak; the other slid down her belly, fingers finding her clit and circling with ruthless precision. She bucked back against him, ass cheeks jiggling with the force of his drives, that perfect thigh gap letting him see everything: the way her lips clung to his shaft on every withdrawal, the creamy ring of arousal that frothed at the base of his cock.

He fucked her harder, faster, losing the last shred of restraint. The glass fogged completely around her palms. She pushed back harder, meeting every brutal thrust, her moans turning into sharp, desperate cries that bounced off the walls. In his mind, he leaned over her, teeth grazing the slope of her shoulder, growling low against her ear: “You feel so fucking good… I'm gonna fill you up...”

Back in his bedroom, the fantasy triggered the real thing.

The imagined release triggered the real one.

His hand flew faster, frantic, sloppy, chasing the echo. His balls drew up impossibly tight, and then the second wave ripped through him. Semen surged in powerful, arcing ropes, thicker, hotter than before. The first jet struck his chest just below the collarbone, a heavy splatter that immediately began sliding down the center divide of his pecs. The next two painted long white streaks across his stomach, pooling in the shallow ridges of his abs. More spilled over his fingers, dripping in slow, syrupy rivulets down his shaft until the entire length glistened obscenely and slickly.

He didn’t pause. Couldn’t.

His own body answered the demand, fresh pre-cum welled up in steady beads, mixing with the cum already coating him until every stroke was liquid silk, hypersensitive, almost painful. The pleasure sharpened into something razor-edged. His breath came in short, desperate pants; his hips jerked upward into his fist like he was fucking something real.

The final fantasy shifted.

Now she was on his bed, not the shower, but his own mattress. On all fours. A pillow wedged beneath her hips so that perfect apple-bottom ass was tilted high, cheeks spread just enough to reveal everything: the glistening pink of her entrance, still swollen and slick from earlier use, that devastating thigh gap framing it like an invitation. Her dark hair spilled across the sheets; her fists gripped handfuls of cotton so tightly the knuckles bleached white. She had the edge of the pillowcase clenched between her teeth, muffling the raw, animal grunts and moans that tore from her throat as wave after uncontrollable wave of orgasm rolled through her.

In his mind, he knelt behind her, hands locked on her hips, driving into her with deep, relentless thrusts. Each plunge made her ass jiggle, made her back arch higher, made the wet, filthy sounds of their joining fill the room. She was coming again, endlessly, her walls fluttering and clamping, milking him, begging him to fill her. He leaned over her, teeth grazing the nape of her neck, growling low:

“Take it all, Sadie… every fucking drop…”

One last brutal thrust, buried to the hilt, hips grinding in tight circles, and he erupted inside her again, flooding her cervix with heat while she screamed around the fabric in her mouth.

The fantasy snapped the final tether.

His real orgasm detonated, sharper, more jolting, more violent than anything he’d ever felt. His balls contracted hard, twice as hard as before, and unloaded in long, forceful jets that seemed endless. Thick, ropey spurts launched high into the air: the first two splattered across his washboard abs in heavy puddles, warm and viscous; the next arced up to land on his lower chest, sliding down in slow rivers; more pooled thickly in the deep V of his pelvis, overflowing, dripping down his sides to soak the sheets. His hand was thoroughly coated, fingers, palm, wrist, glistening white as the last powerful pulses wrung themselves out of him, each one wrenching a choked groan from deep in his throat.

His whole body seized, spine arching off the mattress, thighs trembling, toes curling, as the aftershocks rolled through him in brutal waves. The intensity was blinding, almost frightening; nothing in his life had ever come close to this kind of raw, obliterating release.

When it finally ebbed, chest heaving, skin cooling where thick streaks of his own cum painted him from sternum to pelvis. The room was thick with the heavy, primal scent of his release, musk, salt, the faint metallic tang of semen cooling on skin. Matteo lay sprawled across the rumpled sheets, chest rising and falling in jagged, uneven pulls. His entire torso glistened: long white streaks painted from the hollow of his throat down the center divide of his pecs, pooling in the carved ridges of his abs, overflowing into the deep V-lines that arrowed toward his groin. Thick puddles had collected in the shallow valleys between muscles, sliding slowly sideways with each labored breath to soak into the waistband of his boxers, still bunched around his thighs. His hand, fingers, palm, wrist, was thoroughly glazed, strands of cum webbing between knuckles every time he flexed.

His cock, still rigid despite everything, throbbed in his loose grip. The head was flushed an angry plum, hypersensitive, every vein standing out like cord under the slick, shining skin. Fresh beads of pre-cum, no, not pre-cum anymore, just the last thin remnants his body could muster, continued to well up at the slit and trickle down to join the mess already coating the shaft.

He couldn’t let go.

Even as the aftershocks still rippled through his core, sharp, electric tingles that made his toes curl, and his abdominals flutter, he began to move again. Slow. Methodical. Deliberate.

His fist tightened just enough to create gentle friction, then dragged upward in a single, languid stroke from root to tip. The glide was obscene, every inch lubricated by his own thick spend, warm and slippery, producing a soft, wet schlick that seemed deafening in the quiet room. His breath hitched at the top of the stroke. The corona was so swollen, so raw, that even that feather-light pressure sent a bright, almost painful spark racing up his spine.

Down again. Slower this time. The downward tug pulled a low, involuntary groan from deep in his chest. His balls, drawn up tight and aching, gave a weak, fluttering contraction, but nothing more came. He was biologically spent, wrung dry, yet the nerves refused to quiet. Each slow pull coaxed another wave of phantom pleasure: deep, rolling tingles that started in his pelvis, radiated outward through his thighs, up his flanks, into his nipples, which pebbled painfully against the cooling air.

He kept going.

Stroke. Pause at the head, thumb circling the slick, oversensitive ridge once, twice, until his hips jerked involuntarily. Stroke. Another long, dragging pull that made his inner thighs tremble. The sensation was changing now: less sharp explosion, more diffuse, syrupy ache. His whole lower body buzzed like a live wire slowly losing charge. The tingles spread thinner, fainter, until each tug felt more like gentle aftercare than pursuit of climax.

Finally, after what could have been minutes or an eternity, his hand slowed to a stop. Fingers still loosely curled around the base, he simply held himself, feeling the last faint pulses of blood ebb and flow through the shaft. His cock gave one final, tired twitch against his palm, then began, very gradually, to soften.

He lay there, utterly still except for the rise and fall of his ribcage. Breathless. Drenched. The cooling semen on his stomach and chest had started to congeal in places, pulling slightly at the fine hairs whenever he inhaled deeply. The sheets beneath his hips were soaked through in irregular dark patches.

And he couldn’t unsee her.

The image had branded itself behind his eyelids, vivid and merciless. Sadie in the shower, bent at the waist, back arched, that impossible thigh gap framing everything as water streamed in rivulets over her porcelain skin. Her full cheeks parted just enough to reveal the soft, flushed lips still swollen and glistening from the night before. The way the showerhead’s spray had hit her directly there, making her bite her lip, making her hips give the tiniest, unconscious rock forward as though chasing the sensation.

In the silence of his room, the memory sharpened into something almost tactile. He could almost feel the heat of the water against his own skin again, hear the wet slap of it hitting tile, smell the coconut shampoo mixing with the rich, private scent of her arousal. He could almost see the subtle tremor in her thighs as she lathered higher, almost hearing the soft, lost sound she’d made when the stream first struck that tender place.

His softening cock gave one last, feeble twitch in his hand at the thought.

Matteo stared at the ceiling, unblinking, pulse still thundering in his ears, and felt the weight of it settle over him like damp cotton. The house walls were suddenly too thin, the hallway too short, every creak of floorboards carrying the ghost of her bare feet padding past his door.

When it finally ended, he collapsed back against the pillows, chest heaving, skin cooling rapidly where his release had landed. Shame crawled in immediately behind the pleasure, heavy and sour.

The house felt smaller now: every shared wall, every closed door suddenly alive with the weight of what he had seen, what he had imagined, what his body had shamelessly confessed.

Do you like this story? If you do, you may be interested to know that the author also has several other stories on the site that are available to the members of the EroticStories.com FanClub!
Click here to read more about the FanClub.

Request from webmaster Art:
Don't forget to vote for this story in the yellow voting box below!
Authors really appreciate the votes and it only takes a few seconds!

Options: Plain text or PDF (fanclub only!) version for easy saving or printing

ESmail: Click here to send a private message to Storey Lover (with ESmail, the site's internal message system)

Authors appreciate feedback! Please vote, and write to the authors to tell them what you liked or didn't like about the story!

Profile for Storey Lover, incl. 2 stories Add this author to your favorite author list Add this story to your favorite story list Send this story to me through email

Give your opinion about this part: (You can vote for each part separately) select here 1 (terrible) 2 .. 3 .. 4 .. 5 (reasonable) 6 .. 7 .. 8 .. 9 .. 10 (excellent)

Send feedback to this author: Your name: Your message to Storey Lover:     (You are not logged in, so you can't send private messages) Public: post this message in the public feedback below