Everyone whether they want to admit it or not, has a fantasy that someone else would consider disgusting. Do I? Sure, but there is a difference between me and the normal person. I am not afraid of what people think of me. My life is an open book for the world to read. I’ve opened the doors to my dirty little secrets, so, are you ready to hear my fantasy?

His words penetrated her soul with a fever that no traditional medication could control. Wicked, his eyes boring holes into her frame as he sat across the room watching the young blonde undress. Each article of clothing tailored to fit, but she removed them as though they were thrift store quality. Money was never an object when he was involved. She would rip each thread from the silk in which it was sown if he demanded. She stopped at the panties, the red ones he sent to her the night before. Lace bikini cut with a small red bow on the band. They resembled the ones Victoria Secret used to entice men into the store. The difference with him though, was that these were the trophy from the last conquest. His bad habit was taking the panties from his victims.

“Leave them on. I don’t want to see your cunt, well, not yet at least,” he vocalized.

She moved across the floor like a cat stalking her prey, stopping only inches from his large frame. God dammit, why was he the drug she craved more than any other? Her lungs expanding with argumentative breath, she struggled with the intensity. Smirking, her crimson lips curling up, even the Cheshire cat would be jealous of her smile. A swift strike of her tongue over her bottom pillow, she moistened the stain with a saliva gloss. Yes, yes, he would like that. Her mouth wet for him. He never said a word, but she heard him inside of her head. He didn’t need to speak. She knew.

“May I?” she whispered.

“May you, what?” he laughed.

“Let you rape my throat with your cock,” uttered the young blonde.

His hand moved down to the jeans he wore, grabbing the crotch of his pants with a rough grip. He was taunting her, and she knew it.

“Are you a good girl?” he asked.

Her head shook from side to side as she smiled, “No, no I’m not. I am a cock craving whore.”

As a master would call his dog, his hand slowly tapped his pants to advance her to his lap. Sighing, his hands now on the side of the chair, he waited. She didn’t expect him to help, did she? Of course, not. A cock craving whore knows her place on the food chain.

“Thank you,” her body shook as she whispered.

Slowly taking the space between them away, her slender digits working down his zipper with ease. The button next, one slip of her hand and she released him from the confines of his pants. It was at the point, that she used the tip of her finger to push a strand of drool that escaped from the side of her mouth. Looping the saliva around her finger, she pushed it back into her warm mouth, pulling back with a soft suck. God, wait, there was no God present here. All she wanted was her throat to be ripped from her body and used as a cock sleeve for this man. He intoxicated her soul.

He pushed his body back in the chair, lifting a bit to allow the release. As he placed his hands behind his head and laced his fingers, he waited. She knew what to do. They all knew. A breath exhaled, he was tired of waiting, and she would know that before the night was over.

As though a serpent, her tongue perched between her lips, tasting the air around. Fuck, he was delicious, and she hadn’t yet tasted his nectar. Slithering up the underbelly of his cock, her tongue followed the thick vein from his sac to the head. A flicker back and forth, she painted his cock with an overabundance of saliva. Every stroke of her tongue caused her body to tingle with a wanton desire.

“Umf,” he muttered.

Both hands on the floor to brace herself, she wrapped those pretty lips around the head of his cock, engulfing to the rim. A slow roll of her tongue, she fucked the slit with the tip of her oral muscle, pulling back with a sudden pop. Eyes to his, her lips in a well-defined whistle as she blew on the damp mushroom. Inch by inch, she engulfed him, her crimson prints left around the base of his thick cock. As much as she tried, the gag reflex was too strong. Choking on the size, her mouth slowly retracted, saliva pouring the moment her lips released the meat.

“No!” his voice boomed like a clap of thunder.

H reached out, grabbing the back of her head and forced his cock against the seal of her lips. With force, his hand pushed down, the head of his cock threatening to break her teeth if she didn’t comply. Lacing his fingers in the soft strands of her hair, he didn’t stop until every inch of his dick stretched her mouth to capacity.

“Bitch, do you choke?” he asked, yanking her head back, looking into her shocked eyes.

“No, no we don’t choke,” she whimpered.

He pushed her head down hard, the head of his cock pushing deep into her throat, holding tight to stop her from pulling away. It wasn’t about what she wanted, but about what he needed. Forcing his hand back with regret, no sooner did he give her a breath did he take it back away. There is giving head, and then there is this. Throat fucking with a jackhammer speed, the head of his cock causing her mouth to bleed from the size. One after another, his thrust causing him to lift from the seat to impale her on the length. No longer a concern as long as she kept her mouth open, he used it for his pleasure.

Gasping, her face turned blue from the lack of oxygen. Crying with each thrust, her eyes widened, the streaks of mascara running down her cheeks. Cheeks bulging, her lips burned from the stretch. Her pain was his pleasure, and the more she gagged, the closer to cumming he was. Her nostrils flare as his hand restrained her head, holding her throat to the point of collapsing around the bridge of his cock.

“Fuck, eat that fucking cum,” his voice raspy as he demanded.

She opened her eyes with the first hit of scalding fluid down her throat. His nuts resting on her chin, he dumped them down her greedy throat in waves of lava from the head of his dick. Her cheeks expanded, filling them to resemble a chipmunk stuffing nuts in for the winter. In her case, she was on a liquid diet. Pure protein.

He exhaled deep, leaning back as his hand released her hair, pushing her back from the oversensitive head of his cock.

“Go clean yourself up. You’ll do better next time,” he laughed, lighting the half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray.

The post Fantasy Or Reality – You Choose appeared first on Seductive Gypsy.

Enjoy my little creative story.

Pacing the floors of her home, she was bored out of her mind. At 18, she should be out partying with kids her age, but there was something different about this one. She needed things that a man her age could never provide. Maybe that’s why she preferred them all over 35 years of age. So much time passed since she was with a man. She needed to know she could still get one for some reason. Well, if she wanted one. A few hours of fun was all she needed to get her mind to where she needed.

Thumbing through her phone, the name that stood out was that of a local strip club. One where eighteen was legal, and they had open stage night every Tuesday. Tonight, she would mindfuck someone stranger into oblivion. That was the goal, at least.

Two hours later, the five-foot-ten in blond found herself in the middle of the stage, searching for her victim. She would call him that because by no means would she fuck him tonight. Her pussy saved for a special guest, and there were no VIP’s in sight.

Music blaring, she wore nothing but a pair of red panties, stocking with lace trim, and a thin ribbon around her neck. Though tied in a bow, she was no one’s gift tonight. One more item accented her outfit of choice. A pair of 4 inches spiked red stilettos. Not her normal expensive ones. These would serve one purpose tonight. They were for attention only.

In the center of the stage, a chair sat, waiting. Calling a guy in the front row on stage, she smirked when she noticed the bulge in his jeans. If that were any indication of what he was packing, it would take all she had not to give in to temptations. She pointed to the chair. No words were needed. Tonight she was going to use him for a prop in her little act of self-pleasure.

The music changed, the song was seductive and enticing. As she moved in for the kill, her hips swayed to the beat of the song, never missing a note. Stopping as she approached, her hands slid slowly up her sides, cupping her breasts’ underside in each palm. Not big, nor small, she was a perfect handful. As her tongue traced her bottom lip, she tightened the grip on her tits, pulling forward to grasp her perky nipples between her thumb and forefinger, twisting, yanking, and finally releasing them back with a bounce. She wouldn’t stop till the naturally pink buds changed to a constricted shade of red, her breath coming in shallow pants. The look on his face said it all. This man was mesmerized by the show in front of him.

“Fuck,” he growled.

No, there was no fucking tonight. Just a little tease. She loved being a tease, straddling the male’s lap, one leg on either side. A long grind would start the show. She slid a hand to the back of his neck, yanking his face forward, planting his lips between her tits. With a whisper, she held him there, grinning, “tongue fuck my tits!” Her head dropped back as he rolled his tongue up and down her cleavage, slapping him in the back of the head when he tried to attach to her nipple. “Do it again, and we’re done,” she warned. Tonight was not his show. It was hers. Long licks over her freckled breast, she caught her bottom lip between her teeth for a satisfying approval. His dick strained in his pants as she pushed down repeatedly on the crotch of his pants. Her panties saturated now with her lust.

She yanked his head back once again, looking into his eyes, and her free hand forced three fingers into his mouth, fucking over his tongue with slender digits. “That’s a good boy. Get them nice and wet,” she whispered. Pulling her hand out, she smirked as the next place they landed was down her panties, fingers curled, and pushed into the tight walls of her gripping cunt. Slowly, her fingers pushed to break the invisible seal. A loud guttural moan came from deep within. Each slide of her fingers forced her to contract her walls around them. Juices were pouring out to soak the silk panties she wore, staining his pants with her filth.

“Fuck, fuck my cunt,” she growled. The only one fucking her was her. Each time she pushed down on his hard dick, the jeans forced her fingers in deeper, stretching her walls as the liquid sloshed out and around the tips of her fingers.

His eyes widened, bucking his hips up to meet her growing demands, she screamed out as the first orgasm ripped through her body like waves of boiling lava. Each ripple was forcing her to cry like a wanton little whore. She was, though—a little whore who sought pleasure in only herself.

Satisfied, she pulled her fingers from her panties, forcing them down his throat. That was his payment for the night. He would be allowed to taste what he could never touch. It seems like a fair trade.

She slipped from his lap, laughing at the sight. He was covered in her orgasm and would be left wanting for his own. She would leave him to handle his problem on his own. Remember, there was no VIP’s here tonight.

The post VIP – Leave Them Horny and Begging appeared first on Seductive Gypsy.

Disclaimer. This is pure fantasy. Nothing here is real.

During my life as an Escort, I have done some things I have been proud of, and some I am ashamed of. This one lays right there in the middle of the road. I had a client who asked for something specific. He wanted me to be a Nun. I am not Catholic, so I don’t play by the rules of the church, but for the most part, I have some sort of morals. Well, I thought I did at least. If you’re easily offended, skip this bit of writing.

“You have an outfit you are to wear on the date. Just ask Janice for the box.”

Dave was very straight to the point and cold, but he was in this business to make money, not friends. He reminded me of that many times. Being the warm soul that I am, at times found this to be hard.

Standing in the foyer of the office, I lifted the lid to the outfit and burst out in a fit of laughter. It was a Nuns habit. He wanted me to be a Sister for him. Everything was once a first, and this right here was shocking. Inside the box was the black habit, some rosary beads, and crucifix, and a bible. Even just looking at this stuff made my stomach quiver. The note at the bottom made me shake though.

“You are to dress in the outfit and meet me at St. Paul’s cathedral. Be there at 9 pm for a confession. You will be using the 3rd confessional from the right. Do not be late.”

Holy fuck, he was going to make me attend church like this. What does a fake Nun do at a church? I don’t even know how to be a good, or bad, Catholic.

At 8:57 pm I arrived dressed in the habit, the bible in my hand, and the beads hanging from the belt. I googled the proper way to wear the outfit. The only thing off was that I did have makeup on, and I was wearing a very seductive perfume. I figured he would know it was me by my scent. I think real Nuns are forbidden from wearing anything that enhances their appearance. I am not a real Nun though.

My head kept its gaze to the floor, walking into the confessional that I was instructed to sit in. A little shock was that there was a prayer candle, a lighter, and some holy water inside. Something told me this was going to be a very deviant act. I will admit that I am worried about the afterlife now. I was about to be paid for something so deviant, so morally wrong, that I knew I would rot in hell for it.

A slide of the window and this voice spoke softly. He wasn’t the devil. He was a human being, but was he a Father? A Priest? God, what if I was about to speak filthy to a Man of the cloth.

“In the name of the Father, and the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. My last confession was never.”

I heard the sigh from the other side. Maybe he wanted me to be Catholic. I’m not of any faith, so this would all be new to me. I went to church as a child, but never as an adult. I felt my life choices wouldn’t be accepted, and I never went back. I am sure my parents are not understanding that.

“I want you to take the rosary and insert the beads one at a time in your asshole. You will leave the cross to hang. You will feel it pressing against your flesh. Do it now!”

His voice changed a bit. When I think later, I will claim that Satan at this point entered his body and was commanding through him. I know this is not possible, but I honestly then felt I was sitting with the Devil himself.

Spitting on the beads, I pushed the first one in my asshole, each one felt rough to the touch, and as though it was ripping into my anal cavity. I was sure this was just my mind working overtime here. How could this man afford this? I was thinking the entire time that maybe he has stolen my fee from the collection basket. He was getting off with a whore and using the money that the church collected for the homeless, and the sick. I am a fucking sinner!

“Father, it’s in. All of the beads are in my ass and the cross is resting on my vagina.”

I just said vagina to a holy man. My mind was calling me every filthy name ever created.

“Take the prayer candle and slid it in your cunt. Fucking your sin slit with it. Now Sister.”

What the hell was wrong with this Man? He was making me fuck my whore pussy with something that had been blessed and placed there to resolve the sins of the lost. I did as I was told, and the moment that slender white pillar candle pushed through my tight slit, I felt a release. I came. How the fuck does one cum this way? Placing my hand to my mouth, I whimpered through to rush of sin that flooded my body, not wanting to alert anyone of my deviance. I could hear his jacking off in the other confessional. He was raping his cock with his hand, fucking himself to my sickness.

“You came, whore? You came all over the Father?”

I admitted to my sin, and that’s when it went silent for a moment. My door opened quietly and this Priest stood before me. Pushing my head back, looking down into my face, his cock was placed right on my lips. He was hard as a rock and his face. Oh god, his face was evil. It was pure evil.

Opening my mouth, he shot his cum right there on my tongue. It was scalding hot and tasted horrid. I never had tasted anything like it in the past. I hope to never taste it again.

“I absolve you of all your sins, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen”

Leaning down, he lit the candle that was still inside of my pussy, and he was gone. I don’t know if I did this with a real Priest, but I feel as though something unholy went through my body that night. Something so dreadful that I will forever burn in hell. Funny thing is, I never came like that in the past. Never had I felt like I was completely on fire.

The post Blasphemy At It’s Finest appeared first on Seductive Gypsy.

“How the hell did I end up here?”

Gypsy, 32, had a death wish of sorts. A lover of all things spooky, when she found the flyer at her work for a tour of cemeteries, she was instantly excited. So much so that her nipples strained against the silk blouse she wore. Placing her arm over the front of her shirt, it was too late.

“So you going to that?” Bob asked.

Bob was the office hound. He would fuck anything that let him and had many times over. Most of the girls in the office stayed as far away from him as they could. The only good thing about Bob was that his dick was always hard. If you needed a quick relief, he was the one guy you wished never had a big mouth after you fucked. Gypsy knew better after her friend Sasha was on the receiving end of one of his wild office sex stories. Sure, she did it but never realized that he would tell everyone, including her boss. After a write-up, lecture, and a blow job, she kept her job.

Holding tight to the paper, Gypsy shook her head, knowing she was already excited about the spooky night in the cemetery. Salem had some of the nicest ones, and yet, all of them claimed to hold the bodies of burned witches and other creatures or the night. The few times she ventured into one, it was daylight, and she was never alone. According to the flyer, each person was to walk in alone, and they would wait five minutes before the next.

“I can’t wait. I love this kind of stuff. Well, I got to go. Sorry Bob, but I need to work,” Gypsy said, walking away quickly.

The following Friday, standing at the gate of the most notorious cemetery in Salem, Massachusetts, Vanessa waited with the crowd for the attraction to open. Small talk back and forth, the one person she noticed missing was Bob, the office horn dog. She was sure he would show up but hoped she was long gone before he was. Seeing that man after hours wasn’t anything she wanted.

“Gypsy, you’re next. Remember to stay on the path, follow the signs, and oh yeah, don’t believe anything you see. The ghost’s come here to make you lose your mind,” he laughed. The man was none other than the CEO of the company she worked for and a well-known practical joker. For a man in his 40’s, he loved to play little mind-twisting games.

“HAHA, I will make sure to bring one back to work with me next week,” she said, her lashes batting at the affluent male. He was a catch, and she wanted to be the cat to lure him closer.

As she stood at the open gate looking down at herself, Gypsy was glad that she wore a simple pair of jeans, a red hoodie, and her favorite pair of running shoes. If she needed to outrun the spirit world, at least, she was dressed for it.

The old burying point, otherwise known as the charter street cemetery, was the haunt location. As Gypsy walked down the pebble path, she noticed the age of the graves the first time. Back then, they believed in marking the graves with sizeable above ground stones. Most of them in perfect shape. There was the very few with small crumbling age spots. Most of these people were buried back when you did not forget the dead.

“Gypsy,” called the wind.

Stopping, the young woman looked around, her body covering with chills. The place was finally starting to get to her. Twenty minutes in, she had never felt so alone in her entire life.

“Hello? Whose out there? This isn’t funny,” she whispered,” shaking, she wrapped her arms around herself.

Rusting from behind one of the oldest graves in the place sent Gypsy in a tailspin as she took no chances, running into an ancient mausoleum on a small hill. Stopping at the door, her heels digging into the earth, the last thing she wanted was to make that first step inside. Phantom, heavy breathing behind her, opened the door and forced her inside the small brick building.

Pushing her body back into a small alcove, the shadow of whoever called to her filled the entire opening to the room.

“Gypsy, come out and play with me,” called the voice.

That was the first time she realized who it was. Her boss and CEO had followed her through the cemetery to scare her. No wonder he was the one at the gate.

Sliding out of the hole she was tucked away in, Gypsy couldn’t help but laugh the moment she saw a man standing in a wolf mask, his hands reached out for her.

“Oh, has the giant nasty wolf monster chased the little girl into the darkroom? Are those teeth going to eat me?” she taunted.

Pulling her forward, that man in the mask groped at her clothing, ripping her pants down in a rushed manner. He took her red silk panties along for the ride.

“Oh fuck, are you going to devour me now, Mr. Wolfie?” Gypsy asked.

As he pushed her to the ground, the monster looked down with a sinister growl. Pulling his zipper down, pulling out the biggest cock she had ever seen, he took no time to crawl between her legs. He was not only going to fuck her, but he was soiling hallowed ground. One thrust, and he forced that monster dick inside of her dripping pussy, slamming balls deep inside the young woman. His grunts animalistic, he pounded through her slippery wet pussy walls with a force that inched her towards one to the crypts, bracing her body so she couldn’t escape. Not that she was trying to go anywhere. Fucking her boss was something she always wanted.

“Oh fuck, god damn, fuck me harder, wolfman,” she cried.

As he pulled back to the head each time, the monster slammed deeper into her puffy lips, stretching them open to mold to his dick. He was insane with lust, and she wanted nothing more than to cum all over his cock before someone found them.

Deep grunts, the monster forced his way in, both of them crying out in a painful cry of lust. Anyone walking by would think it was sound effects for the scary event.

Both of them shaking, the monster in the wolf mask pulled back, pulling his pants up before standing over the cum soaked woman. With an evil cackle of laughter, he pulled the mask off, tossing it onto the well-used woman on the ground.

“You wouldn’t fuck me in the office, but now I know your kink. Scare the shit out of you, and your panties come off,” Bob said, walking out with a new story to tell the office on Monday morning.

The post Monsters Exist In The Filthy Mind appeared first on Seductive Gypsy.

Disclaimer: A story of Kitten and her Master. This is not about me, but erotic all the same. Enjoy.

I have this dream that last night developed into something so intense I ripped the sheets off my bed. Not getting properly laid in a year is driving me to the brink of insanity. I know the man I am dreaming of, but I won’t say his name out loud. I can’t. He tastes like arsenic every time I even think of him. There is something so forbidden inside of me I can’t even fathom letting another man touch me. Not when I know, even without a touch, I know that no one could ever satisfy my needs again.

“Don’t you fucking dare come into my dream again tonight,” I warned. As my hand pulled the corner of the sheets tight, I smoothed out the linen to a flawless surface. Clean sheets are a little kink of mine. Sleeping naked feels incredible when the bed is freshly made. Pink with the tiniest of dots, everything about my bed screams female. Why not? I allow no one into my bedroom. It’s the one place where I feel the most at home.

The lights off, I opened the veranda doors to a gust of ocean air, sending chills up and down my spine. “Fuck,” whimpering, the kiss of salt now coating my lips. There is no place in the world that I love more than the beach. I guess you can say I am a fish out of water and need to stay close to home. My eyes stayed on the beach as my hands moved to remove the long white t-shirt I slipped on after a bath. Up and off, the view from the beach would give anyone a shock, but sadly, there was no one out. Yes, I am sorta an exhibitionist at heart. I left the doors open wide before slipping between the comforter and the sheets. Most people would call this a touch of insanity, but I called it hopeful. I guess there is a part of me that believes he will find his way in and show me what a little slut I really am. The other part of me fears his appearance. I’m not sure why, but there is something so mysterious about this man.

Eyes closing, the sounds of the ocean crashing on the shore, in the distance the songs migrating whales are finding their way home. There is a place where the mind lives when you’re almost asleep. A twilight state that allows everything you ever denied creeping in and scratches the back of your brain.

A weight shift on the bed, the side closest to the open door indenting. The scent of his cigarettes filling the room, the one he held in his hand freshly lit. Hitting the cancer stick, his blue hues filling with amusement. He smiled from his eyes more than his mouth. As the tip glowed the hottest shade of red, he rolled it slightly over the bare thigh that lured him in. His lips curl as the flesh heats, forcing a slight moan.

“Wake up little, Kitten,” he growled.

Soft moans. I knew he was there. My entire body was heating from the touch of that coffin nail that he perched between his lips.

“Stop,” I lied. I called him in my dreams, so asking him to stop was a complete and utter lie. Wanting more, not less. I wanted him to push that cigarette into my flesh and force the screams to rip from my throat. God, what is wrong with me?

“Beg me to stop,” he laughed, the same cigarette now resting on my left ass cheek.

“No! I don’t beg anyone,” I snapped. Whimpering at the cherry tip that heated my flesh. I swear I could almost smell my skin branding from the warmth.

Laughter filled the small room, the windows shaking from the force. He knew better than that. She would drop to her knees and beg him if he demanded it, but knowing she was denying herself amused him even more. Maybe it was her age or lack of proper training, but if he fucked her, she would know better next time. Snuffing the cigarette out, his hand moved up the center of her back, knotting in the glowing strands of her blond hair. The way the moon seeped through the open door cast a small halo around her head. She was no angel. Ripping her head back, forcing the slender curve of her neck to arch, his laughter was short-lived.

“Liar. You don’t beg me to stop because you want to feel it all, don’t you?” whispering, his teeth grabbing the shell of her ear. “Liars go to hell, Kitten,” adding.

“Stop it, I don’t like my hair pulled,” whining. Every fiber of my being ignited with want. I wanted him to fuck me more than I wanted air to breathe, but saying that wasn’t easy. I pride myself on being a strong female, so this was causing my stomach to knot. “Why the fuck are you doing this?” I asked.

Silence, the only sound in the room, his breaths. Laced with fine hairs, he held his fist tight. A ponytail of hair kept captive by his weather-beaten hands. “Beg me to fuck you,” he said again, this time his voice holding a hint of anger.

Screams inside of my head telling me to say no, but the only words that formed on my lips came out in rapid pants of want. “Fuck me. Please, fuck me,” I cried. God dammit, there it was. The truth always comes out in the end, even when you fight its appearance.

“See there, Kitten. Was that so hard?” he said. His voice filled with sarcasm. He knew the truth. Hell, he could smell the sweetness of her pussy when he wanted in the room.

“Roll over on your stomach and stretch your hands to the head of the bed. Hold it tight and do not release it. After that, stretch your legs until they hang from either side of the mattress,” he growled.

“Oh my god,” whimpering, I didn’t want to spread my legs. I knew I was soaked and as soon as I peeled my thighs apart, he would know as well. Feeding his ego is not what I want tonight. As my pulse quickened, I rolled to my stomach, reaching out and catching the fabric with the tips of my fingers. Next, my legs pushed apart to the sides of the bed, curling the arch of my feet around the ledge. “There, are you happy?” I snapped.

A sharp exhale and he moved to the open space between her legs. Looking down, her lips glistened with moisture. She was sopping wet. “Do not move at all. Do not twitch your body in any direction. If you do I will go back out the door I came in and you will never see me again. Do you understand?” he asked.

My chin resting on the bed, I whispered, “I understand.” God damn, what was he going to do to me? I’m not scared, but every sense in my body’s heightened and on a high stage of alert. I closed my eyes to allow my body to calm down and accept what he was going to do to me.

“Good, Kitten,” he growled. Leaning down, he brushed the stubble on his chin over her ass cheeks. Smirking with little prickles of lust formed on her skin. She was dying, and he knew at that moment the level of control he had over her. Breathing through his mouth to let blankets of warm air kiss her flesh, the anticipation of her moving delighted him. Would he leave if she did? You’re goddamn right he would. A woman needs to learn who is in control.

“Please,” I whispered.

Retracting his hand, he licked the palm before slapping her ass with full force. She needed to learn patience. As the outline of his hand formed on her fleshy cheek, he moved his chin down to brush back and forth over her swollen lips. The spike bristles of a few day’s growth just scratching the surface of her mound. A large calloused hand on each ass cheek, pulling her apart to view his entire meal. “Looks good enough to eat,” grunting, he buried his face in the middle of her ass. Sliding his tongue up and down her backside, he stopped when he found the small starfish opening to her asshole. A push against the rim. His hands tightened on her cheeks, indenting the skin with the molds of his fingers.

I blacked out the moment his tongue probed my ass. God damn, son of a bitch, I could cum from ass play alone. Most women lied and said they hated it, but I know I wanted it all. I will never turn down a punishing ass fuck. Slowly opening my mouth, I gripped the sheets with my teeth to silence the moans that threatened to spill from my lips. I didn’t want him to stop and took no chances.

As his rough chin rested against her lips, his tongue fucked her ass, each time pushing the tip into her core. A rough rake of his teeth over the outer rim. He wanted to devour every inch of this woman. Back and forth he shook his face, her pussy lips covered with invisible scars from his scruff. Resting his chin on the palm of his hand, he waited. His eyes on the slowly parting lips, he waited until a trickle of honey slipped from her pulsating cunt. A strike of his tongue with lightning speed, and the sugar was gone. Devoured like a snake taking a victim of his very own. It was the first time he tasted her cunt, but it wouldn’t be his last. The scent is an aphrodisiac, but the taste, pure addiction.

“Please fuck me,” I begged. Yes, I begged. He wanted me to beg him to touch me and I am no longer afraid to do that. An hour ago I would have laughed in his face, but right now, I would sell my soul to the Devil for one night with him.

“No!” he laughed, sliding from the bed. He stood at the edge, looking down. Go to sleep and you may not cum until I tell you so. Good night, Kitten,” he said, slipping out the way he came in.

I rolled to my back, shocked, as I watched the drapes blow in the wind. “Fuck you, goddamn you,” I cried, knowing sleep wouldn’t come for me tonight. He left me high and wanting another touch from him.

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His words penetrated her soul with a fever that no traditional medication could control. Wicked, his eyes boring holes into her frame as he sat across the room watching the young blonde undress. Each article of clothing tailored to fit, but she removed them as though they were thrift store quality. Money was never an object when he was involved. She would rip each thread from the silk in which it was sown if he demanded. She stopped at the panties, the red ones he sent to her the night before. Lace bikini cut with a small red bow on the band. They resembled the ones Victoria Secret used to entice men into the store. The difference with him though, was that these were the trophies from the last conquest. His bad habit was taking the panties from his victims.

 “Leave them on. I don’t want to see your cunt, well, not yet at least,” he vocalized.

 She moved across the floor like a cat stalking her prey, stopping only inches from his large frame. God dammit, why was he the drug she craved more than any other? Her lungs expanding with argumentative breath, she struggled with the intensity. Smirking, her crimson lips curling up, even the Cheshire cat would be jealous of her smile. A swift strike of her tongue over her bottom pillow, she moistened the stain with a saliva gloss. Yes, yes, he would like that. Her mouth was wet. He never said a word, but she heard him inside of her head. He didn’t need to speak. She knew.

 “May I?” she whispered.

 “May you, what?” he laughed.

 “Let you rape my throat with your cock,” uttered the young blonde.

 His hand moved down to the jeans he wore, grabbing the crotch of his pants with a rough grip. He was taunting her, and she knew it.

“Are you a good girl?” he asked.

 Her head shook from side to side as she smiled, “No, no I’m not. I am a cock craving whore.”

 As a master would call his dog, his hand slowly tapped his pants to advance her to his lap. Sighing, his hands now on the side of the chair, he waited. She didn’t expect him to help, did she? Of course, not. A cock craving whore knows her place on the food chain.

 “Thank you,” her body shook as she whispered.

 Slowly taking the space between them away, her slender digits working down his zipper with ease. The button next, one slip of her hand and she released him from the confines of his pants. It was at the point, that she used the tip of her finger to push a strand of drool that escaped from the side of her mouth. Looping the saliva around her finger, she pushed it back into her warm mouth, pulling back with a soft suck. God, wait, there was no God present here. All she wanted was her throat to be torn from her body and used as a cock sleeve for this man. He intoxicated her soul.

 He pushed his body back in the chair, lifting a bit to allow the release. As he placed his hands behind his head and laced his fingers, he waited. She knew what to do. They all knew. A breath exhaled, he was tired of waiting, and she would know that before the night was over.

 As though a serpent, her tongue perched between her lips, tasting the air around. Fuck, he was delicious, and she hadn’t yet tasted his nectar. Slithering up the underbelly of his cock, her tongue followed the thick vein from his sac to the head. A flicker back and forth, she painted his cock with an overabundance of saliva. Every stroke of her tongue caused her body to tingle with a wanton desire.

 “Umf,” he muttered.

 Both hands on the floor to brace herself, she wrapped those pretty lips around the head of his cock, engulfing it to the rim. A slow roll of her tongue, she fucked the slit with the tip of her oral muscle, pulling back with a sudden pop. Eyes to his, her lips in a well-defined whistle as she blew on the damp mushroom. Inch by inch, she engulfed him, her crimson prints left around the base of his thick cock. As much as she tried, the gag reflex was too strong. Choking on the size, her mouth slowly retracted, saliva pouring the moment her lips released the meat.

 “No!” his voice boomed like a clap of thunder.

 He reached out, grabbing the back of her head and forced his cock against the seal of her lips. With force, his hand pushed down, the head of his cock threatening to break her teeth if she didn’t comply. Lacing his fingers in the soft strands of her hair, he didn’t stop until every inch of his dick stretched her mouth to capacity.

 “Bitch, do we choke?” he asked, yanking her head back, looking into her shocked eyes.

 “No, no we don’t choke,” she whimpered.

 He pushed her head down hard, the head of his cock pushing deep into her throat, holding tight to stop her from pulling away. It wasn’t about what she wanted, but about what he needed. Forcing his hand back with regret, no sooner did he give her a breath did he take it back away. There is giving head, and then there is this. Throat fucking with a jackhammer speed, the head of his cock causing her mouth to bleed from the size. One after another, his thrust caused him to lift from the seat to impale her on the length. No longer a concern as long as she kept her mouth open, he used it for his pleasure.

 Gasping, her face turned blue from the lack of oxygen. Crying with each thrust, her eyes widened, the streaks of mascara running down her cheeks. Cheeks bulging, her lips burned from the stretch. Her pain was his pleasure, and the more she gagged, the closer to cumming he was. Her nostrils flared as his hand restrained her head, holding her throat to the point of collapsing around the bridge of his cock.

 “Fuck, eat that fucking cum,” his voice raspy as he demanded.

She opened her eyes with the first hit of scalding fluid down her throat. His nuts resting on her chin, he dumped them down her greedy throat in waves of lava from the head of his dick. Her cheeks expanded, filling them to resemble a chipmunk stuffing nuts in for the winter. In her case, she was on a liquid diet. Pure protein.

 He exhaled deep, leaning back as his hand released her hair, pushing her back from the over sensitive head of his cock.

 “Go clean yourself up. You’ll do better next time,” he laughed, lighting the half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray. 

The post She knew her place in HIS world appeared first on Seductive Gypsy.

Settled down for the night, the coolness of the early fall air brought out the big blankets. Living by the beach was ten to twenty degrees cooler than inland, but tonight a layer of fog added to it. There is a place where you’re not quite awake, but sleep hasn’t consumed you yet. When the loud sound of the door opened, I knew this was just another night terror. As much as I would try to work my way out, there was always something dragging me deeper.

I was startled, sitting up and looking through the smoke that now filled my bedroom, leaving me confused and bewildered. Standing in the frame of the door was the most ungodly sight. Eight feet tall, the man’s skin not human it looked as though there were scales like a dragon instead of flesh.

“Get out,” I screamed.

“Not yet,” he said, grabbing my ankles, yanking me from the bed, “You’ll need to come with me. I have a bet to settle.”

Screaming, my heart raced like a freight train coming down the tracks. I wanted out of this dream before something terrible happened. “What the fuck are you doing? Leave me alone,” I screamed as my ass hit the floor, and I was drug through the open door. Nail marks would be the breadcrumbs left on the floor. I dug so deep that I knew I would never get those scratches out of the wood. Why was I even worried when for all I knew, I would never come back? When the Devil comes knocking at your door, you better believe that’s your final moving day.

It was the smell of fire that hit me first. Well, that, and his hands. His digits long and slender, they clawed into my flesh with a vice-like grip. Even if I tried to break free, there was no way I would be able to get out of his clutches. He was hundreds of pounds heavier, and his strength that of ten men.

The descent into hell seemed as though it took a lifetime, every horrible thing I had ever done passing before my eyes. I never wanted to remember some of the memories, but this wasn’t for me. It was a bet, but between who, and why me? All I wanted to do was get a good night’s sleep, and this happened.

Screaming skulls staked to the wall, the rancid arms reaching out to grab me as I fell. God help me, please let this be a dream. If I’m dead, incinerate me rather than send me to the bowels of the earth. I don’t care what the bet was. There was no way this was a good thing for me.

I hit the ground hard, my ass plopping down on a bed of rocks, each one piercing into my soft ivory flesh. Crying, it took me a minute to realize it was me who was calling out to God to have mercy on my soul. The laughter of others echoed through the dark cavern. All the inhabitants amused that I still had hope that a God even existed.

“Get up,” a female whispered. The woman’s hand in my hair, she yanked me up, pointing me in the male’s direction who stole me from my bed. He now sat on a red crushed velvet throne. The legs of the chair human hands that bled out each time he adjusted himself in the seat. The chair seemed to be alive, but at this point, I questioned nothing. We learned in church that some would find themselves in their own private hell in the end. I could only imagine what the man did who was now an elaborate seat for the demon dweller.

I teetered on falling. I stood at the base of the rocks, looking up at the man, my mind still wondering what this bet was, and why me. There were no words from me when another male appeared at his side, his body stripped of all its clothing. The first thing I noticed was the enormous cock that hung between his muscular legs. Sure, cock wasn’t a new sight to me, but I had never seen anything like this. Nor did I ever want to. The veins on his manhood almost pulsating the moment he saw me standing before him. God help me, what was this bet?

As he would later tell me, the Devil bet this man that there was no way I could deep throat his cock. The man was sure that I could, and if I did, he would get a second chance at life. Is this how this shit works? They always say never to make a deal with the Devil, but I guess no one ever told him what happens if you lost.

“You WHAT?” I screamed. My eyes never on his face, stared directly at the beast between his legs, pray that I woke from this dream soon.

“If anyone can do it, you can. The guys down here talk about you when they beat off at night. Everyone says for the best little cocksucker in Los Angeles, to look you up,” he laughed. With his hand on his cock, stroking it, all I could think was this had to be hell if he made it any bigger? If the man impaled me on that cock he would penetrate my stomach through my mouth.

I blinked, shaking my head from side to side, “No fucking way. That thing will kill me. I pointed, my finger drew an outline of his cock, gasping when I realized it had to be a foot long.

The Devil threw his head back, roaring in laughter, as did all his minions that rested by his side. They followed the leader, knowing better than to dismiss anything he said.

“You don’t think I can do it?” I glared. What the fuck was wrong with me. I argued over whether or not I could deep throat this son of a bitch. Whose bet was this anyway?

Giddy with excitement, the man could barely wait for the Devil to give him the go-ahead. The minute he did, I regretted it. It seems that it’s been four-hundred years since this man had sex. In hell, they use the earth for their porn. Each of them watching couples fuck while they jack off. The only one allowed to have physical sex is the Devil himself.

Grabbed from behind, I fell to my knees, looking right at the monster cock, almost salivating for a taste. I didn’t want this cock. Why the fuck was my mouth watering for a drink from the man’s dick? My head yanked back. He slapped this thick bulbous head on my lips. A smear of pre-cum glossing my soft pillows, I opened for him without even being asked. A slither of his cock across my tongue, and he pulled back, laughing at the Devil. This man knew that I could take it. If there is one thing I know how to do, it’s take a cock down my throat.

“Feed me,” I growled. I meant it. There was a craving inside of my stomach that tightened just knowing I would soon gag with every inch the male forced inside of my gulping throat.

His hand knotted in my strands of silken locks as he pushed into my mouth, letting the head slide slowly over my tongue. I could already taste his fluids. Not sweet, but as hot as the fires of hell. They scorched the flesh on my tongue, causing a whimper to vibrate against the shaft. God, help me. I wanted to take all of him deeper. To have my throat torn from my body and used as a masturbation sleeve for his cock. My eyes sealed shut, tears running down my face, his cock reached the back of my throat. A deep guttural grunt from the man, and he shoved every inch in until his balls rested on my chin. I was choking from lack of air, but none of this concerned the male. He wanted bragging rights and to walk the earth again.

Yanked from his cock, I moved to the table of sacrifice, my body stretched out as my head dangled from the metal surface. It was not cold like I expected. No, it was burning hot, and the smell of my clothing burning repulsed me. Once again, his cock plunged into my throat. One thrust and he was fully engulfed inside of my oral cavity. This time his hand went to my throat, jacking himself off from the outside in.

“You son of a bitch, she did it,” the Devil screamed.

Sitting straight up in bed, my hands on my throat as I choked, I don’t know if this was a dream or not, but my clothing smells of burning flesh, and the scratches across my floor will never be repaired.

The post Devil made the bet of a lifetime appeared first on Seductive Gypsy.

Reading erotica stories can offer a range of benefits beyond mere titillation. Here are some reasons why engaging with this genre can be beneficial:

1. Exploration of Fantasies: Erotic stories provide a safe space for readers to explore their fantasies and desires without judgment. They offer a way to delve into different scenarios and kinks that one may not feel comfortable exploring in real life. By experiencing these fantasies vicariously through literature, individuals can gain insight into their own sexual preferences and identities.
2. Enhanced Imagination: Erotic stories often stimulate the imagination with vivid descriptions of sensual encounters. Readers are transported to different worlds and situations, allowing them to engage their creativity and imagination in ways that may not be possible with other forms of literature.
3. Increased Sexual Knowledge: Reading erotic stories can be educational, providing insights into various aspects of sexuality, intimacy, and relationships. Through the depiction of different sexual experiences and dynamics, readers can learn about new techniques, perspectives, and even sexual health practices.
4. Stress Relief and Relaxation: Like any form of literature, reading erotica can be a form of escapism. Engaging with erotic stories can provide a temporary reprieve from the stresses of everyday life, allowing readers to relax and unwind as they immerse themselves in a world of sensuality and pleasure.
5. Improved Intimacy: For couples, reading erotic stories together can be a way to enhance intimacy and communication in their relationship. Sharing fantasies and discussing the themes and scenarios depicted in the stories can lead to deeper connections and a better understanding of each other’s desires.
6. Empowerment and Liberation: Erotic literature, especially when written from diverse perspectives, can empower readers by validating their desires and identities. It can help individuals feel more comfortable with their sexuality and encourage them to embrace their desires without shame or stigma.
7. Cultural and Literary Appreciation: Erotica has a rich literary history, with works ranging from ancient texts to contemporary literature. Engaging with erotic stories allows readers to appreciate the cultural and artistic significance of the genre, exploring themes of desire, passion, and human nature through a literary lens.

In conclusion, reading erotic stories can offer a range of benefits, from exploration and education to relaxation and empowerment. As with any form of literature, the enjoyment and benefits derived from erotica are subjective and vary from person to person.

READING EROTICA VS WATCHING PORN

Watching erotic movies can provide a range of potential benefits, although these should be approached with caution and balanced against any potential drawbacks. Here are some potential advantages:

1. Exploration of Sexual Fantasies: Erotic movies can serve as a safe and private space for individuals to explore their sexual fantasies. This exploration can enhance self-awareness and contribute to a healthier understanding of one’s desires and preferences.
2. Increased Sexual Arousal: Erotic films are designed to stimulate arousal, which can be beneficial for individuals seeking to enhance their libido or reignite sexual passion within a relationship. This heightened arousal can lead to improved sexual satisfaction and intimacy.
3. Education and Learning: Some erotic movies depict various sexual techniques, positions, and practices. Watching these films can serve as a form of sexual education, providing individuals with new ideas and techniques to incorporate into their own sex lives.
4. Stress Relief and Relaxation: Like any form of entertainment, watching erotic movies can provide temporary escapism and relaxation. Engaging in pleasurable activities, including watching erotic content, can help reduce stress and promote overall well-being.
5. Couples Bonding and Communication: For couples, watching erotic movies together can be a way to explore mutual desires and fantasies in a shared space. This can foster open communication about sex and intimacy, leading to a deeper emotional connection.
6. Normalization of Sexual Expression: In societies where discussions about sex are often taboo, erotic movies can help normalize and destigmatize various aspects of sexuality. By portraying diverse sexual experiences and identities, these films can promote acceptance and understanding.
7. Enhanced Body Positivity: Erotic movies often feature a diverse range of body types and appearances, which can help individuals develop a more positive body image. Seeing realistic depictions of sexuality can reduce feelings of shame or inadequacy related to one’s own body.
8. Entertainment and Pleasure: Ultimately, watching erotic movies can simply be a form of entertainment and pleasure. Like any other genre of film, they provide an opportunity for individuals to indulge in fantasies, enjoy visual stimulation, and escape from the mundane aspects of daily life.

However, it’s essential to recognize that not all individuals may experience these benefits, and consuming erotic content can also have potential drawbacks, such as unrealistic expectations, objectification, or addiction. Therefore, it’s crucial for individuals to approach the consumption of erotic media with self-awareness, critical thinking, and moderation.

The post READING EROTICA VS WATCHING PORN appeared first on Seductive Gypsy.

Her delicate fingers strummed through the velvet-lined wall. She performed the erotic dance for his eyes only. Eyes to eyes, she watched his face as her fingers followed the waves of his mind. Up and down, her manicured nails fought the desire to open the door to the most wondrous place. A gentle knock, tapping on the bell, her entire being shivering with anticipation. Pulling back the silk drapes, she allowed him a view of what awaited inside. The walls soft and dripping with lust. She panted as her finger pushed inside like a voyeur seeking shelter from the cold.

The post Killing Me Softly – 100 words of Lust appeared first on Seductive Gypsy.

As a writer I live in a world so dark that sometimes my mind scares even me. It’s not that I wish for things to happen, but that my mind plays them over and over in my head. Below is a dream that work me in the night, forcing me to scream out in orgasmic bliss. That happens when the sickness takes over. All of this is ONLY a writers fantasy.

The shrill of the phone sent her into a little panic. It was the work line and Gypsy knew there was a man who had been exchanging letters and texts with her for a while. He was very well off, and a lover of pain. She too was someone who likes the addition of some pain in her life. In this line of work, there can be no physical marks unless paid for. Each mark will cost the consumer for their presence on her body. He mentioned he wanted to spend in the 10 grand range and each one would be 500 dollars in her bank account. When the girls agreed to this, they would make the full amount, not the company. She knew full well the extent of the oncoming abuse.

In her hand was the paper that described the client. He was mid 40’s, unmarried, and a CEO of a major brokerage company in New York. He was well-groomed, attractive, std free, and yet he liked escorts. There had to be a reason why, but as long as he paid, Gypsy didn’t care. He could have a micro-penis and she could have cared less. This was not about sex for her. She worked for financial security. Her red shoe client paid her lease and for her car, and the rest paid for by monies earned through Men like this. Not a respectable career choice, but one she loved.

Standing in front of the building, it was intimidating in stature. When she looked it up online, the numbers showed that there were 112 floors. There were also 4 elevators, 3 restaurants, and a penthouse at the top that belonged to the Man. The one she was going to meet. The attendant showed her to the floor. He told her to go into the apartment and follow the instructions on the table in the foyer. Smiling, she thanked him with a 20 and he was gone. Sure she didn’t have to do that, but she knew what it was like to work check to check. Of course, that was not her life now, but it once was.

“Gypsy, you are to undress where you are. Everything folded neat and tidy. Place them in the basket to the right of you.” Looking over, she saw the one he spoke of and proceeded to do as told. This was not the normal “date” for her. She was going to play that fifty shades shit and be his submissive. Fantasy is fun, unless it’s like the movie where the Dominate only stole a girl’s virginity. That was the entire plot of the movie. He spanked her once, took her cherry, and bam, they fell in love. That is not the way it works in the real BDSM world.

Unclothed and looking to the next item, Gypsy followed and found herself down the hall to the right. It was a dark room, no, not red, but dark in its own right. Next, someone told her to lie on the bench on her stomach. Then, she should put her hands in the holes in the floor and hold onto the thin metal bars. Under no circumstances was she to release her grip until instructed to. Gypsy followed the orders, noting the coldness of the cylinder bar. That was her mind playing tricks on her, but it felt ice cold. Sometimes you feel things that are not there because the mind is a devil. It will lead you down a path of destruction if you give in to temptation.

“Gypsy! For the next 8 hours, I own you. You’re to rest when I say you need it. You’re allowed to use the restroom when I say you need to relieve yourself. Not before. Self-control is the key here. Use it.”

A few deep breaths she felt his hand on my ass. Caressing the soft skin of her round buttocks, his hands were as smooth as a baby’s bottom. He didn’t do manual labor. His hand proved that. Closing her eyes, it was a sensual movement by him, one that would very soon come to an end for the young girl.

The first slap was a shock. She felt the removal of his hand, but the placement forced her to scream. Her body arched; her puffy lips were the target. A slap so hard that her breath’s lost, she cried out in sheer blissful pain. The immediate reaction forced her lips to swell, her lower ones. Though she couldn’t see the mark, she could feel the outline of each digit on her perfect flesh. It would bruise. That she was sure of. Gripping the handles, her knuckles were turning white. A second slap landing on her right cheek, his hand gripping the flesh instead of a quick withdraw. He pressed his fingertips into her skin, leaving marks that would turn purple later. Each time he struck her, there were no words spoken. No instructions. A small grunt of relief from this Man whose face she had not even seen.

Soft music flowed through the sound system. He moved across the room, the sounds of a drawer opening, his presence once again next to Gypsy. He was getting a condom and going to finish, but no. Blinding pain, screams for mercy, and the trickles of warmth running down her backside. She didn’t know the weapon of choice, but it was horrific and intoxicating at the same time. How could something so bad, be so good at the same time. Forcing his hand to her mouth, he forced her own panties in her mouth, taping them to muffle her cries. During this all, she could have stopped it. Her hands were not bound by anything other than her own self-control. She held steadfast and in place. It was his fantasy, but she was the one who was finding true pleasure.

“Do not move. My maid will come and wash you so not to soil my floor!”

He was not done. He bought 8 hours with Gypsy. This man was paying per bruise. 5 grand in, she would reach 10 before done with her.

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