Dirty Erotic Oneshots by Mistress_ Red (reading list .txt) 📕

in society.

He closed the door finally with a soft thud and she went back to her cleaning, not knowing what else to do on a Saturday evening.

Several weeks passed and she never meet her handsome neighbor, nor did she watch him again. They shared the elevator to their floor once and never said a word, she was too entranced with the novel she was reading to comprehend that someone was with her until his hand hit hers for the button.

She let him press it and she went on with her day, focusing on the handsome stranger the character was fighting her passion from. Later that week on Thursday, 5:30pm sharp, she entered the laundry room, meeting the sweet familiar scent of generic laundry soap and dryer sheets in the humid air.

She had her bag that had the last ten students essays and another novel along with a medium sized ball of yarn and needles just for the hell of it. Her first load was in the dryer and she was placing the last load into the warm washing machine when he walked in.

At first she tried to pretend he wasnt there, finishing up, adding soap and pressing the button to start, she returned to her seat and began to read, pleased with her students analysis of pre-English Saxon culture when a large hand was in front of her button nose.

She looked up over her glasses and saw him smiling politely at her.

"Hello", his voice was a low rumble, like thunder with a lightning spark of cinnamon on his breath, he must have been chewing strong gum.

"We havent formally introduced ourselves, I'm Damion."

She cleared her throat and extended her hand toward his, "Cassy, its a pleasure."

Damions hand was warm and slightly calloused, but smooth.

"The pleasure is all mine, Cassy." He began to grin and she was slightly uncomfortable with the sudden socialness of the situation.

"I hope you dont mind," he began "but no one seemed to welcome me during their time slot and this is the only one that is compatible with my schedule."

He shrugged. "I hope you dont mind sharing yours, and the ladies from the first floor said that you would love my company." She bristled at that, those old bats were worse than her stepfather with always trying to find her a man.

"Its no problem at all." She replied coolly, not sure with herself why she agreed to this.

He smiled at her, "Good"

 

i n c e s t ( i )

 

 

My wife and I married at a young age and had little money while our children were growing up. While we lived in a modest, suburban area, we could not afford luxuries such as vacations and extravagancies. We felt pangs of regret each time we heard our friends discussing their camping trips and ventures to Disneyland, and vowed to try and save more money to do nice things with our family.

This is harder than it seems: both of our children had essentially grown up by the time we were able to afford a luxury vacation for the four of us. Our son, Mitchell, was 22 and about to start a graduate program. Our daughter, Gabrielle, was 19 and about to start her second year of college. We sprung the trip on them in April, asking them to each bring a friend as we traveled across the country, staying in hotels and relaxing for two weeks.

Mitchell brought his friend Tom, whereas Gabrielle opted not to bring a friend.

The five of us piled into our SUV and started travelling west. I won't bore you with the details of our stops – we all know why you're reading this story. I can cut to the chase:

The first evening, the hotel we had reserved failed to meet our reservation obligations: we had reserved three rooms (one for my wife and I, one for Gabrielle, and one for Mitchell and Tom). As my wife and I had a King bed and Mitchell and Tom had two queens, it was decided that Gabrielle would stay in bed with Mitchell (much to their protest). The hotel promised that another room would be available the next night. We were here for four days and decided to battle through an uncomfortable evening.

We had a delicious dinner that evening, and I drank a lot of wine and tuckered out early. When I poked my head in the adjoining suite that was shared by my children and Tom, they were all lying around and watching tv. I said goodnight and went to bed.

A few hours later I woke up, shivering. I pulled the blankets over me and tried to get back to sleep, when I started hearing the rhythmic thumps of a bed knocking against a wall. I froze and listened closely. I was pretty sure that I was hearing soft moans and grunts.

 

A rage brewed inside me as I got up and pulled open the adjoining door to the kids' suite. I froze again. There, was my son Mitchell, buried in the covers with headphones in his ears, snoring as his sister, my daughter, lay spread eagle on the bed in a white lace teddy and garter belt getting fucked by his friend.

 

From the doorway, I had a clear view of him slamming in and out of her as his tongue grazed her nipples. She was arching her back and opening her mouth in a silent scream as her blonde hair flailed about from the force of their joining.

 

I stood there, shocked, appalled, disgusted and angry watching this assault on my daughter. Not to say she wasn't willing, she appeared to be enjoying herself. Finally, I got my bearings and grabbed Tom by the nape of his neck and pulled him off of my daughter. He raised his hands in a surrendered position as my daughter, embarrassed and furious, tried to cover her body from her father.

"Get up." I said.

Angry as she was, she could not argue. As I pulled her into our room, I saw her turn back and give an apologetic look to Tom. I closed the door and locked it and led her to my wife and my bed. 

"Get in," I whispered. "You're sleeping between your mother and me tonight."

"Dad-" she whispered back, but I interrupted:

"No arguments. Get in bed right now."

"Can't I change?" She was still wearing her lace white teddy and garter belt. I looked down to see her shaved pubic mound fully exposed, and her hard nipples poking out over the tops of the lace.

 

I felt a twitch in my groin. Disgusted and embarrassed with myself though I was, I didn't want her to take her time changing and sneak back into Tom if I happened to fall asleep. 

"Get in the bed." 

She did as she was told. My wife, Sandra, was still snoring lightly, completely oblivious to the scene. I got in bed after my daughter and pulled the blankets over both of us so that she would have to disrupt them to get out of bed.

 

I turned toward her on my side so that the slightest movement would wake me up. She was lying on her back, breathing heavily, probably due to the frustration of being interrupted in the middle of getting fucked.

I lay there quietly, replaying the scene over and over. Had I overreacted? She's an adult, yes. But what the hell was she wearing that for? My imagination drifted to her lace getup as she lay with her legs open with Tom between.

 

As I thought about Tom pushing himself into my daughter, I started to get an erection. I tried to push it all out of my mind, but her nipples and shaved mound kept swimming before my closed eyes. The more I tried to concentrate on something else, the more I focused on the way my daughter's tits looked in the white lace. Before long, I was rock hard. I opened my eyes and looked at her, lying peacefully, sleeping. 

I slowly moved my hand and pulled the blanket down a bit. Her beautiful nipples poked out again for me to see. I inched closer to her and pressed my boxer clad cock into her hip and ground in a circular motion. I waited to see how she'd react: nothing.

 

I ground my dick into her hip again. Nothing. At this point, I was aching. I moved my hand across her body, under the blanket and grabbed onto her right hip with my hand as I pushed into the left hip with my cock.

Still nothing. I moved my hand from her hip and slid it across her abdomen. I rubbed for a second before tracing to her pubic mound and down the slit of her entrance. It was still wet from her session with Tom. As I traced my finger down her slit, she moved and her eyes snapped open.

"Dad. What the fuck are you doing?" she whispered.

"Shh," I whispered. "Don't wake your mother."

"Dad, that's sick. Stop it."

"Shh," I whispered again. "Just let me do this for a second and I won't tell your mother what happened with Tom." I couldn't believe what I was saying, but she stopped arguing and lay back.

I traced her slit and rolled her clit between my two fingers before I felt her hand pushing me away.

"No," she whispered.

"Come on," I inched closer and closer to her until my lips were less than an inch away from her breasts. I flicked my tongue over one of her nipples as I lightly tickled her clitoris and ground my dick into her side. When she tried to push my head away from her breasts, I rolled on top of her.

 

I forced her legs open with my knees and flattened myself so that my boxer clad cock base was pushed up against her slit. I ground into her and moved in a figure eight motion. I heard her exhale strongly then felt her bring her hands to my chest as she tried to push me away.

"Gabrielle," I whispered, "I'm not going to do anything bad. I won't take my boxers off - I just want to rub it on you for a minute."

"Can't you just go in the bathroom and take care of yourself?"

"It'll just be for a minute, honey."

"Please," she responded. But that was all. I continued to hump on her in a grinding, circular motion until I needed a bit more stimulation. I started pulling my hips back and pushing into her. I reached up and grabbed one of her tits with my hand and squeezed. I watched her bite her lower lip, looking at me apprehensively as I leaned in and took it into my mouth, still slowly bucking away at her.

"How much longer?" she asked after a bit. 

"Just