Filthy Smut (Vol. 3): 38 Erotic Stories (Over 450 Pages of Hot Sex)

by Lynn, KT

  I couldn’t get the buzzing sound out of my head, I just wanted it stuffed into my hole but Theresa slowly positioned my back towards the ground and placed her mouth on my vulva as I watched her ass wiggle with delight from Oscar continuing to please her.

  I tilted my head back and looked up at the roof of the patio, my body writhing wildly while Theresa’s mouth and tongue continued pleasing me. Fuck it was so hot, and all I wanted was to get fucked or to feel Oscar vibrating deep inside of me.

  Theresa began licking me faster, forcing her tongue deeper and deeper into my pussy while her finger started playing with my anus. At first she just massaged the rim of my butt, but after awhile I felt her push one of fingers into my butt. “Oh my God!” I screamed, almost feeling guilty for feeling so good!

  “Fuck Yeah!” Theresa howled and I snuck a glimpse of her legs twitching and convulsing while fluids began rapidly oozing out of her wet hole. Continuing to moan loudly, Theresa clinched her hands on my ass squeezing my cheeks and then placed her face to my face, our noses both touching and asked

  “Can I fuck you with Oscar?” in the most sultry tone.

  I quickly nodded my head yes, wanting nothing more than to be fucked in my hole, hoping that I would feel half the pleasure that it looked like Theresa felt.

  “Get on your hands and knees,” Theresa said in a way that sounded like an order without being domineering. With my ass pointed towards her face, Theresa shoved her tongue into my pussy while her nose practically dived into my ass. I looked up at the patio door and I could see our reflection.

  My dark hair was falling down across my shoulders, and my little tits were jiggling while Theresa and her blonde mane were planted near my ass eating my pussy. Was this really happening? Before I could begin second guessing myself again, I heard Oscar begin buzzing louder. He’s out of Theresa! And from the reflection I watched Theresa as she took Oscar into her mouth and sucked the taste of her right off of him.

  Fuck, I’m so wet, I noticed, reaching my hand down my stomach to my pussy and feeling myself drip down on the patio. The next thing I knew, Oscar was pressed up against me and Theresa was guiding him along. As soon as she began moving him, I began moaning loudly.

  At first Oscar just danced around my vulva, tickling my clit, and labia, but Theresa didn’t waste much time. Before I knew it Oscar was entering inside of me while Theresa was eating my ass. I looked back and I saw Theresa grab a belt from under the comforter and place it around her waist while continuing to move across around inside of me.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. In the next few moments I heard a click and Theresa had connected Oscar to the belt she placed around her waist and she grabbed my hips and started fucking me, causing my heart to jump.

  CHAPTER 8

  “Holy shit!” I screamed, feeling her, or Oscar, or whatever beautiful creature they had transformed into, fucking me deeper and deeper while vibrating my entire vulva. The sensation flowing through my body was intense, and I’d momentarily close my eyes and then open then again.

  At one point I looked up, at our reflection in the patio door, and I saw Theresa face finding so much pleasure in filling me up, her golden locks frolicking in the air, while her giant boobs bounced with glee. She slapped me on the butt a few times and then reached over and grabbed a handful of snow.

  Just when I thought this feeling couldn’t get any better, Theresa took some of the snow and started holding against my vulva as she fucked my vagina with Oscar. The cold of the snow was such a contrast against the heat in my pussy that I gasped in confusion at the sensations. I began to buck wildly, throwing my ass back against Theresa’s waist.

  Theresa continued holding snow up against my hot pussy while she fucked me with Oscar. I couldn’t believe how good this felt! I looked back and I saw Theresa sink Oscar all the way into my hole and I immediately turned sensitive all over. I could feel Theresa’s blond hair, dangle on my body.

  For a moment it felt like I could feel each strand and I knew I couldn’t take anymore, I knew my body had reached its limit and I felt my pussy deliver a mind blowing orgasm that felt like a tremor through my body, making my knees too weak to stabilize my body and I crashed over to my side and I looked down at all the fluids that continued to flood out of me and Theresa’s shocked face.

  While lying on my side, Theresa carefully pulled Oscar out of me and I gasped uncontrollably. Theresa took her other hand full of the cold snow she had held next to my warm pussy and placed it in her mouth, swallowing it. I continued staring at her, when she unstrapped the belt around her waist and detached Oscar from her hips, unable to take my eyes off of her when she took Oscar covered in pussy juice into her mouth and making him almost completely disappear, before pulling him out and gasping for air.

  “There are a lot of guys out there who have to be angry you’re into girls,” I said amazed at her ability to deep throat Oscar.

  “As long as there’s one girl who’s happy that I’m into girls, I don’t care,” Theresa said, leaning in to kiss me and I kissed her back. Theresa turned off Oscar, the buzzing sound stopped, and it sounded like the entire world was silent.

  We stayed inside the cabin for the rest of the trip, well other than heading out to the patio. Oscar stayed inside for most of the trip too. As the only man who never let me down, Oscar stayed inside my pussy for most of that trip and Theresa’s life and mine changed forever.

  Passion on High Seas

  by Cherise Kemps

  Themes: vanilla; light bondage

  The waves of the sea lay full and pure before me like the shattered shards of a glittering diamond, swept by a light, breezy wind and illuminated by the golden rays of the afternoon sun.

  Never had I seen a vision of such incredible beauty; an image that looked as though it’d been snatched whole from a beautiful portrait and placed before me in all its glory.

  The only difficulty, of course, was that I was not an old seafarer, but rather a 19 year old girl. And, perhaps as a consequence, I was bored quite silly.

  Ah, but do allow me to amend that comment. I did consider myself to be quite fortunate that lovely summer’s day, as I was not one of the hard bodied, muscular, and I couldn’t help but notice passing attractive lads who manned the decks of my schooner; the ones who poured their work and effort into the maintenance and running of this large, ivory walled ocean faring vessel.

  I was, instead, the younger daughter of the vessel’s captain; and while I watched those bronze skinned, bare chested men sweat and toil in their attempts to maintain my father’s ship, I was free to sit back and admire the waves that surrounded this mighty boat—and, upon occasion, the strong and well-toned young men who made it run.

  The rest of the time, however, I was totally and irrevocably bored. Excessively, one might venture to say.

  “I told you that you would be Delphine.” My father often reminded me, rolling his eyes heavenward as he stood at the wheel of his steady, sturdy vessel.

  I had to (very begrudgingly) admit his correctness in making that statement; I, after all, had begged my father to take me along on this nautical journey; one that promised to whisk us away to Eastern waters--and, I had told myself, an exotic adventure that could only be found in these wild waters.

  So I lied. Or at least that’s how it seemed, as—throughout the course of our four-day journey—the only ‘adventure’ I’d had involved a nasty case of seasickness that had restrained me to my cabin (one side of the cabin, specifically, the one that contained the lavatory facilities) for the better part of one day.

  The other days I had passed at this very same spot, center deck on my father’s vessel; being skillfully ignored by the hunky deck hands who—in all likelihood—were collectively regretful of the fact that I wasn’t Bethany, my elder sister.

  Indeed, although often praised for my fashionably cropped curly hair of chestnut and keen green eyes, my slender blonde sister often claimed the lion’s share of the attention; both on land and aboard
our father’s merchant vessel.

  Every time she sailed, in fact, Bethany came away with at least one marriage proposal—I, on the other hand, came away with an acute case of stomach distress.

  It hardly seemed fair, especially since I had dressed that day in my most fetching gown; an azure blue silk that matched the hue of the waves, one trimmed with lace at its cuffs and high collar and accented by the presence of a cameo necklace that I counted as my favorite piece of jewelry; this owing to the fact that it was a gift from my mother Dorothea--the same mother I couldn’t wait to go home to tomorrow, when this misbegotten journey came to a relieved end.

  “Perhaps I could head down to the galley and have Cookie fix me up the slop—that is, catch of the day,” I grinned to myself, casting a long last glance across the surface of the ocean before retreating below board.

  I froze in my steps as a massive ship—one easily twice the size of my father’s sturdy vessel—appeared on the horizon—its smooth wicker sides glistening bright in the light of the sun above.

  The ship was probably the most beautiful and impressive I ever had seen; for just a moment I stood transfixed as I admired its smooth planes, shiny high sides and towering bow.

  My awe dissolved to sheer terror moments later, as I identified the wide cloth flag that flew above the ship.

  Oh, not that I had any form of broad maritime knowledge—if I could tell a wheel from a sail I deemed myself well and fortunate. Yet even I recognized the skull and crossbones that emblazoned the surface of this flag.

  “Pirates!” The word hit my consciousness and flew from my throat in the form of an impassioned scream; one that rent the air and drew the attention of my father’s deck hands.

  For once heeding my word and presence, the lads sprang to action; following my gaze to immediately identify the approaching enemy boat.

  Apparently sharing my initial assessment that we were indeed in trouble deep, they raced across the deck to open subtle compartments embedded beside and below the ship’s deck; retrieving swords, pistols, and even a cannon that they quickly assembled on deck.

  “Someone summon the captain!” One cried, squaring his substantial shoulders and hoisting a long, brass handled sword high above his head.

  “I’m here!”

  With a flourish of my azure silk skirts I whirled to face my father, who bounded up a narrow tin ladder that lead him from the deck below to the center of a melee; one which he quickly quelled by barking out a series of commands and assignments that put each of his men to work. One, for example, grabbed the wheel of the ship, surging it forward in a desperate drive for a quick and dramatic escape.

  Others grabbed their claimed weapons and lined both sides of the deck; forming a surefire line of defense that even I had to admire.

  Running to my father’s side I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders; staring up into his weathered face as I clutched his hand in mine.

  “How can I help, Father?” Although I made a valiant attempt to sound brave, my cracked voice and trembling fingers belied my true state of mind.

  In my days as a captain’s daughter I’d heard many tales of the pirate—none of them pleasant or complimentary. I’d heard savage stories of these ruthless villains seizing ships and killing all unfortunate men who happened to be onboard—then doing unspeakable things to the more unfortunate women.

  Others carried out their ocean invasions in a decidedly more businesslike manner; divesting their target ship of its quarry and inventory before fleeing the scene.

  Although I did indeed despise the idea of my hard working father losing his quarry—the shipment of lush silk and satin fabrics every color of the rainbow, goods that would bring top prices on the Eastern market—I nonetheless hoped that the pirates poised to attack my father’s ship would fall into the second category, taking our quarry and granting us our lives in return.

  I could see this same sentiment reflected in the eyes of my father, who wrapped a strong arm around my shoulders and drew me to him in a protective clutch.

  “How I wish I hadn’t granted your wish to share my journey with me.” His voice low and remorseful. “Your mother begged me to deny you…”

  “I am no longer a child, Father, and it was my choice to come,” I reminded him, lifting my chin as I stepped away from him and balled my small fists at my sides. “Whatever happens, Father, I will stand by your side. And I take full and total responsibility for my own safety.”

  He looked at me a long moment, saying nothing; then he took me in a paternal embrace and lead me to the wheel of the ship; claiming his helm from a confused co-captain who stepped aside with an indignant “Harrumph.”

  “Sorry Mac.” The captain regarded the younger blond man with a grim gaze, taking the wheel in his own sturdy hands and gesturing out toward the enemy ship. “We can’t outrun them, Mac. The ship is too big and it’s coming too quick. We’re going to have to fight.”

  Despite my brave front I cringed outright at the sound of these words; watching with my father as the enemy ship ground to a halt before them. Suddenly the sides of our ships rose to face one another, with the pirate vessel looming dangerously close to our own, much smaller vessel.

  The next few moments passed in a haze for me; I stood still as though suspended in time, watching as a herd of dirty wild men invaded the decks of our boat. Like roaches these hulking, weapon bearing men scattered the length of our vessel, grappling and engaging with knife, gun and sword fights with my father’s furious men.

  In just a few moments the familiar deck of Father’s ship resembled a bloody battlefield, with both the bodies of my father’s men and some of their attackers littering the deck below her. Some howled out in pain, others were eerily still; and aside from myself, only two people remained standing. And one held a gun to the head of my father.

  He was probably the most gorgeous man I ever had seen; not that I cared overmuch, when he held my destiny in his hands.

  Taller than my statuesque father by at least half a foot, the king of the pirates bore broad shoulders and rough hands; as well as a hulking muscular form that seemed to bulge through the threaded confines of his ivory shirt, ebony pantaloons and long gold coat—one that came complete with shiny brass buttons and a base fabric of pure silk.

  Indeed, the stranger before me had a long mane of thick black hair that resembled fine velvet and coal hued eyes to match; his sun drenched face came smattered with a coating of stubble, above lips that were full and thick.

  He certainly looked nothing like the delicate society dandies that filled my elite—and quite boring—world. And if he didn’t happen to be holding a weapon to the head of the man who had graciously given me life, I suppose I might quite fancy him.

  The fact was, however, that he was indeed threatening my father’s life; to me he was not a bonny lad but a complete and utter monster. So in lieu of desire I felt disgust, in lieu of attraction I felt sheer terror. And in lieu of flirting, I attacked instead.

  My long, silken skirts fluttered in a dramatic flourish as I struck out against my father’s captor; pounding his chest with my tiny fists, kicking him with my coquettish little slippers, thrusting my rather modest chest against his larger and—to my vantage point at least—more impressive one.

  “Let him go!” I screeched, gritting my teeth and fixing the pirate with an intimidating stare.

  He met this expression with a cool, irritatingly sardonic smile; and my actions with a single strong hand that fixed itself on my shoulder and held me at bay.

  “I do like a spirited lass.” His voice was deep and oddly sonorous as it arose from his golden throat. “Even so, my darling, I do not need your input and interference at this time.”

  His gaze hardened as he turned to face my father, who addressed his captor with a hard, stern voice; one I myself had heard each and every time I failed an exam at the young ladies’ finishing school.

  “Release my daughter.” My father fixed the pirate with hardened eyes that bespoke
his pure condemnation. “Now.”

  In an instant the pirate let go of me, in the same instant cocking the long steel gun that threatened my father’s life.

  “I feel no need to involve a woman in our—ahem!—conversation.” He arched his feathered eyebrows, pinning my father with a sardonic smile. “This is not about her. It does, however, concern the fact that you seem determined to cheat my countrymen out of their hard earned wages. And I, dear sir, aim to stop you.”

  My father, much to my surprise, met these charges with a round of low, dry laughter.

  “Ah, I see.” He nodded. “You are one of those grand, noble pirates who steals from the rich to give to the poor, murdering innocent men in the process.” He spat out these last words as though they were poison.

  The pirate nodded.

  “I am willing to achieve my objective by any means possible.” His brief, officious nod sent chills up my spine. “I am Matthias Hayes, pirate defender of my people and country.”