Lustful Bites: Quick & Dirty Erotic Shorts

Leona sat bent over her desk. The blue light from the computer shone on her face. Her back was curved, but not because she sat bad. It was because her cunt hurt. It throbbed and ached between her legs. It was a deep, empty hurt that needed to be filled. Her fingers hit the keys fast. Click, click, click. The sound was loud in the quiet house. It went fast, just like her heart beating. Words showed up on the screen. The words were dirty and full of hunger. She was too scared to say these words out loud in the day. “Damian did not just want her. He wanted to ruin her. His big, rough hand held her neck tight. He pushed her against the cold wall. His hard d**k pressed against her soft leg. It was a promise. He was going to f**k her hard. ‘You will take all of this,’ he said. His voice was low and it shook her wet cunt.” Leona stopped. Her breath caught in her throat. She squeezed her legs together under the desk. She tried to stop the throbbing pain. It did not work. She was dripping wet. Her panties were a soggy, sticky mess. They were glued to her swollen slit. She could feel the wet juice there. She was wetter than ever. A thick, clear cream was leaking out of her hole. It ran down her leg. It might stain the chair. She looked at the comments on the side of the screen. People were writing a lot. They were sharing dirty thoughts. “God, the way you write about Damian makes my p***y drip.” “I need a man like that. Someone to use me like a toy.” “Writer, how do you know what I need? Did you let him ruin your tight hole yet?” Leona’s face got hot. Red. She clicked refresh. The numbers went up. It was like a drug. She was the Pastor’s daughter. Everyone thought she was good and modest. But here, on the computer, she sold filth. And who did she write about? Damian. To the world, Damian was a good guy. But Leona wrote about the Damian in her head. The Damian from her dirty dreams. A man who would bend her over and wreck her. She closed her eyes. She moved her right hand from the keyboard. She slid it down under her skirt. Her fingers shook on the soft skin of her leg. The air was cold, but her hand was hot. She gasped a little when her fingers touched her wet underwear. The shock made her hips move up. In her head, it was not her hand. It was Damian’s rough hand moving up her leg. His fingers pushing inside her. Taking her. She was close. She was right on the edge. Her breathing got fast. She rubbed her hard c**t through the wet fabric. She rubbed in small circles. The wet fabric made a squishy sound. “Leona? What are you doing in there?” The voice cut through her lust like a knife. Leona opened her eyes wide. Her heart stopped. It was her dad. The Pastor. The man who yelled about sin. She moved fast. She pulled her hand out from under her skirt. It was coated in her sticky cream. She wiped it on her skirt fast. She hit the power button, but the computer was slow. The screen froze on one bad sentence. “He pushed inside her, ripping her tight cunt open…” “Come on, you piece of junk,” she said fast. She hit the button again. The door handle started to turn. The screen went black. Leona stood up. Her legs were weak. She fixed her skirt. Her face burned with shame. But the smell was still there. The strong, sour stink of her p***y. It filled the room. It smelled like she had been f*****g for hours. The door opened. Her dad came in. He looked big and scary. “It is late, Leona,” he said. His voice was low and rough. “I heard noise.” “I… I was studying, Father,” she said. Her voice shook. She felt dirty. “I lost track of time.” “Studying.” He stepped closer. He smelled like stale smoke and old sweat. He looked at the desk, then the dark computer. He walked to the desk. He put his hand on the screen. “You look distracted lately,” he said. He looked at her. “Mom says you look at the boys at school.” “No, Father. Never,” she lied. “Lust is a sickness, Leona,” he said. He stood too close. “It starts in the brain. If you do not cut those thoughts out, they kill the soul.” He leaned in. He sniffed the air loud. Leona froze. “Smell… what?” “The smell of sin,” he said. He looked at her chest going up and down. “Your heart is fast. Your face is red. Are you sick? Or are you burning with sin?” “I… I think I am getting sick,” she whispered. He looked at her for a long time. Then, he turned the computer on. Leona almost fell down. She prayed. Please break. Please stop.