
Six-Nine Dripping Fantasies
**WARNING: VERY EXPLICIT 21+**
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My name doesn't matter. My filthy urges do. I came home from work. The bedroom door was half open. My husband was there, pounding into some woman on our bed, his c**k slamming in and out, deep and rough.
I should have screamed. Instead my p**sy clenched hard. I stood frozen, watching every thrust. My hand slipped under my skirt on its own. Fingers circled my cl*t as he f**ked her right in front of me.
He glanced over. "You like watching my c**k stretch her?" I rubbed faster.
"Don't stop," I whispered. Then I came shaking, eyes locked on him pounding her.
***
69 Dripping Fantasies is sixty-nine raw taboo stories. Wives catching husbands cheating and getting soaked instead of angry. Step-family secrets whispered in quiet. Glory holes that fill fast. Honeymoon wife swaps sparked by one dumb dare. Older rich men taking total control. Professors crossing every forbidden line. Husband's best friends sneaking in. Strangers who follow, then f**k hard. Group nights in dark clubs. Cucks cleaning up every last drop.
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I'm on my knees. One thick c**k buried deep in my throat, making me gag. The woman behind me squeezes my t*ts until it hurts so good. Her tongue between my ass, teasing, no c**k has filled my p**sy or a*s yet. But I'm trembling, dripping, seconds from squirting everywhere. Two massive black c**ks wait their turn, and her presence makes it filthier... hotter.
I never knew I craved this so badly.
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No soft romance. Just dirty yeses where no should be. Sixty-nine stories. Sixty-nine surrenders. Read if you're brave. These pages might leave you wet, jealous, horny... or secretly think of your own filthy fantasies when nobody's watching. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
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Chapter 3
Yes, I was aware that last time Millie chose to ignore it. I figured she was a woman without insecurities, but this... there was no explaining this.
"I'm just gonna..." I figured I didn't owe her that much. I mean, I've known the bitch for a few weeks. It wasn't entirely my fault her husband wanted to get into my pants, well, we did more than that, but still, I'm very single. If anything, he's the one who swore to not cheat on her, not me. "I'm gonna-"
"Don't cover your boobs. I love them." I almost tiptoed out of the room when I heard Millie say it. It stopped me. I slowly met her eyes, she wasn't joking. "They must be round, right? What size do you wear?" She asked, now coming toward me. I thought it was a trick until I saw her husband walk to the bedroom bench, pull his shirt off, sit down, and start stroking his cock again.
"W-what's happening?" I nervously asked as Millie circled me. This was very weird.
"Why do you think I wanted to be friends?" she asked. I really had no idea. "I was going to complain to the chef when I saw you bent down trying to get something." She said, and I had no clue what she was talking about.
"I don't understand."
"Truth is..." She smacked my ass so hard the sting radiated long after her hand left. The sharp crack echoed in the room, my cheek burning hot, pussy clenching from the surprise pain mixed with filthy want. "I like your ass."
"So... you wanted someone to do a threesome with?" I asked, somehow getting it. "Aren't you two married?"
"Oh yes we are, and no, we didn't want a threesome." She stopped in front of me. I stayed frozen, still confused. She told me to open my mouth. I did, I don't know why. Then she slid four fingers in. "Look at me." She instructed. She was a bit taller, so I looked up. I imagined she saw my eyes roll back as she pushed deeper, making me gag hard. Then she roughly pulled out, leaving me coughing and drooling.
"My wife is a watcher," Lucan said from the bench, still stroking his cock, it grew thicker, veins popping as he pumped slowly. "And she likes women."
"She's a lesbian," I said, but he shook his head.
"A woman pleaser. She likes watching women get fucked. It's what turns her on. Especially if I'm the one fucking." He revealed. That's when my eyes flew to Millie. She'd stripped out of her dress, now in black lingerie that hugged her curves like sin. She exuded power, sexy, but in a dominatrix way, straight out of porn. She looked like one of those porn stars who own the room.
"I get my pleasure from watching," she said, stopping right in front of me. Then she grabbed my chin. I obediently looked at her, not knowing how to react. Honestly, I'd never seen anything like this, but something in me was teased and I liked the feeling. My nipples were so hard they hurt, pussy dripping down my thighs just from her commanding stare, like she already owned me.
"I'll help you take my husband's cock," she said. I don't know why I nodded, God knows all I wanted was that cock. Then, without warning, she slammed her lips against mine and kissed me. Her tongue teased in and out, sliding deep. It was more pleasurable when I didn't kiss back, she had total control, licking my tongue, biting my bottom lip, hands roaming over my boobs, pinching nipples until I whimpered into her mouth.
"Oh my god, you're so hot," she whispered between kisses, like she was starving for it. "Fuck. I'm about to cum right now." Her fingers slid down into my panties. I closed my eyes, feeling her touch my pussy, she knew exactly where to rub, circling my clit slow then fast. Standing there, my toes curled hard in pleasure, legs shaking.
"Ooh." That was Lucan. I opened my eyes, he was watching us carefully, stroking his own cock faster.
"You can't wait to put it in her tight pussy, can you?" Millie asked, pulling away. Lucan groaned in response. "She's ready," she said. Lucan stood up. I was still catching my breath.
Lucan reached us, grabbed his wife roughly, and kissed her deep. I watched, it was so hot, their tongues tangling in a messy French kiss. My mouth watered just seeing it. After a moment they pulled apart. Lucan looked at me, no words. He sat on the bed, legs spread wide, cock standing straight up, twitching on its own with every heartbeat.
Millie came back to me and slammed her mouth on mine again, this time full of saliva. She dropped it into my mouth, thick and warm. Then she instructed, "Bend over and suck my husband's cock."
I did, bent at the waist without kneeling. My mouth reached for that huge, heavenly cock. My mouth was already full of her spit, and from the minty taste I could tell she'd collected it from him earlier. The mint mixed with his musky pre-cum on my tongue, dirty, wrong, perfect.
As I took him in, Lucan grabbed my hair, guiding me down slow. Millie knelt behind me. Her tongue suddenly reached between my ass cheeks. I'd never done that before – before I could react or pull away, her wet tongue flicked over my hole, circling, pushing in a little. Shivers shot through my whole body, pussy clenching around nothing.
Then a voice from the door: "Don't start without me?"
I wanted to jump, but I couldn't, Millie had my hips pinned, Lucan's grip on my hair kept me locked on his cock. The voice was clear: Lucan's friend. Evan, if my memory was right, the one I assumed was sleeping with Millie.
"We're just getting started. Come in," Millie said.
First I was overwhelmed with pleasure and didn't think too much about it. Then I felt another hard cock press against my side, thick, hot, same size as Lucan's. "Let me also have her mouth, Lucan," Evan said. Lucan let go. Before I could catch my breath, Evan shoved his cock in my mouth with force. It hit the back of my throat, making those two dangly things gag me hard. Spit poured out, running down my chin.
"That's right," Millie whispered against my ass, her breath hot entering my asshole, sending shivers everywhere. "You'll take my husband and his best friend's cocks."
Two huge black cocks?
My head spun as shame burned my edges, but my pussy was soaked, aching to be filled.
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7.3
I found out my husband of three years had cheated on me and his mistress is the one who told me-because he didn't have the balls to do it himself.
I move out and get a new apartment, a job as a bartender, and try to move on with a broken heart. I wonder where it all went wrong, if I hadn't been enough for him, if I'd been stupid for marrying him in the first place.
I'm at work one night when he walks inside-the most beautiful man I've ever seen. He sits at the bar and a forest fire burns between us. I was depressed the moment before he entered, but the second I look at his blue eyes, I forget the dumpster fire that my life has become. I invite him back to my place and it's the most passionate night of my life. I expect to never see him again.
I just want him as an anti-depressant-but he wants me all to himself. I just got my heart ripped out of my chest so I want something easy and no-strings-attached, but he wants all the strings because he's hooked.
I don't get much of a say in the matter, and that's not surprising when I learn why-because he's the Butcher. The crime lord of all crime lords, the boss that overshadows all of Paris, that makes everyone abide by his rules-or pay.
And now I'm his.

7.3
I was tracing the gold paint on my own tombstone when a hand tapped me on the shoulder.
It was Clayton.
The same man who, five years ago, had left me bleeding out in a ditch because he didn't want to be late for my sister's engagement party.
"Die quietly, Ivy," he had said over the phone before hanging up.
Now, standing over my grave, he dropped his cheap plastic flowers in shock.
"Ivy? You're... we buried you."
They hadn't buried me.
They had buried an empty box to save face, mourning a "troubled" daughter they had actually discarded like broken trash the moment I became a liability.
Clayton's shock quickly turned to that familiar, arrogant anger.
He accused me of faking my death for attention.
He told me I was sick for putting the family through such pain.
He even reached out to grab my arm, intending to drag me back to my father to apologize.
"You're coming with me," he spat. "You owe us an explanation."
But he made a fatal mistake.
He thought he was talking to Ivy Dillard, the soft girl who cried when she skinned her knees.
He didn't notice the town car waiting at the curb, or the man stepping out of it.
Before Clayton's fingers could graze my coat, a hand made of steel caught his wrist.
Collin Richardson, the most feared Capo in Chicago, stepped between us.
"Touch my wife again," Collin whispered, his voice promising violence. "And you lose the hand."
I smiled at the terror draining the color from Clayton's face.
I didn't come back from the dead to explain myself.
I came back to bury them.

9.0
Ashlyn was supposed to be just a fragile college student, selling her rare blood to a vicious crime syndicate enforcer to keep his dying sister alive.
But the dynamic shattered when Alex returned from a two-month disappearance. He stepped into the penthouse covered in dirt and blood, sporting a horrific, jagged knife wound slashed completely across his face.
Knowing exactly how to exploit his insecurities, Ashlyn played the role of the terrified victim to perfection. She screamed, pushed against his chest, and called him a terrifying monster. Humiliated and enraged by her blatant disgust, Alex violently smashed a marble table and kicked her out. He forced her out into a freezing, torrential rainstorm without a coat, vowing to kill her if she ever showed her face again.
What the ruthless enforcer didn't know was that her pathetic, trembling tears were a flawless, calculated lie. She wasn't a helpless, greedy girl. She was a cold-blooded corporate mastermind hiding from a family of elite assassins. She desperately needed his impenetrable penthouse fortress to stay alive, and she knew the only way to secure her place wasn't to ask for it, but to make him beg for her return.
Three days later, his sister's organs began to fail, and the hospital's blood bank ran dry.
"I'll pay you whatever you want. Just get here."
Listening to the desperate, broken voice of the monster over her burner phone, Ashlyn smiled coldly in the dark. The trap had snapped shut, and he had just handed her all the power.

8.7
I was the spare daughter of the Vitiello crime family, born solely to provide organs for my golden sister, Isabella.
Four years ago, under the codename "Seven," I nursed Dante Moretti, the Don of Chicago, back to health in a safe house. I was the one who held him in the dark.
But Isabella stole my name, my credit, and the man I loved.
Now, Dante looked at me with nothing but cold disgust, believing her lies.
When a neon sign crashed down on the street, Dante used his body to shield Isabella, leaving me to be crushed under twisted steel.
While Isabella sat in a VIP suite crying over a scratch, I lay broken, listening to my parents discuss if my kidneys were still viable for harvest.
The final straw came at their engagement gala. When Dante saw me wearing the lava stone bracelet I had worn in the safe house, he accused me of stealing it from Isabella.
He ordered my father to punish me.
I took fifty lashes to my back while Dante covered Isabella's eyes, protecting her from the ugly truth.
That night, the love in my heart finally died.
On the morning of their wedding, I handed Dante a gift box containing a cassette tape-the only proof that I was Seven.
Then, I signed the papers disowning my family, threw my phone out the car window, and boarded a one-way flight to Sydney.
By the time Dante listens to that tape and realizes he married a monster, I will be thousands of miles away, never to return.

9.4
I spent the night with a stranger...
Who got me pregnant...
And turned out to be my boss...
Whoops, sorry, did I say "boss"? I meant a MOB boss.
To be fair, I didn't know he was my boss when I slept with him.
I thought he was just the kind stranger offering me a place to stay.
But one night in Misha Orlov's hotel room got me way more than I bargained for.
It got me champagne that tasted like starlight.
Satin sheets as soft as a dream.
And a man with silver eyes who showed me how it felt to come undone.
And then, in the morning...
He was gone.
That's I needed to get my life together anyway.
After all, my ex-not-quite-husband (it's a long story) just emptied all our bank accounts and disappeared, taking my home and my money and my job with him.
So I'm starting from a blank slate.
I find myself a new apartment.
A new job.
And I put both Misha and my husband behind me.
At least, I thought I did.
Until Day 1 of orientation.
When I learn that Misha Orlov is my new boss.
That's bad enough.
What's worse is what came next.
A car crash.
A doctor's appointment.
And two pieces of unsettling news.
Congratulations, the doctor says. You're pregnant.
Congratulations, Misha says. You and I are getting married.

7.0
I thought running from the mate who used me as a pawn and rejected me would be the end of my cruel fate.
I was wrong.
I ran straight into a pack that didn't just hate me, but also wanted me dead.
My alpha stepbrothers: Quin, Rio, and Hunter.
They're called the Three Devils: dangerous, wild, and untamed.
Quin wants to claim my rut. Rio wants to mark me. And Hunter? He's ready to burn the world just to make me his.
But the Moon Goddess doesn't play fair. Pack laws don't bend...not even for Alphas.
And now we're trapped in a web of fate that will either bind us together or tear us apart completely.
This is a dangerous game, and I dread who the winner will be: the feral alpha, the biker president, or the sex god?