johnson090
1 Published Story
johnson090's Book and Story
WANTING MORE
Fantasy Wanting more
Abbyš
My tits sway back and forth, and I thank God I have small ones, or theyād be damn near slapping me in the face.
The guy behind meāI canāt remember his name at the momentāgrunts his way through pounding into my pussy.
His hands dig into my hips and sweat drips onto my back. My walls clench around his hard cock, but it still isnāt enough. I need more.
My stomach starts cramping and sweatānot from the sex itself, but from the insistent need for releaseāforms on my brow.
Fisting the sheets in my hands, I ram my hips back to meet his relentless thrusts. Looking over my shoulder, I growl, āEither fuck me harder or get the hell out so I can find someone to do it for me.ā
The hands on my hips tighten, and I know itāll leave a mark later. I donāt care. I just need this guy to get the job done before the pain takes over.
āFuck, babe,ā he groans. āI fuck you any harder, Iāll plow you into the mattress.ā
āJust do it,ā I hiss.
āJesus,ā he grunts, but does as heās told and slams his hip bones into my ass as he pumps into me forcefully.
I straighten my arms when his thrusts push my body forward. A blissful sigh leaves my lips, followed by a low moan when he finally hits the spot I need him to.
My fingers start to tingle from lack of circulation, so I unwrap them from the sheet. My body starts to quiver with the first ripple of my orgasm.
I close my eyes, and tiny sparks of light shoot behind my lids as the cramps in my stomach turn to flutters of delight. I lower my arms and lay my head against the cool sheets as immense pleasure takes over my body.
The guy behind me still pounds away, jerking my hips back to him. I pay him no mind, content to just lay here and let him have at it. I got what I needed from him, itās only fair that he reaches his peak as well.
Several minutes pass before he grunts and stiffens behind me. He releases my hips, and I immediately drop to the bed.
He falls down beside me with his arm thrown over his eyes, breathing heavily. Now that my brain is functioning properly again, his name comes back to me in a flash
Matt.
Matt was my lifesaver for the night.
As appreciative as I am of him, I really need him to go now; I donāt like it when they linger.
I may need sex from men on a daily basis to keep my sanity, but I donāt let them stay afterwards. I donāt do relationships.
I know Iām a bitchāusing men for sex and discarding themābut I have a damn good reason.
I roll to my side and get out of bed. I bend with my ass facing Matt to pick up his clothes to toss at him.
I lost my modesty a long time ago, and if it wasnāt for my job, or the fact I would get arrested for indecent exposure, Iād never wear clothes.
It would make things so much easier when the need took hold. During the day Iām fine, but by the time evening rolls around, the urge grips me tight and leaves me in a near panicked state.
I came so close to having an anxiety attack tonight. I thought I would have to call my friend, Nathan, to come rescue me.
Luckily, Matt showed up and caught my eye at the perfect time.
And here we are now, an hour later, with him still lying on my bed, and me standing with my hands on my hips, glaring at him.
He didnāt take the hint when his clothes landed on his stomach, so it looks like Iām going to have to be blunter.
I reach out with a foot and nudge his leg.
āHey, itās time to go.ā
His arm moves, showing off sleepy, plain brown eyes.
āCanāt you give a guy a minute to recover?ā he mutters.
āNo. I need you to leave right now,ā I tell him. I spy my panties on the floor and pick them up to slip up my hips.
Iām exhausted, and want nothing more than to sleep. A niggle of guilt tries to worm its way in with how Iām treating this guy, but I push it back.
Iāve learned the hard way over the years that in order to keep my inner emotions intact, Iād have to build a steel wall around myself.
I hate being a bitch, but itās the only way to protect myself. Only a handful of people know the real me.
Matt grumbles as he drags himself from the bed. I ignore him and pull on a cami, sans bra.
Using the hair tie from my wrist, I pull my thick blonde hair up into a ponytail as I wait for him to finish.
I tap my fingers on the doorframe Iām leaning against, while he sits on my bed and pulls on his shoes. Itās normally the guys that are hell-bent on leaving as soon as they are done, but not this guy. Heās taking his sweet time, and itās grating on my nerves.
He finally stands and makes his way over to me. Iām just about to turn around and lead him to the door when he boxes me in by planting his hands on the doorframe on either side of me.
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Cerise R. Wood Veronica Demoore was the girl everyone despised.
Mocked for her weight, humiliated for her grades, and crushed beneath a brutal home life, she lived every day as the target of ridicule-until the day she couldn't bear it anymore.
The world thought Veronica died that night.
But when she opens her eyes again. someone else is looking through them.
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A woman once raised in the shadows of a powerful organization. A genius trained to survive, manipulate, and dominate. In her previous life, she had wealth, intelligence, and strength. In this one, she has none of those things-only Veronica's broken body and shattered reputation.
But weakness is temporary.
Bullies who once laughed at Veronica soon discover the girl they tormented is no longer the same.
Her mind is sharper. Her gaze is colder. And the quiet girl they used to push around now carries a dangerous confidence.
As Savanna begins transforming Veronica's life piece by piece-losing weight, exposing enemies, and rising to the top of the school-the truth behind her rebirth slowly unfolds.
Because Savanna didn't die by accident. And the people who killed her are still out there. This time, she won't be their victim. This time- she's coming for everything. My Vengeful Husbands Demand A Remarriage
Zhao Da I survived ten years in the apocalypse, only to transmigrate into the body of the most despised woman in the Galactic Empire.
When I opened my eyes, I was holding a bloody whip, straddling a beastman husband the original owner had just tortured.
The mechanical system in my head immediately issued a death sentence.
"In two months, your trial marriage ends. Your six abused husbands will be legally permitted to tear you apart."
The original host was an absolute monster. She beat them, starved them, stole their meager military stipends for luxury goods, and even sent two of them to a deadly alien warzone just to impress her high-society friends.
Now, I was left with her massive debts, a blocked power core, and the terrifying reality of six powerful, vengeful beastmen plotting my murder in the basement.
I inherited all her sickening sins, and the crushing weight of their justifiable hatred felt like a suffocating nightmare.
How was I supposed to survive when the people I lived with were just waiting for the legal countdown to snap my neck?
But an apocalypse survivor doesn't just roll over and die.
I pawned the original's useless designer bags, bought the highest-grade nutrient solutions, and called my would-be murderers into the living room.
"I know you hate me, and you have every right to," I told them calmly.
"We are getting a divorce." Marked by the Monsters I Created
Lila Maya Cross woke up in a nightmare-trapped in the body of a sadistic villain who'd tortured five powerful beastmen into submission.
Good news? She finally had the power to break their bonds and set them free.
Bad news? They were stranded on a dying ship surrounded by Zerg swarms, with zero rescue coming.
The first was Caleb, a snake beastman whose red eyes burned with pure hatred. Every time he looked at her, she saw the memory of chains and venom extraction.
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The third was Sage, a griffin beastman she'd tormented so badly he barely went a day without fresh wounds.
The fourth was Hunter, a lion beastman she'd mocked relentlessly, calling his beast form hideous and grotesque.
The fifth was Jasper, a fox beastman whose face she'd scarred so badly he'd lost his consortium inheritance.
"Protect me until I find my father," Maya told them, drawing her own blood, "and I'll give you what you need to break our bond."
Caleb laughed bitterly. "Since when do you make deals instead of demands?"
"Since we're all dead if we don't work together."
But when survival depends on trust, can a torturer become a savior-or will her victims choose revenge over rescue? Apocalypse Rebirth: My Gold-Eating System
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With enough gold, she can unlock infinite storage for food, water, weapons-anything she needs to survive. The super-hurricane, the floods, the insect plagues, the volcanic winter, the scorching heat... she knows exactly what's coming.
While the world sleeps, Joanna shops. She drains her aunt's bank account, maxes out every loan she can find, and buys out half the city. The apocalypse is coming. She'll be ready.
But when the chaos begins, the wolves come crawling back-relatives who sold her, friends who betrayed her, a father who abandoned her. They want her food. Her water. Her mercy.
Joanna has a different plan.
"Why don't you decide who dies first?" Reborn To Ruin My Betraying FiancƩ
Benjamen Ernst Caryn lay trapped beneath concrete slabs in the apocalyptic ruins, a steel rebar pinning her down, the pressure unbearable.
Her fiancƩ, Ford, knelt in the narrow gap above her, completely unharmed.
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He sneered, twisting the cap off their last bottle of purified water. He drank it all, wiped his mouth with a clean hand, and told her she would just waste it.
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For five brutal years of starvation and injury, she had clung to him and her grandmother's antique locket, only to meet her end betrayed and full of agonizing regret.
Why had she been so foolish to trade her survival for a lie?
A gasp of frigid air flooded her lungs, and her eyes flew open to a smooth, white ceiling.
She wasn't in the dusty ruins; she was in her pristine silk bed sheets.
She grabbed her phone, her hands trembling as she stared at the date on the screen.
It was exactly thirty days before the world would crack apart.
She looked at the silver locket in her hand, a diamond-hard rage crystallizing in her chest.
This time, she would activate its secret, and she would strip Ford and his family of everything before the apocalypse even began. The Alpha Marshal's Regretful Annulment
Sibeal Sallese In my past life, I drugged the Imperium's most powerful Marshal, hoping to force a marriage to save my royal family from ruin.
But the cheap pheromone inducer triggered his catastrophic beast-form rampage, and my stepsister intentionally led the press to our hotel room to catch me in the act.
I became the empire's biggest joke overnight.
The Marshal's family crushed what was left of my reputation, and my own mother, the Queen, immediately stripped me of my royal title to save her own skin.
I was locked away in a mental institution for years, drowning in millions of debt, while my stepsister took my place and everything I owned.
I died alone, ridiculed and completely abandoned.
Until my dying breath, I couldn't understand why my own family set me up to take the fall, or why my desperate sacrifices only earned me their absolute disgust.
Opening my eyes again, I was back in that hotel room, the beastly Marshal growling in the bathroom.
This time, instead of crawling to him begging for love, I grabbed a military-grade suppressant and stabbed it into his neck.
Then, I sat amidst the wreckage and calmly waited for my stepsister and the reporters to burst through the door.
"I am not your prey, and I am not your cure."
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Call Me Cutie The doctor's words echoed, a distant hum, yet crystal clear: "Congratulations, Mrs. Prescott, you're pregnant!" My husband Ethan beamed beside me, his grip on my hand tightening, a wide, genuine smile lighting his face ā the kind of pure joy I hadn't seen in far too long. He pulled me into a hug, his voice booming with happiness that filled the sterile room.
But a cold dread pierced me, deeper than any clinic air conditioning. This exact moment. I remembered it.
In my last life, this pregnancy, this supposed joy, became the very weapon they used against me. Chloe, Ethan's first choice, the woman he was supposed to marry, had returned. She feigned concern, using her 'wellness expertise' facade to get close. She then whispered poison in Ethan' s ear, painting me as a burden, before orchestrating my 'accident' ā a fall that led to the tragic loss of my child, and soon after, my own broken, wasted death. I could still hear Chloe's voice, soft and venomous, as I lay bleeding: "You were always beneath us, Ava. Just in the way."
That memory burned, a raw wound in my soul. The sheer injustice of their cruelty, the depths of their betrayal, still sent ice through my veins. How could I have been so naive, so easily discarded? The confusion, the despair from that past life resurfaced, potent and suffocating.
But this time, I was ready. The knowledge wasn't a shroud, but a shield. I blinked, forcing a fragile smile. My new goal was clear, etched in the pain of my past: survive, protect my child, and utterly destroy them. Beyond the Billionaire's Shadow
Lila The air in the small living room was thick, heavy, mirroring the cold dread gripping my stomach.
My father, Richard, cleared his throat, his eyes avoiding mine, avoiding my mother' s.
"Emily, the papers are signed," he said, his voice flat.
"It's done."
He then looked at me and my younger sister, Jessica.
"Girls, you need to decide. Who you want to live with."
I was Sarah, and this was my second chance, my second life.
The memories of the first one were branded into me.
Jessica, beside me, shifted, her eyes holding a greedy flicker I recognized from before-she remembered a life she called poor, a life she hated.
"I choose Dad," Jessica said, her voice far too quick, too eager.
"Victoria will be pleased," Richard affirmed, a thin smile on his face.
Victoria Sterling.
The tech billionaire, my future stepmother, her name a scar.
In my first life, she had chosen me.
I remembered the endless lessons, the cold praise, the constant pressure to be perfect.
She broke me down, piece by piece, until Jessica, twisted by Victoria' s influence, ended my life.
No.
Not again.
My father urged me to be "sensible," to consider the "opportunities" Victoria offered.
Jessica scoffed, "You're an idiot, Sarah. You want to stay in this dump? With her?"
She chose the fire, thinking it was gold, unaware of the torment that awaited her.
But I knew the price.
I looked at my mother, her eyes full of pain, but also a quiet strength I hadn't truly seen before.
This time, I would protect her.
I would protect myself.
"I choose Mom," I declared, my voice clear and firm, irrevocably altering the script of my reborn life. Her Gift, Her Curse, Her Redemption
Bing Caratozzolo Sarah Miller, with her uncanny gift of foresight, was a sensation.
Her "Sarah Sees" livestream, broadcast from her humble Vermont farmhouse, brought comfort and answers to thousands.
She was a rising star, a rare and authentic voice in the world of online spiritual guidance.
But then, out of nowhere, an old childhood acquaintance, Jessica Evans, appeared.
"Mystic Jess," she called herself, launching a strikingly similar channel.
Whispers of Sarah being a "copycat" began, subtly fueled by Jessica and an influential local figure, Alex Peterson.
The online comments turned vicious, branding Sarah a "fraud" and "liar."
Her followers evaporated, her income vanished.
The local community, once supportive, grew cold, and the stress bled into her family's life.
Then came the vandalism, spray-painted threats, culminating in a confrontation that tragically led to her father's fatal heart attack.
I watched my family shatter, my life ruined, all by someone who seemed to mimic my every move, even my private thoughts, always one step ahead.
How could Jessica know what I was about to say or do before I even did it?
My own gift, once so clear, became a dark, confusing static whenever I tried to foresee anything about Jessica or my grim future.
It made no sense.
Crushed by grief and public scorn, wishing for an end to it all, I closed my eyes.
A snap, a void, then a gasp.
I opened them to find sunlight streaming through my old bedroom window, my laptop waiting-showing the exact date I launched my first livestream.
I was back.
And I wouldn't let it happen again. My Foster Parents' Fatal Mistake
Eduino Aitchison An MIT acceptance letter lay on my desk, a full-ride scholarship, my ticket to a dazzling future far from my foster home.
But my foster father, Rufus, scoffed, his voice flat: "You're not going."
Instead, he' d arranged a "tech internship" out West, promising big money and opportunities, while my foster mother, Sylvia, faked a panicked "premonition" about a bus crash to dissuade me.
They were lying. I knew it. All of it.
Because I had lived this day before, died a horrific death on a cold metal table, betrayed by the very people who claimed to be my family.
This time, I was ready. I swallowed my fury, faked compliance, and prepared to rewrite my destiny. 
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