WANTING MORE

WANTING MORE

johnson090

5.0
Comment(s)
446
View
10
Chapters

Wanting more AbbyšŸ’• My tits sway back and forth, and I thank God I have small ones, or they'd be damn near slapping me in the face. The guy behind me-I can't remember his name at the moment-grunts 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 isn't enough. I need more. My stomach starts cramping and sweat-not from the sex itself, but from the insistent need for release-forms 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, "Either fuck me harder or get the hell out so I can find someone to do it for me." The hands on my hips tighten, and I know it'll leave a mark later. I don't care. I just need this guy to get the job done before the pain takes over. "Fuck, babe," he groans. "I fuck you any harder, I'll plow you into the mattress." "Just do it," I hiss. "Jesus," he grunts, but does as he's 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, it's 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 don't like it when they linger. I may need sex from men on a daily basis to keep my sanity, but I don't let them stay afterwards. I don't do relationships. I know I'm a bitch-using men for sex and discarding them-but 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 wasn't for my job, or the fact I would get arrested for indecent exposure, I'd never wear clothes. It would make things so much easier when the need took hold. During the day I'm 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 didn't take the hint when his clothes landed on his stomach, so it looks like I'm going to have to be blunter. I reach out with a foot and nudge his leg. "Hey, it's time to go." His arm moves, showing off sleepy, plain brown eyes. "Can't you give a guy a minute to recover?" he mutters. "No. I need you to leave right now," I tell him. I spy my panties on the floor and pick them up to slip up my hips. I'm exhausted, and want nothing more than to sleep. A niggle of guilt tries to worm its way in with how I'm treating this guy, but I push it back. I've learned the hard way over the years that in order to keep my inner emotions intact, I'd have to build a steel wall around myself. I hate being a bitch, but it's 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 I'm leaning against, while he sits on my bed and pulls on his shoes. It's normally the guys that are hell-bent on leaving as soon as they are done, but not this guy. He's taking his sweet time, and it's grating on my nerves. He finally stands and makes his way over to me. I'm 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. "

WANTING MORE Chapter 1 now going through my nightstand drawer

Wanting more

Chapter 1

AbbyšŸ’•

My tits sway back and forth, and I thank God I have small ones, or they'd be damn near slapping me in the face.

The guy behind me-I can't remember his name at the moment-grunts 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 isn't enough. I need more.

My stomach starts cramping and sweat-not from the sex itself, but from the insistent need for release-forms 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, "Either fuck me harder or get the hell out so I can find someone to do it for me."

The hands on my hips tighten, and I know it'll leave a mark later. I don't care. I just need this guy to get the job done before the pain takes over.

"Fuck, babe," he groans. "I fuck you any harder, I'll plow you into the mattress."

"Just do it," I hiss.

"Jesus," he grunts, but does as he's 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, it's 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 don't like it when they linger.

I may need sex from men on a daily basis to keep my sanity, but I don't let them stay afterwards. I don't do relationships.

I know I'm a bitch-using men for sex and discarding them-but 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 wasn't for my job, or the fact I would get arrested for indecent exposure, I'd never wear clothes.

It would make things so much easier when the need took hold. During the day I'm 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 didn't take the hint when his clothes landed on his stomach, so it looks like I'm going to have to be blunter.

I reach out with a foot and nudge his leg.

"Hey, it's time to go."

His arm moves, showing off sleepy, plain brown eyes.

"Can't you give a guy a minute to recover?" he mutters.

"No. I need you to leave right now," I tell him. I spy my panties on the floor and pick them up to slip up my hips.

I'm exhausted, and want nothing more than to sleep. A niggle of guilt tries to worm its way in with how I'm treating this guy, but I push it back.

I've learned the hard way over the years that in order to keep my inner emotions intact, I'd have to build a steel wall around myself.

I hate being a bitch, but it's 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 I'm leaning against, while he sits on my bed and pulls on his shoes. It's normally the guys that are hell-bent on leaving as soon as they are done, but not this guy. He's taking his sweet time, and it's grating on my nerves.

He finally stands and makes his way over to me. I'm 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.

I inwardly cringe when he leans down, and the smell of whiskey on his breath assaults me.

My head hits the door when I lean back to get away from him.

"How about we do this again sometime, sugar?" he drawls, leaning down to rub his lips against mine.

They end up on my cheek when I turn my head.

I put my hands on his chest and give him a shove. "I don't think so."

"You sure?" he asks, not getting the hint.

"Yep." I slip under his arm and walk down the hallway. "The door is this way," I throw over my shoulder, and see he's following.

Thank goodness.

Opening the door, I stand and wait for him to catch up. Right before he walks through the threshold, he reaches out, snags me around the waist and slams me against his chest.

His lips land on mine before I get a chance to turn my head this time. Even though I seal my lips tight, bile rises in my throat.

One thing I always avoid with the men I sleep with is kissing. It's too personal, and intimate.

Right as I'm about to bite his damn lip and knee his balls up to his throat, he pulls back and murmurs, "Your loss," and then he's gone.

I slam the door behind him and blow out a breath, relieved to finally be alone.

Fuck my life. Sometimes, I really detest my addiction, while other times, I fucking love it.

A knock at the door the next day pulls me from sleep. Grabbing my phone off the nightstand, I note that it's almost noon. I also notice I have a missed call and text from Ava, one of my best friends.

Ava: Get your ass up.

It's Saturday. I always sleep in on Saturday. Ava knows this.

She also knows I get cranky if I'm woken prematurely.

I pull my pillow over my head when I hear the knock again. I know she won't go away, but my ass isn't getting out of this bed to answer the door, either. If it's important enough, she has her own key and will use it.

Minutes later, my bed dips and the pillow is yanked from my hands. I glare at Ava with an I'm-going-to-kill-you look.

Of course she ignores it, just like every other time I give her my best evil glare, and proceeds to snatch the cover off my near naked body.

I showered after Matt left last night, and only put on a pair of panties before falling into bed. Ava doesn't bat an eyelash at my bare tits, and I don't bother to cover them. She's seen them before, and I'm sure she'll see them again.

Ava and I met several years ago in a bar, when some guy was trying to pick her up and wouldn't take the hint that she wasn't interested.

She was blunt with the guy, but he was relentless. I could sense the anger rolling off her, and wanting to keep her from blowing up on him, I interrupted their conversation by planting an open mouth kiss on her, right there in front of him. I'm not gay.

I'm not even bisexual, although, I've had a few experiences with the same sex, but even that kiss had my body turning hot.

It was just a ploy to help her out, but I think it went on a bit longer than I'd intended.

By the time we pulled back from each other, we were both breathing heavy. The guy was gone, which was my goal. I introduced myself, as did Ava, and we hit it off from there.

We've been best friends ever since. We've both been a part of a few threesomes together, the two of us with a guy, but nothing else has ever happened between us. I don't want it to, and neither does she. But we're completely fine with seeing each other's naked bodies. That's just how we are.

"Get your ass out of bed and get dressed. We're meeting Nathan and Tegan in thirty minutes." She walks to my dresser and rummages through my underwear drawer, throwing me a bra and shirt.

"Did you at least bring coffee, since you so rudely woke me up before my alarm went off?" I grumble, slipping the bra up my arms and snapping the back clasp.

"And why are we meeting Nathan and Tegan?"

"No particular reason," she says. Walking into my closet next, she tosses me a pair of jeans. "It's been a while since we've all had lunch together."

"Coffee. You never answered my question about coffee. I'm going back to bed if you didn't bring any."

I'm serious. If she didn't bring coffee, then she can carry her ass out of my apartment and leave me to go back to sleep.

"On the counter, in the kitchen. Now stop piddly-dicking around and get dressed."

In my bra and panties, I flip her off as I walk to the bathroom to relieve my bladder, wash my face, and brush my teeth. I laugh at her shouted, "You wish, bitch.

When I step back into my bedroom, Ava is reclining against my headboard with my phone in her hands, plundering through my shit.

Sometimes, it's great having a best friend, but other times, like right now, I miss my privacy, and when you have a friend like Ava, you don't have any.

I walk over and snatch the device from her hands. "Do you mind? What if I had dirty selfie pictures on there?"

She shrugs, then gives me a cheeky grin.

"You do have dirty selfie pictures on there. I just saw one, and let me just say, hot damn, girl!"

Rolling my eyes, I pull on my shirt and pants before slipping on a pair of black Keds.

"You know we're meeting Nathan and Tegan at Blackie's tonight, right? We couldn't just wait until then?"

"Nope," she says cheerily, now going through my nightstand drawer. It's not like I have a drawer filled with sex toys, but I do have one filled with boxes upon boxes of condoms.

Due to my addiction, I always need to be prepared. I never have sex without one.

"Small?" Ava wrinkles her nose as she holds up a box that does indeed have the size as small.

.

.

To be continued

Continue Reading

You'll also like

The Billionaire's Cold And Bitter Betrayal

The Billionaire's Cold And Bitter Betrayal

Clara Bennett
5.0

I had just survived a private jet crash, my body a map of violet bruises and my lungs still burning from the smoke. I woke up in a sterile hospital room, gasping for my husband's name, only to realize I was completely alone. While I was bleeding in a ditch, my husband, Adam, was on the news smiling at a ribbon-cutting ceremony. When I tracked him down at the hospital's VIP wing, I didn't find a grieving husband. I found him tenderly cradling his ex-girlfriend, Casie, in his arms, his face lit with a protective warmth he had never shown me as he carried her into the maternity ward. The betrayal went deeper than I could have imagined. Adam admitted the affair started on our third anniversary-the night he claimed he was stuck in London for a merger. Back at the manor, his mother had already filled our planned nursery with pink boutique bags for Casie's "little princess." When I demanded a divorce, Adam didn't flinch. He sneered that I was "gutter trash" from a foster home and that I'd be begging on the streets within a week. To trap me, he froze my bank accounts, cancelled my flight, and even called the police to report me for "theft" of company property. I realized then that I wasn't his partner; I was a charity case he had plucked from obscurity to manage his life. To the Hortons, I was just a servant who happened to sleep in the master bedroom, a "resilient" woman meant to endure his abuse in silence while the whole world laughed at the joke that was my marriage. Adam thought stripping me of his money would make me crawl back to him. He was wrong. I walked into his executive suite during his biggest deal of the year and poured a mug of sludge over his original ten-million-dollar contracts. Then, right in front of his board and his mistress, I stripped off every designer thread he had ever paid for until I was standing in nothing but my own silk camisole. "You can keep the clothes, Adam. They're as hollow as you are." I grabbed my passport, turned my back on his billions, and walked out of that glass tower barefoot, bleeding, and finally free.

Broken Ring, Billionaire Secrets: Watch Me Shine

Broken Ring, Billionaire Secrets: Watch Me Shine

Cornelia
5.0

I sat on the edge of the examination table, the crinkle of the sanitary paper sounding like thunder in the sterile room. The doctor didn't even look at me as he confirmed the news: the pregnancy was over. My husband, Keyon, didn't answer my call. He just sent an automated text: "In a meeting." When I returned to our cold mansion, I found his iPad glowing with a message from his "muse," Katina. He was throwing her a secret gala tonight-on our third wedding anniversary. He told her he couldn't wait to escape the "boring" and "draining" atmosphere I created at home. Keyon didn't stumble in until 3 AM, smelling of Katina's perfume with a smear of red on his collar. When I handed him the divorce papers, he laughed in my face. He called me a "glorified housekeeper" with no skills and no future, promising I'd be back in three days begging for a subway ticket. He even bet his friends ten thousand dollars that I wouldn't survive a week without his name. He had his assistant cancel my credit cards and block my gate access before I even reached the end of the driveway. He wanted me to starve. He wanted me to crawl. He sat in his office, mocking the "desperate" woman who pawned her three-million-dollar wedding ring for scrap metal just to pay for a meal. I stood on the rainy curb, watching the man I had protected for three years treat my life like trash. He didn't know about the ultrasound I just threw in the bin. He didn't know that while he was calling me "dull," I was the one secretly writing the code that kept his billion-dollar empire from collapsing. As I slid into a cheap Uber, I opened a hidden, encrypted app on my phone. The screen refreshed to a dashboard for an account Keyon didn't know existed. The balance was ten figures long-the accumulated wealth of "Solaris," the world's most elusive tech genius. Keyon thinks he just evicted a parasite, but he's about to find out he just declared war on the only person who can hit "delete" on his entire life.

The Scars Behind My Golden Dress

The Scars Behind My Golden Dress

Catherine
5.0

I spent four hours preparing a five-course meal for our fifth anniversary. When Jackson finally walked into the penthouse an hour late, he didn't even look at the table. He just dropped a thick Manila envelope in front of me and told me he was done. He said his stepsister, Davida, was getting worse and needed "stability." I wasn't his wife; I was a placeholder, a temporary fix he used until the woman he actually loved was ready to take my place. Jackson didn't just want a divorce; he wanted to erase me. He called me a "proprietary asset," claiming that every design I had created to save his empire belonged to him. He froze my bank accounts, cut off my phone, and told me I’d be nothing without his name. Davida even called me from her hospital bed to flaunt the family heirloom ring Jackson claimed was lost, mocking me for being "baggage" that was finally being cleared out. I stood in our empty home, realizing I had spent five years being a martyr for a man who saw me as a transaction. I couldn't understand how he could be so blind to the monster he was protecting, or how he could discard me so coldly after I had given him everything. I grabbed my hidden sketchbook, shredded our wedding portrait, and walked out into the rain. I dialed a number I hadn't touched in years—a dangerous man known as The Surgeon who dealt in debts and shadows. I told him I was ready to pay his price. Jackson and Davida wanted to steal my identity, but I was about to show the world the literal scars they had left behind.

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book
WANTING MORE WANTING MORE johnson090 Fantasy
ā€œWanting more AbbyšŸ’• My tits sway back and forth, and I thank God I have small ones, or they'd be damn near slapping me in the face. The guy behind me-I can't remember his name at the moment-grunts 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 isn't enough. I need more. My stomach starts cramping and sweat-not from the sex itself, but from the insistent need for release-forms 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, "Either fuck me harder or get the hell out so I can find someone to do it for me." The hands on my hips tighten, and I know it'll leave a mark later. I don't care. I just need this guy to get the job done before the pain takes over. "Fuck, babe," he groans. "I fuck you any harder, I'll plow you into the mattress." "Just do it," I hiss. "Jesus," he grunts, but does as he's 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, it's 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 don't like it when they linger. I may need sex from men on a daily basis to keep my sanity, but I don't let them stay afterwards. I don't do relationships. I know I'm a bitch-using men for sex and discarding them-but 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 wasn't for my job, or the fact I would get arrested for indecent exposure, I'd never wear clothes. It would make things so much easier when the need took hold. During the day I'm 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 didn't take the hint when his clothes landed on his stomach, so it looks like I'm going to have to be blunter. I reach out with a foot and nudge his leg. "Hey, it's time to go." His arm moves, showing off sleepy, plain brown eyes. "Can't you give a guy a minute to recover?" he mutters. "No. I need you to leave right now," I tell him. I spy my panties on the floor and pick them up to slip up my hips. I'm exhausted, and want nothing more than to sleep. A niggle of guilt tries to worm its way in with how I'm treating this guy, but I push it back. I've learned the hard way over the years that in order to keep my inner emotions intact, I'd have to build a steel wall around myself. I hate being a bitch, but it's 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 I'm leaning against, while he sits on my bed and pulls on his shoes. It's normally the guys that are hell-bent on leaving as soon as they are done, but not this guy. He's taking his sweet time, and it's grating on my nerves. He finally stands and makes his way over to me. I'm 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. "ā€
1

Chapter 1 now going through my nightstand drawer

30/05/2022

2

Chapter 2 the pain that's steadily getting worse in my stomach.

30/05/2022

3

Chapter 3 I'm too focused on the woman in front of me

30/05/2022

4

Chapter 4 sensitive bundle of nerves. .

30/05/2022

5

Chapter 5 Fucking jerk has no right to think he knows anything about me

30/05/2022

6

Chapter 6 My body was giving me mixed feelings

30/05/2022

7

Chapter 7 ." I back away and grab her hand

30/05/2022

8

Chapter 8 Too fucking bad. You owe me an explanation for what happened back there."

30/05/2022

9

Chapter 9 He responds that he'll be there if I need him

30/05/2022

10

Chapter 10 You're so fucking gorgeous

30/05/2022