Six-Nine Dripping Fantasies
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**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.
***
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.
***
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.
Six-Nine Dripping Fantasies Chapter 1
My pupils widened when it moved on its own. The thick black shaft gave one slow, heavy twitch right in front of my face.
It was so close I could feel the heat coming off it, like a living thing breathing against my skin. The skin looked impossibly smooth, stretched tight over all that hardness, deep dark brown, almost black, shining a little under the light.
Right at the fat, swollen tip there was that small slit, pale inside like a secret mouth, already leaking one clear drop that hung there, trembling, ready to fall. I wanted to catch it with my tongue before it dropped.
Pale blue veins stood out everywhere, thick and raised like ropes under the dark surface. The biggest one ran straight along the bottom, pulsing slow and strong, feeding right into that wide, angry head.
Every time his heart beat I could see it jump a little, making the whole length lift and settle again. It looked powerful. Heavy. Too big to just look at.
My mouth went dry and wet at the same time.
I couldn't blink. I didn't want to.
My breath came out shaky. "Please..." I whispered, not even sure what I was begging for yet, just more of it, closer, filling my pussy. I wanted it in me. Its huge length against my tight hole, stretching me wide. I would die for it.
My hand immediately flew under my skirt, my eyes glued to it as I watched while I prepared myself. But before my finger could reach under my laced panties, a voice snapped me out of my thoughts, and that's when I saw it for what it was.
It wasn't a black cock like I thought. It was a sausage. One that was on the plate my colleague had now picked up.
"Huh?" I asked. I hadn't heard a word she said.
"Your lady client is here. She's asking for you." She repeated, then turned and walked away to serve her customers, leaving me catching my breath.
You're probably wondering what's wrong with me. I swear I'm not a whore who sees a cock in a sausage, but I have a reasonable explanation.
It all started a few weeks ago. I was cleaning the male bathroom when a dark-skinned handsome man walked in. He asked if he was in the right room and I said yes. He didn't give me a chance to show him to a stall or tell him I was busy cleaning, he immediately pulled down his trousers and there it was: exactly what I just imagined a few minutes ago.
His thick, huge black cock.
I'm a typical white woman. I've never even imagined being with a black man before, but right there my pussy ached and I knew I wanted it in me.
Well, I've been imagining it ever since. In fact, I even cancelled my date with Jerry, the guy I was in the talking stage with, because all I could think about was that BBC inside me.
"Millie, good to see you," I said to the woman who's been strangely coming here lately. All she does is ask for me.
"Nice to see you too, Ayda. I'll have the usual." She smiled and I nodded, pushing the menu back to my chest since she clearly didn't need it. I almost turned to leave when she caught my hand.
"Did I forget something?" I awkwardly cleared my voice.
"No, I just... my husband and I are throwing a house-warming party and I would love it if you came." She said it kindly.
My friends and I outgrew each other years ago, most of them have better jobs while I'm still struggling as a waitress. This woman has been so friendly since she started coming here, but I just didn't know how to tell her I wasn't into making friends... especially when she was part of my problem.
"I'm so sorry but-"
"Please. We're new and really trying to make friends. You know how it is for black folks." She pouted and I couldn't help but agree. "Thank you. I'm sure Lucan will be happy to see you."
"Who's Lucan?" I asked.
"My husband. You two met, remember that night when-"
"Yeah, yeah, I do." The memory was still very fresh because, remember the black cock I haven't stopped thinking about lately? Yep, it belonged to her husband. I actually met her too when she followed him into the bathroom and found us, her husband's cock all out and me staring at it. I thought she would be mad, but she was very cool about it.
Too cool, if you ask me. Since then she's been trying to get close to me.
"I'll be there," I said, swallowing hard. Actually, I don't know why I just said that. Clearly I can't keep my mind off her husband's cock.
What's going to happen when I come face to face with him tonight? Because even now I still want to feel it in me. So what the hell have I just gotten myself into?
Damn, Ayda. Now you're fucked.
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Six-Nine Dripping Fantasies of Contents
Chapter 1 Ch. 1Chapter 2 Ch. 2Chapter 3 Ch. 3Chapter 4 Ch. 4Chapter 5 Ch. 5Chapter 6 Ch. 6
Chapter 7 Ch. 7
Chapter 8 Ch. 8
Chapter 9 Ch. 9
Chapter 10 Ch. 10
Chapter 11 Ch. 11
All Chapters all
New Release Novels
7.2
Genevieve woke up choking on her own blood, a fatal gash tearing through her abdomen. The memories of a primitive world crashed into her mind—she had transmigrated into the body of a sadistic beastman Mistress.
But the five powerful beastmen "mates" standing over her hadn't come to her rescue. They had come to watch their tormentor die.
"We should just leave her," Kameron sneered coldly. "The scavengers will clean up the mess."
Gilberto spat in disgust, while Angelo, a silver-scaled snake-man, trembled in pure terror at the sight of her. The original owner had whipped them, humiliated them, and driven another mate to suicide. Now, they were letting her bleed out in the mud, their eyes filled with undisguised loathing and satisfaction.
She was a top-tier apocalyptic survival expert, yet here she was, paying the ultimate price for a stranger's monstrous sins. It was a bitter, unacceptable irony to die helplessly in the dirt while her supposed protectors waited for her corpse to rot.
She refused to accept this ending.
Forcing a chaotic surge of energy through their shared Biological Link, she brought all five men to their knees in agonizing pain, commanding them to carry her back. In the dark cave, without a single scream, she plunged her bare hands into a fire and brutally cauterized her own gaping wound with searing ash. As the beastmen stared in horrified awe at the unbreakable soul now occupying the tyrant's body, Genevieve wiped the blood from her face and began to rewrite her fate.
9.2
She loved him until she lost herself.
Now, behind locked doors and shattered glass, she must learn to breathe again.
When she first met Lloyd, he was magnetic and intoxicating. The kind of man who turned every head when he entered a room, who spoke in promises sweet enough to taste. With him, she felt chosen, cherished, and safe.
But safety was an illusion, and love became a weapon.
And slowly, piece by piece, he dismantled her until nothing of the woman she once was remained.
Now institutionalized after a breakdown, she begins to piece together the brutal truth of what really happened in the shadows of their love story. Memories sting like open wounds: the manipulation disguised as tenderness, the apologies that blurred into threats, the desperate hope that tomorrow he'd be the man she fell for again.
Yet beneath the grief and the shame, a quiet rebellion stirs, a vow to reclaim her voice, her freedom, and her life. Because this is not just a story of how she fell apart. It is a story of how she rises.
Haunting, raw, and achingly intimate, Boys like him peels back the glittering mask of a toxic love affair to reveal the kind of darkness that hides in plain sight, and the unbreakable strength it takes to escape it.
8.5
Five years ago, Nina Hale lost everything... her family, her reputation, and the man she once loved. Betrayed by her own sister and abandoned by those she trusted most, she disappeared without a trace.
Now she's back.
With a new identity and a burning determination, Nina is ready to reclaim her life and chase the dream she once gave up: becoming a star actress. But her return awakens old enemies, and her scheming sister Lydia is determined to ruin her again.
Just when Nina thinks things can't get worse, she's caught in another trap... and unexpectedly crosses paths with a quiet, lonely little boy.
Ethan Grant hasn't spoken in years.
Feeling responsible for him, Nina agrees to stay and help the child come out of his shell. But she didn't expect Ethan's dangerously charming father, Lucas Grant, to enter the picture.
Cold, powerful, and impossible to read, Lucas slowly finds himself drawn to the woman who brightens his son's world.
What begins as a simple act of kindness soon turns into something far more complicated, because Nina came back for revenge.
She never planned to fall in love.
**********
"I saw you with him," Lucas said quietly, but the tension in his jaw gave him away.
Nina exhaled, crossing her arms. "You don't get to care."
"Don't I?" He stepped in, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes.
"This is just a contract."
"Then why does it bother me?" His hand hovered near her waist, not touching-yet.
"It shouldn't." Her breath faltered.
His gaze darkened, "And yet it does."
8.9
Ava Kidd just wanted to escape her abusive stepmother when she got drunk at a high-end club and stumbled into the wrong hotel room.
She woke up the next morning in a luxury penthouse, lying naked next to a terrifyingly handsome man covered in her scratch marks.
Recalling rumors of the hotel's secret underground concierge, she immediately assumed she had accidentally slept with an elite male escort.
Desperate to settle the bill, she offered him her only debit card with a pathetic $1,800.
But the man, who was actually Garrison Terry, the ruthless billionaire CEO, was deeply insulted by the cheap plastic.
He trapped her against the bed, coldly demanding a half-million-dollar service fee.
When Ava frantically offered her dead mother's tarnished locket as collateral, he cruelly dismissed it as worthless junk.
Ava was humiliated, her heart pounding with absolute terror.
She didn't understand why this arrogant gigolo was acting like a deranged extortionist, demanding a fortune from a broke girl who had clearly made a mistake.
Furious and refusing to cower, she sneaked out, put on his oversized designer shirt, and aggressively ate his $800 truffle breakfast.
Having no money left, she grabbed her cheap red lipstick, wrote a defiant IOU on his expensive linen napkin, and fled the hotel.
She thought she had escaped a criminal, but upstairs, the billionaire traced her lipstick-stained name with a predatory smile.
"Ava Kidd, I will absolutely find you."
9.1
June woke up transmigrated into the body of a ruthless billionaire's toxic, disposable wife.
Before she could even process the massive Beverly Hills mansion, a cold system voice announced she had exactly five minutes of lifespan remaining.
To survive, she was forced to bind with the system and strictly maintain the original owner's "brainless, abusive drama queen" persona to earn hours to live.
She was forced to violently slap hot coffee out of a terrified maid's hands and physically spank her manipulative five-year-old stepson.
When she tried to escape this nightmare by throwing divorce papers at her terrifying husband, Isaac Walton, he simply ripped them to shreds.
Every time she tried to be reasonable or show a hint of kindness, the system tortured her with agonizing cardiac pain, cementing her status as the most hated monster in the family.
The most absurd part happened when she threw a hysterical, system-mandated tantrum over a gossip magazine, and Isaac's icy demeanor suddenly melted.
He gently touched her hair, offering the one thing she desperately needed.
"Stop crying. I'll handle it."
Just as a spark of hope ignited in her chest, the system's critical death warning exploded in her skull: accepting his sympathy would instantly deduct thirty days of her life.
To stay alive, June had no choice but to violently slap away the only hand reaching out to save her, forcing herself to play the greedy villain while her husband's gaze turned dangerously dark.
8.8
On the anniversary of my mother's death, my father, the Alpha, threw a lavish wedding to marry a woman only four years older than me.
My new stepmother publicly humiliated me, stomped on my hand, and shattered the only necklace my mother left me.
When I confronted her, my father slapped me across the face and ordered me to respect my new Luna.
Heartbroken and furious, I publicly disowned them all.
In retaliation, my father sentenced me to death the very next morning.
He offered me as a tribute to the cursed Lycan King—a monster whose beast savagely tore apart every she-wolf sent to his bed.
My family watched with smug satisfaction as I was locked in an iron cage and dragged away, discarded like defective trash simply because I was born wolfless.
I was supposed to be ripped to shreds on my first night in the pitch-black castle.
But as I stood in the King's dark chamber, bracing for the bloody end, nothing happened.
The terrifying beast just sat in the shadows, staring at me in absolute confusion.
That was when the horrifying truth of his curse clicked in my mind.
His madness was triggered by the spiritual scent of an inner wolf. And I was completely wolfless.
The very defect that made my family throw me away was my ultimate, impenetrable shield.
I wasn't going to die here.
I was going to survive, use this terrifying King, and make my family regret the day they ever cast me out.
