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.
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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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8.6
I was the untouchable Mafia Queen, but my reign ended in the blood-soaked depths of a damp dungeon.
My half-sister, Kelsey, drove a rusted, sharpened spoon into my chest, screaming about the unfairness of fate.
In my past life, my father sold me to the ruthless Don Dante Blackwell as collateral to pay off his debts.
To survive, I took a black-market fertility drug, birthed his heir, and clawed my way to the throne through sheer ruthlessness.
But in the mafia world, a pregnant woman isn't a queen; she's a walking target.
I survived countless bombings and poisonings, only to be betrayed and slaughtered by my own family.
Until my last breath, I couldn't understand. I had sacrificed everything to secure our survival in the empire. Why did my blood and tears only earn me a rusted spoon to the heart?
Opening my eyes again, I am seventeen, sitting in my father's drawing room.
Two black velvet boxes sit on the mahogany table.
Kelsey greedily snatches the box containing the fertility drug, her eyes gleaming with feverish triumph.
"I'll take this one, Papa."
She thinks she is stealing my golden ticket to the crown, completely unaware that she just chose a death sentence.
I lower my gaze, letting my eyelashes mask the cold, lethal amusement pooling in my eyes as I take the remaining box.
Inside is the detailed psychological profile of the Don's dead fiancée.
This time, I won't be a breeding mare fighting off assassins. I will dissect the devil himself.
7.4
I thought my life was over when my sister died, leaving me to raise her two babies in a world that wanted to swallow us whole. Then I made the mistake of a lifetime: I left a bold, humiliating voicemail for the one man I should have feared most.
Anton Oryolov.
The ruthless king of the Oryolov Bratva. A billionaire monster who rules the city with ice in his veins and blood on his hands.
I expected him to fire me. I expected him to destroy me. Instead, he gave me a choice that felt like a death sentence: sign a contract and become his.
The rules were simple. I belong to him. I live in his shadows. In exchange, he protects the children. But as the doors of his mansion locked behind me, I realized the "forced proximity" wasn't just a business arrangement. It was a cage.
He thinks he can use me as a pawn in his dark mafia games. He thinks the children are just leverage to keep me in line. But he's starting to look at me with a hunger that isn't in the contract, and I'm seeing a man beneath the monster that I never expected to find.
In the Cruel Paradise of the Bratva, loyalty is a lie and love is a weakness. Our deal is signed in ink, but it's going to end in blood.
He owns my signature. He owns my safety. Now, he wants my soul.
8.5
"And that is the reason why I said those words. I like your fear, not because it is a normal thing. I love it because deep down you are a monster like me, schiava. You fear me on a primal level, you can feel my power and dominance, and you know you aren't the strongest here. So you don't fear Renzo Valentino the human, you fear the monster that lurks inside."
My life changed the night of my birthday. What started as a funny dare ended with blood and having a price on my head.
I thought Renzo was the hero who saved me that night, but he was the devil who owned me forever.
I, Misha Yakov, princess of the Russian mafia became Renzo Valentino's slave.
He broke me, tortured me, and molded me into something new, something I hated and craved at the same time.
I, Misha Yakov became my master's pet.
8.5
"You don't get to hurt me and then make me responsible for how guilty you feel about it."
"Friends don't stand next to you, learn everything about you, and then use it to get close to the one person they know matters."
Aria thought she knew two things for certain: she was going to graduate with her best friend, Iris, by her side, and she was in love with her boyfriend, Liam.
One kiss changed everything. But as the secrets of their "before" come to light, Aria realizes the betrayal didn't start at a party or in a moment of weakness. It started weeks ago, in the conversations she wasn't part of and the moments she wasn't invited to.
Now, Aria has to decide if she can find herself again in the wreckage of the people she trusted most-or if some bridges are meant to be burned
7.8
Elena Voss was sold like a debt receipt.
Her greedy aunt and uncle handed her over to Damien Blackthorn-New York's untouchable billionaire tech mogul by day, ruthless Mafia Don and Alpha of the Blackthorn Pack by night-to settle a family debt they never asked her to pay.
The moment their eyes met in that rain-soaked alley, the fated mate bond ignited like wildfire. For one reckless night, he claimed her body and soul, whispering "mine" against her skin while the Moon Goddess sealed their destiny.
Then came the betrayal.
On their first anniversary, he paraded his pureblood fiancée through their penthouse, let her kneel for him in the study while Elena watched from the shadows, and divorced her in front of the entire pack.
"Wolfless trash," he snarled. "You were never more than payment."
Heart in pieces and two tiny heartbeats growing inside her, Elena fled. She vanished into Seattle's gray drizzle, changed her name, cut her hair, and built a quiet life as a single mother. She swore the Blackthorn name would never touch her twins-Leo and Luna, the secret heirs he didn't even know existed.
Five years later, the children's first uncontrolled shifts rip through their small apartment like lightning. The only place that can teach them control and keep them hidden from rival packs is back in New York-back under Damien's shadow.
The Alpha Don who once threw her away is now obsessed.
The fated bond never died; it only waited. He feels her every laugh, every tear, every protective growl she gives their children. He'll burn his empire, his alliances, and his pride to drag her back.
But Elena isn't the broken girl he discarded anymore.
She's a mother with claws.
A luna who learned to bite.
And this time, if he wants her forgiveness, he'll have to beg on his knees.
Pregnancy. Divorce. Secret babies. Billionaire alpha. Mafia power plays. Revenge that burns slow and sweet.
Some bonds can't be broken.
Some rejections come with claws.
And some second chances are paid for in blood.
8.1
I'd lived as a mafia queen, ruling with quiet strength, only to discover my entire life was a lie. My husband, Dante, secretly divorced me three years ago, then married our timid nanny. I wasn't just betrayed; I was a dead ex-wife walking, a ghost in my own home.
A mafia daughter, I expected routine at Rossi's law firm. But Rossi, pale and sweating, handed me an envelope: Dante's divorce judgment, signed three years ago, and his marriage certificate to Gia, our nanny.
Truth slammed me: Gia poisoned me for years, causing infertility, making her bastard son the sole heir. Hidden, I watched her force Dante, the Underboss, to kneel, drink hallucinogenic tea, and profess devotion. She smirked.
This was calculated murder: my existence, my legacy. Rage burned, but clarity struck: disappear, or vanish into the Long Island Sound.
From a hidden phone, I called Luca, the underworld's elite cleaner. "I need a top-tier scrub. Target is myself," I commanded. "Get me out of this hell. I'd rather die than be his taxidermy specimen."