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 4
I'm on my knees. One thick cock buried deep in my throat, making me gag hard. The woman behind me squeezes my boobs until it hurts so good, nipples pinched raw. Her tongue between my ass cheeks, teasing my hole, licking slow circles. No cock has filled my pussy or ass yet, but I'm trembling, dripping down my thighs, seconds from squirting everywhere.
The fact that Lucan and Evan, with their big black cocks, were waiting their turn to fuck me excited me more than anything. And her presence, watching, directing, made it filthier... hotter.
I never knew I craved this so badly. It's like I was rediscovering myself.
About an hour ago I was just begging for even one, and now I had two. It felt like heaven.
As I spit all over Evan's cock, thick strings of saliva dripping down his shaft, Lucan pulled me up to his mouth and kissed me hard. His tongue shoved in deep while his wife ran her hand down my back, slow, like she was memorizing every curve.
I was so filthy that while Lucan kissed me, I imagined him tasting Evan's precum on my tongue. That thought made me whimper. I realized I was a total freak, and I loved it.
Then, while I was bent over kissing Lucan, I felt Evan move behind me. Millie climbed onto the bed next to her husband and watched, eyes glued, as her husband devoured my mouth. She licked her own lips just from watching.
"God, that is so hot," she said, playing with her own boobs, pinching her nipples. Then she joined in. The three of us kissed at the same time, tongues tangling, messy, wet. I couldn't tell whose tongue was whose anymore, just heat, spit, and moans mixing together.
I felt Evan drop lower. His mouth on my pussy now, sucking my clit, lapping up my juices and Millie's leftover saliva. But he didn't stay long like Millie. In a moment his finger teased my entrance, then his huge cockhead pressed against me. He didn't ease in slow. He just forced it, pushing hard. I jumped a little.
"Ahh!" It was mostly pressure, not pleasure yet. My walls clamped tight around the tip.
"Oh fuck," he groaned, pulling back and trying again. It barely budged. I was too tight, Kegels and months without sex did that.
"You're so tight, aren't you, little white whore?" Lucan said, holding my chin, forcing eye contact while Evan kept trying to shove in.
"We need some lube then," Millie said. She got off the bed and walked to the nightstand. Lucan's hand stayed on my chin, staring me dead in the eyes as Evan pushed again. I screamed each time he rammed too hard, the stretch burning.
Evan pulled out. Then I felt Millie's fingers, long nails, rubbing cool lube over my pussy lips, working it in. Soon Evan tried again. This time his cock slipped right in, deep, stretching me wide.
"Ahh!" I cried, feeling every thick inch fill me up. No room left. Evan groaned loudly.
Millie knelt in front of me and started slapping my boobs, sharp, stinging slaps that made them bounce.
"Feel that?" she asked seductively. Lucan slammed his mouth back on mine as I moaned. Evan started thrusting, slow at first because his cock was too big. If he forced it faster, it'd hurt him too.
"You like taking my dawg?" Lucan asked against my mouth. I couldn't answer-too much pleasure crashing through me. Millie sucked my tits now, moaning against them like she was the one getting fucked. Evan groaning behind me, pace picking up. Lucan's hand around my throat, rough, kissing me deep. It was all too much. I started shivering.
"Yes, cum for me," Evan said, pounding harder, hands gripping my waist, slamming to the core. I couldn't hold it. I squirted, hard, gushing all over his cock and thighs.
"Ahh!" I cried. "Ahh..." I kept whimpering as my legs gave out. I fell back against Evan. He pulled out slowly.
Millie had cum too, she was on the bed moaning, eyes locked on me, hand between her legs. I didn't get a second to recover. Lucan pulled me with him as he lay back on the bed. I straddled him. Before I could process, he was pushing his own cock into my drenched pussy, wetter than ever from the squirt.
"Oh wow," he groaned as he slowly slipped in. Lucan was slightly bigger, I noticed because even slick, he still struggled a little. I'd regained a bit of control now that I was on top. I watched his face, eyes closed, pure pleasure taking him. "Oooh."
"She's fucking tight, isn't she?" Evan teased from the side. That felt like the hottest compliment. My pussy throbbed harder.
Millie, finished with her own orgasm, knelt on the bed next to her husband, so she was right in front of me. She pulled me in for a kiss.
"You gonna take my husband's cock," she said. Lucan pushed through the last inch. A moan ripped out of me. Millie grabbed my lip again, biting it.
"Oh fuck," Lucan groaned, staying buried deep. Unlike Evan, he let me adjust, slow rolls of his hips. Millie moved from my mouth to French him, hot, sloppy, tongues everywhere. I watched, mesmerized.
"You like her tight pussy, daddy?" she asked him.
He nodded. "Thank you."
"You're welcome, daddy." It was weird hearing them like that, married but so open, but good weird. My pussy clenched around his cock again.
Soon Lucan started moving properly. Then I felt Evan behind me again, his finger teasing my asshole. Before I could react, he started forcing his cock in there.
I gasped. "I've never done that before." Honest. And kind of scared.
"Then you're in for a treat," Millie said, cupping my cheeks like I was a little girl.
"I don't know," I said, but I wasn't totally against it. Just the thought of being double-penetrated gave me chills. My heart hammered, fear and want crashing together as I felt both heads nudging in, stretching places nothing had ever been.
"How do you feel?" Millie asked. The men were too busy groaning and grunting as they slowly thrust in rhythm, Lucan's hands on my boobs, Evan's on my back.
"Good," I muttered between moans. Pleasure building fast.
"I know. I've been between them once too," she said, holding eye contact while I bounced on their cocks. "Don't look away." Her mouth fell open as she moaned with me. Her right hand gripped my chin tight; left squeezed her own boobs.
"Ahh."
"Yes baby, that's it." I couldn't tell who said it, but it was hot. Two men pounding hard and rough, pussy and ass filled completely. Millie kissing me sometimes, moaning like she was the one getting railed. I came hard again, clenching around both cocks. They pulled out for a second, giving me air, then slammed back in. They kept going. This wasn't their first time, they knew exactly what they were doing. I could tell.
"Ah." I was exhausted. If I wasn't mistaken, we'd been at it for about an hour. The men weren't done. They switched, Evan under me now, Lucan on top.
More pounding, more kisses. It went on for another twenty minutes before they both groaned deep. They pulled out fast, Lucan shoving his cock in my mouth, Evan in Millie's.
"Ohh." They groaned in sync, cumming at the same time. Lucan's thick load shot straight down my throat. I swallowed what I could; the rest spilled over my lips.
After unloading, Lucan got off the bed and headed to the small door, the bathroom, I assumed. Evan followed. Now it was just me and Millie.
She fixed her mouth, some of Evan's cum had landed on her cheek. Then she came to me, took my mouth, and we kissed. We swapped their cum for five hot minutes, tongues sliding, tasting each other and them. She licked the drops that fell on my boobs.
Then she pulled back. "You only have ten minutes."
"What does that mean?" I was ready to leave, but part of me wanted to do this again, maybe in a week. Yep. I was about to set the date. Beg if I had to.
"I know them. When they come back, they'll go again. So rest now, this time I'm getting my strap-on." She got off the bed and followed the men, leaving me there.
My whole body was sore, pussy especially throbbing and puffy. I shouldn't want more. But the thought of Millie with a strap-on made my clit pulse again. I got out of bed and walked to the mirror.
My reflection stared back: makeup ruined, hair damp and messy, whole body covered in spit and cum. Lips bruised, pink handprints and scratches all over my skin. Thighs slick with my own squirt and their loads. I shouldn't want to go again... right?
But I tied my hair up in a bun, smiled at myself, and followed them into the bathroom.
I wanted those two cocks in me again. And weirdly, I wanted Millie's strap in me too.
I was truly their white whore, and I didn't have any problem with it.
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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."