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 5
My name is Kate, and I have a secret I want to tell you. I'm in love with my best friend's grandfather. I know it's fucked up. He was my dad's friend. He basically watched me grow up. But I was, and I couldn't help it.
Every night when I go to bed, he's all I think about. Every touch, every time I use my vibrator, he's my motivation. I imagine him, his hands, his voice, his body over mine, and that makes me cum so hard my legs shake.
Even right now, I'm under my blanket, touching myself to a picture of him I googled online.
Enzo Forbes. The 52-year-old billionaire who runs Forbes Industries. He had my best friend's mom at 17, and Sophia, my best friend, was born when her mom was 16. Her mom's 34 now. Sophia and I both turned 18 about a month ago, and with age our sex drives are through the roof, but for me, no one but him turns me on.
"Kate? Can I come in?" Sophia's voice came from outside my room.
I quickly pulled my shorts up, even under the blanket, and sat upright, heart pounding. "Yes," I said, clearing my throat, trying to sound normal.
Sophia came in with a bright smile, carrying a tray of food. "You've been in bed all day. Are you feeling okay?" she asked kindly.
I smiled back. "Yeah, I'm good."
Sophia was so sweet, that's why I felt like shit for having these feelings about her grandfather.
"Just a little tired," I lied. She nodded, understanding.
Enzo's never been married. He and Sophia's grandma were high-school sweethearts, but it never went anywhere. He put everything into his career, that's why he's the richest man in Seattle. The way he carries himself, always so clean, so put-together... he doesn't even look 40. That makes him hotter to me.
"Brian and I are going to the beach," Sophia said. I nodded. "I know how you get after a long flight, so I'll let you sit this one out."
"Thank you."
She smiled, kissed my cheek, told me to eat, and left.
As soon as the door closed, I threw myself back on the bed and grabbed my phone to stare at his picture again.
What I would do to have him.
I was so in love with him that I came to Florida hoping, praying, there'd be a chance he'd look at me twice.
Sophia's the only active family he has, besides his daughter (who's coming this evening). They're throwing him a party tomorrow for his birthday. He loves golf and Florida is known for that.
I thought this party was my chance. Maybe with enough alcohol, he'd spare me a glance. I prepared: bought the sluttiest clothes I could find. When everyone's distracted, I'd have my shot to seduce him.
Brian's our friend, always the three of us, but I've noticed Brian and Sophia have feelings for each other, more than friends. I'm going to use that tonight.
I should have Enzo. At all costs.
I was drooling over his website photos when I heard a light knock.
"I didn't change my mind, Sophia. I'm not going," I said, she always did that.
"It's not Sophia. Can I come in?"
I jumped off the bed.
It was him. Enzo Forbes. The man I was plotting to seduce.
Last night when we arrived, I avoided him completely. I was terrified I'd do something stupid in front of him. But now... he was at my door, and I looked like absolute shit. Just out of bed, still in pajamas. Not sexy at all.
"Katherine?" he called. The way he says my full name always makes my heart race.
"I... not dressed," I said quickly, pacing.
"Well, get dressed then. I need your help." My brain short-circuited. He needed me. Before I could respond, the door opened and he stepped in.
He was already in a suit, tall, hair slicked back like a mafia boss, lips pressed tight, jaw sculpted sharp. When our eyes met, I melted. Those olive-green eyes were too intense, too perfect.
"You're not dressed?" he asked.
I snapped out of it and looked down: tiny sleep shorts, loose lazy shirt, messy hair over my shoulders, socks.
"I..." I almost said I meant not dressed for the day, like normal clothes, but then it hit, he heard 'not dressed' and still walked in.
That blew my mind. I slowly looked up at him, eyes widening. Did he hope to catch me naked? Did he want me the way I wanted him?
My nipples hardened under the thin shirt, no bra, and I felt a fresh rush of wetness between my legs just from him being in the room, staring.
"I know you're 18 now," he said.
"Y-yes." I sounded desperate.
"Be my date tonight."
I don't know if it was a question or a demand, but his tone, low, commanding, mixed with the words made my pussy clench. Nipples tight against the fabric.
He wanted me as his date? What were the odds.
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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."