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Lesbian Twincest 3-Pack Bundle

Posted on May 6, 2021 by indieerotica

All of us have secret desires locked up in our hearts, lusts we can never tell another soul.

But what happens when that target of your lust is your twin? And your twin has the same lust for you?

In this sordid taboo collection from Cherry Chase, nubile and horny young women express that secret desire for their twin sisters and soon those secret desires turn into mind-blowing sex that will forever change these young women.

Included in this taboo collection are the following stories:
- Naughty Twin Sisters in the Closet
- Eating My Twin Sister’s Birthday Cake
- Becoming My Twin Sister’s Sorority Slave

This 32,000-word bundle might be too hot to handle.

The twins are spoiled bitches. My doormat dad has been married to their gold-digging, trophy wife mom for three and a half years now. In addition to being stuck up and shallow, the twins take things from my room without asking all the time. They constantly make fun of my clothes, but think nothing of raiding my closet. Brittany and Courtney—or Brat and Cunt, as I like to call them—are the fucking worst.

After five blissful months away at college and surrounded by fellow dancers and artists, I’m stuck at home for three months with my stupid, slutty stepsisters. I have no idea how I’ll survive it.

Britt and Court were lounging in the pool in their itty-bitty bikinis when I got home from my run. If I want to make it as a ballerina, I need to keep my body in tip-top shape. But as I check myself out in the mirror before my shower, I can’t help but wish I was less athletic and more curvy. Curvy like Cunt and Brat. They’re built like pinup models, eating whatever they want without gaining a pound. Their mom is similar, but at least she does a lot of yoga. The twins are just lucky, and they spend all day in the pool and doing nothing. They’re still out there now, giggling and splashing water on each other when I get out of the shower.

I realize now is my chance to steal some of my stuff back. I get dressed in a tee and a pair of runner’s shorts before sneaking across the hall to their room.

Their place is a mess, which is no surprise considering how lazy and useless they are. Stepping over piles of clothes and bits of cosmetics, I easily spot my magenta cardigan on the floor—the same cardigan Court said made me look like a “dyke librarian.” That fucking bitch. And my bright blue tights are hanging off the headboard of Brat’s bed. After telling me how fat they made my ass look, that whore has some nerve taking them without asking.

Half a dozen articles of my clothing are tucked under my arms when my toe brushes against something hard on the floor. I reach down and see something bright pink poking out of a sock. Without thinking, I pick it up.

A vibrator?

My mouth drops. The twins just leave their sex toys lying around? I’m surprised one of them would even need a sex toy. Both twins have hot, beefy boyfriends who they’ve been fucking since high school. Do they really need masturbatory aids? At least it’s not myvibrator. The twins already make enough fun of my single status. If they stole my vibrator, I’d have to kill them.

I hear giggling and footsteps coming up the stairs—the twins are out of the pool already! And though I have every right to take my clothes back, I freeze. With the vibrator in my hand I feel guilty for being in here. When I hear them on the landing I panic and dash into their closet, closing the door partway so that I’m hidden. Hopefully they won’t stick around too long, and as soon as they leave I can slip back into my room with my stuff.

“I am bursting at the seams,” I hear one of them say, just outside the room.

It’s Court the Cunt. She’s two minutes older than Britt, and maybe that’s why she always acts like she’s in charge. She talks down to me all the time even though I’m five months older than her. Actually, Court talks down to everyone, especially her mom. With her long blonde hair, C-cup breasts, and pouty lips, she gets away with being a controlling bitch. She enters the room first, and even I have to admit she looks smoking in her sapphire blue bikini. Her wet tresses are plastered to her back. Her ass is practically spilling out of her bikini bottoms. I finger the vibrator in my hand.

“We should have stayed in the pool,” Britt replies. Britt the Brat isn’t as cruel and nasty as her twin, but she’s shallow and spoiled. She throws tantrums, and her mom always convinces my dad to buy her expensive things to win her over. My dad’s so naïve, but Britt is not without her charms. Her hair is shorter than Court’s, and curly. She’s got the same knockout body, though, and her black one-piece leaves very little to the imagination.

“No way,” Court says. I hear her close the door, but can’t see her. “Em’s car is here. And we can’t have that bitch narcing on us.”

Narcing? What is she talking about? I turn a blind eye to all the twins’ stupid shit. In fact, since I’ve been home from school I’ve been going out of my way to ignore them.

“Forget her,” Britt says, “And get over here.”

Court giggles, and then it gets quiet. I can’t see them from my spot in the closet, but soon I’m hearing more giggles and soft smacking sounds. Followed by a soft moan. What is going on out there?

As silently as possible, I inch closer to the edge of the closet and peer outside. Britt and Court are kissing—with tongue!

Fisting My Bratty Nephew (My Bratty Nephew #3)

Posted on May 6, 2021 by indieerotica

Bruce’s slutty nephew, Cody, is still insatiably horny.

Not that Bruce is really complaining. While it eats up his time to be pounding his nephew every chance they get, it’s time well spent as it’s bringing him closer and closer to his nephew. Sometimes, though, he worries if it’s bringing him too close, and that this ongoing sexual relationship might evolve into something more.

But Bruce doesn’t have time to worry about those things right now because he needs to satisfy Cody’s sexual urges. And with having locked Cody up in chastity a while back, Cody needs Bruce’s help to get off.

Relentless pounding doesn’t seem to ever satisfy the young man, so Bruce pulls his nephew into a new sexual adventure…

Fisting.

Maybe this will finally satisfy Bruce’s bratty, slutty, perpetually-horny nephew.

“Stop humping me,” I growled.

Cody—my bratty and insatiably horny nephew—was standing far too close to me at the sales desk at my auto junkyard. He was pretending to be casual, but he kept brushing his caged dick against the side of my leg, and if he got a particularly good rub, he would let out a soft groan.

Locking him in chastity had been something I’d done out of frustration a couple weeks ago. I’d discovered that he was far hornier than I had ever thought possible; our regular and frequent fuckings where I would pound his tight little boy-hole were nowhere near enough to satiate his libido. To counter that, I had locked his dick in chastity. I knew there was a real solid risk of him becoming even hornier by being denied orgasm, and of fucking course that was the case.

And so right now, at work, he was humping my leg like a dog in heat.

“Uncle Bruce…” Cody moaned.

I rolled my eyes and then turned to look at him. He looked pitiful, like a junkie in need of a fix. And that fix was my cock.

But as much as he looked like a slut in desperate need of a good dicking, I also saw my nephew, the young man I had so totally and completely fallen head over heels for. We were fucking constantly, at least four times a day, but my feelings for this boy were moving beyond just lust and I didn’t know what to do with that. It’s not like we could ever be together in that way.

He pouted, pushing out that sultry lower lip, the one that looked so good when it was wrapped around my fat cock. Fuck, I was getting hard. Cody obviously knew because he leaned forward with his pelvis and rubbed his caged nubbin against my rock hard erection.

“I need your big dick,” he moaned.

“Not now,” I scolded him. About ten minutes ago, some guy I didn’t recognize had wandered past this little office building and into the junkyard. “There’s a customer on premises. He could walk in at any moment.”

“Or he could be another twenty minutes,” Cody said. He reached for my crotch and grabbed my shaft through the layers of clothing.

Before I could protest further, Cody sunk to his knees in front of me and started undoing my fly. I should have told him no, but he knew as well as I did that I lost all sense of control when my lust took over. And he knew how to kick-start my lust in seconds.

“Fuck,” I moaned as I rolled my eyes toward the windows set in the wall opposite us. There was no sign of the customer in the yard, or any other customers for that matter. Maybe we could have a few minutes of fun…after all, it would help him last until after we closed up and headed home.

When I looked back down in front of me, I saw that Cody already had my hard dick out and he was stroking it. He looked up at me with those big, beautiful eyes, and then he wrapped those gorgeous lips around my shaft and eagerly started sucking me.

Redemption (Building a Pack #4)

Posted on May 6, 2021 by indieerotica

Henry takes pride in the work that he does, helping young, misguided gay men find God and their inner heterosexual. During one such conversion session, proceedings are interrupted by uninvited guests.

Isaac, Kevin, and Gabriel have been on the trail of the man responsible for the conversions in the community and just so happen to catch the perpetrator red-handed, only to find out that Henry’s just another victim.

Everyone deserves a second chance, though, and with his newfound power, Isaac rescues Henry from the false life that had been forced onto him.

The creak of leather upholstery drew Henry’s attention. His driver, Manuel, was looking at him through the rear-view mirror. Manuel scratched the back of his head, glancing briefly outside the window. “Are you sure about this, padre?” said Manuel. “I don’t like how this place looks. I can drive you back to the church, no problem.”

“Thank you, Manuel,” said Henry, as they pulled up to the front building. The sidewalk was desolate. A plastic bag scraped across the pavement, caught in the wind. “I appreciate your concern, but this is something I must do. God wills it.”

Henry slid his fingers down the seatbelt and unbuckled it. He smoothed down the front of his cassock with one hand as he reached for his briefcase with the other. He stepped out of the car, briefly shivering in the cold.

Taking a breath to center himself, Henry walked over to the driver’s side of the car. He stooped down to the window as Manuel lowered it. “Are you really sure you can’t put this off, padre? Or do this somewhere else?” said Manuel. “Just say the word and I’ll drive you back, no charge.”

Henry laughed. “I’ll be fine, Mr. Enrique,” he said. He held out a hand. Manuel shook it, grip firm. “It was nice meeting you. You don’t have to wait for me. I’ll send you a message when I need a ride back to the parish. Oh, and I’d appreciate it if you kept this between us, Mr. Enrique.”

Manuel stared at the hundred-dollar bill that Henry had left in his hand. He looked up at the priest. “No, padre, I can’t accept this,” he said. “It’s too much!”

“Mr. Enrique,” said Henry, saying the words deliberately, “I would very much appreciate your discretion.”

Manuel gulped. He glanced at the bill and then back at Henry one more time before pocketing the money. “O-of course, padre,” he stammered. “Do you have any idea how long you’ll be? I might, uh, take a few fares after this.”

Henry shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t know for sure. I’ll message you when I’m done. And don’t worry. I know you need to make a living. I won’t mind waiting.” He patted the chassis of the car twice before taking a step back from the curb and gave Manuel a little wave as the cab drove away.

Once Manuel drove out of sight, Henry turned to face the building. He remembered what had been, once. A house of debauchery and sin in one of the city’s most active districts. A nightclub that not only encouraged fornication out of wedlock, but a kind most contemptible in the eyes of the Lord. Now here it stood, empty and condemned, as was proper.

The corners of Henry’s lips twitched into a little smile, knowing that he’d had a hand in shutting not just this awful establishment down, but the entire district of degeneracy that had once surrounded it. He liked to think that he had saved at least a few souls from damnation for his part. Today, Henry hoped, he’d be able to save yet another soul, just as he’d been saved fifteen years ago, when he’d been young, misguided, and lost.

Henry entered the building. The poorly-maintained hinges creaked as he pushed the wooden door open. It wasn’t his first time inside, but it never failed to amaze him how much the place had changed. He still remembered where the dance floor was, and how much time he’d used to spend there. He shook his head. What a distasteful memory.

Quickly, and with purpose, Henry crossed the floor to the back of the building. He entered the stairwell and climbed up to the now-empty offices at the top. From the landing, he went to the right-hand corridor and knocked on the third door on the left.

The door swung open. “You’re late,” said a voice. It belonged to a uniformed police officer about Henry’s age, with blond hair framing a handsome, youthful face, and vivid blue eyes. “We’ve been doing this every month for the last three years and you’re still late.”

Punishment (Building a Pack #3)

Posted on May 6, 2021 by indieerotica

Crack.

Chains jangled and Isaac flinched. A quiet sob echoed in the spacious room, and leather rasped against bare concrete as the whip dragged on the floor behind Isaac. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the snap of the whip, much less the sound of it hitting bare skin, but Gabriel had insisted he learn.

In all honesty, Isaac never once imagined he would be in a place like this. It wasn’t his first time here, but it was still strange how the rich burgundy walls and the variety of equipment hung up on their racks, called out to him. The coarseness of the bare concrete floor under his feet felt right, too, somehow. Even the way that the leather straps, of the harness he wore across his chest, dug in felt proper.

The tail of the whip trailed behind Isaac as he walked around the St. Andrew’s cross in the middle of the room. Kevin was strung up against it with heavy chains fastened to the thick stainless steel manacles locked around his wrists and ankles. His back was exposed to the air and already had four thin welts marking where the whip had struck.

A cold knot settled into the pit of Isaac’s stomach as he came around to look Kevin in the face. Streaks of tears stained his mate’s cheeks, but Kevin’s jaw was set, and his eyes burned with determination. The instinct to protect was difficult to quell, but Isaac did so, anyway. He resisted the urge to ask if Kevin needed a break—as they’d barely even just begun.

Clenching his hands around the handle of the whip, Isaac walked around to the side of the cross. He took a moment to examine the landscape of Kevin’s back, to choose a good spot to hit that wasn’t too close to the previous lashes.

Two weeks had passed since Isaac and Gabriel rescued Kevin. Isaac didn’t often think about her anymore, but there was still a part of him that wanted to run down the bitch that stole Kevin and tear out her throat. Isaac shook his head. Thinking those thoughts were what had landed him in this predicament in the first place.

Isaac had been stupid enough to tell Gabriel about the anger he felt, about the bloodlust thrumming through his veins, the day after he got Kevin back. That was the first time he ever set foot in the dungeon, only he hadn’t been the punisher, then.

Rescue (Building a Pack #2)

Posted on May 6, 2021May 6, 2021 by indieerotica

The golden rays of early morning’s light streamed through the blinds drawn over the windows. The plastic slats cast long shadows across the alarm clock on the nightstand, which read 7:30 AM, while the streaks of light illuminated the sparse motes of dust drifting lazily through the air.

With a quiet sigh, Isaac cracked open an eye and smiled. The events of the auspicious day that had changed everything were still fresh in his mind. He never would have thought that weeks of agony and misery starting when his boyfriend “saw the light” and turned straight could culminate in something so beautiful, so pleasurable, and so empowering.

Isaac still felt a pang of hurt in his chest thinking about Kevin. He imagined he would continue to feel that way for a while. Hearing his boyfriend call him a faggot and mean every syllable, watching him walk away into the arms of a woman, had left a wound that would take a while to heal.

Taking a deep breath, Isaac stretched his arms over his head and yawned. The air was thick with the musk of men, the scent of sweat, and the distinct, intoxicating aroma of sex. Between his legs, his cock throbbed with insistent need at the memory of Gabriel holding him, taking him from behind.

Isaac shivered. He ran his fingers over his pecs. The thick slabs of firm muscle had truly matured over the last three weeks. As a bit of a twig his whole life, Isaac had basically given up on the idea of putting on much muscle, if any at all.

Now, three weeks after he was introduced to a world that he’d always thought was nothing but myth and folklore, Isaac had not just grown broader, he’d grown taller, too. He didn’t really understand it, but the magic had somehow turned him into the best physical version of himself.

Isaac felt amazing, though to tell the truth, he felt a not-inconsiderable amount of guilt for feeling that way. Now that he understood the situation a little better thanks to Gabriel, he felt as if his happiness were somehow a betrayal of Kevin.

Isaac knew it was stupid for him to think that just because Kevin, the real Kevin, was suffering, he had to suffer too. And yet, he couldn’t help but feel that way sometimes. Being around Gabriel helped him forget about the strange, complicated way that the human heart felt things, but at his core, he was still just a guy, whatever the magic had done to him.

Fortunately, most of the time, Isaac was more than happy to just bask in the wonderful sensation of being a werewolf. While he wasn’t sure how true the impression he got was, Gabriel had somewhat implied that the full transformation would come about faster if he just let himself enjoy it. Whatever the case, that was just the kind of excuse that Isaac could use to justify the way he felt to himself.

Because Isaac felt satisfied in a way that he had never been before. He felt happy. He felt secure. He felt full. And not in the least because there was a thick cock lodged in his hole, and a pair of furry muscular arms wrapped around his waist.

The Bite (Building a Pack #1)

Posted on May 6, 2021 by indieerotica

As if it wasn’t bad enough that he’d lost his boyfriend of four years, Isaac discovered that Kevin had left him for a woman. The universe was laughing at him. He was sure of it. He didn’t think he’d ever been more miserable in his life.

Isaac would have happily drowned in his anguish, but when a handsome stranger shows up at his doorstep, he feels the slightest flicker of hope. When the stranger offers him the power to ensure that he would never have to feel so miserable again, the temptation is too great to refuse.

“I just don’t know where else to turn to…”

The earnest words of the prayer, spoken in words slurred with drink, were like a whisper in the breeze that wound through the halls of the temple to the Étrad Sídhthe. The attendants laboriously polishing the gilded statues of men in all types of ecstasy looked about as if perturbed by the sound. “Is that what I think it is?” said one, hanging from the ceiling in a sling of ropes whilst absentmindedly rubbing a statue’s gleaming bicep with a cloth and his crotch.

“None of this makes any sense! I just want him back…”

“I think it is,” said another of the attendants, cleaning the toes of a golden Adonis with his tongue. He turned his eyes to the vaulted ceiling, to the glimmering silks crossing from one side of the hall to the other, suspended from the tops of the marble columns that paraded down the length of the corridor.

“I’ll pay any price! I’ll give you anything you want! I just want him back…”

Gaining in strength and bolstered by the benediction of the temple’s attendants, the prayer thundered down the central aisle of the main chamber. The words were steeped in the kind of desperation known only to the most sincere of loves. Disciples of the Étrad Sídhthe in their leathers and sheer cloths looked up from their coupling. Even the Cáel Sídhe took notice.

Perched upon a dais where an altar should have been were two tall thrones. Atop one, Cáel draped his slight, effete body over one of the armrests. In that position, the bright pink veils he wore, that left very little to the imagination to begin with, revealed even more of his lithe form.

With the twitch of an eyebrow, the Cáel looked across to the man seated on the other throne. His eyes glowed with the light of divination as he sought the source of the prayer’s pain. When he found it, he gave the Brogda Sídhe a meaningful look and said, “Well…that’s not good. I’m tempted, but do we even want to touch this right now?”

“It’s definitely not good,” said Brogda. His deep, sensual baritone voice sent a shiver down the spine of every man in the room whose heart held even the slightest dreg of submissiveness. He leaned forward, his brows furrowed with thought.

The dignified purple toga edged in gold stretched across Brogda’s broad chest and bulging muscles as he considered the situation, and the prayer. “But I don’t think that we want to touch it. Not directly, at least. He’s declared war, but you know what it took last time. We need time to get ready.”

“But we are going to do something, right?” said Cáel, emphasizing his words with exaggerated gestures with his right hand. He would have used both hands, but his left was busy stroking the massive cock of the disciple perched on the other armrest of his throne. “This isn’t something we can just let go.”

Brogda leaned back with a small, wicked smirk. “Correct. Which means that we’ll have to use someone who is, on the surface at least, not directly affiliated with us.” He rested his palms on the ends of the armrests of his throne. The disciple that had been worshipping his feet doubled his efforts as Brogda’s mighty cock stirred to life. The front of Brogda’s toga tented upward, parting around the rock-hard pillar that was his erection.

Seducing My Dad While Staying Safe

Posted on May 6, 2021 by indieerotica

Last Halloween, Ronald had an unexpected sexual bonding experience with his dad, Rich. Though it was framed as one-time hands-on lesson, in the months that have followed, Ronald hasn’t been able to banish the many fantasies that abound when he takes himself in hand.

Now, with quarantined summer approaching and his mother unable to travel home, the months of social isolation are starting to take their toll. Rich has sunk into an intense daily routine of weight lifting and long sessions at the piano, and Ronald, with nowhere to go, can’t stop thinking about better ways he might help his father vent his frustrations.

Cooped up together in their house while they stay safe, Ronald doesn’t know how much longer he can ignore the elephant in the room, that secret one-time encounter his father will never talk about. If only he can convince his dad to use his son’s butt, that his tight insides are just as good as his mom’s.

If only he can give his father all the filthy things he dreams of giving him…

It’s Tuesday now. Dad is finishing his workout in the basement. I can hear the weights dropping to the ground as he does his dead lifts. He always comes to his bedroom to shower and change out of his workout clothes, before he plays the piano. I’m waiting for him here.

I’m wearing Mom’s panties. Slipping them on for the first time, after all those times jerking off, thinking of it, my dick is instantly erect. They’re tight on me. Dad’s room has a long closet mirror, letting me see how fully my butt cheeks bulge out, the pink fabric triangle narrowing as it plunges into my butt crack, wedging in tight against my hole at the bottom.

I get up on the bed, examining my butt more in the mirror. I squat up with hands on knees, butt raised slightly, so that my cheeks spread wider, bulging rounder from each side of the panties. Up and down I rock my hips, seeing how the narrower band of fabric rides my crack, feeling how it pushes against my hole. I think of Dad’s large, hairy hand pulling that fabric down slowly, revealing my butt cheeks.

Seven loud bangs announce another set. Dad will be finished soon.

I slide forward, laying face down on the bed, but turn my head to face the mirror. I hump the bed a little, watching how my bubble butt flexes together each time I drive into the mattress. This is exactly how I want Dad to find me. I hump some more, enjoying the sensation in my erection, but it’s the sight of my squeezing buns that I focus on, the anticipation of what Dad will think when he sees it.

There are no more sounds from below. I wait, my heart racing. Any minute now, he will find me.

I see the door swing open in the mirror. Dad is standing there, his forehead beading sweat. He’s already taken his shirt off. His black, curly chest hair is also wet and glistening in the sunlit hall.

I watch his eyes, through the mirror, not moving at all. He’s staring toward me, staring in one place.

Tentatively, I hump the bed, squeezing my butt tight, never looking away from that intense gaze of his. His mouth opens slightly, a war on his face. His eyes widen a little, but they stare in the same place.

I hump again, squeeze long and hard, keeping my boy buns tight together so he can see the way the pink fabric fills my crack, the force of my muscles and just how tight they can squeeze his dick.

His mouth opens more. He’s making fists at his side. His eyes seem furious now, furious like that look he gets when he’s pounding piano chords.

Finally he comes forward. He closes the bedroom door. I follow his motion in the mirror. He stops, midway between door and bed. Slowly, he drops his shorts, but stays in his underwear. His hard-on is unmistakable, straining the gray material to its limit, pulling the underwear band away from his hips.

He comes the rest of the way, to the bed, rests his knees against the edge. His eyes, the whole time, stare at the same place. My butt.

The Paperboy and The MILF

Posted on May 5, 2021 by indieerotica

It’s eighteen-year-old Ryan’s last day as paperboy and he’s collecting dues and saying goodbye to all of his clients—and he’s saved his favorite for last.

Mrs. Miller is a MILF with an often-absent husband and two rowdy teenage boys. Whenever he comes to collect dues, she inevitably flirts with him. It’s harmless and never goes anywhere, but it gives Ryan a nice ego boost and some mental fun for his spank bank.

Today is different, though.

The first difference is that her teenage boys are out of town with her husband. The second difference is that she doesn’t seem to be satisfied with harmless flirting today.

What starts as the usual flirting soon escalates into tearing off clothes and Mrs. Miller showing Ryan just how phenomenal a bored housewife can be in bed.

The Paperboy and the MILF is a 5,000 word short story.

It was my final day as a paperboy. Tomorrow I’d be packing up the car with Dad and driving to Minneapolis for college.

There were still a few accounts that paid cash or check monthly, rather than having it drawn out from their bank account or their credit card, so for those customers, I was doing my rounds and collecting fees—and also saying goodbye. I’d been their paperboy since I was thirteen, so now five years later at eighteen and about to move off for college, it was a big change, both for me and for them.

I saved my favorite client for the end. Mrs. Miller. She was a banging married MILF whose husband was always on long haul trucking jobs—and I guess as part of her way to keep herself occupied, she often flirted with me. We’d never done anything beyond flirt, though I would sink my dick into her at a moment’s notice if she ever felt like actually cheating on her husband.

More than once I’d gone straight home from chatting with Mrs. Miller to beat off into my cum sock. She’s fuelled many fantasies for me over the years.

As I walked up to her door, I tugged at the bottom of my T-shirt, straightening it, but also making sure it hung nicely over my pecs. I’d been working out the last several months and my body was starting to show for the effort.

At the top step, I rang the bell and waited. I didn’t hear the usual clamor of her teenage boys that had always been the backdrop noise to our little flirting game. A few moments later the door opened and Mrs. Miller smiled when she saw it was me.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Miller,” I said.

“Good afternoon, Ryan. I told you to call me Linda,” she said, gently chastising me.

I smiled and I think I blushed a bit. “Sorry...good afternoon, Linda.” I fumbled with pulling my little receipt book out of my back pocket. “I’m here to collect your monthly dues.”

“Of course,” she said, holding the door open wide, “come in and I’ll go get my purse.”

With the door fully open, I finally got a good look at what Mrs. Miller—Linda—had on today. She always dressed super nice. Today she had a short black skirt and a black and gray shirt that seemed to wrap around her body and really accentuate her full breasts. And it was low-cut, giving me ample view of her cleavage.

I stepped past her to enter her house, and I tried to tame my boner when my shoulder brushed up against her tits. She made a satisfied little humming sound when I did that and I had to struggle to not read too much into it. This was just another case of harmless flirting that wasn’t going to go anywhere.

She closed the door behind me. “Wait right here,” she said, putting her hand on my shoulder before hurrying off down the hall. A few moments later, she came back down the hall with her purse in hand.

“Quiet today,” I said.

She put her purse on the little table just past the entryway and dug through it. “Yes, the boys went with my husband on his route. Sort of a last minute summer getaway before school starts up again next week.” She pulled her checkbook out of her purse. “Speaking of school, I hear this is the last time you’re coming by?”

I watched as she flipped open the checkbook and bent over to write out the check. Her ass, perfect and round, stuck out behind her. My eyes locked on it and wouldn’t let go.

“Yeah,” I said, managing to form full words and not drool. “Going to college in Minneapolis. I’ll be back for the holidays and next summer, but I won’t be your paperboy anymore, I guess.”

She tore off the check, stood upright, and turned around with a small pout on her face. “I’m happy for you, but I’m going to miss our little visits and chats.”

“Me too,” I said.

She stepped closer, holding the check out, but then she stopped when her eyes landed on my chest. “Have you been working out?”

I grinned stupidly. “Yes, I have. I think it’s paying off.” I ran my hands down from my chest to my waist, smoothing out the shirt again.

She shook her head. “Can you...take off your shirt? I can’t really get a sense of anything through the shirt.”

Dominated in the Hot Tub

Posted on May 5, 2021 by indieerotica

Jay was supposed to be on a romantic ski getaway with his boyfriend Carl…only to have Carl dump him days before for some brainless twink. Not willing to lose money on the ski resort’s “no cancellations” policy, Jay hits the slopes as a sort of makeshift one-man “Get Over Carl Party”.

But that only gets him so far. At the end of it all, Jay realizes he needs something, even if he doesn’t know what it is. Something in his life just feels…missing.

As he soaks in the outdoor hot tub late at night in privacy and quiet, he contemplates all of this. Then someone joins him in the tub.

At first, Jay is pissed that he no longer has privacy, but then he sees who it is. A burly, hairy, hunky daddy that obviously has eyes for Jay. And after a little bit of flirting to test the waters, Jay makes his move.

He knows what’s missing in his life—it’s this anonymous hot tub man with the dominating personality and the sexual appetite of a teenager.

Dominated in the Hot Tub is a 3,500 word short story.

I sunk in the hot tub until the steamy, bubbly water tickled at the bottoms of my ear lobes. I let out a sigh and just closed my eyes, letting that warmth seep into my aching body. But the pain was good.

I was supposed to come to Tahoe and ski the slopes with Carl…but then he dumped me for some brainless twink. I’d considered cancelling the reservation, but with this place’s “no refund” policy, I decided to make it a Get Over Carl Getaway for just myself. I brought my work BFF Jennifer with me, but while she lounged in the chalet all day, I’d kept myself busy.

Carl had been wrong for me anyway. He had wanted love and romance, whereas I wanted to be dominated and treated like the stubby pig I was. It had been far too long since I’d had a good dicking.

There were some hot guys here at the ski resort, but since I was here with Jennifer I had to behave. Besides, some skiing, sun, and late night hot tub soaks would do me some good. I leaned my head back and looked up at the stars above. The air was cool and crisp and snow covered most of the surfaces except for the paved path leading up to the hot tub.

And it was quiet. So blessedly quiet. I closed my eyes and just enjoyed the silence.

And that’s why I groaned when I heard the soft pat-pat of footsteps coming my way. I kept my eyes closed, hoping that whoever it was would just pass on by or, if they were sticking around, not bother me.

Then I heard the quiet rustle of a towel falling to the ground, followed by the gentle splash of someone getting into the hot tub with me. I couldn’t help it. I groaned.

“Hey,” said the person—a man. His voice was deep and sexy, even with just that one word. When I opened my eyes, his face and body had better be as sexy as his voice if he’s going to interrupt my solitude like this.

When I did open my eyes…he was a hot daddy.

Hot daddies are my type…even if twinks consider me a hot daddy too. Dominant hot daddies were even more my thing, and there was a glint in this guy’s eye that told me he might like to shove my face into a wall while pounding me from behind.

“Hey,” I said. I sat a little more upright so that it didn’t look like I was trying to ignore him. Like, that was my original plan, but now that I was seeing the potential of getting some daddy dick, my plan had changed.

“Nice night,” he said. Then he sighed as he sunk into the tub. He was clear on the other side, but this was a fairly small tub. So small that when he fully relaxed, his toes brushed against mine. And neither of us pulled back.

He looked at me and smiled in a way that told me his toes touching mine was a little bit of a test. And I passed. With flying rainbow colors.

“You vacationing with your boyfriend?” he asked, likely using this as an opportunity to confirm he had my orientation pegged right.

“Single,” I said. “The asshole dumped me for some nineteen-year-old twink.”

“That sucks,” he said. “I’m here with my BF. It was supposed to be the romantic getaway to fix our relationship, but I’m not sure it’s working.”

“Sorry,” I said.

“Eh, don’t be. I knew he was an idiot when I bought him a drink six months ago, but it was that hot ass of his that helped me see past that for a while.” I watched as the steam from the hot tub coalesced in little beads of moisture on his facial scruff that glistened in the bright moonlight. He was so rugged and handsome, way more than Carl ever was.

“So he’s up in your room?” I asked, testing the waters.

“Unfortunately. How’s your room?”

“Can’t. Sharing the room with a friend.”

He looked around, checking out our surroundings. “Why don’t you sidle up a little closer?”

I glanced around too. I had no idea how I had lucked out with deciding to hot tub on such a quiet night, but there was nobody around. There was lots going on in the chalet—I could see dozens and dozens of people having a blast through all the large windows. But out here in the hot tub? It was just me and this hunky daddy.

I shuffled around, sliding across the seat that ringed the hot tub until I was next to him. We were facing the chalet windows and behind us was the peaceful and dark mountains. From this position we could be sure of our privacy since we’d see anyone coming our way from the chalet.

“Let me see what you’re packing,” he said. He slid a hand over my leg and groped the front of my Speedo. I was already semi-hard, but his rough touch only served to make me fully hard.

Academic Discipline: The Complete Series

Posted on May 5, 2021 by indieerotica

Few things are as taboo as a student seducing a teacher. But when the teacher is sexually dominant, it quickly goes from taboo to scorching hot.

Spanking, bondage, and kinky toys are all ways these older men teach their younger male students about the pleasures that can be had if they just give in and submit. And when the boys do finally grab hold of their submissive natures, their teachers take them even further than they ever thought possible.

From a college freshman being dominated by his professor, to a newly eighteen-year-old twink accidentally encountering his teacher at the bathhouse, to a college baseball player giving in to all of his secret gay urges with his dominant coach…these men enter into the most forbidden of relationships.

Academic Discipline collects Dominating The Freshman, Schoolboy Secrets, and Team Bottom into one steamy volume.

It’s like a dance. I’ve been through this many times; I make a subtle gesture of interest, he reciprocates, and we move closer.

The gym is nearly empty, save for him and I and some guy doing leg presses. The twink — my partner in this mating dance — eyes me as he walks across the room to the water fountain. After his drink, he looks at me again and water glistens on his pouty, cock-sucking lips. Before he looks away again, I pick up a pair of free weights, my biceps bulging as I carry them to a spot in front of the mirror.

I eye up my figure as I approach the mirror, ensuring I’m giving the twink a good view. My arms glisten with sweat and my tank is plastered to my tight body. My hairy legs look strong in the tight shorts I’m wearing. I shift my gaze to him, watching his reflection, and I catch him staring at me, slack-jawed. He blushes, but doesn’t avert his eyes.

Emboldened, he wanders over my way, trying to make it look casual despite both of us knowing exactly what’s going on and where this is leading. He picks a couple weights off the rack and takes a bench a couple over from where I’m standing.

With his closeness, I get a much better look at him — he’s a twink, yes, but he has some jock muscle to him. He’s shorter than me, skinnier, and has to be nineteen, at most. While his frame might be small, his dick certainly isn’t. The tenting in the front of his shorts tells me he’s hard and he’s big. But it’s not necessarily his cock I want.

“What are you working on?” I ask, as I start doing bicep curls. I keep my voice low, so that only he could hear. I glance at the reflection of the other guy, the one at the leg press — he’s taking a break and doing something on his phone, totally oblivious to the impending homosexual action on this side of the room.

He bites his lower lip, looking like he’s almost overwhelmed that I’m actually talking to him, then says, “Just going to do a few rows.”

Then he leans over the bench and props one knee on it, straightening his back to be parallel with the padded surface … leaving his perfectly round ass curved and ready for me. I want so much to pull down those shorts and lick all the salty sweat from his crack. If that guy wasn’t dawdling by the leg press and would just get the fuck out of here, I might actually follow through with it.

This is a quiet gym; I could fuck this twink in the middle of the room and no one would know. Even though my status as a professor gets me a free pass to the campus gym, I long ago chose to go to this one, as I couldn’t get caught up in gym hookups with students. Being on the other side of the city, the number of university students in this gym was near to non-existent. Although this twink could be a student, I highly doubted it.

I put my free weights on the floor and saunter over to him, admiring every inch of his body as I get closer. “Need someone to, uh, spot you?”

“That’d be nice,” he says. “And make sure my form is correct.”

He starts doing his rows, lifting the weight in his left fist, while using his right hand to brace himself on the bench. I come up beside him, standing beside his head, my crotch at height of his mouth, and I place a hand on his back. His body is sweaty and hot, but I can feel energy thrumming through him — the libido and lust of young men, I’m sure — and it only serves to turn me on even more. I push my hand further down his back, conscious that the other man was still in the room with us, and gently pushed my fingers under the back of his shorts. I find the band of his underwear, and then bare flesh — he’s wearing a jockstrap.

I clear my throat, steadying myself. I’ve never wanted a boy as badly as I want this one. Even with clothes on, his body is perfect.

By now my cock is thick and hard, standing prominent in my gym shorts. He turns to face me, those gorgeous, pouty lips only a breath away from kissing my shaft. “Thanks,” he says, his attention focussed on my bulge.

The loud clang of the other guy finishing a set of leg presses — the guy I wish would just disappear — breaks the tension of the moment. I feel like our slow dance toward wild sex was set back several steps. We need to get out of here.

I watch as the boy turns around and does rows with his other arm. As he turns, though, he brushes his body against mine — his shoulder rubs against my cock — and it sends a shiver through me. This boy wants me as bad as I want him.

I glance in the mirror at the other guy. He’s on his phone again, doing fuck knows what, while he takes a break between sets. I’d seen this guy here before and I seem to remember that he always did a long workout — I’d come and go and he’d still be working on his routine. Today, he had gotten here shortly after me, which means he’ll likely be working out for a while longer.

“That’s quite a workout,” I say, returning my attention to the twink. “You want to hit the showers?”

He smiles and stands up. “I think it’s about quitting time. A shower might do me good … help me relax.”

We quickly rack our weights and walk back toward the change room. I try not to hurry, to not give the guy any indication I was about to get some sweet ass. I nod as I pass, a mutual hello between two heterosexual gym-goers.

As soon as we enter the change room and the door closes behind us, I push the boy against the wall and kiss him. His lips are as pouty and tender as they’d looked, and his tongue is soft and velvety. I abandon his lips and kiss down his jaw and neck, tasting his salty sweat.

And then I fall to my knees and do what I wanted to do since I saw him climb on that bench. I spin him around and yank his shorts down to mid-thigh. His ass, round and plump, is framed perfectly by his white jockstrap, looking like art.

I take a cheek in each hand and massage his ass, then spread his cheeks, exposing his tight, pink hole. He’s smooth as fuck. I watch a bead of sweat collect on his lower back and then roll lazily down into his crack, getting caught momentarily on the wrinkled flesh of his hole.

Taking my opportunity, I dive face-first into his ass, starting with a lick up his crack, scooping up all of the sweat gathered there and brushing over his tight knot. He lets out the softest moan and leans flat against the tile wall in front of him. I take that as a good sign and press deeper with my tongue, brushing up and down and poking at the centre. Eventually, he loosens and I can push my tongue in, to taste the boy’s insides, which is just as sweet as his outside.

I stand up and slap his supple ass, the sound ricocheting through the small room. I walk away from him, toward the lockers and around a corner to where a wooden bench stands like a lonely island. Dropping my shorts and underwear and yanking off my tank, I sit down, naked but for my sneakers, and beckon the boy closer.

He leans in and I pull his face to mine and plant another kiss on his lips. Then, when I want him to get on his knees, I grip a handful of his hair and pull him down. The boy gets the hint and kneels in front of me, between my legs. He grabs my cock and looks up at me as he sinks his face down on it.

Fuck, his mouth is warm and wet and tight — almost as good as his ass would be. I keep my grip on his hair and use it to guide the speed and depth I like. I lean back and moan, letting this talented boy take me to ecstasy. The only thing that would make this hotter would be if I had some of my BDSM gear with me — but that’s all at home. And something tells me this boy, though obviously sexually experienced, might be intimidated by some of the gear I own. For today, for this boy, I would have to be content with his amazing body and the overwhelming lust we felt for each other.

“Get naked,” I say, my words and voice nothing less than a command.

He pulls his mouth off my cock with an audible pop and grins. “Yes, sir.”

I kick off my sneakers so that I’m fully and completely naked, then walk toward the showers. The boy, naked as me, follows. I turn on the water and push him under it, rubbing down his body and cleaning him off.

I spend an inordinate amount of time on his ass, massaging the cheeks, running my fingers up and down his crack, and probing his hole. Every press of my fingers against his tight knot of flesh proves him to be pliable, like with just another push I’d sink right in. So I push further and, yes, my fingers sunk in like nothing. The boy’s ass offers no resistance. He moans and shakes like his knees are going to give out, so I press my body close to his, trapping him between me and the tile wall.

I dig deeper with my fingers, feeling around until I find his prostate. I brush it, tickle it, play with it, and he throws his head back and gasps. By driving him wild I’m only doing the same to myself. My cock is raging hard and oozing precum, begging to get in on the action.

Slipping my fingers from his hole, I spit in my hand and lather up my dick, then press the head against his hole. He’s already slightly open from having my fingers in there — he’s so relaxed that his hole is sitting there, waiting for me. I push my hips forward and ease my cock into his hole, sliding in until I’m balls-deep and my pelvis is pressed flat against those round cheeks of his.

“Oh,” he moans as I pause for a moment, letting his body adjust to having my meat shoved inside him. “Sir, that feels so good.”

The fact that he calls me “sir” even without me asking and without him knowing I’m into BDSM makes me want to fuck him hard and mercilessly, to have him begging for me to fill his hole with my hot seed. I grip one hand on his shoulder and the other on his hip, backing up a step so that he pushes his ass out, readying it for a serious pounding.

I start swinging my hips back and forth, slowly at first, being gentle mostly for the lack of lube, then I begin to pick up the pace, going faster and faster. And the boy takes it. He doesn’t groan in pain or put his hand against me to slow my rhythm — no, he takes it. He more than takes it; he starts rocking in time, pushing back when I truth forward, so that my cock shoves deeper in his ass.

Loosening my grip on his shoulder, I run my hand down his back, following the paths of water from the shower that’s cascading over us. I can feel the muscles under his skin — he has a mostly skinny twink build, but I can tell by touch alone that he’s no stranger to the gym. He’s strong and flexible, exactly what I like in young men.

But as good as his body is, his ass is better. The boy squeezes his cheeks together every time I pull out, creating glorious pressure on my cock, milking pleasure from me. He relaxes his buns when I push forward, allowing me to sink in fast and hard. He moans with every deep thrust I make into him.

“Sir,” he says suddenly, urgently, “Sir, I’m gonna come soon.”

Neither one of us has touched his dick — this boy gets off on bottoming alone. Just when I thought he couldn’t get any more incredible, this pops up.

“Do it, boy. Come,” I order him. I grip his hips hard and I give his ass a punishing fuck, slamming myself harder into him than I’d done so far.

He lets out a guttural sound that echoes and rebounds off the shower tiles, and then his body quivers and tenses, his hole clamps down on my thick dick, and he gasps over and over. I hear the splatter of his hot cum hitting the tiles in front of him, rising above the sound of the shower itself. The boy’s legs quiver and shake some more, but with a few deep breaths, he steadies himself.

“You’re incredible, boy,” I say, appreciatively. I growl into his ear as I feel myself rushing head first into my own orgasm. But I don’t want to waste my seed in his hole. I pull out quickly and he looks at me over his shoulder with a whimper — he knows I haven’t shot my wad yet. Before he can complain, I clamp my hand down on his shoulder and push him down to his knees.

He knows what’s coming, so he shuffles backward a bit, so the shower isn’t cascading down on his face. He wants a different hot liquid splattering on him.

I grip my cock and I stroke it fast and furious, bringing myself the rest of the way toward orgasm. I grunt as it finally hits me and pleasure blooms in my core and rushes through my body. With my free hand, I grab the boy’s hair and hold on tight, holding him in place as cum rockets from my dick, landing in messy, creamy lines across his forehead, cheeks, nose, chin, and lips.

When the rush of orgasm subsides and my chest is heaving with heavy breaths, I look down at the cum on his face, looking like an X-rated Jackson Pollock painting. He sticks his tongue out between his lips and licks up as much of my load as he can. I help him, swiping my thumb across his face, pushing globs of my jizz into his waiting, eager mouth. He eats it all and I can tell that he wishes there was more.

I help him back to his feet and help wash the remnants of my semen off his face. After a quick rinse, we head back to the changing room, to our abandoned clothes. Thankfully, it seems no one else had come in the change room — though I’m sure they would have turned around and left as soon as they figured out what was happening.

Pulling a towel out of my locker and drying off, I feel a sense of embarrassment settle in. Like most gay men, I’ve had my share of sex in bathroom stalls and truck stops — but never have I done something more than a blowjob, and never in such a risky place as this. If we’d been caught, it could’ve meant the end of my career as a professor. I don’t have tenure yet; administration would just have to decide they don’t want me and I’d be out on my ass.

I swallowed down my embarrassment and looked at the young man as he towelled himself off. His locker was, fortuitously, only a few down from mine. His dick and balls swung low between his legs, contrasting against his tight abs and torso and developed pecs. I look further up, toward his gorgeous face, and I see him looking back at me — I’d been caught staring.

I smile and turn back to myself, focussing on getting dressed.

“Thanks,” he says, sounding almost hesitant. “That was hot.”

“It was,” I say. Part of me is itching to ask if he’s a student, if he might go to my university, but the larger part of me doesn’t want to know that answer. I need to just enjoy what happened, the spontaneous connection that had formed between us, and not wallow in unnecessary guilt and stress.

Fuck it, I decide. Fuck the university and their ethics.

“Want to hang out sometime?” I ask. “Maybe somewhere a little more private?”

“That’d be sweet,” he says. I force myself to swallow and ignore that niggling feeling that I’m doing something wrong. What’s the point of life if I can’t enjoy it?

When we pull on our pants, we pause to exchange cell numbers. I enter his digits. “And your name?”

“Brandon,” he says. I like that name. It fits him. I type it into his contact card on my phone.

“And you?” he asks, after typing in my number.

“Tyson.”

“I like that name,” he says. “Sounds so masculine, so … dominating.”

I wink at him, but before I can say anything more, we’re interrupted by the clatter of the change room door opening and closing. The buff guy from the leg press wanders to a locker behind us and starts stripping.

Brandon and I grab our bags and walk out. I wink once more at him. “See you soon,” I say, and we get in our respective cars. I drive home, already hard thinking of my next time with Brandon.