Fuck me like a Whore E-Book

Emily White

• Herausgeber: tredition
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Serie: Adult Erotica Love Stories of Hentai Desires: Seductive Curves, Filthy Dreams, Naked Illustrations, Sex Games, Uncensored Hardcover Tales
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 63

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

Indulge in an Unforgettable Journey of Passion and Temptation with Emily White's Erotic Masterpiece! Step into a captivating world where seduction knows no bounds in Emily White's latest collection of scintillating erotic stories, enriched with enchanting hentai illustrations. Immerse yourself in a universe where each word is a whispered promise, and every brushstroke is a visual enchantment that brings fantasies to life in pure hentai style. This collection is a daring invitation to explore the uncharted depths of desire, where pleasure unfolds with audacious strokes and details that will quicken your heartbeat. The carefully crafted hentai illustrations serve as sensuous portals, transporting you into dimensions where every hidden fantasy finds unabashed expression. What to Expect: - A Fusion of Literary Mastery and Sensual Artistry - Explicit and Alluring Hentai Illustrations - Stories That Explore the Boundaries of Lust and Fantasy - A Whirlwind of Seduction and Temptation This isn't just a collection; it's your exclusive ticket to a dimension of hentai eros, meticulously narrated and ardently illustrated by Emily White. Lift the cover and prepare for an intense experience fueled by the flame of passion. Caution: This Collection is Not for the Faint of Heart. Are You Ready to Cross the Threshold?

Leseprobe

Fuck me like a Whore

Collection of Adult and Erotic Manga Stories with Nude Pictures

___________________

Emily White

Copyright

Copyright © 2024 by Emily White

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.

Printing and distribution: Heinz-Beusen-Stieg 5 22926 Ahrensburg, Germany

Table of Contents

Copyright

Table of Contents

Introduction

Follow-me!

The young prof

Paola

Fuck me like a whore

Thank You!

Introduction

Welcome to a captivating journey where my enthralling stories seamlessly intertwine with enchanting illustrations that redefine the very essence of desire in the world of hentai erotica.

Within the secret pages of these forbidden tales, I invite you to immerse yourself in a fiery universe of unrestrained passion. Every word is a whispered moan, and each illustration is a visual embrace that transforms the realms of fantasy into tangible reality.

This collection is not for the faint of heart. It's a bold manifesto, an invitation urging you to delve into the dark depths of lust, where pleasure is painted with audacious strokes and details that promise to quicken the rhythm of your heart. The illustrations are provocative gateways, guiding you into sensual dimensions where every hidden desire finds its expression without remorse.

Are you ready to plunge into a whirlwind of seduction and temptation, where the pages themselves transform into a stage for your most secret fantasies? Allow yourself to be carried away into a realm where sin transforms into art, and art seamlessly merges harmoniously with the ecstasy of desire.

Lift the cover and prepare for an experience ignited by the flame of passion. This is not just another collection; it's your exclusive ticket to the boldest manifestations of anime eros, written masterfully by me, Emily White.

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The young prof

The boredom of standing in line in front of the counter of a bank is relieved only if, by chance, you happen to have in front of you a 'landscape' that deserves attention: that backside swirling in front of my eyes was really worthy of such attention and, I did not understand why, it moved something in my memory.

It was definitely not a known butt, because, in ten years of being in that city, I had not built up a circle of such fascinating women; my few acquaintances were within an acceptable average: nothing so well-drawn, so nimbly mobile, so elegantly carried with ease and swirled, almost instinctively, until all the pleasure imaginable was pulled in.

Still, that backside was magnetizing me to something stirring in the depths of my memories.

The owner of such an extraordinary attribute - she too evidently at the limit of her endurance - turned around with a slight and elegant snort of impatience; our gazes crossed, in her one shone like a flash and she smiled at me.

I set all my neurons firing to retrieve it in my memory, but only a few blurry images surfaced.

At last, the line moved and, after a while, the lady hurried her paperwork and headed for the exit; when she passed me, she hinted a vexatious greeting with an agitated hand and made, in a silvery voice, "Hello, Prof."

By a stroke of luck, the memory exploded in my mind.

"Hi Chiara ... how are you doing?"

"Shall we have coffee?"

"Without delay: wait for me at the bar outside; I'll take care of a little something and join you."

How could I not have remembered, even though it had been ten years?

A butt like that can't be forgotten, especially if she stayed almost the same, just a little more mature.

Of course, I was young at the time: freshly graduated, first job, a southerner whisked away to a northern town light years away in customs and culture, I had almost received a slap on the back of the head when I was thrown into that final high school class with 18-year-old boys only slightly younger than me.

But the hardest blow I had received was when, entering the classroom, I was literally thrown against the spectacle of a pair of long legs from fear, covered (indeed, uncovered) by a crotch-high miniskirt that, in the optical perspective, gave the idea of total nudity; even worse was when I sat down and the spectacle of the groin veiled by an insignificant slip was totally open to my gaze.

Those were hard times, if one had the rod at the ready: many cases had been recorded, of denunciations and scandals for relations between teachers and students; but it was very difficult to take one's eyes off the spectacle of Chiara and her companions who did nothing to hide or veil.

The normal condition was a forest of legs - most of them beautiful, well turned, almost perfect - facing the desks; in some cases, the elbow on the bench and the head resting on the hand were just the means to throw in your face two round, immaculate tits (some full and firm, some other delicate and light) in front of which you could only hope that you could not see the bat in the pants or hope to go blind.

When they stood up and moved around the classroom or the corridor, it was a true spectacle of curves, sinuosity, graceful and provocative movements; if Chiara was the one who was moving, then it was maddening, in front of a practically perfect ass that moved twirling and swaying on two dreamy legs.

In the teacher's lounge, the most frequent conversations concerned the question of how the girls managed to arrive at school on time in perfect attire: some speculated that they got up before the sun had risen; among the boys, we would tell each other what we were going to do with those untamed gazelles; and sometimes we would comment on the attitude of our classmates who were absolutely indifferent in the face of so much goodness shot ostentatiously in the face.

Personally, I remember masturbating quite a bit dreaming about Clare's butt.

And now here she was, sitting at the little table waiting for me to get my coffee: as in, eden coming to me.

But it was doubtful that his intention went any further than a reunion with the old professor, who was then young enough to make his head spin with kitten-like motions.

The approach was banal, with the usual questions about the outcome of her studies (she had graduated) about her work (she had a profitable and interesting activity) about her private life: she had married, separated and decided to be alone and take back her life; she had not had any children.

Inevitably, then, we slipped on memories of that year lived in common, in the space of the school, and I could not deny that I had been for nine months totally absorbed by her and her beauty, with a 'betrayal blow' she confided that she too had made some thoughts 'unmentionable', then, shocking me, added.

"... And that's not to say it can't be fixed."

She smiled and devoted herself to her coffee as she told me; I was stunned, for a moment; then, almost instinctively, I took her hand.

No more words were needed; she got up and headed to the parking lot; I followed her and got into her car.

"It is strange that a man of letters at a certain time should be at a loss for words."

He teased me.

"I challenge anyone to recount a dream come true after ten years ... and in such an unexpected way."

I retorted piqued.