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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?
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Seitenzahl: 118
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
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Hot Wife cheats on me!
Sexy Erotic Stories for Adults Illustrated with Hentai 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
FICKLENESS MEETS PERSEVERANCE
INCOSTANCE
Meeting with Silvia, my ex
Karina, the second meeting of my life
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.
FICKLENESS MEETS PERSEVERANCE
I am 23 years old and a student at a university in West Germany. Okay, men always want to know first, so: I'm blond with shoulder-length curly hair and can laugh at blondes' jokes, I have blue (gray) eyes, no glasses and no beard :-), I'm 168 cm tall and weigh sometimes 56, sometimes 58 kg.
But now that I have completed this mandatory exercise, I would like to tell you my story. Although I am actually telling it to you, I ask your indulgence if I address the person who plays the main role in my experience. This is why I am writing to you in confidence. And because it feels more vivid and the sequence of events and all the details are still present to me as if it happened yesterday, I am writing the events of the relationship in the present tense:
As you know, from time to time I've had a little devil "lurch" into explicit chats. I like to flirt with men (and occasionally women). If they seem interesting, I like to be invited into a booth so I can "talk" without the constant whispering of would-be horny partners. Since I usually express an interest in erotic conversation in the public part, after a short time and exchange of information about my person, profession, place of residence, etc., conversation partners tend to ask me about my intimate life, which I like to immediately direct in the opposite direction, i.e. ask them about fantasies and practices of their intimate life.
Depending on the intimate thoughts they reveal, I deepen the conversation about it and direct the topic to the here and now; then, I bluntly ask about their current state of arousal. If someone admits that our conversation about sexual fantasies excites him a little or a lot, I try to entice him to masturbate. Next, I further spin their previously admitted fantasy with gentle or even drastic wording, depending on their inclination.
I admit I'm not entirely fair, because I often support their "action", which I get as horny as they do. Well, these chats don't leave me "without a trace" either, but I've never masturbated during them.
After their climax, I can distinguish two types of men: some leave spontaneously and the others stay. These are obviously the nice ones with whom I can talk about the experience of their climax and rejoice with them. Often really fun, sometimes substantial "conversations" follow.
Why do I do it? Short answer: I simply like to provoke my "conversation partners" and seduce them into sexual acts about themselves and influence or even control their sex drive under my direction, after all, I could leave the chat at any time and leave them alone with their "problem" caused by me. So my appeal is to counter the cliché - man wants sex, woman is always lustfully and willingly available - by reversing it. While it may now seem like I'm being dominant, no, don't worry, I'm really not!
And why am I telling you all this? Well, because some time ago I met a man in chat who was nice from the beginning and impressed me because you, Niclas (25, 178, 80, also blond, but short), "didn't fall for my tricks" even after several attempts. You openly admitted that you were very turned on by the description of our intimate fantasies, but you couldn't and wouldn't satisfy yourself while chatting, at least I didn't believe your "ability" at first.
Even after an exchange of photos and subsequent flattery, I failed to "seduce" you. If anything, you absolutely wanted to experience it for real and -- with me. Only then would you -- even willingly -- be willing to go along with my idea of pleasing you in my presence. I could willingly watch you do it and you would of course gladly accept my offer -- if you "would also like to satisfy me in your presence" --. To provoke you even more, I was careless enough to grant it, now you insisted.
I admit that frivolity wasn't even half the truth for my offering. I have, like probably most women, an exhibitionist streak. Of course I love it when men try to look under my cleavage to see if I have breasts and if they are what they think they should be and if they are in their right place. As I walk around town or the beach or wherever, in a pub, at a theater, dancing or hiking..., I enjoy presumed warm and eager looks at my -- I think, a little too fat -- butt. I love to accentuate my feminine figure, of which I am proud and at the sight of which the vast majority of men -- as I know from experience, some women as well -- inwardly applaud, and present it in a demure -- well, sometimes a little risque way. I often tend to provocatively flaunt my butt in a pair of trendy jeans that show off my belly and come in just above my hips, with a cropped, tight, short t-shirt. Yes, the summer months are the best, aren't they?
And now I am scared of exposing my innate exhibitionism in such an extreme situation and offering a glimpse into my innermost self, my satisfaction. Yet I feel a strong urge to dare to do just that. If anything, you seem to be the appropriate "prey", the right "counterpart" for this.
In the days and weeks that followed, we corresponded via email -- you must have noticed my insecurity in some of the obtuse and superficial written responses -- and later we also had long phone conversations, getting to know each other better and describing, sometimes unashamedly, our ideas and desires for a possible meeting.
We also discussed in detail the possible consequences and risks of such an erotic-sexual adventure -- absolutely unique, both of us living in a relationship -- from mutual rejection during personal contact -- unlikely, but rather the most favorable case in case of a possible disappointment -- to unilateral rejection or unrequited love. Nonetheless, you have returned regularly, asking for or demanding your.... well, it was originally mine! -- request.
Since you also live in a relationship, assure me in particular that the taboo will be respected, that is, that under no circumstances can there be a sexual relationship between us - ever! Because with such a serious betrayal of my boyfriend I would feel like a whore, because then I would sleep with two men in turn. Our erotic game would never be worth this price for me and certainly not for you. You swear that you will absolutely not try - by any devious, seductive or even violent means.
In the end, I gave in and agreed to receive you in my home, because even the topic of distance - we live only 60 km away - could not be an obstacle in your eyes.
As the day of our date approaches, I become more and more uncertain if I should really get involved, want to back out, and then not want to. In my inner conflict with the constant back and forth, time slips away, the day and time approaching ominously. Almost mindless and mechanical, I prepare myself just before our meeting with a long shower, a close shave - yes, exactly where you imagine it - and a little makeup. I dispense with a sexy dress, no bra, but panties with one leg, jeans and a T-shirt, just normal as I usually dress.
I calm my nerves a bit at the thought of my "home advantage". Also, the meal arranged at my favorite Italian restaurant near my apartment will give me a little respite, the duration of which I can influence.
For at least half an hour before you arrived, I stood at the window, anxiously looking for the car you mentioned. Minutes pass slowly, no car, but then I see it -- it must have parked on a side street -- looking for house numbers. You walk briskly toward my house, but it takes a long time before you ring the doorbell.
As you stand in front of my open apartment door, to my relief you too look nervous and uncertain. As you will confess to me later, you too had doubts and inhibitions and hesitated before ringing the doorbell.
Thankfully, I take the bouquet of flowers that is delivered to me and take a first breath as I tend and arrange the beautiful summer flowers.
During your thanks for the invitation and your flattering words about the location and decor of my small apartment, and during the subsequent conversation over a cup of coffee, we both avoid mentioning the reason for our meeting. After the second cup of coffee and the consumption of some cookies, you ask me if it is okay for me to go to the restaurant early, since you have not eaten since breakfast. There is nothing I would rather do right now than "run" from my apartment!
Arriving at the Italian restaurant around 5:30, we are almost the only guests and choose a nice corner table. We decide on a carpaccio for both of us as an appetizer, I choose a small portion of pasta with delicious homemade pesto and parmesan for me, you order a regular one for yourself, and for dessert a tiramisu, again for both of us, plus a bottle of water and a bottle of Pinot Grigio. During the meal, the crackling atmosphere relaxes, my self-confidence and my quickness of reflexes increase, even your initially recognizable insecurity disappears, now we can even laugh, we can even make some ironic and insinuating remarks. One reason is certainly wine, I like it more than you, but a growing familiarity also makes both of us more relaxed in our mutual relationships.
Yet we persist in avoiding the real topic of our meeting. Neither of us takes advantage of opportunities, which are quite frequent, especially of course in the case of hidden innuendos, to mention our plan or to question it, though at least you become more and more sympathetic to me over the course of the meal and my doubts diminish. And I guess the feeling is mutual.
After dessert, you ask for the bill and want to pay it. But I insist on our agreement to split it. When our conversation threatens to dry up after an espresso and a schnapps, because everyone is chasing their own thoughts, you hesitantly ask if we still agree on our date, you are also ready -- reluctantly, but if necessary -- to drive home and forget about it, after all, you are still able to drive, I myself had almost finished the wine, which I deny with energy and a laugh. Now, at the latest, I realize you cannot and should not turn back. After all, you had the time and especially the courage to come here. In the chat room it was a game - played damn badly by me -, now it's serious!
I place my hand on yours, look firmly into your eyes, blush conspicuously, but overcome my renewed uncertainty, try to smile, and say that if you stick to our agreement-if necessary after my objection, as with paying the bill-I would agree. I had been on the fence until a few minutes ago, but now I definitely wanted it, if you really wanted it. Smiling, you nod silently.
We walk out of the pub, my knees shaking despite my feigned looseness. When I open the front door, I can't help my hands from shaking, which obviously doesn't go unnoticed by you. You ask me for the key, open the door and, once upstairs, the apartment door as well.
You gratefully accept my suggestion about the bathroom and disappear into it. I calm my jangling nerves with the activity: Grab a bottle of Pinot Gris from the fridge, set out the glasses, open the bottle, pour...
I offer you a glass, we toast with a "thank you so much for your idea and your invitation" and a "thank you for your visit and your welcome" and "to your courage" and "no, to your courage". Surely to end my obvious insecurity and also to cover yours, you take my glass from my hand after another sip of wine, put down both glasses, take my hand and purposely lead me towards the bedroom, whose location in my small apartment is not hard to guess.
I've covered my French bed with my nicest, sun-yellow silk sheet, spread the pillows profusely, and hung the reading lamps next to the bed with colorful cloths, but it's only a little after 7:30 and it's still light.
