Love and Sex 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: 104

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

Love and Sex

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!

Love and sex

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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Love and sex

I've already crossed the threshold of 'age' (42, to be exact) and I think I can consider myself fully realized.

Socially, the role of CEO of a large company reassures me a lot about my condition for the future as well.

On an emotional level, after the mistake I made of getting pregnant and giving birth at 18 out of naivety as a girl, I think I've taken a lot of satisfaction in life.

On a family level, my daughter Nicla, at 24, is brilliantly on her way to a good profession despite her great whims and fickleness which lead her to often change partners with the utmost indifference: the reasons for debate between us are this flickering between one love affair and another and the obstinacy with which, in public and in private, she has decided to call me Tina (my real name is Concetta) because according to her 'mom' is detrimental to me because it drowns out my beauty and elegance and is cumbersome for her who has to explain why she has such a young and brilliant mom.

Francesco, my other son, is 21 and is also a promising undergraduate; he is more tender and cuddly: my children confirm that the hypothesis that boys take after their mothers and girls after their fathers is true.

My small regret is in fact my husband Pasquale who, now beyond fifty, continues to run after the skirts of little girls and often engages in squandering what I earn.

The arguments between Nicla and me revolve around why I don't decide to ask for a separation, assigning him a life annuity and freeing my skill, intelligence and beauty from a cumbersome ball and chain.

In other words, Nicla would like me to love myself a little more and to free my interiority a little, also understood as sexuality, to get out of the cobwebs of the now dead concept of the eternally faithful wife; she absolutely cannot accept the idea that one can remain tied to a ballast because one's own formation requires it.

In fact, then, he actually behaves just like his father, with the intelligence of never having made and not wanting to make, at least anytime soon, life-committing decisions.

Naturally, because she loves me very much, she does not hesitate to denounce her father's misdeeds, especially when they risk falling on my person.

Among other things, many years ago we bought a small house by the sea, an old-style building, renovated in a respectful way of the territory, but with a modern taste, in a very scenic spot with private access to the beach, in the immediate vicinity of a luxury bathing establishment, which has become the delight of my husband and his hunt for nymphs hungry for freedom and new experiences; but also the favorite place of the children, who find ample space for their desire for knowledge and relationships.

I am lying under the beach umbrella, sheltered from the scorching southern sun, closed ('mummified' for Nicla) in my one-piece bathing suit with a vaguely vintage flavor, when my phone vibrates and I read that my daughter is calling me; alarmed, I ask her where she is and why she is calling.

He warns me that my ineffable Pasquale has started to offer the bar right and left evidently with one of my credit cards, since he does not have one; I look at my wallet and I realize that actually a card is not in its place.

I went to the manager's office and warned him that my husband was paying with an illegal card, which could cause problems for both him and the establishment: the manager rushed to warn the bartender not to accept any more orders and I went to my husband, took him aside and forced him to give the card back if he didn't want to end up in jail; he mumbled something incomprehensible and left, tail wagging, pretending to be offended.

Obviously, Nicla does not miss the opportunity to go back to railing against her father and against me for being too soft on him; I beg her to sit next to me and I try to explain to her that for those of my generation certain values are absolute and unquestionable; she only replies that slavery has been abolished, first by civilization and then by law.

He then challenges me to spend a few days together and live at least a few hours according to his principles, which are not highly moral, but are more logical than I want to admit.

I'm planning a three-day trip to Paris, for a high-interest business conference; I ask her if she's willing to come with me to the Ville Lumière and test her convictions on neutral ground; she accepts on one condition: all official time, conference, talks, negotiations and more, will be in my style; all free time, including lunches and dinners, will be handled by her and I'll follow her in the look as well: I agree.

We leave by plane on a Thursday morning and in a few hours we are on the spot; I am overwhelmed by the obligatory fulfilments and we find ourselves free only towards dusk; it is early to go to dinner; we go for a walk: I wore, under Nicla's guidance, a light blouse that shows off the bra with my full, carnal, mature woman with two children, yet extraordinarily exciting boobs (I realize this every time I deal with men whose gaze, normally, manages to pierce even the strict jackets, which I usually wear, whenever, for whatever reason, they open a little); she chose the skirt: it's not a mini, but it stops at least ten centimeters above the knee (mine, generally, reach below the knee); on the feet, I decided to wear ballet flats without heels that don't raise my bottom much, by its nature already very high and round; Nicla proclaims that I am particularly sexy and desirable: to prove it, she invites me to observe the murderous looks of all the men we pass and the fierce glances of the companions who scold them.

"You can't understand how proud I am to walk with such a beautiful and charming woman like you!"

My daughter surprises me, but I feel her affection and I return it with a handshake; we are in front of a bookstore and it is announced the presentation of a volume of poems by a young man, François Rouen, whom I had already decided to buy after reading a few things here and there; I tell my daughter about it and, of course, she immediately pushes me inside, where, at a small table, the author is sitting surrounded by young people talking with him signing copies; Nicla takes a book and addresses the poet in perfect French, saying that we are Italian, that Tina knows his poetry and that she would love an autographed copy.

He leaves the table and is directed to us, he asks me in perfect Italian about the poems I've read and we start talking about them; our entrance has interrupted the presentation and the group of boys protests; Nicla starts in fourth gear.

"Look, Franco, first of all, lest you get your hopes up, Tina is not my friend or my sister: she's my mother, legitimate and natural."

He interrupts her and manages to shut her up.

"No, it's not possible: so young, so sensitive, so beautiful and so charming, already a mom to an equally wonderful woman! Allow me to say that you are a true miracle of nature!"

"Dude, don't be a slug, that won't stick with us; if you really want to woo her, know that we're out to dinner. Point us to a right place, very French and very romantic, where you can make eyes at each other all you want, and meanwhile we'll have dinner. Since poets are always poor, since Tina, in addition to all the qualities you see and many others that you don't see, is also a top executive of industry and can afford a few small luxuries, you are her guest: just take us to dinner in a nice place and make her feel satisfied to have conversed, but I would say flirted, for an evening with a poet she admired even before meeting him. Are you in?"

"Your mother falls in love with me, I have no trouble admitting it; but you also fascinate me with this false cynicism that hides a visceral love for your mother and her sensibilities. There's a place next door that I couldn't afford; but if you say you can get a taste of a good evening out of it, I'll gladly take you there; you only have to wait ten minutes for me to hurry the volume signing."

"Sign many, many; we'll be waiting for you."

In all of their dialogue I didn't have the strength or the opportunity to insert myself with a single sentence; now, however, I'm almost afraid of the commitment that Nicla has made for me: talking about poetry and love was the only thing that could disorient me, and this blessed girl has catapulted me right into the middle of it without my realizing it.

"Nicla, but you realize you're pulling the flame to the straw. What if I lose my mind tonight?"

"Mom, now I have to turn to mom so that everything is clearer, why don't you accept my point of view for once? I am afraid of love: that's why I try not to fall in love; you, on the other hand, need love and above all you need to make love. So I order you to fall in love just for one evening, or rather for one night, to abandon yourself to the wave of this pleasure that you can read in your eyes, in your face, in your nipples that have hardened and, if I put my hand between your thighs, in your vulva that is flooding your panties, that you are wearing instead of briefs or brazilian briefs. You listen to me tonight: you fall madly in love, you give yourself and him to you, you make love all night long, until you pass out, you get filled with sperm or love, whatever you want to call it, because I know you're on the pill.

Tomorrow morning, in the shower, you wash off all the dross, lock this night in your memories and heart and we go home happier, richer, more human, even me just pimping. While he conquers you, should the need arise, I'll disappear and go concupt someone for myself. Tomorrow morning, please tell me you made love big time and let's take this secret with us to Italy."

I would like to object something, but François is already with us and he guides us decisively to the exit.