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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: 90
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
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My Wife’s Friend
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
My best friend
My wife's friend
I had sex with the boss's wife
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.
My best friend
"Elisa, are you sure you want to go tonight? If you're tired I can go...".
The voice of Marco, my husband, came to me from the room as I was in the bathroom getting ready.
"But no. I'm not tired. I'm happy to go."
Yes, and I wasn't about to let him go out alone with my best friend, Nadia. We had to go to the orientation meeting for parents organized by the school. Our daughter was going into eighth grade, and it was time for the first important choice in life; that of high school.
I had already agreed with Nadia a week ago. She would pick me up at 8:30 and we would go to the meeting together.
I would never leave my husband alone with her, not even for five minutes. She was one of the most fascinating women I had ever seen. She was two years older than me. Thirty-eight she, thirty-six, me. She was 5'7" tall, about two inches taller than me. She had dark eyes and light brown hair with mesmerizing auburn highlights. She kept it long to below her shoulders and it was silky smooth.
She had perfect breasts, full and firm. We were both a size four and I had often found myself trying to figure out if mine or hers were bigger. I knew perfectly well that my husband would not at all disdain the idea of trying to discover it by getting closer to her breasts than he should have, and the fact that she had always given the image of a sexually uninhibited woman only reinforced my determination. I was going to go that night.
I heard Marco's voice closer. He had lurked outside the bathroom. "Are you jealous? Look, I'm not touching her...."
"Don't be a jerk!"
She continued, "and then you know she's a lesbian...".
This was her firm belief. Since we had met her and her husband, Alessandro, eight years ago, that had always been his idea. According to him, Nadia was not attracted to men but to women.
I reiterated my belief to him, "the fact that she doesn't shit you doesn't mean she's a lesbian. It just means she doesn't like you." I opened the door and met his gaze, "I'm sorry, my love, but no matter how many fantasies you have, she will continue to look at men...but not you." I gave him a light kiss on the lips and closed the door behind me saying, "...you have to keep settling for me...".
I heard him walk away laughing.
I broke away from the memory of her voice and focused on the woman I was seeing in the mirror. "Well," I thought, "Nadia may be hot, but I'm not kidding either...".
I definitely looked less than my age. And everyone told me that. My boobs had always attracted the eyes of men, just as much as Nadia's. My hair was black, definitely darker than hers, but my eyes were lighter. I stared at them for a long time, in the mirror. They were a shaded brown that reminded me of the color of hazelnuts, deep and intense. I took a step back and looked at my whole image.
I was pleased with what I was seeing, even though I would never admit it to anyone. The short skirt I was wearing showed off a beautiful pair of legs, made even more attractive by the stiletto heels I had chosen for that evening. Not that it was a strange thing. When I left the house I always wanted to feel supported by a nice pair of heels, and I couldn't help but feel pleasure when I noticed that some man was looking at my feet.
To try to be even more sensual, a couple of years earlier I had gotten a small heart tattooed on my left ankle, and I was sure that all the men we dated, including friends and relatives, looking at that tattoo had succumbed at least once to a sinful thought.
Yes, that night, Nadia and I would have definitely made a great pair of moms.
We had known each other since our daughters had been in class together in first grade. We had gone through those five years and, then, the three years of middle school, always side by side.
We had gone on vacations together, New Year's Eve and hundreds of other evenings during which we had learned to know each other perfectly, even if with my husband opinions continued to diverge. Lesbian, he said; straight, I was convinced.
I finished putting on my makeup just a second before I heard the intercom. I put on a jacket as Marco yelled at me from the other side of the house, "it's her! I told her you're coming downstairs...".
"I'm coming...."
I quickly greeted him and pretended I hadn't heard his line, "give her a kiss from me...".
Two minutes later I was sitting in Nadia's car, wondering once again why we hadn't gone with mine. She may have been hot, but she was scary to drive. As she tried to distract me from her driving by telling me about the latest discussions she had with her husband, I was thinking that the men's jokes about women drivers seemed to have been written for her.
"Can you believe it?" he was saying, "he gets every Thursday night at soccer, Sunday mornings at the pool, and as soon as it snows he's off skiing with his friends. Does that sound normal to you?"
"Well," I replied, trying to focus on the words and not on the pedestrians unaware of the risk they were taking, "they're men. They have their turns, and as long as they are those, it's even better to let them have them without much fuss. After all, it's also a way to keep us a few hours to breathe, right?".
She laughed and as she said, all cheerful, "yes, this is true..." she gently placed her right hand on my knee.
I was paralyzed. It was the first time he touched me like that. I didn't know how to react and I instinctively stiffened. She noticed because she took one look at my thighs and removed her hand, continuing to snicker.
I gave no weight to that gesture, trying to convince myself that it was a normal caress between friends, without complications, but my husband's voice did not stop bouncing from one part of my brain to another: "lesbian...".
"By the way," he said after a few minutes, "but do you know exactly where we need to go?"
"No! Why, don't you?"
"Mah, it must be here somewhere, in one of these alleys..." and as if it was the most normal thing in the world, he rested his right hand on my knee again.
Fuck, what was he doing? I began to feel anxious. I remained silent and paralyzed as she followed a seemingly meaningless path, turning randomly left or right, but never moving her hand.
I felt her warmth on my skin and I was invaded by confused feelings. I was almost about to ask her for clarification but she anticipated me, "here. It must be that building. I park here."
It was only due to the complexity of the maneuver that his right hand returned to the steering wheel, leaving my rationality with a difficult task; he would have to convince me that nothing strange had happened and that caressing his best friend's knee was a normal gesture.
We got out of the car and I found myself watching her as she slipped into a dark gray coat, very elegant. There was nothing to say; she was indeed a beautiful woman. She had worn a rather low-cut black shirt. The cut in the middle of her breasts would have been perfectly visible, if it hadn't been for the little shirt she had worn underneath, which was also black and had a lacy top, so that in the middle of the shirt's neckline there was a very sexy see-through effect.
The skirt was also black, and came just above the knee, leaving the sight of an absolute pleasure in descending on the calves from the perfect line, made even more sensual by the dark nylon that covered them.
She, like me, loved to walk around in high heels, and that night had been no exception. The very classic black shoes she wore complemented her extremely sensual figure.
A woman like that, I thought, was definitely a man-eater. Other than a lesbian...
But my husband's words kept ringing in my ears, and as we walked into the auditorium where the meeting was to take place, I thought it was all his fault, and I was pissed at him. If he hadn't put that bug in my head, I wouldn't have had to go through those confusing times. If he hadn't spent the years trying to convince me that Nadia was a lesbian, I probably wouldn't have given any weight to the touch of his hand on my knee. Yes, I thought, it was all the fault of that jerk Marco.
The speeches of professors and psychologists who took turns on the stage managed to distract me for good, and when the meeting ended I had already forgotten what had happened in the car.
"Mah," Nadia said to me as we left the auditorium. "Interesting, but they ended up saying things we already knew. What do you think?"
"Yes, I think so, too."
