Desireprint: Dream Dates
Copyright© 2026 by rustbecci
Chapter 2
Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 2 - Another tale set in the Desireprint universe. Veronica Lauren has planned her perfect sex-date. Nothing would go wrong.
Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Masturbation Oral Sex
The hallway light buzzed like a dying insect as Veronica knocked once, sharp. The door opened almost immediately. Shane stood there—tall, shoulders filling the frame, half-unbuttoned shirt already showing a glimpse of chest hair, easy grin flashing crooked teeth. A little nervous sweat at his temples, the faint smell of cologne and anticipation rolling off him.
They’d matched last night. Messages flew back and forth until past midnight—flirty, then filthy, then direct. She had proposed to meet at a hotel, he’d quickly agreed and said he would book it.
He stepped aside. “Come in.”
She did. The room smelled of old smoke, industrial cleaner, and the faint metallic tang of recycled air. Threadbare carpet underfoot scratched at her soles. Minibar already open. He poured warm whiskey into two plastic cups, handed her one without asking if she wanted it neat. She took a sip—burning, chemical, clinging to her tongue—and set the cup down on the scarred nightstand.
Small talk lasted maybe ninety seconds.
His mouth found hers first, hungry and a little sloppy, tasting of whiskey breath and nerves. Hands slid under her shirt, palms rough, calloused from whatever job he did during the day. He cupped her tits, thumbs brushing her nipples through lace, squeezing just hard enough to make them tighten. She pressed back against the wall, letting him peel the shirt over her head, letting him fumble with her bra clasp until it gave. Her skirt hit the floor next. Panties tugged aside, not off—his fingers found her cunt already slick, sliding through the wetness, pressing in with a low groan against her neck.
She felt the tremor in his fingers. The real-human clumsiness. The promise of mess.
She told herself this one might finally be different.
Veronica broke the kiss, lips swollen, voice thick. “I want your cock inside my cunt. Now.”
Clothes scattered in seconds—his shirt yanked off, her skirt bunched at her ankles, panties kicked into the corner. She dropped to her knees on the thin carpet, knees burning against the rough weave, took him into her mouth. Salt and skin filled her tongue, the faint musk of him heavy in her nose. His hips jerked forward instinctively, a rough groan rumbling down through his shaft. She sucked deeper, letting him hit the back of her throat, feeling him twitch and swell.
He pulled her up after a minute, guided her to the bed, spread her thighs wide. His face dove between them—tongue lapping eagerly at her clit, fingers sliding into her cunt, pumping in uneven rhythm. Fast, then slow, then fast again. Warm. Wet. Trying hard. But the pressure never locked in, never built the way it should.
He climbed over her. Missionary first—his weight pressed her into the mattress, cock pushing deep into her slick cunt, hips driving forward in steady, slapping thrusts. Skin slapped skin. Sweat beaded on his chest, dripping onto her tits. She wrapped her legs around him, nails scoring red lines down his back. They rolled to doggy; he gripped her ass cheeks hard, spreading them wide as he fucked into her from behind, grunting with each snap of his hips, breath hot and ragged on her neck.
She climbed on top next, sinking down onto him, tits bouncing with each deliberate drop. She ground hard, chasing that deep pressure against her front wall, clenching around him. He groaned loud, thrust up to meet her, came hard the first round—hot spurts flooding her cunt, body shuddering beneath her.