Emily's Burning Desire
Copyright© 2025 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 29
Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 29 - In the sultry shadows of desire, innocent Emily lusts after her roommate's hunky boyfriend, igniting a wildfire of forbidden passion. One drunken night unleashes a torrent of ecstasy as she's ravished by his massive cock, but it's only the beginning.
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Mult Coercion Consensual NonConsensual Reluctant Heterosexual Fiction Sharing Slut Wife MaleDom Rough Spanking PonyGirl Polygamy/Polyamory Anal Sex Analingus Exhibitionism Masturbation Oral Sex Petting Sex Toys Tit-Fucking Voyeurism
Her heart hammered wildly. As the steps neared the top of the stairs, in a flash of desperation, she snatched a decorative Japanese sword from the living room shelf and darted behind the door at the landing.
Knife raised, she held her breath, eyes fixed on the stairwell opening. The plan: when the intruder emerged, she’d swing for the back of the head. It wasn’t sharp enough to kill, but a solid whack ought to knock them out cold.
One step. Two. Three.
Like the tread of some demon.
Closer and closer to the doorway.
Emily’s pulse thundered in her ears.
...
Seven steps.
Eight.
Nine.
At last, a man’s figure crested the stairs.
She swung the blade down toward his skull, but nerves got the better of her. The heavy sword slipped midway through the arc, tumbling from her grip.
He whipped around at the noise, arm snapping out to catch the falling weapon midair.
Seeing his unfamiliar face, Emily jolted in terror and lunged to wrestle it from him.
In the scuffle, she stumbled, nearly toppling.
He dropped the sword just in time and clamped onto her arm, steadying her trembling frame.
“Ah! Let go of me!” she shrieked, flailing like a cornered bird with clipped wings.
“Shut it.”
He narrowed his eyes, sizing her up, then released her with a shove. His clear voice carried a lazy arrogance, laced with the warm tang of red wine on his breath. “Quit the noise. Who the hell are you, anyway?”
Emily scrambled back a few paces, panting, eyes locked on the stranger who’d emerged from the cellar. Or rather, he wasn’t quite a man.
He had the tall, built frame of an adult, but his face was boyish, almost baby-faced.
She froze. He looked a bit like ... her first love from college.
Even younger than he’d been back then, probably just high school age.
His features were strikingly sharp, with thick black lashes that framed wide, bright eyes like he’d lined them. A high nose bridged to a slight upturn at the tip, adding a playful edge to his youthful face. A distinct chocolate-brown mole dotted his left cheek, like a fallen teardrop.
Boyish as he looked, his expression matched his voice: pure cocky disdain. His lean, model-worthy build was draped in a black leather jacket, long legs ending in black boots, both studded with odd metal charms and silver rivets.
On closer look, his slightly messy hair revealed three rows of piercings glinting along the cartilage of his left ear. Three rows.
Emily sucked in a sharp breath, mentally filing this home invader away with the rough punk kids from her high school days who’d scrap in the halls and blast rock music.
“What’re you staring at...”
She’d been studying him, but he’d been doing the same to her, his lips pursing before his cool gaze drifted from her soft face downward, landing on the prominent swell of her chest barely contained by the apron.
The deep valley of her pale breasts thrust forward, the generous curves enough to make any hot-blooded teen’s nose gush.
Only then did Emily register how exposed she was. She crossed her arms over her massive chest in a hurry, unwittingly squeezing them together until they strained even more, begging to burst free.
“Don’t look. Who are you? How did you get in here?” Her voice came out weak, lacking any conviction.
He arched a brow and met her eyes again, a flicker of scorn in his. “This is my house. Do I need to report to you? Oh, wait. I get it. You’re one of my uncle’s pets.”
“...”
He went on. “Tch. Uncle’s always stuffing his dirty little playthings in here. Look at you, dressed like that. He’s not home, so who’re you trying to tempt?”
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