The Ultimate Erotic Short Story Collection 5: 11 Erotica Books

By AmorBooks.com

This is a massive collection of 11 Erotic Books for Women, an ultimate package consisting of 11 tremendously popular Erotic Short Stories for Women, by 11 different authors.

All of the 11 chosen books are exclusive to this specific collection, so even if you've purchased other volumes of ”The Ultimate Erotic Short Story Collection” you can rest assured that you will receive no duplicates between collections.

These are the 11 included books in this collection:

Train Reaction by Dorothy Boyd
Caught In The Act by Carla Burke
The Wedding Crashers by Frances Riley
Plenty in Store by Inez Eaton
Money Can Buy You Lust by Kim Wilkerson
Manage This: When Cougar Meets Hunter by Cynthia Conley
Teen Girl Temptation by Evelyn Hunt
Talk To You by Pauline Orr
Underhanded Lustful Deals by Ida Larson
The Aftermath of a Love Affair by Vivian Hicks
Willing in Vegas by Victoria Lawson

Whether you prefer romantic erotica, light erotica, or really hardcore stories you will surely be satisfied as this collection is a mix of the best of the best across many different erotica genres.

Simply put: If you have even the slightest interest in reading great Erotica specifically written for women readers, you are going to LOVE this collection!

Warning: These stories are intended for adult readers 18 years of age or older. They contain explicit language and graphic sexual content.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AmorBooks.com
• Release date: Nov 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005552572

AmorBooks.com

AmorBooks.com publishes sizzling erotica and romance stories that pack a punch.With over 40 authors under our umbrella it doesn't matter if you prefer cosy romance stories, light erotica, or really hardcore stories - you are bound to find something you like.

Book preview

The Ultimate

Erotic Short Story Collection 5

11 Steamingly Hot Erotica Books For Women

by AmorBooks.com

Copyright 2021 AmorBooks.com

Distributed by Smashwords

Free Gifts

As a Special Gift for acquiring this collection you are entitled to another 10 Free Bestseller Romance and Erotica Books worth $34 PLUS incredible weekly deals on new books and collections! Do as over 12,700 people before you and grab it all — FREE for a limited time only!

http://www.AmorBooks.com

or simply

AmorBooks.com

Disclaimer: The material in this book is for mature audiences only and contains graphic sexual content and is intended for those over the age of 18 only.

***

Table of Contents

Train Reaction

Caught In The Act

The Wedding Crashers

Plenty in Store

Money Can Buy You Lust

Manage This: When Cougar Meets Hunter

Teen Girl Temptation

Talk To You

Underhanded Lustful Deals

The Aftermath of a Love Affair

Willing in Vegas

Train Reaction

by

Dorothy Boyd

Exhaust drifted over the street, swirling around Shayla’s size-seven Jimmy Choos as she turned the corner, steadying herself on Soho’s uneven cobblestones. Striding toward the 6 train, she was absently brushing an errant lock of auburn hair from her eyes when a flash of bright pink in an alley caught her attention.

Pausing, she swung her head to look and her jaw dropped. Less than five yards away, a tall blond man and brunette woman were pumping away against the dirty brick wall, his slacks down around his ankles, her skirt hiked up, encircling her waist. They were lost in each other, oblivious to Shayla’s shocked observation — nevertheless, she tucked herself behind the corner and pressed her body against the wall, only allowing her head to peek out, her brown eyes mesmerized by the sight of the man’s firm, shapely buttocks clenching and unclenching.

Shayla bit her full lower lip and gripped the edge of the building she was leaning against, unconsciously grinding her hips into its rough, unforgiving surface. She reached into her bag and withdrew her smartphone, pointing the camera at the two lovers. One-handed, she started snapping stills of the action.

The brunette tossed back her head as their combined movements escalated, soft moans escaping her parted lips as early morning light threw her and her lover into glowing relief. Yeah, Shayla could just barely hear the man grunting into his partner’s ear, yeah, give it to me you slut. The brunette giggled quietly and grabbed the blond’s ass tighter. Unh, unh, unh, he growled, and the brunette cried aloud, shuddering against him. With a final, forceful thrust, the blond hissed through his climax, his legs locked but shuddering between the brunette’s shapely legs.

As they started to emerge from their cocoon of lust, straightening their clothes, Shayla panicked momentarily, afraid her voyeurism was about to be discovered. She looked down, suddenly ashamed of how wet she was inside her lace-edged white panties. Her eye caught on the bright flash of color that had brought her to this embarrassing pass.

The pink culprit which lay at the alley’s mouth, taunting her gaze was a fuchsia thong, clearly stripped off and discarded in the heat of passion as the lovers pursued their desires further into the narrow divide between buildings. Shayla hastily snatched it up off the ground, tucked it into her purse, and willed herself not to think too closely about her action as she raced away from the scene, not daring to look back.

Shayla only slowed her pace when she reached the subway entrance, trying to calm her singing blood with slow, deliberate breaths on her way through the turnstile. She tapped one foot on the platform, practically bouncing with impatience as she waited for the next train. Come on, she muttered under her breath. She eyed the end of the platform every few seconds, sure the lovers would descend any moment, certain that they’d be after her, aware all along that she’d been watching. One minute ticked by, then two… she distracted her thoughts by contemplating the pictures she’d taken, tucked safely away on her phone, in her purse.

Shayla sucked in a breath as the train pulled into the station, stilling her jumping foot and composing her features. She passed a hand over her hair, smoothing it down as if to smooth down her nerves. The doors swished open and she waited politely for debarking passengers; she hated when entrances were blocked by troglodyte hordes too impatient to step aside for a few seconds.

As she stepped inside the car, chill air made her sweat-dampened face and neck frost over, her nipples stand to attention. She avoided direct eye contact and sought a seat across from the door next to a young redhead covered in freckles, hugging her purse close to her chest on her lap — partly to hide her high beams and partly to bring those X-rated photos as near to her fraught mind as possible.

Shayla closed her eyes, reliving the last ten minutes in her mind’s eye. She imagined she could see a sheen of sweat beading on the blond man’s upper lip, smell his aftershave mixed with his own natural musk… and then it was as if Shayla was the brunette, clasped tightly against the blond man’s length, eyes shut against the blooming sunrise just now beginning to bathe their bodies in warm, glowing light. She inhaled deeply, careful not to touch her ginger neighbor, and leaned her head back in her seat, mimicking the brunettes rapid, frantic movements with her own slow, deliberate one.

Shayla could feel the man’s lips brushing hers, taste his sweet mouth as they clung together against the cold, hard bricks. His tongue darted into and out of her mouth, licked down her neck and lingered at the base of her throat, eliciting a groan of delight. Shayla opened her eyes, unsure whether she’d actually made a sound; her neighbor was looking at her from the corner of her eye, but no one else had stirred. She closed her eyes again and resumed her reverie.

She imagined what the couple might have done next — slinked off to a hotel, taken their still rampant desire to a different alley, a parked car… or separated and blithely gone off to their respective jobs? Perhaps they’d never met before today, just encountered one another while buying their morning coffees, overtaken by lust and the thrill of being discovered out in the open. Shayla liked that; she’d always believed in love at first sight, and this was as close to it as she’d seen in the city thus far. Maybe they’d reached for their takeout cups at the same time, fingers barely touching but discharging an electric spark of recognition, of excitement all the same.

Their eyes would have met, startled, and then he would smile, and she would respond in kind, and they would walk away from the café together, not speaking, arms grazing the other’s as they sipped and stole glances and quelled soaring pulses, eventually crash landing against a brick wall in a filthy niche at the heart of the city. All day, they’d incidentally rediscover bruises they’d incurred during the morning coupling, raw skin where bare flesh had met with soot-stained cement, and smile, a secret, self-satisfied smile of lust sated, dark desires met.

Shayla snuck another glance at her subway neighbor; she seemed too still, too composed, like she was holding herself in a frozen position, scrawny chest barely rising and falling with her breath. She wondered if she could tell how excited Shayla was, how wet her panties were beneath her proper business skirt.

***

Melanie felt the older woman looking at her from beneath her long, thick lashes but she remained still and silent as the train hurtled toward the next stop. Her slim, small hands stayed folded calmly in her lap, belying the turmoil of her emotions. She focused on her exercises, willing her body to appear motionless even as her inner muscles seized up, her mind counting down while she grew stronger, more prepared. Her master had ordered her to do ten sets today and she was determined not to fail him again.

Melanie’s fair, unadorned eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks as she closed her eyes, trying to forget her performance of the night before. She’d arrived at the master’s house exactly on time, dressed just as he’d demanded, in a trench coat, stilettos, thigh-high nude fishnets and nothing else — no makeup or perfume either.

He’d been pleased to see her, especially when she’d displayed herself for him in the usual manner: arms stretched overhead, buttocks thrust out behind her, legs spread wide apart, chin down… but even after he’d honored her with a gag, she’d been unable to muffle her cries when he’d taken his rightful pleasure with her ass. He’d commanded silence, and she’d defied him; she’d deserved whatever punishment he deemed fit, but instead of pain, he’d licked her to sighing, subsiding completion, his tongue riding her mound through wave after wave of ecstatic pleasure.

Melanie squirmed a little in her seat, attempting to regain focus. Exercise, she ordered herself, echoing the master’s whispered words in her ear, prepare yourself. Again her muscles contracted, again she counted down. Prepare myself for what? she wondered silently. Perhaps the master had a party planned?

He’d only shared her with his brethren in the Order once before; it was a singular honor for any slave, and Melanie had relished the bruises and soreness long after the event. Her breath quickened as she imagined bringing glory to her master through service to him and his fellow Blackhoods; she wanted only to make him proud.

Melanie recalled the voice of one Blackhood at that first party, a deep-throated, gravelly growl that started a vibration somewhere in her abdomen and then traveled lower, thrumming toward her core. Grip me tighter, slave, spoke the voice, close to her ear, pulling her hair and forcing her blindfolded head up as he leaned into her haunches from behind, pounding his pole into her tender hole. Yes, sir, Melanie had replied meekly, clenching her nether lips to surround his massive erection more securely.

Don’t stretch her out, Seamus, said another voice, smoother and higher than her current partner’s. I’m next, he said, giggling.

Not my fault you’re hung like a baby gherkin, Reg, Seamus had taunted.

You wish, came Reg’s lame retort.

Shut up and let me concentrate, Seamus had ordered harshly, grunting with effort as he thrust his hard shaft deeper into Melanie’s love tunnel.

A year later, Melanie just remembered voices and snatches of conversation from that night; it was a blur of sucking, pounding, stretching, bending and restraint, of clinging to silence as she came over and over, her sex slick and soaked. She shuddered slightly, commencing another set of exercises despite her scattered concentration. The muscle contractions were necessary, but they were also arousing: she found herself breathing faster as she neared the halfway mark.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six— Melanie spasmed involuntarily, a shudder running through her body as her nether lips convulsed. Baseball, baseball, baseball, baseball, baseball, she finished the set and took a breath. She’d have to wait a moment before continuing, the throbbing between her legs was almost painful now.

If she did another set she’d come right here on the train. Maybe that’s what Master wants, she thought to herself, biting her lip in consternation. She thought about how he’d looked when he’d issued the order that morning before she’d left his side: eyes hooded, he’d been suppressing a mischievous grin as he’d told her, Ten sets. No more, no less, his full lips pronouncing the command with relish.

Steeling herself, Melanie began her eighth set, counting down in her head. On seven she knew it was all over; she stared fixedly at the floor as her climax hit. Her inner walls rippled and quaked, her face flushed and she shuddered once, twice, three times, controlling her movements so she just appeared to be rearranging herself on the subway seat, not coming like a house afire.

She continued to spasm inwardly, her nether lips quavering inside her skirt, her toes inadvertently crossing inside her shoes, nipples rock-hard and straining against the cotton of her trench coat. She gulped and laced her fingers together in her lap as the final shudder ran through her and she felt moisture welling in her most private place.

The next stop is, 14th Street — Union Square, chirped the automated train announcer. Melanie looked up, startled.

Already? she wondered. Hoping her legs wouldn’t shake too obviously, she pulled herself up and stood, waiting for the doors to open and release her. A small Asian woman loaded down with groceries darted forward and claimed the seat she’d vacated. As Melanie exited the train a tall, well-built, impeccably dressed man brushed against one tender, still-erect nipple; their widening eyes met as they turned to face one another on either side of the doors. I beg your pardon, the man muttered, assessing Melanie bemusedly.

Seamus? Melanie exclaimed, and then covered her mouth with one hand, shocked that she’d said anything. Her aqua blue eyes met the man’s as he froze, his dark-brown stare widening further in shock. They remained stock-still, eyes locked, as the train doors sealed shut and began pulling out of the station.

***

Seamus whirled to face the train car’s interior, his mind racing. How does she know my name? he repeated to himself, at the same time casually glancing around the car, identifying four beautiful-, five tasty- and seven doggie-style candidates of the female persuasion. How would he rate Freckles? he wondered silently… and then it clicked, where he’d seen her before. Seen, make that known Biblically, he thought, remembering the pummeling he’d given her backside at last year’s Gathering. All those freckles, like a guide for where to place your hands, he’d mused at the time. But she’d been blindfolded the whole time, he pondered.

The train stopped and the doors opened; Seamus moved further into the car to get out of the way. He grasped the overhead bar, planting himself in front of a well-preserved, fortyish woman, her cropped black hair sleek and shiny as a colt’s, red lipstick, cat-eye glasses.

Thank goodness for the ‘horny librarian’ trend, he laughed to himself, staring openly down her blouse. The woman looked up at him and smiled thinly, ignoring his leer. She returned her attention to an e-reader, absently licking her lips. Seamus allowed his thoughts to revisit last year’s party and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

You’ll love my new recruit, Seamus old chum, Darius had told him, patting him on the back and ushering him into the ballroom-cum-brothel as the night began. Smothered in freckles, smells like strawberries, and docile as anything, his host had giggled idly into his whiskey, already tipsy. And I’ve given you firstsies. Seamus tried not to roll his eyes at Darius’ blatant wink and nudge on the shoulder.

Sounds great so far, Seamus had mouthed, eying the grandiose surroundings skeptically. He’d been reluctant to join the Order, but after his divorce, his particular brand of desires couldn’t be ignored any longer, and a longtime friend had recommended it as a way to satisfy his more perverse needs without ruining another, for lack of a better term, secular relationship. So far, the results had been successful, but this was Seamus’ first large event, and he was nervous.

He’d been relieved to note that all the slaves were blindfolded, assuring at least partial anonymity for the brethren in attendance. Seamus had become very protective of his privacy since banking his first million, and his bitter divorce had only served to cement his aversion to anyone knowing details about his private life and, appetites. He’d swung by the bar first thing and ordered a stiff drink, then proceeded to disrobe and followed Darius into the main coupling chamber.

Glancing around the room, Seamus knew he had reason to be proud of his appearance; although in his late forties, he still possessed the tapered waist and slim hips he’d had in his youth, with broad, powerful shoulders he kept toned through regular sessions with a comely personal trainer, salt-and-pepper hair that was still thick and vibrant, and magnetic brown eyes that had stripped more than one woman of her defenses.

Compared to some of these schlubs, I’m a prize, he’d thought to himself, taking in the array of paunches, bald spots and receding chins scattered around the room. He switched his focus to the slaves, assessing the row of females offering themselves in the center of the hall.

With upstretched arms ranging from muscular to reedy, their naked bodies gleaming in the candlelight cast by large sconces on the walls, the line of at least fifteen women created an uninterrupted display of exposed breasts and buttocks, multiplied in ornate gilt-framed mirrors. All wore stilettos; all arched their backs, thrusting their ripe asses out behind them, their feet spread wide apart, their mouths open, chins down. Some were visibly shaking, either from nerves or the cold, Seamus couldn’t say; he only knew that the sight made him instantly hard.

Darius introduced himself loudly, a slight lisp sneaking itself into his speech. "Welcome brethren, to this year’s