Semua Bab Pure Pleasures (A Collection of short Stories): Bab 101 - Bab 110

Mia wiped the sweat off her neck for the third time and tugged at her bikini top. The sun was still beating down even though it was getting close to six. Jess had bailed on her again, saying some guy from her part-time job was picking her up. Typical. Left Mia floating in the big backyard pool by herself. She didn’t really mind. The house was nice and quiet, and Jess’s dad Mark usually kept to himself in his office or out in the garage. She’d been coming over here since middle school. Mark was fifty-four now, still strong from running his contracting business and doing side jobs on houses. He had that solid dad build—wide shoulders, thick arms, a bit of a belly but nothing soft about him. Gray hairs mixed in his short beard and the hair on his chest. Jess always rolled her eyes at how strict he was, but Mia liked it. He was steady. The kind of guy who showed up and got shit done. After a few more laps, she climbed out, water running down her body, and dropped onto one of the loun

The store was dead by nine o’clock. Just the hum of the old fluorescent lights and the occasional creak of the shelves. I was wiping down the front counter at my dad’s hardware store, the one on the edge of town that stayed open late for all the contractors and weekend warriors. My name’s Riley. Twenty-one, supposed to be enjoying my summer break from community college, but instead I was stuck helping out because Dad messed up his ankle real bad last week. Couldn’t stand behind the register for long. The bell over the door jingled. Late customer. I looked up and saw Mr. Callahan—Jack—walking in. He came by a lot, usually right before closing. Fifty-eight years old, owned half the commercial buildings around here and a few rental houses. Tall, broad shoulders from years of actual physical work, gray hair cut short, and those steady hands that always had a little dirt or calluses on them. He and my dad went way back, fishing trips, poker nights, all that. I’d called him Uncle Jack w

The diner was dragging on that Thursday night like it always did. Only a handful of customers scattered around, two truckers in the corner booth arguing about routes, an old guy at the counter who came in every night for decaf and pie, and a young couple sharing fries. I was twenty-one, stuck on the late shift again because rent was due in three days and tips were the only thing keeping me from living in my car. My name tag said “Lacey” in letters that were peeling off. The apron was dirty with old grease and ketchup from a busy lunch rush earlier. My hair was pulled back in a sloppy ponytail that kept falling apart no matter how many times I fixed it. He walked in right around ten, same as most weeks. Mr. Whitaker. Richard to the folks who knew him from around town. Fifty-seven. Owned those auto parts stores out on the highway that supplied half the mechanics in the county. He always sat in my section, usually the booth by the window where he could watch the traffic go by. Black co

Sarah woke up with a heavy arm draped over her waist. Damien’s body was pressed against her back, warm and solid, his breathing slow and even. For a second she thought it was a dream—until she felt the ache between her legs and the dried mess on her thighs. Last night crashed back in. The bat. The kiss. The way he’d fucked her over the couch like he’d been waiting years for it. She tried to slip out from under his arm. His grip tightened instantly. “Going somewhere?” His voice was rough with sleep, lips brushing the back of her neck. “Bathroom,” she muttered. He let her go but watched her the whole way across the room. Naked. No shame at all. She felt his eyes on her ass until she closed the door. In the bathroom she splashed water on her face and stared at herself in the mirror. Cheeks flushed, a couple faint marks on her neck from his mouth. She should be freaking out. Calling the cops. Changing the locks. Instead her body was already humming again, low and needy. What the fuc

Sarah stood in the shower the next morning letting the hot water beat on her shoulders. Bruises were starting to show up on her hips where Damien had gripped her too hard last night. Her wrists still had faint red lines from the belt. She touched one and felt a fresh pulse between her legs. Sick. That’s what she was. Getting turned on by the evidence of how rough he was with her. The bathroom door opened. He stepped in behind her without asking, hands sliding around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. His cock was already hard, pressing against her ass. “Couldn’t wait?” she asked, voice hoarse. “Nope.” He bit her shoulder lightly. “Turn around.” She did. He lifted her up against the tile wall like it was nothing and slid into her in one smooth thrust. The stretch made her moan. He fucked her steady and deep, water pouring over both of them, eyes locked on hers the whole time. “Look at me when I’m inside you,” he said. She couldn’t look away even if she wanted