Seduction Face Novels & Stories

"I'm sorry, Harold! I won't come to the bar ever again… Ah, you can't touch me there…" A drunk, beautiful woman clad in a pair of black stockings can be seen at the entrance of a bar at midnight. Since she's lying on the sidewalk, her white panties are all exposed. Elated, I stick my hand beneath her skirt. Little do I know that the woman, Crystal Conley, has mistaken me for her sugar daddy, Harold Townsend, and thinks that I'm here to teach her a lesson. She's so petrified that she dares not move a muscle. I use the opportunity to part her legs and pin her down hungrily. Poor Crystal shrieks in fright, "How could you punish me like this, Harold?"

Oliver took a job with the city's top hockey team to find out who murdered his father. He did not plan to sleep with Alexander Whitman. Alexander is the famous hockey captain. He is huge, cold, and strictly closeted. Their secret one-night stand changes everything. Alexander's touch is hot, rough, and totally addictive. But Alexander is hiding a dark secret. His real name is Alexander Montgomery. He is the billionaire heir to the exact family that killed Oliver's dad. When Oliver finds out the ugly truth, he runs. But the Ice King will not let him go. "I will give you my money, my fame, my whole life," Alexander whispers, pressing his hard chest against Oliver. "But I will never give you your freedom."

"Don't keep prodding me with your rod, Chase. It's itchy…" In a northeastern village, I am in bed with my wife and the rest of her family. My wife, Dakota Allen, and her younger sister, Yvette Allen, sleep on each of my sides. Yvette sleeps with her back to me, and her backside presses against the front of my body. Her body has just developed into maturity, so her round buttocks are firm and supple. They set ablaze the primal heat that stirs within me. Unbelievably, she seems to have started enjoying my prodding. Dakota is sleeping just behind me. I cannot hold it in much longer…

"Dude, let me see whose is bigger. Yours or my boyfriend's." On a truck along the Sicherian-Timbre Highway, a couple hitched a ride from me. The lady, Jean Shelley, was dressed provocatively. I couldn't help getting aroused, pitching a tent. Unexpectedly, Jean was very open-minded. She actually wanted to use her hand to measure how big I was. What made my blood race even more was that her boyfriend, Ray Brook, wanted her to use her body to pay for the ride.

"Stop… stop kissing me… mm…" I had my sights set on my buddy's sister-in-law, planning to take advantage of her while she was drunk. But halfway through the kiss, I realized the woman in my arms had somehow turned into my buddy's wife. "Sandra? Why are you—" But she tasted just as good. So I figured I'd just go with it…

My landlady, Irene Hogan, is a divorced woman who still oozes sex appeal for someone her age. Her daughter, Meredith Lowe, is extremely blessed when it comes to her feminine assets. We live under the same roof. One stormy night, as I lie in my bed, I take out the pair of pink panties belonging to Meredith so that I can have fun jerking off to it. To my shock, Meredith opens the door to my room immediately. She just stares at me while clad in a pair of thin pajamas. For a moment, I'm shocked beyond my wits, thinking that Meredith has caught me red-handed for stealing her panties. But she tells me, "Mr. Melton, the storm is really scary tonight. My mom's not home at the moment, so can I spend the night with you here?" As I stare at the tiny contours in her pajama pants, I realize that I don't need Meredith's panties at all. So, I flip open my covers. "Come sleep with me on my bed, Meredith."

"Mr. Kane, do you have any cucumbers at home? Can I have one?" The hurricane strikes, and my daughter's best friend, Lexie Cooper, is stuck in my home. She comes to ask me for a cucumber late at night with a flushed face. "I'm just a little hungry. I'd like to snack on some cucumber," she says. As I look at the pointy tips peeking from underneath her pajamas, a primal urge surges uncontrollably within me. I say deliberately and slowly, "I have something even better than a cucumber."

My stepfather, Greg Pelton, takes me to his private cinema to watch an adult movie. Apparently, that's the coming-of-age gift he has prepared for me. As I watch the man and the woman tangling with each other in the movie, I feel itchy all over my body. I can't resist squeezing my damp thighs together while trying very hard to endure the jolts of electricity tingling my skin. Upon noticing my flushed cheeks, Greg stops between my legs and yanks off my panties immediately. "Darling, let me teach you how to blossom into a real woman. Surely you'll be obedient, right?"

While I was nine months pregnant, the apple of my husband’s eye moved into our house. Whenever she saw me, she would make a sad face. My husband was sure that I was flaunting my pregnancy to make her angry. “Rachel is frail, and she can’t get pregnant, yet you’re walking around making her upset?! Do I seriously have to teach you a lesson?!” He ordered the bodyguards to lock me in the attic that had not been in use for a long time and told them not to give me food. I pleaded for mercy and told him that the ultrasound scan showed that the twin babies were too big. I told him that the doctor had claimed that I had to be hospitalized while I waited for my delivery. But he laughed as if he had heard the world’s greatest joke. When he spoke, his voice was as cold as ice. “You’re still three days away from your delivery date! Enough with the pitiful act! Repent while you’re in the attic! This is what you get for making Rachel upset!” The contractions hurt so much that I clenched my fists to the point that my nails broke, but no one unlocked the door to the attic. My piercing screams echoed in the attic for a long time until my whole body was soaked in blood, and one of my babies was stuck between my bloody legs. Three days later, my husband ate his breakfast that was not up to his taste and said, “Have Jane make breakfast for me, then have her apologize to Rachel with a gift. If she’s sincere enough, I’ll send her to the hospital to deliver the babies.” But no one dared go up to the attic because the blood that flowed down from it had already reached the second step of the stairs.

We had been married for three years, yet my husband, Richard Thornton, who suffered from touch deprivation syndrome, still refused to consummate our marriage. Every time his condition flared up, he would only press his forehead tightly against the curve of my neck. I assumed he was saving himself for his first love, the woman who had left years ago. Then, I overheard him talking to his friends. "Stop teasing her next time. It makes her tense up every time." "Got it, Richard. But if you care about Valeria so much, why won't you touch her? It's been three years. Aren't you worried she'll leave you for someone else?" Richard shook his head. "You don't understand. The longer we're together, the harder it is to control myself around her. She's so delicate. I'm terrified I'll hurt her. As long as she's mine, I wouldn't care even if she slept with someone else first." His friends burst out laughing. "Richard, you're all talk. If you could really handle her being with another man, you wouldn't keep running to the hospital. You think we don't know what you're up to?" The next day, I found Richard's medical records. Visit after visit, he kept asking the same question, "How can I be gentler in bed? I don't want to hurt the woman I love."