Burning Obsession: Sleepless Cravings for His Thick Cock 💋
Can’t shake these filthy thoughts. Every night the same torture. Dive in if you’re ready for the raw ride.
Chapter 1: Midnight Agony |
Chapter 2: Station Sparks |
Chapter 3: Room of Sin |
Chapter 4: Brutal Claiming |
Chapter 5: Home Inferno |
Chapter 6: Bound Forever
Chapter 1: Midnight Agony
Sweat slicked my skin as I twisted under the thin sheet, the clock glowing 2:47 a.m. Again. My body burned, a furnace of need that no amount of rubbing could quench. I’d been like this for weeks, ever since Marcus moved back into town. My stepbrother. That tall, inked beast with the broad chest and those piercing green eyes that stripped me bare every time they landed on me.
I hated how he invaded my dreams. Last night, it was him pinning me against the kitchen counter, his rough hands yanking my shorts down. Tonight, worse. My fingers dipped between my thighs, slick already, circling that throbbing nub. But it wasn’t enough. “Fuck,” I whispered to the empty room, the word hanging heavy in the stale air. My apartment smelled like cheap lavender candles and frustration.
Memories flooded in, unbidden. Not some bullshit childhood flashback. No, this was grown-up shit. Two months ago, at Mom’s remarriage party—no, wait, that barbecue at the lake house. Marcus showed up late, fresh from his tattoo shop gig, smelling of ink and leather. His black hair tousled, muscles bulging under a tight tee. I was twenty-four, working doubles at the coffee joint downtown, curves spilling out of my sundress. He hugged me too long, his stubble scraping my neck, breath hot. “Lena, you’ve filled out nice,” he growled low, just for me. That voice. Gravel and sin.
Now, alone, I shoved two fingers inside my dripping slit, pumping hard. Imagined his massive cock instead—thick, veined, stretching me wide. “Oh god, Marcus, fuck me,” I moaned, louder than I meant. The bed creaked. My free hand pinched my nipple, twisting till it hurt good. But the edge taunted me. I couldn’t tip over without him. Needed his cum splattering my insides, hot and claiming.
I grabbed my phone, thumbs flying. Can’t sleep. Thinking dirty shit about you. Wish I was riding that fat dick right now. Send. Heart pounding. He never replied to these, but fuck it. The obsession clawed deeper.
By dawn, I’d cum twice, weakly, tasting salt on my lips from biting them raw. But real relief? Only he’d bring that.
Obsessive Texts Ignite
Morning light pierced the blinds. Coffee burned my tongue as I scrolled our thread. Nothing. Bastard. I pictured him waking up, smirking at my desperation. My pussy clenched just thinking it. Work dragged—steaming milk, faking smiles for hipsters. Every buzz of my phone jolted me. Finally, late afternoon: You’re playing with fire, sis. Keep it up, I’ll burn you.
Chills raced down my spine. My panties soaked through. Tonight, worse torment. Or maybe… soon.
The train schedule app pinged. Home visit tomorrow. Mom’s nagging. Marcus might be there. Hope flickered, filthy and bright. 🔥
Chapter 2: Station Sparks
The train station reeked of diesel and fried food from the vendor carts. I paced Platform 7, backpack slung over one shoulder, my red curls frizzing in the humid evening air. Twenty minutes late already. Frustration gnawed, mirroring the ache low in my belly. Last night’s texts haunted me—his warning like foreplay.
Crowds milled, announcements droning overhead. Then, I spotted him. Marcus. Leaning against a pillar, arms crossed, that leather jacket hugging his frame. Six-foot-three of pure temptation. Our eyes locked across the throng. His lips curled slow, predatory.
“Lena.” His voice cut through the noise as he closed in, towering over me. Heat radiated off him, mixed with faint cologne—woodsy, masculine. My nipples pebbled under my tank top.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I breathed, hating how my voice trembled. Close up, his tattoos peeked from his collar—dragons coiling like my thoughts.
“Visiting Mom too. Figured you’d flake.” His gaze dropped, blatant, to my heaving chest. Cleavage on display in this heat. “Looking fuckable as ever.”
Blood roared in my ears. People shuffled past, oblivious. “You ignore my texts, then say that?” I stepped closer, defiant, my hand brushing his belt buckle accidentally-on-purpose.
He grabbed my wrist, thumb pressing pulse point. “Told you, fire. This—” He yanked me into shadow by the timetable board. His free hand cupped my ass, squeezing hard. Fabric strained. “—is dangerous.”
I gasped, grinding forward. Felt his hardness twitch against my thigh. “I’ve been fingering myself raw dreaming of you.” Crude, yeah, but truth spilled out.
Growl rumbled from his chest. His mouth crashed down, tongue invading, tasting of mint and smoke. I melted, hands fisting his shirt. Horns blared as the train finally screeched in. We broke apart, panting.
“Missed it,” I panted. No, wait—doors closing, pulling away empty.
His laugh was dark. “Hotel across street. Or you wanna cool off?”
No choice. My cunt wept for him.
Tension Boils Over
Lobby lights buzzed harsh as we checked in, his arm possessive around my waist. Elevator ride: silence thick, his fingers tracing my spine. Door clicked shut behind us. World narrowed to bed, king-sized promise.
Chapter 3: Room of Sin
Carpet muffled our steps. Room smelled of bleach and fresh linens, undercut by my arousal—musky, needy. Marcus flipped the lock, turning slow. “Strip, Lena. Show me what you’ve been teasing.”
My hands shook ripping off the tank. Bra next, heavy breasts bouncing free. Pink nipples begged. Shorts pooled at ankles, thong soaked transparent. I stood bare, vulnerable, his eyes devouring.
“Fuck, those tits.” He shrugged off jacket, shirt following. Ripped abs, V-lines arrowing to bulge straining jeans. Tattoos everywhere—tribal marks screaming savage.
“On the bed. Spread.” Command brooked no argument. I obeyed, knees wide, fingers parting slick folds. He watched, palming himself. Zipper rasp echoed.
Out sprang his cock. Monster. Nine inches, girthy, head glistening pre-cum. Veins pulsed. My mouth watered.
“Touch yourself. Tell me what you want.” He stroked lazy, hypnotic.
“I need that beast cock splitting me. Been cumming half-assed without it.” Fingers plunged in, three now, squelching. Hips bucked.
He knelt between, breath fanning my clit. “Taste like sin.” Tongue lashed out, flat and rough, circling. I screamed, back arching. Sucked my nub hard, teeth grazing. Fingers joined mine, stretching.
“God, Marcus—yes!” Juices smeared his chin. He hummed, vibrations shooting lightning.
Flipped me sudden, ass up. Slapped cheeks red. “Beg for it.”
“Please, bro—ram that fat dick in my hungry pussy!” Voice broke.
He mounted, tip nudging. One brutal thrust—impaled. Burned so good, walls clenching. “Tight little stepslut,” he grunted, pounding relentless. Bed slammed walls. Sweat-slick skin slapped.
I shattered first, squirting around him, soaking sheets. He kept hammering, balls smacking. “Gonna fill this cunt.”
Cum erupted, scalding jets. Collapsed together, his weight heaven.
But night young. Rounds two, three—throat fucked till gagging, cum swallowed greedy.
Afterglow Tease
Dawn crept. “This changes everything,” he murmured, fingers lazy in my hair.
I smirked, hand stroking him hard again. “Good.”
Chapter 4: Brutal Claiming
Back home turf next day felt electric. Mom’s house, suburbs quiet. But under polite dinner chat, our eyes fucked nonstop. Marcus across table, foot nudging my crotch undercloth. I bit lip bloody.
Post-meal, backyard shadows. “Garage. Now,” he hissed, dragging me.
Door creaked shut. Smell of oil, tools. He shoved me against workbench, skirt hiked. No panties—his rule.
“Panties? Naughty.” Fingers probed asshole, slick from pussy drip. Lubed sudden.
“Wait—” But lubed cock pressed rosebud. “Relax, sis. Gonna own every hole.”
Burn stretched to agony-ecstasy. Inch by inch, buried balls-deep in ass. “Fuuuuck!” I wailed, gripping edges.
Pistoned merciless. Guttural grunts, my whimpers. “Love ass-fucking my stepsis. Milk it.”
Prostate hit? No—his pleasure built. I reached down, rubbing clit furious. Double orgasm crashed—anal walls spasming, pussy gushing.
He roared, pumping load deep. Dripped out as he pulled free.
New conflict: Mom called. “Where are you two?”
“Fixing the bike,” Marcus lied smooth, still semi-hard against me.
Heart raced wild. Risk fueled fire.
Garage Reckoning
Later, my room. He snuck in post-midnight. Fucked slow this time, missionary deep. Whispers of possession. “You’re mine, Lena. No one else touches this.”
Kissed cum-swollen lips. Believed him. 💋
Chapter 5: Home Inferno 🔥
Days blurred into stolen fucks. Kitchen dawn: bent over sink, his cock reaming while coffee brewed. Taste of toothpaste mixed his kisses.
Mom suspected? Eyes narrowed funny. We didn’t care.
New scene: His tattoo shop after hours. Needles hummed as he inked tiny heart on my inner thigh—”Property of M.” Buzz against skin, erotic. Then, on the chair, legs in stirrups joke—he devoured pussy like starving, tongue-fucking till I squirted on leather.
“Filthy girl, marking up my shop.” Grinned wicked.
Rode him reverse, ass bouncing, mirrors everywhere—watched us debauched. Cum painted my back, dripping hot.
Emotional beat: Post-orgasm, vulnerability. “Why now? After years ignoring?” I traced his scars—bike wreck old.
He sighed, eyes soft rare. “Always wanted you. Fought it. You’re poison, best kind.”
Clung tighter. Obsession mutual.
Shop Symphony
Inked skin throbbed next day. Reminder permanent, like him in my veins.
Chapter 6: Bound Forever
Peak insanity: Family dinner crashed. Uncle bullshit, but we slipped attic. Dust motes danced in slivers light. Old trunks, cobwebs.
“On your knees,” he ordered. Sucked him voracious—gagged deep-throat, saliva strings, eyes watering worship. Balls cupped, tongue swirling taint.
“Fuck my face, Marcus.” Skull gripped, skull-fucked brutal. Throat bulged. Cum exploded, overflowing, chin messy.
Flipped, railed pussy doggy amid heirlooms. Table shook, photos rattled. “Love breeding my stepsister’s womb.”
Pill? Fuck it. Fantasy raw. Double-penetrated fingers—ass and cunt stuffed. Multiple orgasms blurred.
Almost caught—stairs creak. Froze, him buried deep. Mom? No, wind. Laughed breathless, pounded harder climax.
Moved in together weeks later. Nights endless—bondage new scene, wrists tied bedposts, vibrators plus cock. Whipped ass red welts. Sensory overload: blindfold, ice cubes melting trails, hot wax drips.
Taste his sweat licking abs. Hear pleas—”More, ruin me!” Smell sex heavy. Touch velvet steel cock. Sight: bruises blooming beautiful.
Can’t sleep without him now. Cum on his cock every time, shattering true.
Obsession complete. His forever. Mine.
Nights tangled, his cock home in me. Perfect torment ended. 🔥
