Veronica's Erotica

Tasty Taboo & Raunchy Romance

The official website of Veronica Sloan, writer of dirty books. If you enjoy steamy stories, explicit affairs, and taboo tales, she's probably got something for you.

"Oh you bad, bad girl..."

My pheromones were billowing through the air like an autumn tornado, swirling around us, fragrant, moist. I could see the sweat beading on the back of Francine’s neck, the hot flush along her curling spine. She was breathing me in, doubly enchanted, first by her own lust, then by my unrequited affection. “Damn you,” I moaned.


“Yes,” she pleaded.

“No,” I told myself, even as I rolled my scarlet cockhead into her slit. Beads of sticky precum dripped from my penis and smeared the luscious, bubblegum lips. “You…you just want to know how it feels,” I groaned. I was mad at her, furious, but that did not stop me.

Her neck snapped back. Stacy wanted me to tell her she was tight, but Francine was petite all over, inside and out. Her vagina might not be up to the task. “Keep going,” she goaded me.

“Baby, you’re too small.”

“No!” she growled. She reached back and seized her scarlet buttocks. Hissing like a snake, she pried her cheeks apart, opening herself to me in the ultimate submission. Her lips spread wide. “It doesn’t count unless you get it all the way inside,” she gasped. “I have to learn to take it.”

“Dirty girl,” I said.

“Yes,” she moaned, as I stretched her open. “Yes, Joanie! J-Juno!”

I hooked my nails over her hip. “Oh…” I gasped.

“Fuck me,” she begged. “Don’t stop until…you’re…all…the way!” It was a long minute of gasping and grunting before my balls brushed her inner thighs. The toes of her boots kicked at my bed. “Ahh!” she cried. “I can’t…”

When I pulled out, her vagina made a wet, sucking noise. The only thing more obscene was the curse that passed her lips. I asked her if she was all right, and she said it louder. It drove me back inside her, to fill her once more, to shatter all preconceptions of what it meant to be fucked. “I understand now,” she panted into the bed.

What she understood, at last, was that my cock made every girl feel like a slut. It was too big to be endured by any normal means, but my futanari biology was a powerful enabler. My pheromones made her gush, the touch of my skin made her open like a flower. Though I strained the parameters of that perfect miracle between her legs, what Mother Nature blessed her with, the Futanari Virus made my own miraculous cock unstoppable. Even if Ben was my size, he could never convince Francine to take him to the hilt. But Francine wanted me, wanted my full girth inside her, and that was only possible with total relaxation. In order to fuck me, she had to trust me completely, and that did more than sate her carnal appetite. It opened her heart.

Francine, more than any other partner, wanted to let me in. She sobbed as I filled her, completed her, pushed her walls apart and tickled the edge of her cervix. She clenched around me, and I had to grab her hips to keep from howling myself. “Oh, you bad, bad girl,” I said.

Excerpt from The Futanari Virus: Dirty Girl - available exclusively on Amazon!