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.

My Nasty Futanari Neighbor, Part 3!

Abby has watched her life from behind a dreary curtain of safe and dispassionate relationships, always with men, never to her satisfaction. The passion of her futanari neighbor has transformed her. Abby must admit she is in love with Leticia. She is enchanted by her futa body, challenged and delighted by her naughty mind. The couple drive north to deal with a family emergency, and fall deeper for each other in the process. Letty encourages Abby to explore her inner dom, and later experiment with backdoor fun. Abby has no idea where this road will end, but their carnal adventure has just begun.

This erotic futa tale is 14,000 words and recommended for adult readers.

Now available on Amazon for $0.99 or FREE with Kindle Unlimited!

EXCERPT:

I hated to wake when it was still dark but I was too nervous to sleep. I'd promised Letty that I would drive her to her parents' house. Which meant I was going to meet her parents. Which meant what exactly I didn't know. I rose before the dawn, my mouth so dry that I gulped down three glasses of water before I had a rational thought. My stomach was a square knot and I feared that I couldn't do what I'd promised. 

Then I turned back to the bed, saw her lying there, and my heart ached.

That was always just a phrase to me, "heartache." I thought it was sappy, if cute. I didn't realize it could really happen. The sensation was visceral, not cute. My heart wriggled in separate directions, hooked through its arteries by opposing inclinations. I didn't know what to do with myself; I didn't know what to do with her. 

There was a naked girl in my bed. She had legs for days, powder pale breasts, forearms criss-crossed in abstruse symbols and references I still didn't understand. When she was awake she was powerful--a single smirk or wink could melt my will--but asleep she was just a girl, her lips gently parted, her butterfly lashes caressing her cheeks. And there, draped over her snowy thigh, was the cock I could not ignore.

Even in sleep, its girth was unusual. The foreskin glistened in the lamp light, pinker and smoother than any man's. Stranger still was the flange at the far side of its conical head, vigorous scarlet, plump and smooth. I could not look at it without recalling the way it swept the inside of my womanhood. I could not look at her hairless organ without marveling at the contrast between her soft, feminine thigh and its fat, masculine veins. Her scrotum was half-hidden between those long thighs, tucked between skin I'd kissed and skin that wrapped around me. Letty shared her strange body with me. With me. Masculine and feminine mixed together, inside me. Inside me.

My mouth had been so dry, and now it watered.

"I think you look beautiful," she'd said in the dressing room. Thinking about me made her hard. I yelled at her, I insulted her, and she never bit back. She only bit my neck, my nipples, my lips. She squeezed my ass until I mewed like a kitten. She fucked me, every time, like it was the last time. She stroked my sides until I fell asleep, murmuring the sweetest things into my ear. She could be incredibly crude, her room was a mess, her music was loud and obnoxious. She was impulsive and horny and she scared me to death...but those whispers. 

She said she needed me. I said it back to her. I regretted saying it, not because it wasn't true but because it was too much, too fast. Why did I need her if I'd lived this long without her?

This was my room. As rare as it was for me to wake before her, it was rarer for her to sleep here. The news of her father's accident had plucked a tense string inside her till she vibrated with anxiety. So I invited her up. To my room, my life. Now there was a naked futanari sleeping in my bed. 

Now? No. It felt like she'd always been here, breathing softly into my pillow, bending the mattress with her weight, shrouded by the dull curtain of my previous life.  Half the bed was a mystery. In pulling back the curtain, I accepted ownership of the whole thing. She was part of it now, my life. She belonged to the bed, and so to me.

I dropped my robe at the foot of my chair. I crawled over the sheets, above her pale and open thighs, and took her flaccid penis in my mouth. Within me was an urgent, animal desire to consume her, to bring as much of her into my body as could be contained. The skin was soft, fragrant with my soap, but it wasn't the taste or texture that I craved. I wanted to feel the blood rush into her veins; I wanted to choke on her living organ, to dedicate my life to licking her balls and gagging on her futanari cock. 

When I slid my fingers around its chubby base, Letty moaned in her sleep. I prayed that she didn't wake. If she woke, she'd want to participate, and that was not my intention. Though my tongue lapped at her most sensitive body part, it wasn't for her benefit. She was mine, I owned her, and it was a comfort to have her in my mouth. It was a private surrender to the one sin I could not escape: Lust.

But as I suckled at her stiffening erection, the other sins crowded into my heart. Envy for this fat cock and what women she'd given it to before me; pride of ownership; gluttony to swallow it all. That was what truly scared me about Leticia, the possibility that she fulfilled my darkest cravings. She was a woman, and I had always feared and admired other women for what they stirred in me. But she was also a futa, in possession of a penis more beautiful than any I had dared to touch or taste. 

Again I prayed she did not wake. She knew my body, how to navigate it, where to rub herself into my skin and when to tease me. The power in her hands was incredible, so confident, that I obeyed. I allowed her to contort my hips and ass and legs until she found those undiscovered places where her idiosyncratic shape forced me to climax. If she woke, she'd do it again, taking control and taking me out of the driver's seat. No, I thought, as I stroked her cock to its full-blooded measure, I would not lose control.

Bubbles formed in the back of my throat when I growled, and frothed over the thickening flange of her cockhead, where my tongue wended before pulling strings of it back onto my chin. I'd never done this unasked, except with her. A blowjob always felt like that, a job. But her cock looked so yummy when it was wet, and I could not deny the nasty thrill of bathing her with my tongue. I spent my working days using my mouth to command, to request, to communicate with idiots and experts alike. This was so much simpler. My lips knew instinctually to suck. My throat accepted her length without reluctance.

"Don't wake up," I murmured into her skin. I rested my forearms on her snow white stomach and prostrated myself between her knees. My feet rose into the air as I lost myself in this licentious act, eyes closed and lips suckling, my hair curling against her testicles. My pussy drooled on the sheet between my thighs, tickling my engorged clitoris with every minor shift and shake of the mattress. If she woke, she'd want to give back. She always did.