Fantasy - The Anthology 4
Author
Chelsie Hance
Reads
16.1K
Chapters
41
An Anthology of erotic stories to feed your dirty fantasies. Various scenarios played out over the course of a chapter, all culminating in a spine tingling, toe curling kind of way. Not for the faint of heart, but definitely one for the smut lovers who don't want to read a full book.
Chapter 1: Secret Diary of a Granddaughter (Part 1) (FXFXM)
When our son asked if we could have his daughter stay for the week, there wasn’t a single part of me that wanted to say no. My son and his wife have this work thing they have to go to, and their daughter, Lottie, asked if she could just stay with us.
Lottie’s such a good girl, always quiet, always respectful. She always has her head buried in her diary, her solace from the outside world.
Sometimes I wonder what she spends hours writing in there. One day I asked her, and she clammed right up. Her cheeks turned a deep red, and she ran up to her room, squeezing the diary to her chest.
I don’t dare ask again.
She is a beautiful girl as well. Long, flowing blonde hair and perfect blue eyes, just like the ocean.
She has this darling little figure, but what she makes up for in looks, she lacks in confidence. She has always been like that, a shy girl. She was worse when my son and his wife first took her in.
She’s come out of her shell a little, but she still has a long way to go. I always try to tell her how gorgeous she is, hoping one day she’ll realize it too.
Sometimes she’ll glow from my words. Sometimes she’ll frown like she doesn’t believe the words coming from my mouth, but I still tell her.
I’ll never stop telling her.
I wave my son and his wife off after they drop Lottie off. My husband, Frank, carries Lottie’s bags into the house for her and takes them to her room, even though she insists she can carry them herself.
“Right, I’ll leave you to get settled in. Dinner will be in a couple of hours, okay, kiddo?”
“Thanks, Pops,” she says in her quiet voice.
She spends the rest of the day and most of the evening up in her room, only coming down for something to eat. I hate that she feels the need to keep to herself.
I’d love for her to feel like she could come down and watch TV with us or play a board game. I just don’t like thinking of her up there alone, and I know Frank feels the same way.
“Should we go check on her?” he asks me.
“Do you think we should?”
“She’s too quiet up there. Maybe we could just tell her we want to see if she needs anything. Stay for a chat?”
“Yeah, you’re right. Let’s go.”
I follow Frank up the stairs and to the guest room Lottie is staying in. He lightly taps on the door, but there’s no answer.
“Do you think she’s asleep?” I ask him.
“It’s not even eight, Em.”
“Well, do you think we should just go in?”
Frank doesn’t answer me or give me a chance to think about it before he turns the handle and pushes the door open.
“She’s…She’s not here?”
“What?” I ask, pushing past him into the room.
Then I hear the shower from the en suite, calming the panic that suddenly takes over my body.
“She’s in the bathroom,” I whisper.
“Why are you whispering, woman? She can’t hear you,” he jokes.
I shrug, turning back to the door.
“We should go,” I tell him, pulling him away from the room. I do one last scan to make sure everything is how it is when we first come into the room, and my eyes land on her diary, poking out from underneath her pillow.
Without saying anything, Frank spots what I’m looking at. “No,” he tells me.
“Oh, come on, she’s always writing in that thing. You can’t tell me you’re not a little bit curious.”
“You can’t read her diary. It’s private.”
“Come on, Frank. I just want a little peek, and then I’ll put it back. She’ll never know.”
Before he can stop me, I quickly make my way over to her bed and pull the book from its hiding place. I perch myself on the edge of the bed before I start flicking through the pages.
Her handwriting stretches across every single page, with only a few empty pages left at the very end. Some pages look neat and pristine. Others look tatty and used, like she’d reread these parts over and over again.
I pick one of the tatty ones at random, reading a highlighted passage.
Her legs are spread wide for me as I approach the bed, crawling toward her on my hands and knees.
I snap the book shut, shocked at the line I just read.
“What?” Frank asks, his interest piqued.
“It’s…”
“It’s what?”
“It’s a dirty story…”
“Really?” he asks, taking a seat next to me. “Let me have a look.”
“No, we can’t. This is obviously very private.”
“I told you that before you started reading it, and that didn’t stop you. Give me the book.”
Reluctantly, I hand it over to him, giving him a look that tells him he shouldn’t be doing this. But he ignores me, flipping back to the same page I was just on. Frank’s eyes skim over the page, widening when he takes in the words.
I know I shouldn’t have, but I find myself leaning into him, reading over his shoulder.
Her pussy glistens with her arousal, her musk invading my senses. Her eyes lock onto mine as I lower my lips toward her folds, her gray hairs pressing into my nose. For an older woman, she’s so sexy.
A small moan rolls off her tongue as my breath hits her center. Unable to resist anymore, I press my tongue into her lips, tasting her for the first time. She whimpers as my tongue slides up her slit until I hit her clit. Her body spasms from the contact, fueling my need to do it again. While I lap at her, I feel a pair of hands on my hips, guiding my body onto all fours.
“Such a good girl,” he purrs in my ear as he presses his cock into my arse.
He rubs himself along my crack, his hands drifting over my cheeks before he spanks me lightly. I moan and shift on the bed, making her moan as my tongue presses into her harder—an erotic chain reaction.
“Oh wow,” Frank says next to me. “This is…hot. Do you think this is true? Do you think this has actually happened?”
“I don’t know,” I admit.
“Do you think we should say something?”
“Like what?” I ask him. “We read your diary and wondered if you are doing the stuff you write about?”
“Well…”
“No, we’re not doing that. Now, come on. We need to put the diary back and leave.”
“Wait, I just want to read a little more,” he tells me.
Secretly, I do as well. I want to know what’s going to happen next in her story. I want to know who she’s writing about and if it’s something she’s done before.
I can’t imagine our quiet little girl doing something like this. But people do say it’s the quiet ones you’ve gotten to look out for.
I back up into him, rubbing myself down his thick, hard shaft, feeling his veins and wrinkles.
“Oh my god. Do you think she’s sleeping with older men?” I turn to my husband.
“How am I supposed to know? Anyway, she hasn’t just mentioned men. There’s a woman there too?”
“So what? She’s sleeping with an older couple?”
“Um, I’ve already told you I don’t know. I’m reading the same thing you are. Maybe if you’re quiet for a second, we can read the whole story and find out?”
I huff at him, rolling my eyes. Then we turn back to the diary. The pages are filled with explicit sexual activities. Some I’ve never even tried with Frank.
It’s definitely an eye-opener, and I’m never going to be able to look at Lottie like the little girl she used to be.
When did that happen? When did she grow into this sexually aggressive woman?
He slams his cock into my wet opening, fucking me hard while I kiss his wife. I’m holding myself up on my hands and knees while he fucks into me. Then he pulls out, and I hear her whimper as she starts to shift up and down the bed below me.
I watch her, biting my lip as he fucks her now, feeling the emptiness of my pussy, but watching them together turns me on so much.
“You like that?” I ask her. “You like it when he fucks you with my juices all over his cock?”
Her eyes are locked onto mine, and her mouth gapes open while he fucks her. Then he’s inside me again, switching between the two of us, desperate to please us both.
I press my fingers down between her legs, playing with her pussy while he fucks me from behind. She’s on the verge of cumming. I can see it in the way her mouth gapes open and in the short, sharp pants of breath.
I press my fingers harder into her, and then she cums, screaming into the room. I lean forward, trapping the sounds in my mouth as I kiss her.
His movements pick up from behind as he watches us, and then suddenly my body ignites, and I cum next, coating his cock in my release. A few more thrusts have him following behind me, cumming inside my needy pussy.
“I love it when you cum in me,” I tell him over my shoulder, feeling his release dripping down my leg.
“I know you do, sweetie.” He smiles into my ear, leaning over my back as he tries to catch his breath.
The three of us lie there for a short while, pressed together in a sensual sandwich, his cock still inside me. This is my happy place, in bed with the two of them. I hate leaving it, I hate going home knowing it’ll be a while before I get to have them again. Both of them must sense the tension now coursing through my body.
“What’s wrong, sugar?” he asks.
“It’s nothing,” I lie.
“You know you can tell us anything, don’t you, baby? We love you,” she tells me.
I smile, the tension melting from my body. “I know,” I tell them. “I love you too, Nana and Pops.”
“What does that say?” I ask in disbelief.
“I…It can’t be, can it? She can’t be writing about us?”
“It says Nana and Pops. That’s us.” I raise my voice.
“Quiet,” he growls through his teeth, looking at the bathroom door.
“We need to put this diary back where we found it and leave,” I tell him, snatching the book back.
My eyes widen when I pull the book from his lap and spot the bulge in his trousers. “Frank!” I scold him, looking at his evident arousal.
“What? You can’t say that didn’t get you going at all?” he asks, his eyes flicking down my body.
I bite my bottom lip, very aware his eyes are running over every inch of me. Then I shake the feeling away, remembering where we are and what we’ve just read.
“Come on, Em. You have to admit you were a little turned on.”
“No, Frank. It’s wrong.”
“It’s not wrong, Em. Lottie isn’t even blood.”
“It doesn’t make a difference.”
“Of course it does. You read that same thing I did. She thinks about us that way. She writes about us all…together.”
“So?”
“So, she wants this. Is there not a little part of you that wants to see where this can go?”
“Frank…” I pause. “…We haven’t done something like this in a long time. What if she doesn’t want this? Writing about it and actually doing it are two very different things.”
“Maybe we confront her? Maybe we should just tell her we read her diary and see what she does with that. We don’t have to do anything else. If she’s not interested, then we don’t have to do anything.”
I think about it for a second. Maybe he’s right. But it’s hard to think when I have Lottie’s story running on loop in my mind.
Then the shower stops, and I’m rushed into a decision as the bathroom door opens and Lottie steps into the bedroom, looking at us with curious eyes.
“Hey, sweetie,” I offer.
“Hey?” she replies, not sure why we’re in her room.
Then her eyes flick down to the diary resting on my lap.
“We read your stories,” I admit, watching her eyes widen with realization.
