Hello guest! (Level: guest) Log in

You can change the width of the story text shown below:
Use how much percent of the screen width?

[ default ] [ 10% ] [ 20% ] [ 30% ] [ 40% ] [ 50% ] [ 60% ] [ 70% ] [ 80% ] [ 90% ] [ 100% ]

Options: Plain text or PDF (fanclub only!) version  |  Mark story  |  Mark author

Don't forget to vote for this story, in the yellow voting box below the story!

Chapter 12: Layla's Origin

Layla Edwards, the 23-year-old housemaid, possessed a body that could ignite a room. Her full, high breasts strained against her modest uniform, while her waist curved dramatically out to generous hips that swayed with an innate rhythm. Long, toned legs and creamy alabaster skin completed her striking appearance, and her raven-black hair cascaded in waves down her back.

Born in a sleepy Midwest town in 2003, Layla grew up in a conservative family where sex was a forbidden topic, shrouded in guilt and secrecy. Yet her awakening came late and fierce, transforming her into a woman of insatiable hunger. At 18, she fled to Los Angeles under the guise of acting classes, but her true intent was to immerse herself in the city's hedonistic nightlife. Nights lost in clubs and anonymous encounters awakened her senses and left her wanting more.

Her sexual history became a tapestry of wild abandon: men who claimed her with raw power, women who seduced her with knowing caresses, and lovers of every shade in between. Layla didn't merely have sex; she devoured it, savoring every sensation and lesson. Each partner sharpened her instincts and molded her into the temptress who now dusted Daniel's shelves by day and retreated to her room at night, lost in her secret fantasies.

College Sweetheart: Jake

Jake Harlan, the 18-year-old senior quarterback from her high school, was a towering specimen of Midwestern ruggedness. He stood at 6'2" with sun-bleached blond hair cropped short, broad shoulders honed from years of tackling drills and farm chores, and a chiseled jawline that softened only when he grinned with that boyish charm. His body was a testament to youthful vigor: rippling abs leading down to powerful thighs, arms corded with muscle from hauling hay bales, and hands callused and rough, fingers thick and dexterous, promising both tenderness and unbridled force. His cock, which Layla would forever etch into her memory as the benchmark of youthful promise fulfilled, was a thick, veined shaft of seven inches, curving slightly upward with a bulbous head that glistened when aroused, its skin warm and velvety under her touch, pulsing with the rapid beat of his heart. Their encounters taught Layla the raw thrill of submission to primal strength, awakening her to the power of being utterly claimed, her body yielding to a lover's dominance while discovering the depths of her own resilience and desire.

It all began in the sultry haze of post-graduation summer, when the air hung heavy with the earthy scent of freshly cut hay and the faint buzz of cicadas under vast, starlit skies. Jake's pickup truck, an old Ford with faded red paint and a bed lined with worn blankets, became their secret sanctuary. He'd park in secluded fields, the engine ticking as it cooled, and pull her close, his breath hot against her ear, carrying the faint aroma of his cologne mixed with sweat from the day's labors. "I've wanted this for so long," he'd murmur, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. His callused hands would roam greedily, starting at her shoulders and sliding down to grip her full breasts through her thin cotton top, thumbs brushing over her nipples until they stiffened into aching peaks, the fabric dampening slightly from the heat building between them. Layla's heart would race, her breath coming in shallow gasps as he yanked her jeans down her thighs, the cool night air kissing her exposed skin and making her shiver, her arousal already evident in the slickness gathering between her folds.

He favored taking her doggy style first, positioning her on all fours in the truck bed, the metal tailgate cool against her palms as he knelt behind her. One hand would fist in her ponytail, pulling just enough to arch her back, exposing her neck for his lips to graze with teasing bites. The other hand guided his cock to her entrance, the thick head pressing against her virgin tightness, stretching her inch by inch as he thrust forward with a powerful snap of his hips. The friction was exquisite agony; her walls clenched around his girth, feeling every ridge and vein dragging along her sensitive inner flesh. The fullness made her gasp and moan his name into the night. The truck rocked rhythmically with each plunge, the suspension creaking like a symphony underscoring their passion, while the scent of their mingling sweat, salty and primal, filled the air and blended with the hay's sweetness.

Click here to read the rest of this story (450 more lines)

Options: Plain text or PDF (fanclub only!) version for easy saving or printing

ESmail: Click here to send a private message to Storey Lover (with ESmail, the site's internal message system)

Authors appreciate feedback! Please vote, and write to the authors to tell them what you liked or didn't like about the story!

Profile for Storey Lover, incl. 1 stories Add this author to your favorite author list Add this story to your favorite story list Send this story to me through email

Give your opinion about this part: (You can vote for each part separately) select here 1 (terrible) 2 .. 3 .. 4 .. 5 (reasonable) 6 .. 7 .. 8 .. 9 .. 10 (excellent)

Send feedback to this author: Your name: Your message to Storey Lover:     (You are not logged in, so you can't send private messages) Public: post this message in the public feedback below