3 stories about sex reddit erotic This is real sex stories from my readers

Confession 1

Everyone in the class called him “Quiet Ben.” He was 5’10” tall, had messy brown curls, wore glasses, and always wore flannel. He was the man who actually read the material and raised his hand with intelligent responses. I had a huge crush on someone throughout semester. Last Thursday, our study group morphed into just the two of us in his off-campus residence when everyone else left.

 

We are on his couch, with notes all over the place and wine in coffee mugs. He’s worried and keeps pulling his spectacles up. Finally, he says, “I really like you.” Before he finishes his sentence, I kiss him. It starts out gentle and sweet, but then it gets hungry. He takes off his shirt and has slim, swimmer’s shoulders and a charming joyful trail. I try to grab his jeans, but he stops me.

 

“Hey… I should let you know that I’m not very huge. Like, really little.

I almost chuckled at how ashamed he looked, but instead I kissed him again and murmured, “I don’t care.” Let me see.

 

He wasn’t lying: it was maybe 4.5 inches long, hard, slender, completely straight, and had a nice upward curvature. Really cute. Still, I went to my knees and took him all the way in one smooth stroke. There was no gagging or strain, just warmth and wetness. The sound he made was a mix of amazement and relief. I slowly sucked him off, moving my tongue around the head and playing with his balls while looking up at him. He lasted about two minutes and came hard down my throat, making my hips shake and muttering “oh my god” over and over.

 

Then he changed the story.

 

He put me on his bed like I was something special, kissed every inch of me, spent forever on my breasts, and then went down on me for what felt like an hour. The rhythm and pressure were exquisite, and his two fingers were curled just right where I wanted them. I came twice before he even had time to breathe.

 

I giggled when he finally went within me because it felt unusual. Not stretching, not deep pressure, just this wonderful, snug friction directly against my front wall. Every stroke struck my G-spot in that small upward curve. At first, he fucked me slowly, studying my face and changing the position till I was gasping. Then he sped up with short, quick thrusts that never went too deep, just perfect contact all the time.

 

I came harder than I ever have before. My knees were shaking, and I was literally screaming into his pillow. He kept going at the same great pace, and I came again thirty seconds later. He rolled me over for the third time, came in from behind, quickly and shallowly, with one hand under me massaging my clit in tight circles. I saw stars. When he finally got there, he buried his face in my neck and screamed my name like he was praying.

 

After that, we were both shocked, sweating, and giggling. He continued saying, “I’m sorry, I know it’s small,” and I literally stepped on top of him and yelled, “If you ever apologize for that dick again, I’ll be heartbroken.” It was the best sex I’ve ever had.

 

Since then, we’ve hooked up four times. Every time I come, he makes me wait at least three times before he even thinks about finishing. Size queens can have their monsters; I want a guy who understands exactly what to do with what he has and who fits me perfectly.

 

Shut up Ben is officially not silent in bed, and I am officially ruined for anyone else.

 

 

Confession 2

I’ve been doing porn fluffing for eight months.

The First Time

I am 19 years old and from Guadeloupe. I moved to Paris last year, shortly after I graduated from high school, to study film. I didn’t have much money saved up, just what my parents and a few aunts could give me. The rent for a little maid’s room was already more than I thought it would be, and after paying for food, transportation, and books, there was nothing left. The first month was quite stressful for me.

 

I was hunting for quick cash jobs online one night when I found a listing for “production assistant—adult shoots—paid same day.” I sent a couple typical pictures and a note indicating that I was okay with nudity and truly needed a job. They worked for one of the few French porn companies that still shoots most of its movies in France instead of Prague or Budapest. They wanted a backup photographer who could also do simple makeup fixes and, if required, “keep the talent focused,” as he phrased it with a winking emoji. They quickly wrote back and asked if I could come in the next day.

 

The first day on set was crazy. It was in a converted warehouse with a maximum of ten people, and everyone was smoking outdoors between takes. The director was a laid-back woman in her late forties who introduced herself with a cigarette in her lips and asked if I was comfortable with seeing dicks all day. I shrugged. She paid me to work for her.

 

The money was crazy: €200 for half a day, always in cash. It seemed like winning the lotto every time for a student who lived on croque-monsieurs and instant noodles.

 

The crews in France are so small that people have to do more than one job. There is no job title for “fluffer.” Instead, there is just the girl who is already there and doesn’t mind helping when the guy starts to soften because the lighting guy is taking too long. But on my first day, there were a lot of guys (gangbangs, group scenes, anything), and some of them had to wait a long time between turns. One of the guys couldn’t get hard again after waiting about for over an hour. The director requested me to take care of him because I was the only other woman present save the primary performer.

 

They stopped asking after my second shoot. They would just look at me and tip their heads toward the sofa. I would put the camera down, walk over, kneel, and a minute later, everything would be back on track. It became as routine as replacing a light bulb.

 

I’ve been doing it for eight months now. I tried to quit once because it made me feel strange, but nothing else pays even close to this for the hours I can work around classes, and I think I prefer it. So I went back quite quickly.

 

I don’t know if I’ve really quit or not. This year, my grades gained me a little scholarship, so I’m not as worried as I was. Some weeks they text me and I say yes, and other weeks I say no. I really don’t know what I’ll do in the long run. It’s still there when I need it, and no one in my normal life knows about it.

 

Confession 3

 

I’ve been seeing this guy casually for a couple of months now. Not much, just really hot chemistry and sex that makes you feel like your brain fell out of your pussy.

 

We watched a movie at his house last night, and he kept being flirty and annoying. He pulled me onto his lap, kissed my neck, and slid his hand under my hoodie like he owned me. I thought we would have sex like usual, but he shocked me by tilting my head back and saying, “Open your mouth.”

 

I did. Right away.

 

He stood up, pulled down his sweats, and slowly fucked my throat in a way that made my whole body shake. I was crying, there was spit all over the place, and his fingers were stuck in my hair like he was holding a handle. I grabbed both of his thighs and let him go deeper.

 

I don’t know why, but having him treat me that way turned something on in my head. He pulled out for a second, wiped my tears with his thumb, and said, “Look at you.” What a nice little thing.

 

And I groaned.

 

A real, sad, porn-level moan.

 

He chuckled to himself and asked, “Do you like that?”

 

Instead of saying something normal like “yes” or “shut up,” I choked out:

 

“I like it when you make me feel like a whore.”

 

It got out. I didn’t plan it. But you should have looked at his face.

 

He grabbed my jaw, pushed his dick back into my mouth so deep that my eyes rolled, and said, “Then be one.”

 

I came. From that. From being told to be a slut with my mouth full.

 

He pulled me onto the couch after that, still shaking, and told me he wasn’t going to let me act like this was casual anymore.