This bundle contains six sexy stories about innocent women getting corrupted in every hole — especially the rear one!

Stories in this bundle:

First Time In Her Back Door

Yes, Doctor!

Friends With Back Door Benefits

The Alpha Claims Her Back Door

Bound For Punishment

A First Time For Everything

~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~

“Girl, you need some excitement in your life.”

Connor relaxes on his couch, his feet propped casually on the coffee table. With his arms crossed behind his head, he looks like he doesn't have a care in the world.

It just serves to make me feel even more frustrated with my own situation.

“Tell me about it,” I agree.

Sitting in the living room of my closest friend since childhood, the contrast between the two of us is almost shocking. His walls are plastered with posters of movie stars and models, athletes and porn stars, male and female, in various poses and stages of undress. He has had a string of boyfriends and girlfriends over the years, all casual, most of whom still remain friends. If I were to step into his bedroom, I know I would find lubes and toys and devices that I couldn't even begin to imagine what they're used for.

I, on the other hand, was brought up to be a proper Catholic girl. I've had one serious boyfriend my whole life, and even with him, I waited three years before allowing him to take my virginity. Underwhelming though it was, the mechanical, missionary sex I had with him is the only thing I've ever known. But as I get older, I am beginning to realize that I think something is missing. I need something new. At twenty-two, I shouldn't already be bored with sex, should I? I feel like I have some sort of itch, a craving that I have no idea how to satisfy.

He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up slightly. I can see a couple of scars dotting his skin, but I don’t know how he got them.

He really is an attractive guy. I know he thinks I'm attractive too. We've talked about dating each other before, but he's always been reluctant to settle down, and I've been on the hunt for a husband and two-point-five kids since the time I was old enough to dreamily doodle boys’ names in my school notebooks.

“Well, I could give you advice,” he says, thinking. “But honestly… It would just be words. How am I supposed to explain something to you that you've never felt? It would be like describing the color orange to someone who has been blind since birth.”

Connor shoots a sideways look at me. I've known him long enough to tell he's got an idea, he just isn't sure whether to share it. It's the same look he used when we were kids and he suggested that we smoke some pot behind the school after classes let out. I had adamantly refused, for the record, but he did it without me anyway, and was nice enough not to rub it in my face that I had “missed out on all the fun.” That set the pattern for most of our lives, it seems like.

After a few moments of hesitation, he asks, “Do you…trust me?”

“Of course, what do you mean?” I ask, puzzled.

“I mean…” he keeps trailing off. I think this is the first time I've ever seen him act shy. “I could show you. Instead of telling you. Show you what you're missing.”