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apply to sales in the first 28 days
on our own sites.

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1.  Sting - Kelly Addams

sales level 0

2.  The Male Concubine - Chris Bellows

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3.  Berlin Diary - Barbara Moore

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My Nasty Futanari Neighbor: Volume 3 (Veronica Sloan)


My Nasty Futanari Neighbor: Volume 3 by Veronica Sloan

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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.

Product type: EBook    Published by: Boruma Publishing    Published: 09 / 2018

We do not recommend this book for readers under 18 years of age

No. words: 14900

Style: Erotica -    Shemale on Female Erotica, Erotic Fetishes

Available Formats: MobiPocket (MOBI)  EPUB  PDF  MS Word  This book has a format which can be downloaded to Kindle

Current all-time sales ranking: #10299


Excerpt..

I was lost in her skin. She lay naked on my bed, the sheets thrown back and her long, long legs stretched to the edge of my mattress. She was asleep, the pillow crumpled up in the crook of her arm and her faded blue hair buried in its pale blue folds. Her eyelashes trembled like drunken butterflies, wings too heavy to bear.

She was hairless below her eyebrows, her skin a luscious vanilla cream. The only real colors on her body were the tattoos that wended across her arms and ribs and thigh. As she breathed, the shadows flexed their fingers over her breast. I was jealous of the shadows.

Jealousy. It stirred in me like a demon begging for exorcism. I could smell her from across the room--cedar and sweet grass--when her long, long legs brushed against each another. The scent clashed with the stale reek of cigarette that emanated from the rumple of clothes beside the bed, a reminder that she was an alien here. Did I look like her when I slept, so peaceful? Edible?

It was rare that I woke before her. Addicted to caffeine and frequently waking with mad dreams she was desperate to get on paper and canvas, Leticia kept strange hours. I never knew when she'd be up or down, sleeping in the afternoon or scratching at her sketchbook before the sun rose.

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. 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 male organ I could not ignore.


Excerpt..

I was lost in her skin. She lay naked on my bed, the sheets thrown back and her long, long legs stretched to the edge of my mattress. She
was asleep, the pillow crumpled up in the crook of her arm and her faded blue hair buried in its pale blue folds. Her eyelashes trembled
like drunken butterflies, wings too heavy to bear.



She was hairless below her eyebrows, her skin a luscious vanilla cream. The only real colors on her body were the tattoos that wended across
her arms and ribs and thigh. As she breathed, the shadows flexed their fingers over her breast. I was jealous of the shadows.



Jealousy. It stirred in me like a demon begging for exorcism. I could smell her from across the room--cedar and sweet grass--when her long,
long legs brushed against each another. The scent clashed with the stale reek of cigarette that emanated from the rumple of clothes beside
the bed, a reminder that she was an alien here. Did I look like her when I slept, so peaceful? Edible?



It was rare that I woke before her. Addicted to caffeine and frequently waking with mad dreams she was desperate to get on paper and canvas,
Leticia kept strange hours. I never knew when she'd be up or down, sleeping in the afternoon or scratching at her sketchbook before the sun
rose.



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. 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 male organ I could
not ignore.


Excerpt..

I was lost in her skin. She lay naked on my bed, the sheets thrown back and her long, long legs stretched to the edge of my mattress. She

was asleep, the pillow crumpled up in the crook of her arm and her faded blue hair buried in its pale blue folds. Her eyelashes trembled

like drunken butterflies, wings too heavy to bear.





She was hairless below her eyebrows, her skin a luscious vanilla cream. The only real colors on her body were the tattoos that wended across

her arms and ribs and thigh. As she breathed, the shadows flexed their fingers over her breast. I was jealous of the shadows.





Jealousy. It stirred in me like a demon begging for exorcism. I could smell her from across the room--cedar and sweet grass--when her long,

long legs brushed against each another. The scent clashed with the stale reek of cigarette that emanated from the rumple of clothes beside

the bed, a reminder that she was an alien here. Did I look like her when I slept, so peaceful? Edible?





It was rare that I woke before her. Addicted to caffeine and frequently waking with mad dreams she was desperate to get on paper and canvas,

Leticia kept strange hours. I never knew when she'd be up or down, sleeping in the afternoon or scratching at her sketchbook before the sun

rose.





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. 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 male organ I could

not ignore.


Keywords - click on word to search for more titles

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futa butt sex  futagirl anal  futanari romance  

Best Selling Books This Year By Veronica Sloan

My Nasty Futanari Neighbor: Volume 3

My Nasty Futanari Neighbor: Volume 3

My Nasty Futanari Neighbor: Volume 3

My Nasty Futanari Neighbor: Volume 3

My Nasty Futanari Neighbor: Volume 3

Best Selling Books This Year By Veronica Sloan

My Nasty Futanari Neighbor: Volume 3

My Nasty Futanari Neighbor: Volume 3

My Nasty Futanari Neighbor: Volume 3

My Nasty Futanari Neighbor: Volume 3

My Nasty Futanari Neighbor: Volume 3


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 Contact Us    Terms and Conditions    Privacy Policy    Refund Policy

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Affiliate Program

Contact Us

Terms and Conditions

Privacy Policy

Refund Policy

This Site Owned By Fiction4Adults - Copyright 2015