See The Campus Coxx Tour Unblurred,
Along With Extended Edits and Unreleased Content.
Here At snatchingsoulz.com
Celeste Moore
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For my Ultimate Fans there is the All Access Pass. The All Access Pass have many perks including :
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Chronicles of a Soul Snatcher
My Debut Serialized Erotica Story – Where Real-Life Sparks Ignite Fiery Fantasy
What happens when a quiet gym crush turns into a Valentine's Day conquest? Dive into this sizzling blend of truth-inspired seduction and pulse-pounding erotic storytelling. Watch as I transform from the overlooked "homie" in hoodies and caps to a commanding force who completely wrecks my personal trainer's world – one teasing glance, one calculated move, and one unforgettable night at a time.
Releasing Weekly – The full ~50-page story drops one steamy chapter at a time, every week, building the tension until the explosive finish. Perfect binge-for-the-week vibes: come back for the next hit of heat, control, and that slow-burn payoff.
What happens when a quiet gym crush turns into a Valentine's Day conquest? Dive into this sizzling blend of truth-inspired seduction and pulse-pounding erotic storytelling. Watch as I transform from the overlooked "homie" in hoodies and caps to a commanding force who completely wrecks my personal trainer's world – one teasing glance, one calculated move, and one unforgettable night at a time.
Releasing Weekly – The full ~50-page story drops one steamy chapter at a time, every week, building the tension until the explosive finish. Perfect binge-for-the-week vibes: come back for the next hit of heat, control, and that slow-burn payoff.
Excerpt from Pending: "A Ride to the Edge"
I pulled back, meeting his eyes. They were dark, pupils blown wide, desperate.
Then I slid off the seat.
Onto my knees.
Between his thighs.
His eyes went wide. "Celeste—no, wait—" His hand reached for me, trembling. "You don't have to—we're in a fucking Uber—"
"I want to." I ran my hands up his thighs, feeling the muscle quiver beneath expensive fabric. "Let me."
The leather creaked as he shifted, trying to process. The driver's eyes flicked to the mirror again—then quickly away.
Marcus's hand found my hair, fingers threading through the curls. Not pushing. Just touching. Grounding himself. "This is really happening—"
I looked up at him through my lashes. Held his gaze.
And with deliberate grace, leaned forward.
My tongue traced the underside of his cock—base to tip—tasting salt and heat and him.
His whole body shuddered. The hand in my hair tightened. "Oh fuck—"
I did it again. Slower this time. Savoring the way his thighs tensed, the way his breathing went ragged, the way he was trying so hard to stay quiet and failing.
Then I took him in my mouth.
Just the head at first—lips sealed around him, tongue swirling, sucking gently. His hips jerked and I pressed a hand to his stomach, holding him still.
"Don't move," I murmured, pulling off just enough to speak. "Let me control this."
He nodded frantically, hand over his mouth again, eyes squeezed shut.
I took him deeper. Inch by inch, relaxing my throat, breathing through my nose. He was thick—stretching my lips, my throat—heavy on my tongue, taking up space I had to work around—and the taste of him flooded my senses.
A car honked outside. The driver turned a corner. The city kept moving.
And I kept taking him deeper.
"Oh my god," Marcus whispered, voice wrecked. "So deep—"
I hummed around him and his whole body went rigid. His hand flew to the door handle, gripping it white-knuckled.
I pulled back, then sank down again—setting a rhythm, measured and calculated, taking him to the back of my throat each time. The wet sounds were obscene in the quiet car, mixing with his ragged breathing and the muffled sounds he couldn't suppress.
His hips started moving despite his best efforts—small, desperate thrusts.
"I'm sorry," he gasped. "I can't—I'm trying—"
I pulled off, stroking him with my hand, looking up at him. "You want to fuck my mouth?"
His eyes snapped open. "What?"
"Do it." I licked the tip, maintaining eye contact. "Show me how desperate you are."
Something in him broke.
His hand tightened in my hair—not rough, but firm, guiding. His hips lifted and he pushed back into my mouth, deeper this time, testing.
I relaxed completely, letting him in, and his control shattered.
He thrust—tentative at first, then faster, both hands in my hair now, holding me steady as he fucked my mouth with increasing desperation. The sounds he was making were raw, animal, barely human.
The driver cleared his throat.
Marcus froze.
I didn't.
Then I slid off the seat.
Onto my knees.
Between his thighs.
His eyes went wide. "Celeste—no, wait—" His hand reached for me, trembling. "You don't have to—we're in a fucking Uber—"
"I want to." I ran my hands up his thighs, feeling the muscle quiver beneath expensive fabric. "Let me."
The leather creaked as he shifted, trying to process. The driver's eyes flicked to the mirror again—then quickly away.
Marcus's hand found my hair, fingers threading through the curls. Not pushing. Just touching. Grounding himself. "This is really happening—"
I looked up at him through my lashes. Held his gaze.
And with deliberate grace, leaned forward.
My tongue traced the underside of his cock—base to tip—tasting salt and heat and him.
His whole body shuddered. The hand in my hair tightened. "Oh fuck—"
I did it again. Slower this time. Savoring the way his thighs tensed, the way his breathing went ragged, the way he was trying so hard to stay quiet and failing.
Then I took him in my mouth.
Just the head at first—lips sealed around him, tongue swirling, sucking gently. His hips jerked and I pressed a hand to his stomach, holding him still.
"Don't move," I murmured, pulling off just enough to speak. "Let me control this."
He nodded frantically, hand over his mouth again, eyes squeezed shut.
I took him deeper. Inch by inch, relaxing my throat, breathing through my nose. He was thick—stretching my lips, my throat—heavy on my tongue, taking up space I had to work around—and the taste of him flooded my senses.
A car honked outside. The driver turned a corner. The city kept moving.
And I kept taking him deeper.
"Oh my god," Marcus whispered, voice wrecked. "So deep—"
I hummed around him and his whole body went rigid. His hand flew to the door handle, gripping it white-knuckled.
I pulled back, then sank down again—setting a rhythm, measured and calculated, taking him to the back of my throat each time. The wet sounds were obscene in the quiet car, mixing with his ragged breathing and the muffled sounds he couldn't suppress.
His hips started moving despite his best efforts—small, desperate thrusts.
"I'm sorry," he gasped. "I can't—I'm trying—"
I pulled off, stroking him with my hand, looking up at him. "You want to fuck my mouth?"
His eyes snapped open. "What?"
"Do it." I licked the tip, maintaining eye contact. "Show me how desperate you are."
Something in him broke.
His hand tightened in my hair—not rough, but firm, guiding. His hips lifted and he pushed back into my mouth, deeper this time, testing.
I relaxed completely, letting him in, and his control shattered.
He thrust—tentative at first, then faster, both hands in my hair now, holding me steady as he fucked my mouth with increasing desperation. The sounds he was making were raw, animal, barely human.
The driver cleared his throat.
Marcus froze.
I didn't.