Novels by Curvywrites

In the heart of Berlin, where the air was crisp and the nights were long, lived a woman named Michela. With her curly red hair, brown eyes, and a physique that blended curves and toned muscle, she was a striking figure who captured the attention of everyone she passed. At 28, she was a talented photographer with an eye for the unconventional, often drawn to places and people overlooked by others.In recent months, she had felt a compelling pull toward exploring another side of sex. She wanted to willingly relinquish control, to be guided and directed. This need stirred every time she heard friends speak of their sexual experiences. One afternoon, over coffee, Michela finally voiced this long-held curiosity to her friend. Smiling knowingly, her friend reached into her bag and produced a small card, placing it on the table between them.“Call this number,” she said, her tone both encouraging and conspiratorial. “They’ll give you a time and place. Come prepared.”Michela’s eyes fell to t

Ruth had never been one to overthink her virginity. Ruth's virginity was neither a badge of honor nor a burden; it simply existed. As a pastor's daughter, she had absorbed every variation of the purity speech, from impassioned sermons to casual dinner-table anecdotes. Yet, none of it ever truly resonated with her. At 25, on the cusp of becoming a lawyer, she remained a virgin, not due to some grand moral conviction, but because the opportunity had never felt truly compelling.Her friends, aware of her status, reacted with amusement or bewilderment. During truth-or-dare sessions, her admission typically drew laughter or empathetic nods. Some urged her to "just get it over with," but Ruth remained unfazed. Virginity didn't define her; she was shaped by her ambition, her intellect, and her dry wit. If it happened, it happened. If not, she had other pursuits. She wasn't waiting for marriage, nor was she holding out for a fairy-tale romance. She wasn't even entirely sure what she was waiti

Sammy just realized that she is a lesbian. Or maybe she has always known.All her life, she’d been with men. She had smiled through it. Played the part. But not once had it touched her. Not once had it felt real. She hadn't just disliked it. She had felt nothing.Then, like a crack of lightning through fog, the truth landed with impossible clarity. Her desire had never lived in those moments. It had always existed elsewhere. With women.But knowing that was one thing. Acting on it was another entirely.So she walked. Past the regular bars. Past the safe streets she knew. Until she found herself outside the notorious place on 27th and 6th. The one she’d only ever heard mentioned in low, curious tones. The kind of place people didn't admit to wanting.Inside, it was alive.The air pulsed with music. Laughter rolled through it, rough and warm and unafraid. Bodies moved on the dance floor, confident and loose, glowing under soft lights that turned everything gold. In the corners, women le

Being a lawyer meant I was always in control. I had to be in control. It was the job, a deep-seated instinct for handling myself, for reading a situation, for staying ahead. But a constant state of command wore me down, slowly, relentlessly. I still thrived in it; the money was good, the perks even better, and I never minded putting a criminal in their place. But after five years of giving the orders, a crucial part of me was missing. I did not need someone weak; I needed a man who could command me, someone who knew how to seize control when I was ready to surrender it. Someone who could make me feel everything I denied myself, both in and out of the courtroom.Now, at a bar whose name I had already forgotten, staring into my empty glass of tequila, that familiar emptiness crept back. I was about to head home to nothing but the cold buzz of my vibrator.The thought made me wince, a tight pull in my gut. Thirty-five, single, and unmarried. The titles meant little, but the hunger was re

I’ve always known what I wanted. Always known what made my blood run hotter, what made my skin tingle, and what made my heart race. And when it came to men? Well, I was never one to play coy or pretend otherwise. I adored them, all shapes, all sizes. From dark, rich skin to golden tans, lean bodies, or strong, muscular frames. There was something about men that had always intrigued me. I'd always been open about how I saw and felt about men. Honest to a fault. But it wasn't just men. It was the dynamic, the energy, the tension. That feeling of connection, of being seen and desired for exactly who I was. That's exactly how I met Simon and Henry. We had crossed paths most unexpectedly, at a friend's party just off-campus one late summer night. I'd seen them before, around town, at the gym. They were the kind of pair that turned heads, without even trying. Simon was tall, broad-shouldered, with smooth, dark skin that practically glowed under the dim lights of the party. His calm, confi

Art consumed her in ways that nothing else could. The stroke of the brush, a tender caress, each line that drew promises. For her, art wasn’t a pastime; it was seduction itself, an unrelenting need that left her breathless. Every movement of her hand against the canvas mirrored the sensation of tracing a lover’s body, coaxing hidden pleasures to the surface.But then there was sex, a different kind of art. Raw, untamed, and all-consuming. The rhythm of intertwined bodies, the heat of skin meeting skin, the unapologetic hunger. She wasn’t a stranger to lust or the tangled heat of passion, but nothing in her past had prepared her for him.It began four months ago. A random twist of fate was delivered by a friend who had handed her a ticket to an art show. His reason for not attending didn’t matter. What mattered was that she went, hoping only to lose herself in the creations of others, to reignite her dwindling spark.She’d worn a black halter dress that night, the sleek fabric hugging