5 Minute Short Stories For Adults Novels & Stories

I collapsed onto my back, my chest heaving, one forearm slung over my eyes to block out the dim glow from the city lights through the blinds. “Fuck,” I whispered to the dark ceiling. Seven months. It had been seven months since a man had touched me. The last one—Mark, the architect with the nice smile and wandering hands—had lasted three dates before he “realized he wasn’t ready for commitment.” Translation: he’d met someone easier. Before him there was Daniel, who cried after sex because he missed his ex. Before that, Ethan, who ghosted me after I mentioned wanting kids someday. The pattern was exhausting.

She said with a sly grin. I backed out of the drive and we headed for the adult store. It was only about a fifteen minute drive down the interstate and I knew enough shortcuts that we only had to drive through a little bit of town, stopping at one stop light, which gave her the chance to flash her tits at a couple young college guys in the next car. We pulled into the Lions den and parked next to the building. Jill closed her coat as she climbed out and we walked into the store.

Emma checked her phone again. 11:37 PM. The pizza delivery was already twenty minutes late, and the three girls in her off-campus apartment were getting restless. “Fuck it, I’m starving,” Emma muttered, adjusting her tiny black booty shorts that barely covered her round ass. She was 24, curvy with full tits and a fat ass, wearing only a thin white crop top with no bra. Her two roommates — Mia (22, petite Asian with perky tits) and Zoe (23, athletic blonde with long legs) — were dressed similarly: tiny shorts and tank tops, bored and horny after a night of drinking and complaining about guys.

Ethan The neon sign outside the small storefront flickered softly—Madame Elara: Tarot, Visions & Destiny—and I stood there for almost five minutes, briefcase heavy in my sweaty palm, heart hammering like I’d just run a marathon. I’d noticed it only this morning on my way back from the office. The place looked new; the paint was still fresh, the curtains deep crimson. No one I knew had mentioned her before. Maybe that’s why I finally pushed the door open. Stupid, really. But after another lonely weekend spent jerking off to videos I was too embarrassed to admit I watched, the question wouldn’t leave me alone: Would I ever have a girlfriend?

I loved, even though, looking back, I think my love choice is questionable. Still, five years is better than a lifetime of a bad marriage. In any case, I should be thankful to him for opening my eyes. It hurts, I admit, but I will get over it, eventually. I fiddle with the cards in my hand. I have a trip to go on in two weeks, and although it would have been nice to go with him, I’m going regardless. It is time I learn to have fun by myself.

In the state I was in just then, staying hard for a half hour seemed very doable. She continued by announcing, “I think we should do something about it.” She observed me with those incredible dark eyes, her gaze equal parts sweet and absolutely unrelenting. “I have a plan in mind.” Joan’s plan was simple. I would be given exactly 40 minutes of cockteasing while I was restrained. The particulars of the teasing would be entirely up to my wife’s discretion, of course. She wouldn’t let me know what was coming in advance. I had to hold my load until the timer announced my half hour was up. If I came too soon, I would be disciplined.

Marcus leaned back against the desk crossing his arms so the fabric pulled tight across his chest. “Predatory depends on consent Sarah. If both parties are adults and they want it, who the hell are we to judge the heat between them? Take these classic stories. The men aren’t saints. They’re flawed hungry bastards who see something they crave and go after it. The women aren’t victims either. They’re dripping for it. Wet and reckless because the forbidden touch sets their skin on fire.” Fuck. My face burned. I uncrossed my legs and felt a slick rush between them. The way he said dripping made my clit throb.

"Did you crawl out of a sewer on the way in? This is a Fortune 500 company, not a bus terminal bathroom." "I had car trouble, Mr. Graham. And then a shoe incident. And then a puddle..." "I don't pay you for your tragic life story, Wanda," he cut in, slamming his tablet onto the desk. "I pay you to function. Bare minimum expectations. Coffee that's hot. Bagels that aren't stale. You failed at both. Congratulations." "I'm sorry, I—"

Granny completed the story for us not minding my presence maybe cause am her in-law or just another way around. " So that's how you lied to us all" A young man walked in without a knock to give permission, he just made his way through the conversation.