Adjective Stories Novels & Stories

Some stories started with hate. This one ended with everything.

I hated that at this moment I wanted to touch them, I almost gave in to the pull. My cock throbbed painfully, making a hiss escape my lips. “Don't worry. I would get you some help,” I said, as I took off my coat, came closer to wrap it around her. She crawled towards me immediately, "Help …me,” she whispered, voice hoarse, hot breaths fanning my skin. I paused, ignored the way my heart stuttered and covered her up. “She's ours. I would help my mate,” my wolf, Sade, growled again —persistant. I could feel the vibration in my cord, the way my bulge didn't seem to stop growing.

That sounds great. After we bought groceries, we walked to his house, but it wasn't like anything I expected. It was a small apartment that looked a little run-down. When we got inside, it was cramped. It wasn't like our house, but it somehow felt comfier. Is this why he was thinking so hard if he should make beef stew or something? "Sorry for our house." Al said as he placed the groceries down in the kitchen. "It's just my mom and I, so we can't really afford anything fancier than this."

Her words flowed effortlessly, painting a new story—the story of Theo and Mama Hazel, of nighttime adventures and endless dreams, of love that knew no bounds and a bond that transcended the ordinary. As she penned the final lines of the story, a sense of peace settled within Mama Hazel. The power of storytelling had once again worked its magic, not only in Theo's dreams but also in her own heart, reaffirming the timeless truth that the greatest stories are those written with love, shared with joy, and woven into the fabric of our lives.

“Juliette, it’s a good thing you are an amazing cook because you are a terrible liar. I was telling you that it’s a great day, and I’m feeling generous. So, is there something you want?” Her head swiveled sharply to see what he meant, but no, it seemed innocent. What did he mean? The only thing she could imagine was having him push his long hard body against her, his lips pressing against hers as he held her captive. She promptly cracked the egg in the glass bowl before her. She must have Spring Fever. She started whipping the eggs.

“Tell me how bad you need a real cock destroying your ass.” “I need it,” I cried out, bouncing frantically now, tits swinging, ass clapping as I rode the toy. “I want a thick real dick pounding my asshole raw… stretching me wider than this… filling me with cum while I scream. Fuck….I’m gonna cum with it in my ass!”

Before Adrian I was just a regular nineteen year old dating Jordan, that sweet creative guy with the camera who actually made me laugh instead of just making me cum until I couldn’t walk. Jordan. Twenty four years old with those messy dark curls and hands that knew exactly how to grip my hips when he fucked me slow and deep on his old couch. I missed the way he’d eat my pussy for hours making me squirt all over his face while whispering how tight and sweet I tasted. Not like Adrian who just took what he wanted hard and fast then bought me diamonds to shut me up. My clit pulsed at the thought and I cursed my body for getting worked up again in the middle of all this mess.

She was suddenly aware of how shabby her jeans and simple sweater looked in this opulent space. "It's okay. Call me Damon." He gestured to the leather sofa. Ara sat, clutching her bag like a shield. Damon remained standing, studying her. “I’ve read every book you’ve written,” he stated. “All twenty-three. Your imagination is… exceptional. Filthy. Creative. It's a shame you've landed in this current situation.” Hearing a stranger acknowledge her erotic work so bluntly made her stomach twist.

You can visit my wall to see my other stories 😘 -Iambadc