African Stories Novels & Stories

I wouldnt be getting boiling oil on my arms, unbearable lashes on my back or the horrific smacks and blows Ive had since I got here. Listen! You are not in any sort of dream and I do not have any intentions to set you free or kill you. At least not right now anyways. Based on the fact that you cant see, I want you to know that I once owned this continent. Ever heard of Africa? I dont expect you to answer that.”

This place was always so busy and dangerous. I crossed the road and finally took a walk to the Chicken Republic. Its glamour seemed to have fizzled down from the last time I’d arrived here. But, it was still buzzing despite this. I knew that business owners barely cared about reconstructing their places of work, so it wasn’t much of a surprise. It was an African thing or a Nigerian thing.

“My friends, our journey is long. Let’s save this for another day, would everyone agree?” After a pondering pause, all heads nodded in agreement. “Now, I have a story to tell.” He scooped a blue powder and tossed it into the bonfire. “Once upon a time….” The flame burst again, but this time, fiery images of animals, humans, and landscapes appeared. From the Greek heroes like Perseus and Jason, the adventures of Thor and Loki, and to the African spider god, Anansi, which was our first time hearing it, every story he told was brought to life by the flame.

she faked her smile to me. Aria's fake smile faltered at almost same time, and she looked away, her eyes clouding over. "Let's just say.... it, wasn't what I expected to happen," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, with the sad feeling on her face already. I nodded sympathetically, remembering what she told me. "I can imagine the pain you felt. I've heard stories about the mating ceremonies and the Rejection. How the alpha's instincts take over, and they claim their mates without regard for anything else."

"Wow, and how did your parents find it?" "They loved it even though they didn't want to admit that their perception of Africa had been totally wrong." "The west paints a sad picture of Africa being a place of unending wars, mass starvation, violent crime and other horrible things. To be an African, it seems you must have starved, lived through a war or something equally as bad. While it's true that these problems exist, they're not as bad as they make them out to be. Some of us have never lived through them. There's so much more to Africa, so many lovely people and so much beauty. The only thing they get are the safaris, I guess."

"hyperbolic!" "I swear, African parents don't take shit when it comes to education. By the way, you said your mum's 50 percent Cameroon blood, she ought to have told you this right?" "Ain't got time for all that shit bro. She got my siblings to listen to her preach about her childhood and stuff like that. Not my cup of tea."

He let out the friendliest of smiles, making Anderson very uncomfortable. Anderson stared back and forth between Suit and the scroll. His mind was racing. The contract sounded simple enough. Straightforward, but he did not understand. ‘What did he mean by survive the stories? Did he not say I was going to tell a story? What does survive the story mean?’ Question after question popped up into his head. He could not help himself. He had no idea exactly what it meant, but one thing was for certain; He would not move forward if he did nothing but constantly question the situation

I nibbled the head with my tongue and heard him growl loudly. ‎I felt him jerk and then he came, hot, thick, and down my throat. ‎"Swallow it all, honey," he ordered. ‎And I obeyed, taking every last bit of it. This is exactly what I wanted. To be continued in story 6 ‎**Author's Note" ‎Thanks for reading and supporting my book. I appreciate 💯 I've more steamy stories that would get you turned on. ‎

There was one solitary, big book on a low table between them. "The title of the tale is The Binding of Autumn," he began, his voice an entrancing whisper just in harmony with the shriek of the fire. “It's the tale of a harvest god who offers a mortal woman a choice: one night of absolute freedom for one year of unimaginable riches for her people." He didn't move as his eyes met hers. "The consent is the matter at hand. It must be freely bestowed, not coerced, and whispered three times into the skin of his throat." “Do you have any idea what sort of story you're going to be reading me tonight?”

We talked for hours as the night wore on. “You really thought about quitting because of burnout?” I asked, tracing a finger along his chest. “Yeah. Days blurred together. Then you started coming in regularly. Made me look forward to shifts again.” He smiled in the low light. “What about you? Why history?” “I like stories that last,” I said. “People who lived real lives hundreds of years ago. Makes my problems feel small.” We laughed softly. Then the touching started again. This time I climbed on top, riding him slow while we kept talking. He looked up at me like I was something special. His hands roamed my body, squeezing my breasts, guiding my hips.