Collection Of Short Stories Novels & Stories

I shouldn’t have come to work today. If it were up to me, I’d still be curled up in bed, lying in frustration. But here I was, slumped lazily behind my desk, forcing myself to look busy. Forcing myself to work. I flipped through a stack of assignments, from the freshmen literature class, anything to distract myself from the restless ache burning between my thighs. That was when I saw it. Noah’s paper. The instructions I had given were simple: write a short romance story of your choice. Most students had submitted predictable storylines,—sweet shy crushes, innocent first kisses. But Noah’s title stopped me cold.

For the past two weeks, something had felt… off. At first I thought I was just being paranoid. But then I noticed little things. My favorite red lipstick was moved from the left side of my vanity to the right. Some of my panties were folded differently than how I fold them. And three days ago, I found a half-drunk cup of coffee on my kitchen counter when I came home from class — I never drink coffee. I was trying to ignore it. Trying to stay focused on the stream. I slid two fingers inside myself and moaned a little louder, arching my back.

: I owe you orgasms… I mean, endless gratitude. If this story left you hot, bothered, and possibly in need of a cold shower, do a girl a favor—leave a review, tell your dirty-minded friends, and spread the word like I spread… Well, you get the idea. I’m already cooking up the next sinful adventure, and trust me, it’s going to be even filthier. Until then, keep reading the good stuff, and never settle for vanilla. Yours in delicious trouble, Grace

"Give me your hand," Thomas commanded, and Isabella wrapped her hand around his thirteen-inch cock, stroking while her mouth and pussy were filled. Richard stood to the side, filming on his phone. "This is going in my private collection," he said. "Every weekend when my wife is at her book club, I'll watch this. Watch you being destroyed by three cocks at once." David's thrusts became harder, faster. "I'm close," he grunted. "Where do you want it?"

“They’re just stories people tell themselves to feel something.” The receptionist had given her the heavy brass key with a nervous laugh. “Just… ring the front desk if anything unusual happens.” Sophia unpacked in the lavish suite, admiring the antique four-poster bed, the velvet drapes, and the claw-foot bathtub that overlooked the stormy sea. She showered, slipped into a silky black slip, and settled into bed with a book on cognitive biases, determined to prove once again that the supernatural was nonsense. The lights dimmed on their own at midnight.

Elena stared at the lingerie set on her bed suspiciously. Alex, as usual wasn't in town, Ryan had returned back to school for some important tests and school work and she had been left all alone again. Which made her even suspicious of the sexy underwear set laying arranged at the feet of her bed. Who must have dropped this here when she was in the bathroom? Her phone pinged indicating a message. Elena opened it, still eyeing the bed warily. “PUT THEM ON”

I flipped to another page, my fingers shaking so badly I almost tore the paper. Entry #63: She fell asleep on the couch last night. I stood in the doorway for twelve minutes just watching her. Her legs were slightly apart, and I could see the curve of her thighs, the way her shorts had ridden up. I wanted to touch her. I wanted to slide my hand between her legs and feel if she was wet. I wanted to taste her. I wanted to mark her. I wanted to make her mine. I turned another page. And another. The fantasies grew more elaborate. More explicit. He wrote about tying me to the workbench, about using his collection on me. He wrote about my mouth, my breasts, my cunt. He wrote about the sounds I wou

We ate, Elsa and her husband had few discussions as we had our diner. I heard a knock on the room’s door, as I was seated alone in the guest room. I went to the door and my sister stood there. “Here” she said as she gave me a novel to read. I used to read novels a lot before leaving the city. But I got too occupied, I lost the zeal to read. I looked at the cover back, it wrote ‘Billy Sam’ that use to be my favorite author. I always read every book he published. I also wished to meet the author, but not anymore. I lost the spark to read.

“Fuckk, yes. Kirah! You are doing an amazing job! Keep going!!!” He arched into me, putting his ass up in an upright position and moaned harder. “You like it huh!” I slapped the side of his hard ass and he helped, his grip on the bed sheets tightening up. I fingered him for a few more seconds before leaving him and taking my finger out, maintaining the same proximity and going into the closet and searching through the dildo set. There were different patterns and colours arranged according to their lengths an their widths. “You are a collector of dildos.”

And yet… Every single time Adam had told those stories, James had imagined Lisa instead. He blinked, pulling himself back. "I could handle that," he said, slowly at first, then more firmly. "Yeah." Lisa didn’t look convinced. "It might be a little wild to hear," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "But it wouldn’t bother me." She raised an eyebrow. "Not the bragging," he clarified. "Not people knowing." Lisa stayed silent. "I’d tell them my side," he added with a small grin. "And realistically? All they’d know is that my wife had great sex."