Cosmopolitan Stories Novels & Stories

Cristina's POV. "Ahhh, Mmmm." A loud gasp came from the other side of the door, followed by rasped heavy breathing. That was exactly what I needed. Heat bloomed low in my core as I shoved the door open. The scene before me was like something out of my wildest fantasies and my nipples hardened under the tight leather gown I'd thrown on. In a corner was a woman, her legs spread far apart. One man pumped his fingers in and out of her wet cunt, making her quiver beneath him while another guy fucked her throat hard, slamming against her again and again as his groans escaped his mouth.

“How long have we known each other?” Jasmine asked her friend. Eyes on her, he answered. “Three years.” “Let's sit,” She said. He obliged and joined her on the stairs. He knew that whatever she has to say was heavy. She turned to him with a bright smile, “If you were a sex worker, how much would you charge for a week?” “An entire week?” Jasmine nodded. “Yes.” This was one of the reasons she loved him. His ability to entertain her many out-of-the-world questions without deeming her crazy or shushing her.

Saturday night at a bar with Sarah, my one reliable friend from college. We'd laughed over cocktails, but her stories of married life, date nights and weekend getaways, only highlighted my solitude. “You need to get out there, Bridget,” she'd said, swirling her martini. “Swipe right on someone exciting.” I'd rolled my eyes, but later, alone in bed, I'd scrolled through dating apps, profiles blurring into sameness….gym selfies, travel pics, generic bios promising ‘adventures.’

he asked. She thought for a second. “Ones that have happy endings.” “A romantic?” he asked. She never considered herself one. “I like noir—but the stories where the boy gets the girl in the end. Or vice versa.” “Top shelf,” he told her, indicating the back room. She went there and waited. What if he followed? What would that mean? She’d been out of the dating loop since she’d landed her current job, the one that had sucked up all her time, her mind, her soul, her life. Her fingers trailed over the broken spines of misused paperbacks, and she hoped he would follow her. But what would she say? What would she do?

“Darling.” Sett faced Xavier with a crooked smile. “The whole place seemed a mess, and I just didn’t want anyone coming to steal your precious research away.” Sett widened his crooked smile and slowly but confidently walked towards Xavier. “We wouldn’t want to lose our ticket out of here.” He finally got to Xavier as she lowered the gun that had been pointed at Anderson the entire time. Sett seeing that, looked at Xavier passionately and leaned in for a kiss.

"Please, Julian. Don't make me wait anymore." Julian’s control completely snapped. He let out a low, primal growl and slammed his mouth down onto mine. It wasn't a sweet or gentle kiss. It was the kiss of a man who had been starving himself for months and finally had what he wanted right in front of him. His tongue forced its way into my mouth, heavy and demanding, tasting like expensive liquor and pure power. I moaned loud into his throat, my knees going totally weak. He lifted me up effortlessly, and my glass fell from my hand, thudding softly onto the thick rug.

She’s bold and fierce. I like her. I like her attitude especially with the way she carries herself. She’s got confidence that will surely shock your whole body. She’s also beautiful and got a nice racks. She might probably a whore too. “I’ve been calling you for a while now, Liam. Why are you not answering your phone?” Resting my back on the wall, I sighed. “Cresh, I already told you I only fucked once. If you want a cock to hang on your pussy then might go to the bar and search for a hungry cock that will satisfy you.”

– In which they said, whenever they could, love and desire as the greatest style in the real world. At that time, when even Margot laughed at the sight of the businessmen almost naked, selling sex in the stores. And she, as they said, I dress as if I were a character from a harem from an Arabian tale, from a sultan. Even if they were even if I don't pretend anything, they were never themselves, in that there, but with clothes more in keeping with the environment, which were almost nothing. In this great tourist town, called Elysium, where the great luxury hotel, called the Desires, was located, there was a group of rich people having a good time.

I Find Joy In Fucking Strangers (3) Madelyn's POV The convention center in downtown Chicago was a madhouse of noise and ambition and I’d come for a home goods trade fair — pretending I was scouting new suppliers for a fake small business I didn’t actually own. Truth was, I just wanted to be surrounded by strangers in suits and tight dresses, letting the energy of the place make me feel alive.

She realized that stories had the ability to transcend language and cultural barriers, touching the hearts of people from all walks of life. With this newfound insight, Luna embarked on a project to collect and share stories from individuals in Seoul. She sought out locals, immigrants, and travelers alike, listening to their personal narratives and experiences. These stories ranged from tales of triumph and resilience to accounts of cultural traditions and the bonds forged through shared humanity.