Cryptic Stories Novels & Stories

I pause as I point to my dad and take a breath, “has been already before Christ … No wait before Greek mythology. Am I getting this right.” “It’s more complicated then…” Ericson starts but my dad interrupts, “Little Sea the Greek Gods were Crysthalian’s that didn’t want to follow my mother and tried to make a kingdom of their own. But we all know what happened and how badly they failed.” “Then again as soon as you arrived and learned what they did, you brought them under control and stopped all their shenanigans. Plus, we also found all the missing Crysthalians in Rome, Egypt, and all over Asia. Not all of them were making problems for the natives but they also weren’t helping out. So, your

They told mе tо keep mу mouth shut and not tо say аnуthing tо you аbоut it. I wаѕ еxhаuѕtеd аnd mу hеаd wаѕ swimming аgаin and I guеѕѕ that's whеn thеу called уоu.' She said, and I was instantly turned on by her story. Fuck.

His hand cupped my face, warm and certain, and for a heartbeat, everything else disappeared. When we finally parted, I could still feel the ghost of his lips on mine a promise, a memory, a beginning. I looked down at the page. The ink had barely touched it, but it didn’t matter. For once, I didn’t need to write every detail. The story had already found its ending not in words, but in the spaces between them. And as Ethan’s fingers tightened gently around mine, I realized that sometimes, the truest stories don’t need to be told. They just need to be lived.

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

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?

Pleasure rushed through my whole body and I screamed his name as my pussy squeezed tightly around his cock Professor Hungs thrust a few more times, then he groaned loud and filled me with his hot seed We stayed like that for some minutes, breathing hard with our bodies still joined He kissed my forehead softly and whispered, “you will go to the hospital to get on the pills Lia. This is our first but it is never going to be the last. Huh?” "Ok” "From today on, come to my office every day at five in the evening. Not a minute late” "but by five all lectures are already over and there will be few or no students around” I said "and that is the point. We don't want anyone hearing or suspecting any

Well, I can't fuck myself, someone has to do the fucking" I replied. He chuckled. I returned to his cock, sucking like a slut in heat. I made sexual sounds to excite him; years of watching p**n and reading erotic stories had taught me that men love hearing erotic moans from women, even if they are just for effect, not because my pussy is actually getting stimulated. The New York best selling romantic novels were my best companions during my college days.

Each of the men collected the heads of monsters, while they finished collecting the riches and treasures, keeping them in their backpacks, without having anyone to supervise, each of them took something and took them, leaving the cave empty. Discovering that they were great adventures and challenges, those who arrived and did not leave, never spoke about the riches, because they could not defeat the sorcerer. The fiery lion took his books and mystical relics with him, each of them carrying mystical objects of power and value. Discovering what showed nothing but skeletons and remains of other beings that did not make it to the end. No one spoke about its secrets, they never spoke about the Sa

The air in the crypt was thick and still, tasting of centuries-old dust and the slow, patient decay of stone. For Anya, it was the sweetest perfume. She brushed a gloved hand over the intricate carvings on the sarcophagus, her headlamp cutting a solitary beam through the absolute black. The hieroglyphs were unlike anything she’d seen in her textbooks, speaking of a forgotten dynasty, a king whose name had been scrubbed from history. “A seal, not a blessing,” she murmured, tracing the stylized jaws of a beast clamped around a sun disk. Her professor would call it superstition. Anya called it context.

"Then, one day, I was cleaning up his study and accidentally knocked over a wooden sculpture on his desk. He shoved me away and told me I wasn't allowed in there anymore. That was when I noticed the name 'Beatrice' carved into the base." By the time I finished, I couldn't stop crying. All these years, I never dared tell my parents any of it. I didn't want to worry them, and more than that, I was afraid they'd tell me to leave Declan. After all, I was the one who had shamelessly pursued him back then. And now, here I was, pouring my heart out to them about the same man. Wasn't that just proving them right all along? After listening to my story, my parents fell silent.