Dirty Book Pages Novels & Stories

, I asked reaching to touch his hand. He pulled away. "Don't touch me with that filty hand of yours", he said. I chuckled, "My hands are filthy? you know it's funny because you're the one who has been doing drugs, running an illegal oil company and trafficking kids for years using the company as a cover up but I suck cock and I'm filty" He looked at me with shock "How did you-"

One, matches the color of the moon. I carefully open it and immediately note how frail the pages are, it's clearly old. A burst of impatience seems to rip through me and I bring up the bulk of the book’s pages and flick to the end. I stop with about a quarter of the book left, since it isn’t completely filled out. There’s a list of names, going back hundreds of years.

Not wood. Ink. Thick, black, glossy ink welled up from the crack, bubbling like tar brought to a slow boil. It surged higher, spreading out, swallowing stray pages with soft, hungry sounds. The words on those pages dissolved the instant they touched the surface, letters unraveling into nothing. The crack widened, running under my grave marker, around the base of the coffin, spider‑webbing outward in crooked veins. Ink rose like quicksand around the book‑coffin and the scattered manuscript pages, lapping at the laptop’s edge, at the wine bottle’s bottom, at the notebooks’ bent corners

After reading the letter again and again for a minutes, she keeps it aside and opens the bag. The first thing that she takes out is a lilac satin fabric. When she holds it up, it looks torn and burnt from all sides. It’s soaked in red. Her nose twitches as she smells the blood. She keeps it on the table in front of her and takes out the next thing. A book. A huge thick book with more than 800 pages. It has a dark brown hardcover with golden edges. She opens the book only to look at letters and symbols that doesn’t make any sense to her. Pursing her lips, she keeps it aside too.

Unlock it, and the empty pages shall be filled for you to read. I stare at the words for a long time. Read them again. And again. “What does that even mean,” I mutter under my breath. Within me. Unlock it. Empty pages. I flip to the next page. Blank. The one after that. Blank. I start flipping faster now. Page after page after page, all clean, untouched, mocking me with their silence. No hidden ink. No symbols. No diagrams. Nothing. Just white paper. My grip tightens on the book until my knuckles ache.

Not long after lying her body on the bed, she dozed off and became unaware now of everything around her. Inside his room, Boss Dar got a small black-covered book and browse its pages as if looking for something urgent on every page. After a few more browsing, he finally stopped flipping the pages of the book and focused his eyes on what has been written in the book. Then he furrowed thereafter as his eyes froze on that page.

Our Secret: My Dirty Tale is a compilation of short erotic stories intended for a MATURE AUDIENCE. Please note that ALL characters in these stories are above the age of consent. I would give a trigger warning, but there are wayyy too many. What to expect? Every kink possible. Every sexual pairing possible. Leave your morals behind, grab a toy or two. God knows you'll need a helping hand 😉*wink* Happy-horny reading! Xo, Athena♡

I had to believe they were doing it for a good reason. I walk further into the room and see a row of red leather books all along the back wall on shelves. I rip a book from the shelf, flipping through the pages; every spell in here is black magic. I grab another book and another. They are all full of black magic, words of evil, each book darker and darker. I flip to a page that says “removing souls, the patient must endure months of torture to separate the soul from the body.” I stare at the page in disbelief. Is this what they are doing down here?

Some old collections rich people used to show off to their fellow rich people There was a large desk in the corner with an antique-looking lamp on top, the bulb seemed to be lit but not on, there were strange-looking books, some with leather covers, others paper, some old, some brand new with pages that fell open and wrinkled under my fingers. There were even some books with gold writing on the cover but none of them looked like they were readable, I picked up the nearest one, it was titled in Latin. Opening the book carefully, the first page was blank except for two black lines that started from the middle of it, it looked like someone had drawn something underneath them. They weren't word

Volumes on forbidden healing, curses that corrupted the body, and rituals most healers would never dare speak of aloud. I barely glanced at them, my trembling hands moving quickly from one spine to the next. Then one title stopped me cold. Dark Bloodline Curses. I pulled it free with what little strength I had left. My heart sank the moment I opened it. Most of the pages had been torn away, leaving behind nothing but jagged edges where they had once been. My trembling fingers turned through the fragments that remained, searching desperately for something useful. There wasn't much. But there was enough.