Dirty Diaries Novels & Stories

A few books stacked unevenly, a cracked photo frame, handmade crafts, a tiny glass jar filled with dried rose petals… pieces of the girl she used to be. Vincent walked further in and leaned his weight on her study desk, the wood creaking softly under him. His eyes moved over her things Vincent ’s eyes scanned the cluttered table. His hand slid to the drawer. He opened it. A stack of diaries lay inside, their covers worn, pages slightly yellow. He glanced at Aria, who was busy, lost in her own world. He pulled the diaries out. His thumb brushed over the cover, and something in him paused.

When I finished writing that, I suddenly started writing in my journal about this, from how it started to the whole scene. And as I’m speaking to you, I am staring at the page, at the last sentence: ‘If you want big money, you have to do something dirty for it.’ Then I titled the journal's day entry as Dirty Money.

We stayed joined against the counter until our breathing slowed, and then he eased out, and the warm slide of his come leaking onto the tile made my stomach tighten with filthy satisfaction. That same night, after my mother had returned and gone to bed, he came to my room again in the dark. The visit was quieter and more desperate, the risk of her waking only a few doors away making every thrust sharper. He pushed into me from behind while I stayed on my side and the slow deep strokes built until I came with my face pressed into the pillow to muffle the sounds. He filled me again and then stayed inside me until his cock softened, and only then did he ease out and leave me with the evidence o

keeping their bed undefiled. But everything changed when she stumbled on Mark's aged diary. Out of curiousity due to how he pampered and hide the diary, she decided to read. Cindy got the greastest shock of her life, when she started flipping the diary’s pages. Mark fantasy had always to be treated like a shameless cuck, used, abused and humiliated publicly. Reading his shameless fantasy, Cindy cummed like never before, flicking her clit furiously.

I whispered, shoving the door open and pulling Sophie into the dark living room. I locked the door behind us, sliding the heavy security bolt into place with a loud click. The apartment smelled exactly like it had last night cold, stale, with the faint scent of the tea I never finished. The brown manila envelope filled with Sophie’s fake papers was still sitting right there on the kitchen counter, looking completely useless now. I went straight to the small desk in the corner, dropping my canvas backpack onto the floor. I pulled the dead audio recorder out of my pocket and set it on the wood.

LILY. SEVEN MONTHS LATER. I sat in that chair, opposite Dr Max. For a moment, the room was silent up until Davis came rushing in through the door. He was drenched in the rain and as he sat beside me, he heaved a deep sigh. “I’m sorry I’m late” He panted. “It’s in the middle of Spring and I don’t get why it rains everyday now” Davis shrugged and our counselor only let a light scoff. “Well I’m glad you’re both here” Dr Max folded his arms.

But, The ones above were harder to reach, forcing me to stretch, my fingers roaming blindly across the upper shelves. Suddenly, something solid brushed against my fingertips. Frowning, I pulled it free. It fell to the floor with a soft thud. A black diary falls right at my feet. Frowning, I picked it up out of curiosity. Its leather cover was worn, its pages yellowed with age. My heart skipped as I picked it up, and curiously opened to the first page... A date stared back at me— it was 27th August, 2005. “A twenty year old diary in the bathroom cabinet? What the hell?”

Didn't she hide it properly? This diary was a mighty one, big and heavy. The cover was lilac, decorated with drawings of hearts and sparkles. The spine had been cracked over and over again, and the pages were unable to lay flat because of how many times they had been written inside. But it was mostly still intact. It was so big that I wondered when I would even complete the reading, it surely won't be today.

It’s allowed, right? “Stop it right now. You get your ass up and into the shower because I’m questioning the last time you washed your hair. And then we are going out. I spent the last two days ridding my house of everything that doesn’t spark joy, and Lord help me, we both need a night out.” “What were you left with?” “My vibrator and my electric wine opener.” “Way to minimalize.” “I might have kept my old Buffy the Vampire Slayer DVDs too. And a few of the kids’ favorite toys. I’m going to snap before we get this house ready to go up for sale.”

I'm a mess – a perfect, filthy, destroyed, worshipped mess. "Don't clean up yet," Ethan says. He grabs his phone. Photographs me – covered in cum, spread on the sheets, the bowl of unused condoms visible on the nightstand, evidence of a night that exceeded every fantasy I've ever had. "Now," he says, setting the phone down. "Who wants to go again?" Round two is dirtier than round one.