Novel & Cerita Erroric Stories

Why does he keep calling me that? I stir restlessly again, and my hand shakes. Mrs. Smith holds my hand tighter, preventing me from moving it or pulling it away. I frown, glancing at her with surprise and confusion. “When I confronted Eric about the truth, he told me how it happened.” Mrs. Smith says in a soft voice. “He told me the whole story... And no wonder you were so hurt... A mistake like that is painful... it hurts our soul.” “A mistake?” I blink a few times, surprised and even slightly offended. Of course, Eric twisted the whole story so it wouldn’t come out so wrong... he’s already tried to do that to me; he wanted to make me feel sorry for how he couldn’t control his urges.

“You had a book about those the day I first met you.” His posture seemed to straighten ever so slightly the moment I said that, as if he were surprised I remembered that detail. “That’s right, I suppose I did.” “What else did it say? Was it a book of folklore?” Eric sighed. “It… was an old book, and very outdated—to the point that I’m not entirely sure how much of it was true or not. I wish I could sate that curiosity, but…” he hesitated, “I would do you a great disservice to spread something that might be wrong.” He thrummed his fingers against the table. “If it’s history you want, perhaps I could interest you in the legend of the Moon Goddess, or… or maybe the alpha king who was cursed by

I took a glimpse of my watch and turned back to her. “It is almost time for Physics class,we have to go and grab lunch.” “Sure…” We started walking to the cafeteria and I could swear that I caught Anna throwing weird stares at me. We stood on the line with our trays in our hands. Anna bent over and whispered into my ears. “Maybe we should read some of your erotic stories while we eat.” My body went cold. There was no way in hell I was letting someone else read my diary. There were quite a lot of erotic and sex scenes in it and the worst part was that they were not mine. They were about my friends or random students I randomly pair up in my head.

My name is Joseph Cains. At the time of writing I was still a member of the University’s music club, and I had an enormous crush on a beautiful mixed-race girl who happened to come along to the same club. This story comes from halfway through the academic year, just before her grading test. She asked me to come to the lakeside after my classes to help her practice her throws and tumbles, and I, being a lovestruck fool, agreed. It was one of the best foolish decisions that I have ever made.

Pinky squinted to read it, her eyes tracing the loops and crosses. "Collection of short stories for ladies," the title read. "Stories of desire, of awakening, of the first time." Pinky blinked, her eyes widening as she read on. The handwriting was feminine, secretive, as if the writer were sharing her most guarded thoughts with only the pages. It was a confession. A revelation. As she began to read.

Shaking my head, I held out my hand for Grace and helped her get up. “Thank you,” I nodded. “I’m sorry but I can’t come. And if you want to fuck, you can choose from my friends to have their cocks fill in your cunt. I don’t fuck twice.” Then I walked away to go to my car. I massaged my forehead then stalked Erica again. I noticed that all of her pictures characterized her as a prim and proper lady, her clothes were perfectly fit on her body, it was so good, alluring, and addicting but not to the point that you will lust over her.

I've got to say something. “Belle,” I start, facing her, noticing how the moonlight catches in her eyes and makes them shine. I see her chest heaving, like she's preparing herself for whatever I have to say. Then, she looks at my lips. I do the same, only looking into her eyes when she does the same. “That kiss—” I pause, holding myself not to say the most ridiculous thing ever. Like it was a mistake. Because it wasn't. I had thought about the consequences and I kissed her anyway.

Gerald replies, glaring at the girl before looking at his son. "You can go now, father," Milo growled, excusing his father. As his father walked towards the exit, Milo turned towards the girl, "What's your name, beautiful?" He asked, trying his hardest not to walk over to her. "Ericka. Ericka Christofferson. From the New Moon pack." The she-wolf replied timidly, staring down at the ground. "Ericka," Milo purred. "It seems like you've caused quiet the commotion today."

“I am all for teaching you, outside, Claire. If that is your thing.” “W-What? N-No,” I flushed, aware that he had only been teasing, yet unable to help myself. What on earth was I doing? I had asked myself that question two days ago, when I signed up on the Erotic Tutor website. The thought of an absolute stranger helping me be less frigid– as my ex had so graciously put it– was terrifying. Exciting, yes, but still terrifying. What if he is a serial killer? I nibbled on my bottom lip, eyeing him. What had he meant by when the lesson was learnt?

Some stories started with hate. This one ended with everything.