Exotic Literature Novels & Stories

and my demons, but Daniel kept that last bit to himself before Caroline kissed him on the lips, getting lost in another wave of lust and desire that was stirring between them in the early dusk of the first day of their marriage life. ***** Caroline was humming when she was alone in the library, the only place that she wanted to spend her time when Daniel was away from their home. He has some business in Royal Molftus and it has been a week since their marriage. It has been spectacular until now. Caroline was reading a book that belonged to her husband. The title was Exile by a group of people that somehow they have the ‘-son’ in their last night. Plus, she discovered that there were like fi

It's hard to focus without her, but I lead Axar into the small library with me as I begin to search. Having been alive for so long I've acquired many books and ancient pieces of literature. Some are in immaculate shape, others are torn segments and several pages, barely tethered together by bits of spine. Many of these are family heirlooms as well, handwritten and handed down to future generations for guidance. Some are my own notes and contacts, roughly scribed here and there and then stuffed back onto shelves. I find several books on banshees and a couple on cambions. I find some on death as well, and I stack it into my arms with the rest the pile. "Take this one too." Axar softly suggest

She left them and walked straight towards their classroom. “Another boring day,” she whispered to herself as she sat. She put her bag and get the book which she covered with another design to hide the real title of the book. The book was called “My Journey Beyond My Imagination”. It was written by Lilia Desaix, it’s the reason why Clandes covered the book. Bulwarkians were not allowed to read or use any artworks of Desaix. Desaix was known as a criminal, they killed a lot of humans since they are vampires and witches. But, it cannot be denied that they are talented.

They drove in comfortable silence with occasional bursts of chatter and after an hour or so, they had finally arrived at their destination. Steve kept shifting his glance, tapping his foot looking every bit as nervous as he felt and Liza couldn't help but find it cute. Their destination was in a secluded part, a little way from the highway but still full of life. People called it 'Literature Lane', which could only be described as a festival of literature. There were huge banners of books and below those banners, people were enacting scenes from books or were reciting them, she also a book discussion group somewhere. The books were from almost all the genres, from classics to contemporary, p

He found a variety of literature, not only the famous titles of great writers, but also those less popular and completely unique ones. One of the shelfs was occupied by albums from unusual corners of the world like Tibet, Andes, India, Peru, Palestine and Egypt. Probably one of the inhabitants loved traveling, hence these books and items that were characteristic of these exotic places were lying on the shelves, such as original Egyptian knick-knacks, wooden figurines from the A****n basin, Celtic charms and fancy photo frames. In one of the photos, he saw a woman who looked like Alice, but weighing at least a dozen kilos more. She had dark, long hair. She was with a little toddler making san

As I drove aggressively through the city, cutting sharp corners and blaring my horn at slow traffic, my mind drifted back to my last intense experience with a black man I had met at the club. He was big—really fucking big, like a basketball player. I loved my men way, way bigger than my petite frame. Almost every man I had been with fit that powerful description. It was a miracle. Maybe it was because I was so small and everyone towered over me like giants, or maybe it was my secret selective racism mixed with a powerful BBC fetish. Just the words BIG BLACK COCK made my pussy walls clutch greedily like a hot, milking machine, sucking out every drop of pleasure.

Jack "Pearl!" One of the other women admonishes the old lady, but she just laughs in response. My mouth drops in shock as my eyes swivel between Everett and the old lady trying to figure out what the hell she's talking about. "What does that mean?" Everett asks and a round of giggles goes around the room. "Smut is... A descriptive romance. With spicy scenes." One of the women says. "Literary p**n." Another one adds. "Cliterature, if you will." Someone else supplies with a chuckle. The word triggers something I've always wondered about.

“Take a seat.” I found an empty chair in the back room, hyper aware of his eyes following me. When I finally settled in and looked up, he was staring at me with an expression I couldn't read. “As I was saying,” Professor Vane continued, “Gothic literature explores the forbidden, what the world as we know it now calls abnormal, the desires we tell ourselves we shouldn't have. The attractions that defy logic and morality.” Each time his eyes flicked back to me, my cheeks burned.

Adea said to herself, “and much bigger.” “It’s a prominent part of their cultures,” the short elderly woman standing inside the kiosk responded. “I have read all of these many times. Fascinating tales! If you’re looking to learn more about Outsider culture, might I recommend novels such as this one?” She reached over the stacks with a scraggy hand and picked up a plain-covered book, handing it to Adea.

The candlelight danced across the dining table, casting golden halos over half-empty wine glasses and the remnants of dinner. Elena sat with her legs crossed, the hem of her black silk dress riding just high enough to tease. Across from her, Nico watched the way the light played over her skin, the subtle rise and fall of her chest, and her fingers tracing the stem of her wine glass absentmindedly.