Exquisite Corpse Book Novelas e Histórias

he growled, burying deep. Something cracked. My hands cupped his face, pulling him into a kiss too desperate to be casual. My tongue tangled with his, my body arching up to meet his every thrust, and suddenly it wasn’t just fucking. It was something else—messy, consuming, terrifying. “Jake…” I moaned his name like a prayer. He groaned into my mouth, hips slamming harder, sweat dripping from his temples. “Say it. Tell me you want more.” I broke, cumming hard around him, nails raking down his back. “I want—fuck—I want you—”

The first volume of Strange Short Stories is now available on a****n as an ebook and physical book! Why should I buy it if I can read for free here? -The book on a****n has an extra chapter and illustrations that are not available on wenovel or goodnovel. The book on a****n contains corrected and improved versions of all the stories, leading to a whole new reading experience! (I'm sorry to leave you with the old version, but I preferred not to get rid of the originals!)

The age gap, the taboo, the constant risk of getting caught — it all makes the pleasure so much stronger and dirtier I am completely addicted to my stepfather now just as he is addicted to my body. Body and soul, I belong to him. Even when my mother is home cooking or talking to us, even when Junior is playing nearby, I am thinking about Mike’s cock. I am his filthy little secret. His young cum slut. His forbidden stepdaughter and I want it to always remain that way… I never want this dark, raw, offensive pleasure to stop

A pity. “Are you even listening to me?” I lifted my eyes from the book in my hand. The Mark of Exile. It was the sequel to The Corpse in the Fog—a crime story about a man killing the lover of the woman he desperately wanted. You could say I was taking notes of very effective and interesting ways to kill Zesa’s lover. I’d had enough of him impeding my happiness.

A faint, knowing smile touched his lips before he turned to the board. “Today we will discuss power exchange in nineteenth-century literature,” he began, his voice smooth and authoritative. “Particularly how submission can function as both surrender and rebellion.” My cheeks burned. He was speaking directly to me. For the first thirty minutes, he lectured normally. I took notes with trembling hands, trying to focus on his words rather than the plug inside me. Then I felt it. A low, gentle vibration started deep within me.

Corpseboy caught my eye, smiled grandly, and motioned to the strange scene before us. “As king, I welcome you to my humble court,” he pronounced, offering his arm and leading me down the cobblestone path. I didn't budge, eying the phantoms waltzing in the distance. They stopped dead in their tracks, bowing and curtsying deeply as Corpseboy turned to face them. He looked at me with exasperation, released my hand and bowed slightly to the ghostly crowd. They burst into excited whispers, voices like wind through dead leaves, and the candles burst into pillars of flame. I screamed as the firelight drenched them, revealing transparent skeletons instead of their elegant silhouettes, dressed i

Every time. Reward the book with your gems if you like the chapter ;)

Xermia recognized the cover of the book and he whispered to Thomas and Sigrid. “Are you seeing what I am seeing?” “What is it?” “If I am not mistaken that is the Covenant book!” Thomas interrupted the man’s page flipping, “I know that book! Where did you get it?” “Oh this book, I got it from a far away place called shut up and mind your business!” The man’s arrogance was getting to Thomas, he was an insult away from a complete breakdown. “Oh here we go! Sorry to keep you waiting.” His index finger surfed across the page as he mumbled the words written. He looked up at the ceiling, repeatedly reciting the incarnation in order to cram it.

I opened it without wasting time and walked to one of the shelves before rummaging through its stack of books. I knew I had found just what I was looking for when I pulled out an oxblood hardcover book from a collection, a smile crossing my face as I palmed out the dust from its plain design. The book had no title and that was not something to be surprised about because for as much as I knew, eroticists usually skipped putting a name to their works, they only had their pseudonyms written and that was it.