Romans & histoires Featured Story

There would be nothing left but emptiness. After that, my father never showed up again. One day, Little Zoe came home carrying a letter and a cake. My mother showed me the letter. It contained the address of the house my father had promised, along with a bank card that had two hundred million dollars in it. We did not move there. We never touched a single cent of that money. The following winter, I saw news from Harbor City on television. Rowan Xanders, a prominent entrepreneur, had died at the age of twenty-nine from an old injury.

But his direct supervisor told him plainly, "Being faithful to your partner is basic human decency. If you can't even manage that, what makes you think you can manage research?" The supervisor hadn't even been the harshest one. The higher-ups had called to check in the moment the story broke. They thought Dexter was too talented to lose, which was why they'd held off for a few days, giving him time to sort out his personal life. They never expected this to be how he sorted it. Dexter shook Brianna off. "Enough! She's supposed to be your best friend. Is it really that hard for you to see her come out okay?"

This was a breach. “Oh, perks of the job,” she said with a dismissive wave. “When you break stories that move markets, doors have a way of opening.” She tilted her head, her smile never reaching her eyes. “Speaking of moving markets, your sudden appearance on the world stage certainly has. It’s quite a story. A Texas family man plucked from obscurity by the reclusive Joe Brian. It’s almost… fairy tale-like. If the fairy tale involved leaving a wife and two small children behind.”

The email comes while I'm packing for our trip. Subject line: Forbes 30 Under 40 Feature Confirmation. I almost delete it thinking it's spam. But something makes me click. Dear Ms. Carter, Congratulations. You've been selected for Forbes 30 Under 40: Entrepreneurs Who Rose from Adversity. We'd like to feature you in our November issue with a full spread and interview. Your story of building Knight-Carter Ventures while navigating personal challenges has inspired our editorial team and we believe our readers need to hear it.

Once upon a time, there lived a kind cople of elders. They had a beautiful love story. They were friends since childhood and stayed by each other side till they became old. Nothing could their them apart. Not even the fact that the woman could not get pregnant. They lived happy, in a small village, covered in snow half the year. There were happy children, enough food every winter and no war, just the calm peace.

“To be fair, I’m realizing now that you’re actually the first person I’m telling. I haven’t told my parents or Liam or even Sammy” “Oh wow. Well, while I’m honored that you broke the news to me first, how come you haven’t mentioned it to anyone else since it’s been that long since it happened?” “Firstly, it was an unexpected thing. Aside from that, there just hasn’t been a right time to spill the news I guess”. “Hm. If you say so”.

She nodded and then turned to me and said, “then why don’t you incorporate both into what you wish to show us?” Adding both together? That wasn’t an impossible request, but it wasn’t something I had quite prepared for. Still, I had to impress them so I quickly thought up something on the top of my head. Taking the centre of the stage, I took a quiet but deep breath in, as I had learned to do many times during practice. Then, with a clear voice, I spoke out some lines, “if there is a story to be told, why should I not be the one to tell it? Do we all not have that choice to tell our own tales?”

Like I was already out. I tightened my grip on the file. “No,” I whispered to myself. “Angel, think.” I took a deep breath. Storytelling. What is storytelling? It is not just selling a product. It is making people feel something. It is making them believe. It is making them see themselves. I closed my eyes briefly. A story. I need a story. Not just words. A story. My fingers tightened around the file. “I can do this,” I whispered. Even though fear was still there.

She brought both breasts back to my penis and wet them again, and brought them back to my mouth. The next moment, she straddled me again, and checked my bondage's for tightness. I could definitely not move my hands or my legs. "Do you know what I read recently?" "No, what?" "I read a story that you posted online. It was called 'I want you to feed me'." I stared blankly,I'd forgotten that she read my sex stories online, sometimes, especially this one. "Uhhh yes well..." "Do you remember writing the story, do you remember what it was about?" As she questioned me, she was humping her open pûssy over the head and shaft of my cock.

It was coming from her—my stepmom Sarah—and him—my stepbrother Jake. I lounged on the big sectional couch in the living room, legs stretched out, my nipples already hardening against the thin white fabric of my tank top. No bra. I hadn’t worn one on purpose. The wine had me flushed and bold, my pussy tingling with that slow, forbidden ache I’d been ignoring for months.