Fiction Prompts Novels & Stories

She seemed to agree. The conversations about 'other men' continued to develop over a few months. Anna even role-played cheating on me. When I came home, she would relate details of her latest fabricated encounter. It made me indescribably hot, and we would ravish each other passionately. Each time, however, I made her understand that, although I loved the role-play, I could never actually do it. It was while I was on this forced business trip, that I received a a text message from an unknown number which said, 'Your fantasy will happen this week.'

Enemies who fvck like the world is ending. Sex-enemies, that’s exactly what we were. Pure hate-sex in the snow, raw and desperate. I cracked my knuckles, took a long sip of the coffee I’d brought with me, and dove straight in. This story was going to be long, dirty, and dripping with the kind of banter that makes people melt. I typed out the title in bold letters: 'Snowbound Enemies: A Hate-F-ck Holiday'.

I pushed a third finger in, stretching myself open, feeling that delicious burn. In my fantasy, he bent me over the kitchen counter, yanking my shorts down my ankles. I could almost feel the cool edge of the granite pressing into my hips as he freed his cock and rubbed the thick head along my dripping slit. I rolled onto my stomach, ass lifted slightly, face buried in the pillow so I could pretend he was right behind me. My fingers kept thrusting; three of them now, while my hips rocked back to meet every stroke. My pillow smelled of shampoo, but it was his scent that surrounded me. His big hand was gripping my hip hard enough to leave marks, pulling me back onto his cock as he sank into me

/LUKE/ Stuck on my hands and knees on top of the wooden coffee table, my heart was hammering against my ribs. This was the first time I'd done something this crazy and now that what I've been waiting for was finally happening, it was hard to not feel a bit anxious. I reached back with both hands, gripping my own cheeks and pulling them wide apart, presenting my twitching hole to the 6'4 basketball jock standing right behind me. "Make a mess out of me," I begged. I wondered if he'd slide it in right now. It didn't matter, right? I mean, I was already wet down there so it shouldn't be hard to take him in.

Gupta _________________ Trigger Warnings: MMMF, MF, MFM, Chòking, slàpping, exhìbitionism, non-con elements, spànking, sharing, humiliàtion, dègradtion, bullying, Punishments, Manipulation and power imbalance. Revenge and retribution. Rough handling and over stimulation. Dubious consent. Forced proximity. Coercion and Blackmail. If any of these themes are triggering for you, please proceed with caution. Your mental health matters. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION AND DOES NOT REFLECT REAL LIFE BEHAVIOURS. THE CHARACTERS ARE MORALLY QUESTIONABLE AND SHOULD NOT BE ROMANTICIZED IN REAL LIFE.

That was more than she ever earned from writing. “What’s the catch?” she whispered. "That's smart, Writer Ara." Damon’s lips curved into the faintest smile. “There is always a catch. For every erotic scene you write for my private inspiration project, you will physically practice it with me first. For you to a character being fucked against a wall, you must be fucked against a wall. Everything you create, I will bring to life with you.” Ara stared at him, stunned. Heat flooded her face. She could barely believe what he was saying.

My imagination has gone too surreal to be called healthy. I just shook my head, continued walking, and looked a few more times behind me in case I… really… saw… a dragon…. There was nothing though. That’s it. Gramps' stories have gotten into my head. Besides, I’ve been working on a fiction about creatures similar to it. I’ve been submitting more entries to the same ol’ publisher that has rejected every of my written pieces. I just didn’t know how to give up. Not yet. I knew I was born to be a well-known writer.

This story is about a first date gone extremely wrong. By the way, this story is all FICTION! None of the characters or situations that happened are based on real people or real events. Everything came up from my head. I only took inspiration from learning a lot of sexual abuse and reading stories from women and men. So don't think that The Pink Devil is based on a real life individual, because that's not the case. Who is this story for?

Nor had she ever seen such an eclectic collection of oddities. She picked up a pair of boots, vinyl, with a huge, plastic zipper. A vague memory of a porn film she had accidentally flipped on one late night flashed through her mind. Dominatrix, she believed it was called. She dropped the boots and sank onto a little bench sitting against the wall across from the racks of costumes. Fantasies. She had never had a sexual fantasy. All her sexual thoughts had always centered on Steve and their quiet sex life. All she had ever wanted was his hands on her, his lips telling her the things she wanted to hear.

Gentlemen and Ladies welcome to a world that apparently is very similar to yours. Here we have all the big cities and all the big states too. But we also have some things more, and it is not the dragons, vampires and werewolves you are thinking about. I am talking about the oddly things. Boys that never grow, invisible men, and cats in boots. You know which place all those figures appears. Welcome to fairy tales world, this is the antics of Bia's crew.