Fiction Stories Novels & Stories

and us. All works of fiction explore what it means to be human. The lightest, fluffiest book, one we consider pure escapism, has us laughing at ourselves. That dark, tragic book walking on the literary side of things has us crying for ourselves. Erotica explores our sexuality. Murder mysteries, our need for order and justice. Romances, the ways we come together to form a new bond, a new family. Stories that purport to be about a different time—Star Trek, anyone?—are really about how we’re navigating today’s problems. And stories that seem to be about nonhumans—werewolves, vampires, demons—are still really all about us.

"A long time ago, in the once great kingdom of Uprigralon lived two sister who ruled the kingdom, they were the only fairies dancers in the entire kingdom. They welcomed all types of fairies, Brownies, Pixies, Leprechauns, Elves, Kobolds and every kinds all lived in this wonderful kingdom. The sisters who loved themselves ruled in oneness and harmony until a Sluagh fairy, an old fairy, paid a visit to the kingdom. Everything changes as the elder sister became friends with the Sluagh fairy. She exchanged her dancing skills with a musical voice and dark powers. One day, the Sluagh fairy told her, for her to get the most lovely voice, she must kill all the fairies in the kingdom." Daisy said. "

I squeak from under the covers. My grandmother gives me a disapproving look. "I mean, tell me a new one, please." I say. "I want a story I never heard before." "One you haven't heard before? That's no easy task." She walks over to my bookshelves; her fingers trail over Grimm's Fairy Tales, The Happy Prince, Collected works of Hans Christian Andersen. Even at that age, I had a huge appetite for fantasy. For the unreal. Gran sits back down on the bed. She looks thoughtful for a moment, scrutinizing my face before nodding.

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.

Sarah had texted Daniel an hour earlier: “Pick up milk, bread, and whatever else we need. Ethan’s tagging along—he needs stuff for his new apartment.” That was the official story. The real story started three months ago in the guest bedroom after too much wine at Sarah’s birthday dinner. A late-night kitchen raid turned into hands under shirts, mouths crashing together in the dark pantry while Sarah slept upstairs. Since then it had been stolen moments—quick handjobs in the garage, blowjobs in Ethan’s car in the driveway, once even a frantic fuck on the laundry room floor while Sarah was at yoga. Never enough. Never safe. Always hungry.

She only believed it was mere superstition and the only thing killing people were either plagues from poor hygiene, an unknown disease or people themselves like thieves. This was the twenty first century and stuff like that surely couldn't exist. But many people believed it did. Her gramps and granduncle inclusive, who dedicated a good number of years of their lives, hunting down the rumoured night creatures. ‘Breaking news. The night creatures are at it again as two dead bodies were found in a lagoon in the early hours of this morning, badly injured with sharp claw like cuts. Locals say they saw the night creatures in a quick flash but ran for dear lives. There might be another attack this

Hi, I will not say much. This is an erotic story that contains a mom/aunt/son. As you know, I write about Aunt/Mom’s stories. Please support me by reading my other stories, too. Also, you can support me on my P*****n: p*****n.com/laxu00 Story starts

She tried washing it off, but it's still there. "Was he really a ghost?" She murmured while looking at herself. Hours passed and her aunt came back from her relatives carrying left overs, stories, and gossip just like any other middle-aged woman like her. Lisa didn't really mind, she could use something to entertain her other than her books or watching TV. "How was your first night alone? Were you scared? I could feel a cold presence sometimes." Bianca asked her while putting away the things she brought with her. Lisa smiled at her. "It's a little cold, but I slept just fine."

Alain blinked slowly as he tried to comprehend the series of explanations from his best friend. And, as soon as he understood it, his eyes immediately widened. “It is impossible!” Unconsciously, he screamed at the girl. “He can’t possibly try to flirt with me! We’re both men, so how could he be interested in me?” Suddenly, Brielle’s index finger rose right in front of his face. The slender finger swayed to the right and left rapidly. “Homosexuals are not uncommon in this era, Alain,” she said confidently. “Besides, there has never been any news about him dating any girl. He is a famous painter, but there’s no scandal about him for years. He may be gay, right?”

Instead of facing his own demon, Sabrina's father took his own life in front of his family, scarring his own daughter for life. Being a non-fiction novelist, most of my stories are about people’s experiences. I collect facts through research and interviews, then retell the stories through books. My stories, in turn, memorialize their contributions in life and highlight their suffering and pain. This way, they shall be remembered and hopefully, their story helps someone along the way, someone who currently faces these difficulties.