Novel & Cerita Funny English Stories

“I can just send the pictures directly to your DM.” I yanked his phone from him for the second time today. “Posted,” I said to him. “Naughty girl." he bopped my nose with his fingers. “Well, you can't do without this naughty girl.” I laughed. “I am very happy that we are back together as friends.” “I am happy too. Let us gist. I am bored." “Gossiper!” “It is not gossip. it is gisting. They are two different things.” I hissed. He laughed. God! He looks very handsome when he laughs. I took a moment to register how he looks when laughing in my mind.

He told stories. Good ones, the kind that had been refined through repetition into their best version — funny and specific, the details exactly right, the kind of story that made you feel you had been in the room when it happened. My mother laughed. Dominic made the compressed thing, the almost-smile, more than once. I laughed too. Genuinely. The unmanaged kind, the laugh that arrived before you’d decided to have it. Marcus noticed.

But these two idiots just had to compete on who would gift the restaurant a bit of 'charity money'. "Do you two understand what shame means at all?" the blonde upbraided, hands akimbo. "Does shame pay the bills?" Kingsley asked, a brow raised. "Shame doesn't exist in my world. In my world, if licking dog shit publicly is gonna get one a higher-up's absolute trust, he doesn't hesitate," "I see," Sean nodded sagely. Then he just went upstairs to shower. Who knew these two would come to join him completely naked? A little banter soon morphed into an intense fuck session in the shower, each one taking turns to fuck Sean in different styles.

Gemma said with dissatisfaction, quietly opening her eyes. "But you just said that you'll listen to whatever I tell." "You can't tell such childish stories anyway!" Gemma's big eyes flashed. "Okay, let me tell you an ancient story called 'Pitiful John'." Gemma had never heard this kind of story. She was immediately excited.

Author's Note This book is a short compilation of erotic stories. Please note that not all entries are heavily erotic—some lean more toward emotional moments, dramatic tension, or character interaction. Also, 99% of these stories don’t follow a traditional plot, so don’t be confused if there's no clear beginning, middle, or end. They’re written more for mood, moments, and expression than full narratives. Enjoy the ride,no overthinking needed. 😉 ********************************************* Kael didn’t wait.

Sure enough, Adrian closed his mouth. "Darling, then I will tell you a joke. There was a toothpick that was walking along the road. Just then, it saw a hedgehog running past the middle of the road, and then it shouted something at the hedgehog. Guess what it shouted? Yes, it is called the hedgehog 'bus'!! Haha, it's funny, isn't it?" RK felt that listening to Adrian's jokes would make him want to sleep even more than listening to him recite poems. This guy couldn't even tell a good joke. What was the meaning of telling a joke that everyone already knew? Would Stella laugh? What a childish kid.

So I was well aware that nothing would set him off like calling his stories funny or peculiar. Which is exactly why I did so. Quite regularly. His outraged responses were just too amusing to resist. And right on cue, he scowled at me. “They’re not funny or peculiar, brat. They’re fascinating and exciting. You just don’t appreciate the true magnetism of what I tell you.” “Of course, I do,” I argued. “That story about the metal horse that moves on two wheels will stick with me forever. What did you call the conveyance again?”

"You're terrible." "I prefer creative." We continued walking, the tension from earlier slowly dissipating. Alexander pointed out various landmarks, making up increasingly ridiculous stories about each one. A bakery became the site of a Victorian bread riot. A bookshop was supposedly haunted by the ghost of a disappointed romance novelist. Each tale was more absurd than the last, and by the time we reached the Thames Embankment, I was laughing freely. "There," Alexander said, looking pleased with himself. "That's better." "What is?"

The night air was cool, and the lights around us gave the place a gentle glow. We tasted the food together, and I had to admit—it was really good. Every dish was well-seasoned, and you could tell it was made with effort. I found myself eating more than I expected because everything tasted comforting. As we ate, Vince began telling stories. At first, they were simple ones—things about his work, funny situations he’d been in, small embarrassing moments. But the way he told them made them entertaining. He was actually a natural joker. He used his hands when he talked, exaggerating expressions, even changing his voice when he imitated other people. At one point, he acted out a story about accide

There was one solitary, big book on a low table between them. "The title of the tale is The Binding of Autumn," he began, his voice an entrancing whisper just in harmony with the shriek of the fire. “It's the tale of a harvest god who offers a mortal woman a choice: one night of absolute freedom for one year of unimaginable riches for her people." He didn't move as his eyes met hers. "The consent is the matter at hand. It must be freely bestowed, not coerced, and whispered three times into the skin of his throat." “Do you have any idea what sort of story you're going to be reading me tonight?”