Funny Questions With Answers Novels & Stories

" He looks at me and slightly cocks his head; he knows that I am not done with my questions yet. "Do we have animals?" "Just horses." "Are we going to go riding?" 'Yes." "Do you have those four-wheelers?" "Yes." "You playing twenty questions again?" I avoid his question, and a whole new level of stupidity sets over me. "Can I try something?" "Depends." "Depends on what?" "On what it is?"

I said, trying to come up with a question at the top of my head. “Hmmm, my favorite color is green and I love summer.” He answered as he went first again and his ball rolled close to the hole. “Okay, my turn on asking. Favorite food?” I hit the ball and it was nowhere near the hole. “Um, I like pasta. Chicken or shrimp, it kind of doesn’t matter. How about you?” “My favorite is too simple: chicken.” He answered as he was able to hit the ball into the hole again. “My next question is: what do you want for your birthday?”

When he tried to take a peep, she closed it shut. "Don't tell me you wrote that down," he said, wide-eyed. "I did. What's the difference between six and half a dozen?" "What's all this about?", he asked warily. "I'm supposed to get the most foolish answers to twenty questions. So what's the difference between six and half a dozen?" "I.. I.. I don't know. Mayb..." But she was already jotting down his answer. He tried to peep again and she shut the book. "This isn't funny," he complained.

“Uh oh. Let’s hear it.” “I feel like there’s a lot about you I don’t know these days. And I want to fix that. So why don’t we play a game of twenty questions.” He raises an eyebrow and folds his arms. “I get to ask you things too?” “Yeah, of course.” “Okay then. Deal.” I grin, pleased with the success. “Okay, tell me about your travels.” “That’s not a question,” he points out. I stick my tongue out at him. “What’s the most interesting place you’ve ever been to?”

someone yelled. "I won’t shut up until someone answers!" Lucas shouted back, clearly enjoying the attention. "We don’t know and we don’t care, so shut the hell up, Lucas!" another voice barked. "Wrong! It’s called Lemon-aid! Get it? Like the drink?" The groan this time was even louder. "Dad jokes are never, ever funny," Elodie muttered, shaking her head.

"Trust me, once he starts sharing facts, he doesn't stop." "I can stop." "You won't." "I won't." The table erupted into another round of laughter. It felt... effortless. Like we'd all known each other for much longer than a single morning. I continued flipping pancakes while the conversation bounced from one random topic to another. Elliot kept asking Jamey ridiculous questions just to hear his answers, and somehow my little brother always had one. "What animal sleeps the longest?" "Koalas." "Most bones?" "The python has around eighteen hundred."

When I turned the page, I realized this was no ordinary test. Question 1 read: “How long have you been a cheating fuck slut?” I looked up at the boss. He stared back at me, completely serious. “To have any hope of getting the job, all questions must be answered. There are twenty in total.” My heart raced, and my pussy clenched with fresh need. I answered every filthy question as honestly as I could, each one turning me on more: - There are two cocks in front of you. Which of your three fuck holes would you prefer to be stuffed first?

It would be shameful after all my queries and I wasn’t still able to answer any questions or unlock the locket. After picking the question, I silently prayed in my heart again and unwrapped it one after the other. Looking at the three questions now, I almost laughed at how simple they were. Don’t tell me that these are the questions that most of the people here have been seeing since morning and they couldn't answer any of them? Even a seven years old werewolf pup can answer all these questions. “Since you've opened the questions you should start answering, who knows you might be the lucky winner.” the young man smiled.

"How about we play safer games going forward?" "Like what, like football?" he joked. "Anything but Twenty Questions."

“How about we play a game? Something lighthearted. 20 Questions?” He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “20 Questions? What, like, we take turns asking random questions?” “Exactly,” I said, feeling my pulse quicken. “We ask anything—no filters, no restrictions. And you have to answer honestly. It’ll be fun.” He chuckled. “Alright, love, you’re on. You can go first.” I took a deep breath, preparing myself for the onslaught of questions that was about to come. “Alright, here’s an easy one. What’s your favorite food?”