Gengar Sleeping Bag Novels & Stories

GAVIN I shoved the last of my gear into the skin duffel and zipped it up, dragging the heavy bag over to the bed. The tent, sleeping bag, and fishing rod were stacked neatly, and I double-checked the food packs—jerky, dried fruit, hard bread. “You’re taking enough for a small army,” Mum said from the doorway, arms crossed, trying to sound stern but her mouth twitching into a smile. “I’m going for three days, not a siege,” I muttered, shaking my head at her fussing over every little detail.

I shake my head to myself. We go to the mall where there’s a camping store. Julius is like a kid in a candy store. Grabbing everything. He is making me laugh hard. We pick our tents. We grab flashlights, lanterns, air mattresses, sleeping bags, fire starters, everything. Julius holds up some device. “Rosalie, we need this. It deters bears within a 20 mile radius. It’s a must.” He says serious

ESCAPE PLAN 2 The next day, Genny came prepared. She carried a sack filled with materials and supplies we would need after we left. Blankets, dried food, small potion vials—everything had been carefully thought out. She wasted no time. “We don’t have much time,” she whispered urgently. “Change the children into these.” The clothes she handed me were thicker, warmer better suited to protect them from the cold outside the cave. My hands trembled slightly as I helped the girls change. It felt dangerous even doing something so small.

“I need you in one piece.” I promised I would try, but the truth was, working was easier than facing my feelings. When I was focused on draft angles and material tensile strength, I wasn’t thinking about my baby’s bones lying in a police lab. When I was negotiating with suppliers, I wasn’t dwelling on the DNA test that would either confirm or deny what my heart already knew. By the end of the second week, I had moved from the design phase to the first prototype. The main bag was constructed from a waterproof, tear-resistant fabric that could withstand extreme conditions. The straps contained thirty feet of military-grade paracord that could support up to 550 pounds. The lining could be remov

Peter grumbled. Justine also chose to disregard him. "We'll have to take it slowly on the water. We each have a couple of bottles of water, as well as three dairy cartons filled. Again, there seems to be a great deal, but it will not last that much." "How are we going to sleep?" Peter inquired. "In case you haven't seen, there is lots of snow and ice covering the ground, so sleeping bags aren't going to cut it for us. The cars don't have enough capacity for all of us to spread out."

The tent door was already open, and Ariana noticed the sleeping bag inside. "Are we really camping here?" Ariana asked Gerald. Gerald just nodded. Although Ariana still felt it made no sense, she would go along with it. "If we're staying here, why is there only one sleeping bag? Where's the other one?" she asked again. Gerald shrugged once more. "We can use it together. Isn't that more comfortable?" he asked. Gerald then entered the tent, unzipped the sleeping bag, and got inside. He patted the other side of the sleeping bag, silently urging Ariana to get inside.

Warriors always carry a set of extra clothing for quick shifts, and rogues usually bring all their belongings with them or keep them close by in the woods. I grab the first bag I see, opening it up and pulling on a pair of basketball shorts and a shirt. I slip into the shorts, noticing they are a little snug, but they will have to work. Then I shove the shirt back in for Gemini and check the others, taking their bags and hooking them over my shoulders. I step over to the last person, freezing as I look down at the kid.

I lie awake for hours, trying not to shiver too obviously, not wanting to give anyone—especially Garrett—more ammunition to claim I'm not prepared for this mission. Eventually, exhaustion wins out and I drift into an uneasy sleep. I wake sometime before dawn, confused by the warmth. There's something heavy draped over me, something that smells like pine and leather and— Garrett. I sit up carefully, finding a thick fur-lined cloak covering me. His cloak. I recognize it from the palace, from seeing him wear it on cold winter patrols. I look around the camp. Everyone else is asleep except for Malcolm on watch. Garrett lies on the far side of the fire, his back to me, wrapped in a thinner blanke

Tate thought with a disappointed chuckle, then shut off the lantern and crawled inside. The moment he slid deeper into the warm confines of the sleeping bag, he knew something was different. Tate quickly flicked the lantern back on and reached down, pulling out a large, embroidered white bra. His heart skipped a beat. He fished out something else—matching dainty panties. Before he even brought them to his nose, the unmistakable aroma of fresh, aroused pussy filled his nostrils. He discovered another pair, then another, along with three more enormous silky bras. All of them had been thoughtfully stuffed inside his sleeping bag for him to find. The panties reeked deliciously of musky vagina an

I’m on my side with my back to Jake, pressing myself against the edge of my sleeping bag like the six inches between us is a moat that’ll keep me safe. He pulls his shirt off. I hear the rustle of fabric, and then the heat of his bare chest radiating toward my back like a furnace. I’m wearing a cropped tank and cut-off bumshorts that barely cover the bottom of my ass, because I packed for sleeping alone, not for lying six inches from a man who makes my brain malfunction. His breathing evens out. Slow and steady. He’s asleep. Or at least I think he is, and that thought is the only reason I let my guard down enough to shift positions.