Gnome Stories Novels & Stories

“Now what are we to do with her?” “Anything, my dear Clara.” replied Narissa. “Anything at all. We can bring different men to fuck her everyday until her pussy shies away from cocks.” “Good idea.” “I know, right, Loretta?” “Or we could turn your into our very own Onlyfans star. Make money from videos and pictures we sell of you.” “N-no, please.” “What do you say, Renee?” Narissa asked the woman who had been sitting on the bed the whole while. “What makes her so special that our husbands want to die because of her?”

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?”

“We have different interests. Mine is in the gym, others were at the parties.” He laughed then looked at me. “My friends once told me you’re gay, that you’re into women and not interested in men.” I squinted my eyes. “Your friends talk about me, huh?” “Well…” he shrugged, then we both laughed. “That rumor about me was false. I’m not interested in women, I’m into men. And I think people nowadays just love spreading rumors, huh? Rumors about you were proof of it, as well.” “Hmm? Rumors about me? Haven’t heard about it. I just hope they were good rumors and not bad.”

“Says the Alpha who gave his Luna oral sex in dream land.” “That would actually a very interesting story plot.” “Exactly why we should be doing more adventurous things while fucking…to spice up our lives and make good story plots.” “Hmm.” “Yeah, you mentioned one time that Everlery likes writing…she can write erotica stories with what we do and who knows? We might be the inspiration to a bestseller book.”

he said, his voice a low vibration that hit me square in the chest. The chatter died instantly. He turned around, leaning against the podium, his sleeves already rolled up to reveal the lion etched into his tanned skin. My pulse spiked. I couldn't stop my eyes from tracing the golden outlines of the beast on his arm, remembering the way it seemed to ripple in the moonlight of my subconscious. "The Art of Storytelling is not a solo venture," he began, his almond eyes finally sweeping over the rows. "To understand narrative, you must understand collaboration and the friction of differing perspectives. For the remainder of the semester, you will be working in groups of five."

EMMA My body was still trembling, thighs slick with our mixed juices, when Sarah lifted herself off me. Her face glistened with my cum, lips swollen and shiny. I lay there on the couch, naked and panting, my perky tits heaving, my shaved pussy still pulsing and leaking from the intense orgasm she’d just given me. Jake stood beside us, his thick cock still half-hard, glistening with the last drops of his own release. The sight of his cum streaking across Mom’s ass and my thighs made my clit throb all over again.

“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.

Don't get it wrong. Sometimes stereotypes were spot on correct and sometimes they weren't. This was again, another case in Brianna Samuels. She wasn't one of those bitches that everyone knew about because of stereotypes, that lived for gossip and brought people down just so they felt better about themselves. Okay, well Brianna did live for gossip, but mostly the harmless type of gossip and she definitely did not live to step on people. The type of gossip she lived for would basically be classified as petty theft in contrast to murder. Basically who dated who and who's hot and whatnot.

My desire here is to share my story. My name is Geena. No, not Gina, that would be normal- my parent's weren't normal, so it had to be Geena. These stories, if you have read them up through now, are the story of my strange journey. The earlier stories and the many that follow will make very clear just how un-normal my life is.

Gina sat in her bed and tried to read High Window. She’d devoured the novel many times before, but familiarity didn’t stop her from rereading her favorite works. Tonight, however, the words blurred in front of her eyes. She could only see the man in the store—his name was Andrew Martin. He’d written that on the bookmark. She toyed with the slim piece of stiff blue paper. Should she call him? What would she say? She reached for the phone. Put it down. Picked it up.