Library Short Story Novels & Stories

Scenes where she called him her husband and begged to be used. In her stories, he had a name. Caleb. She whispered it while touching herself under the covers, her thighs slick and trembling as her fingers moved in rhythm with the words she’d written. She told herself it was harmless. That lots of people fantasized. That it was better this way. Safer. He didn’t know. He’d never know. Until the night they crossed paths at the corner store. It was raining. Mira’s hoodie clung to her neck, and her flip-flops slapped wet against the tile floor of the tiny market. She grabbed a can of soup, a bottle of wine, and turned toward the register—and froze.

He had some good technique — likely wasted on Penelope — and I couldn’t wait to see what he did with that tongue on my clit. “Let’s see what’s behind door number one,” I teased, sliding down his body to unbutton his khaki golf shorts and jerk them down to his knees. His cock sprang from his boxers, tenting the material as it strained like a wild beast eager to be free. I molded the fabric around the shape of his erection and smiled my approval.

At the sight of them, I felt myself suck in a sharp breath and sway forward. "Ahem—! I know you guys have been married for less than 2 weeks but please remember that you both are still in company and this is still Pakistan—!" I heard some lady help me break out of my trance but it wasn't enough to help me get a grip on my senses. Without waiting to hear the end of their castigation, Hoor slipped out of my loosened hold with an excuse me, leaving me to stare after her momentarily, until I managed to get away too.

I hated how wet I already was. “Fuck you,” I hissed, trying to keep my glare steady even as my hips started rolling on their own. “I still hate your guts.” Every grind made my shorts press tighter against my soaked panties. I could feel my juices starting to soak through, making the fabric slippery against his boxers. My clit throbbed with each pass and my breathing got faster. Kai laughed under his breath and tightened his grip, guiding me harder. “Look at you. Already creaming your shorts just from rubbing on your stepbrother’s cock. Bet that tight virgin hole is dripping down your thighs right now.”

In my fantasy, Steven growled against my ear, voice low: “You’ve been teasing me for years, baby girl. Parading around in these shorts, bending over where I can see that pretty pussy. This tight cunt is mine now.” I whimpered, pushing the tip of my finger into my ass while the other hand drove deeper into my pussy. The fullness was overwhelming. My thighs trembled, sweat slicked my back, and the T- shirt bunched up my breasts. I could feel my nipples hard and aching, rubbing against the sheets with every movement. I flipped onto my back again, spreading my legs wide, knees almost to my shoulders. The position left me completely exposed and vulnerable, just like I wanted to be for him.

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Today, Mom’s gone for a five-day conference, and I saw my chance. I put on my tightest bum shorts, the kind that hug my ass cheeks, and a crop top that pushes my breasts up, nipples poking through the thin fabric. I went downstairs where he was watching TV, his eyes flicking to my butt as I walked in. I knew he couldn’t resist staring at my curves. I sat on the couch, crossing my legs, scrolling on my phone but watching him from the corner of my eye. His gaze kept drifting to me, and I felt my pussy get wet just thinking about it. I couldn’t wait anymore. I stood up and walked over to him.

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?”

he whispered, his tone inviting, daring me to play. I nodded, heart racing, my pussy already dampening at his proximity. “Just reading,” I lied, clutching the book tighter, but he saw through me, stepping closer until his chest nearly brushed mine. “I think you’re reading the wrong kind of story,” he teased, his hand grazing my hip, fingers trailing under my skirt, testing my reaction.

It was 11pm at night when Nikhil Khanna drove off in his car to the hotel Grad Shine. On his way , he stopped his car and when he was parking it in the parking lot , he noticed a beautiful girl wearing a red coloured lacy short frock with her cleavage popping out .Along with it she was wearing black jacket and black coloured female boots with high heels.