Liquids Till Lunch Novels & Stories

During lunch, an older female colleague asked me, "How old are you? Do you have a boyfriend? When are you planning to get married?" I shook my head. "Twenty-seven, no boyfriend, and no plans to get married." She was momentarily stunned. "What are you talking about? How can a woman not get married?" she asked. I smiled without responding. Realizing I wasn't joking, her expression darkened. "Did you work as a escort and get caught? Is that why no man wants you?"

Becoming a lecturer with promising carreer, and everything seems to be smooth for Sudirman Wira Atmaja or Dirman. But, behind the profession that he holds, there always debt need to be fulfilled. No free lunch that's what they say from the other side of the world. Accepting offer to work for high class shopping center in southern Malang with attempting fee, and holds key to decide campus policies, very nice isn't it? But, there is something Dirman doesn't realize. Something that could drag him down to deepest regret slum.

First day back in the office. I was face down at my desk during lunch when the desk next to mine started rattling under a series of hard knocks. I looked up. It was the firm's new architect, Flora Reeves. "Lunch time ended five minutes ago. You're still asleep at your desk? Don't bother coming in tomorrow. You're fired!" I told her I had just come back from a client meeting. I had been pulling all-nighters on the project for a week. She looked at me like I was something on her shoe. "All you do is take clients out, drink with them, and scribble a few sketches. "You don't even punch in. You're barely in the office. What gives you the right to nap at your desk during work hours?" I almost laughed in her face! I was the firm's chief architect. The bulk of the projects on Walsh & Co.'s books had my name on them. The firm's success was, frankly, carried by me. She saw me out of the office most days. She did not see me in another city, on another job site, talking down another client. And in our industry, most of those clients had hired Walsh & Co. because of my name and reputation. I kept my composure. "You're not in HR. On what authority are you firing me?" She said, "On the authority that my husband is the president of this company." I went still. When did my boyfriend get married?

“ take me” she called straddling the alpha as her lips met his in blissful kiss their Scent mixing in lust as Kal’s hands moved to her waist holding her firmly till she let out a moan, “ fuck me till I can't think of them anymore, till I forget I'm broken, until I'm completely yours” “Your wish is my command”

“Why is she looking so wasted, a bit horny at the same time? Do you think she's horny because of us?” Someone asked. Why do their voices sound different? But I had the same feeling for all of them. It can't be that I was suffering from sexual starvation, and the reason I couldn't differentiate their voices. Just then, I felt someone behind me. He grabbed me from behind, and began caressing my neck with his tongue. I wanted to scream for him to stop, but at that moment, I just couldn't tell why I felt so aroused and dripping with horny liquids inside of me. “I bet you're going to get bent over and fucked if you keep releasing these pheromones, love,” the voice behind my ears echoed. I'm in trouble, this can't be happening for real. I must be dreaming. Kiera lived a simple life doing what she knew how to do best, with a secret, she kept hidden from the world. But what happens when she comes across four brothers who were hell-bent on taking that secret to light and calling her their mate? Will Kiera succeed in keeping her secret, or will she give in to the mysterious men who are desperate to make her theirs?

I set up a company cafeteria for employees with an abundant meal daily worth 150 dollars per person. Meals are prepared by a world-renowned master chef. Every day, I only ask my employees to contribute a token of one dollar. Instead of gratitude, all I get is their envy of the neighboring company. "I wish we had that. Their healthy lunches cost them nothing, and the company covers everything." "Yeah. Free salads always seem to taste the best." Before long, this chatter spreads through the office, and the new hires carry it into the company's group chat. "Mr. Shaw, can we switch things up? All this rich, heavy food is just too much for us!" A few of the senior employees quickly jump in. "Yes, Mr. Shaw! We're not asking for anything extravagant. We only want something like the healthy lunches the other company gives out for free!" Perfect. They ignore my lavish 150-dollar meals that cost them almost nothing, yet they pine over the neighboring company's modest lunches. I scroll through the chat, feeling nothing but sharp irony. I immediately send a company-wide email. "Attention, everyone! By popular demand, and so you can all experience a truly free lunch, the cafeteria's daily meal is reduced from abundant to simple starting today. "Snacks and fruit options are discontinued and replaced with the same healthy lunch set offered by the neighboring company. The company will cover the full cost. Enjoy your meal!"

I was halfway through a sad cafeteria lunch when a livestream popped up: [Ring toss—whoever lands it gets the dog.] Onscreen, Alverton University's rich-boy squad cracked up, betting on who'd "own" me. Adrian Locke, the student council golden boy, flicked his ring. It landed dead center on my nameplate. "One month. Let's see which owner the little bitch wags her tail for." I closed the stream. Right then, a text from my dad lit up my phone: [Sweetheart, have you chosen your fiancé candidate?] I smirked, snapped a screenshot of the stream, and sent it. [Evaluation complete. All four disqualified.]

I'm the type who has the urge to overshare my life with him. It can be anything, be it the flowers blooming by the side of the road, the unpleasant coffee I end up having, or the sunset I've seen when I'm on my way home from work. Heck, when I think of Edwin Howell all of a sudden, I can't resist texting him at all. His replies are always short and perfunctory, though I suppose they count as a form of response from him. Hence, over the past six months, I've relied on these cold-sounding yet present replies to give me enough strength to deal with the engagement party, go wedding gown shopping, and choose the wedding venue all by myself. Somehow, I've managed to hang in there till the week before the wedding. But five days before the wedding, I discover an AI program that's installed within Edwin's computer. It can categorize every single sentence that I've sent to Edwin and extract the keywords. Then, it'll draft the most perfunctory responses that will never go wrong. If I miss Edwin, the AI will reply, "Mm-hmm." If I feel aggrieved, the AI will reply, "Got it." When I try to vent my frustrations to Edwin, the AI will reply, "Don't make such a big deal out of it." It turns out that Edwin isn't the one who has been responding to my need to overshare. The thing is, he has been texting another woman nonstop in another private chat. They talk about anything and everything under the sun, from exchanging simple good mornings and good nights to asking, "What are you having for lunch today?" and "Do you wanna go to the beach someday?" Finally, I realize that Edwin isn't the silent type who keeps his love in. If anything, he's the flashy type who will proclaim his love anywhere, anytime. It's just that… his love has never been mine to have. As for me, I've finally made up my mind to stop spending my life waiting for a response that will never come.

"If you needed someone to accompany you on your expensive lunch, why don't you call your fiancee? At least she knows how to order things more costly. " She said. He relaxed against his seat and gave her a ridiculous look. "Be careful. I might think you are jealous." He said and passed the menu to the waiter. *** How she went from being his rival's secretary to being her ex-husband secretary she does not know. All the knows now is how she will have to make sure he does not meet his kids and also to guide her heart which was hell bent on betraying her for the person who betrayed her once. ** Follow me up on I.G and F.B @Honeybeehive Author

For +18 ONLY! Wanna be banged so bad till you’re sore and dripping? Till your core trembles and shamelessly gap for your big Daddy? Till you spread those shaking thighs, moan his name, and beg for mercy? And no, he doesn’t listen, he uses you like his filthy little toy, and fills you up. When he’s done, you’ll swallow his dirty seed down your bruised throat, wipe the excess of his juice leaking down your throbbing hole, and say; Thank You, Daddy. If this is your fantasy, welcome on board! This is a collection of unapologetically RAW steamy stories, where all shades of your fetish is checked.