Lust Stories Short Novels & Stories

I lay in my own bed with the window open, listening to the quiet street, and tried to name what was happening without dressing it up in anything larger than it was. She was lonely. I was restless. The houses were close. Nothing had happened that couldn’t be explained away. But when I closed my eyes I still felt the exact pressure of her hand on my shirt, and the way she had looked at me when she said the evenings felt too long. Tuesday had ended hours ago. I was already waiting for the next message.

“Okay, that’s enough, Madam… please, stop drinking,” the butler, Arthur, warned softly. He reached out to steady the glass as it wobbled in Larissa's grip. Larissa didn't even look up at him, she stared at the liquid instead, watching the ice cubes swirl. "He isn't coming back tonight, is he?" Arthur hesitated, his silence more cutting than any confirmation. "It’s been six months, Arthur," she whispered, her voice filled with exhaustion. "Six months since the wedding, and..."

Later, after toasting for having been accepted, he went to drop her off at her house and left her at the door, they said goodbye with kisses and hugs when they arrived at her apartment and opened the door, Miriam ran to answer the phone and it was Lu who asked: "How did it go Miriam? -How did it go Miriam. Lu hung up satisfied that Miriam was closing and opening another stage of her life Ester leaned back and touched her fingers to her lips to see if she liked Esteban's kisses, shook her head and said to herself, "No, I'm not going to compare either of them, this is different. -No, I'm not going to compare either of them, this is different. At midnight she fell asleep and heard some mariachi

Until now, strange short stories had only very short stories. But from volume two I intend to add stories that have 10 to 20 captains as well. These stories are not so long nor have so much visibility as a separated book. For this reason, I decided to move all then into strange short stories, that is already a storybook of different themes.

Clara, one of the few maids I’d grown somewhat close to, was looking at me with concern. “You’ve been spacing out a lot lately,” she said, tilting her head. “And those dark circles under your eyes… Are you sleeping at all?” “Yeah, just tired,” I mumbled, forcing a weak smile and looking away. How could I possibly explain that I was up half the night touching myself while listening to Lord Blackwood fuck other women? That I wished with every fiber of my being that it was my pussy he was pounding instead? “Not used to the work here yet?” she asked gently.

And niether did Gordon. Me: You went out with Gordon? Bestie: I didn’t tell you? Must have forgotten cause he really sucks. Now which friend? A small knot formed in my chest. I felt kind of discouraged to continue sharing my news. Here I was rushing to tell her everything because we didn’t hide anything from each other… only to find out she didn’t even tell me about her and Gordon. Me: A guy named Clandor. They live together. She started trying to call again. I hung up but she insisted. Didn’t she read the text of me saying I was in a taxi? I hung up again.

Uncle's forbidden touch 6 The passages left me raw. Knees scraped from crawling, pussy and ass leaking Uncle's cum like a filthy trail. I showered quick that morning, but the dust lingered in my mind, gritty reminder of how low he'd made me go. The collar chafed, hidden under a high-neck top for the lingering relatives. Breakfast was chaos—leftovers from the reunion, aunts gossiping, uncles nursing hangovers. Liam sat across from me, eyes boring holes. He'd seen too much yesterday, heard the weirdness in the cellar. His foot nudged mine under the table, not playful. Possessive.

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?”

Meanwhile, Lolita smiled and explained, “You know, last week after work, I followed you here…” After a short painful pause, she added, “Only to discover that you are my little liar.” With that, she surveyed what I was cheating her with before landing a kiss on her red-hot lips. Meanwhile, Mary felt a little embarrassed, but that didn't stop her from spreading her butt cheeks with her slender fingers, still nibbling her lips. Swiftly diverting her eyes to me, she continued, “I thought I made it clear when I asked you if I was alone.” Forcing a bitter smile, Mary raked Lolita's hair and shoved her head into her sight, forcing her lips into her mouth. Her lipstick smeared on her lips, their rou

The Gnarlroot fed on a century of lost heartbreak. Back at the blight line, Liora knelt with purpose, she pricked her finger and let a drop of blood fall on the page, then the journal shimmered. “Tell the story,” she whispered to the earth. “I’m listening.” She didn’t say it aloud; she only poured the tale, the love, betrayal, and curse into the journal. The ink swirled, not into words, but ghostly pictures of two young lovers, shadows clashing, and a final tragic leap.