Making Out Stories Novels & Stories

A new post from the same anonymous account. "That was just the beginning. Over the next few days, I'll be posting more of Lila's stories. Stories about other guys at school. You might even find yourself in one of them. Stay tuned to see just how perverted Lila Richmond really is." My hands were shaking. This person did not just have one story. They had multiple stories. Stories about different people. I had written so many over the past year. Stories to process my confusing feelings. Stories about Ryan. Stories about Derek before I knew him. Stories about random guys I found attractive. Stories that were never meant to be read by anyone.

Each word penned was a thread in the tapestry of their shared adventures, a testament to the bond they had forged through storytelling and imagination. With a gentle sigh, Mama Hazel opened her journal once more, the pages whispering of memories captured in ink and dreams penned in the language of the heart. The stories she had written were more than just narratives—they were a reflection of the love, joy, and infinite possibilities that bloomed from their nighttime rituals.

But I don't break eye contact with this mysterious woman who's decided tonight is the night she stops being careful. The night we both do. "So what do you do,When you're not hiding in expensive hotel bars refusing to give your name?" A ghost of a smile apeaers on her face. "I traffic in narratives. I take messy, complicated realities and turn them into stories people can believe in. Make the unacceptable palatable. The truth into useful fiction." "Dangerous work." "Someone has to do it." She takes a sip, and I'm transfixed by the curve of her throat.

The door opened behind me. “Looking for blackmail material?” Stephen asked, voice lazy. I spun around holding the frame. “You were cute once. What happened?” He snorted, took it from my hands, fingers brushing mine. “Life.” I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. I came for a reason.” He dropped into his chair, kicked his feet up on the desk. “This should be good.” I took a breath. “We use the media.” He raised an eyebrow. “We feed them fake stories,” I said. “Us. Together. Holding hands at some market, me laughing at your dumb jokes, you kissing my cheek at a banquet. Whatever makes us look stupidly in love. People eat that crap up. They’ll forget the rumors in a week.”

Nagkibit siya ng balikat ang nag-iwas ng tingin. I pursed my lips before I spoke. "How I wish, it didn't came this far." "This is better, Elie than to leave in lies. We all played with lies and finally, the time has come." He muttered and looked at me seriously. "It's so hard to live in lies, everyday Elie and I couldn't even tell it to you." He added and his tears fell.

His face is even more puzzled. If you’re wondering how casual currently we are, even though we ended last night on an awkward note, well… I explained it. Usually, in stories, they just skip to the next day/ chapter as if nothing happened, but NO. IT’S NOT LIKE THAT AT ALL. How I wish it was. I have to thoroughly explain EVERYTHING. Even the finger-partner part. Good heavens, they don’t know about that! Why? IT’S BECAUSE THEY DON’T DO IT! I can’t believe it. They go straight to the point; no foreplay! What a sad world this is…

“You scared the poor boy, dude.” That was the first response he got from Damien Lau after he finished telling the whole story. The doctor visited him today, and he served some mineral waters to him. He was just a bachelor who didn’t really care about food at home and only had mineral waters with him. Despite being a bad host, the painter still dared to pour his heart out by telling the story that bothered him since yesterday. Yeah, he had told his friend about his ‘experience’ with his student yesterday.

Eleanor adds. “Do we address the one-night stand origin? The fake mate contract that became real? Or do we keep it vague?” I think about the threatening text. *Confess your sins before the gathering, or they’ll force the truth from you.* “We tell everything.” I decide. “The whole story. How we met, how I got pregnant, how Kael offered the contract, how we fell in love. All of it. In our own words, on our own terms.” “That’s a risk,” Marcus warns. “Some people will judge you for it.”

“I told you, I won’t force you.” “But we must, I mean we can’t fake the-” “We’ll mark each other. It'll be enough to sustain our story. I know how you feel about it, but the mark will fade away eventually. We'll renew it once in a while.” By the end of this talk, he was only in his underwear. A small whimper escaped my mouth causing me to slap a hand over it. His laugh filled the room. Despite the turmoil of emotions that were ravaging my mind, I couldn’t deny the fact that his body was nothing less than perfect.

She was looking over my shoulder at the same wall and reading some of them softly under her breath. “Hmmm, look at this one,” I said. “This person seems to have described our date last week in perfect detail.” It was a story about a woman who liked to be spanked and punished. “I like this one,” Carrie said, pointing to another. “I really think we should try and work this one into our next date.” The story was about a couple who arranged to act like strangers and meet up at a trashy bar and pick each other up. There were long descriptions about them fucking in the back of the bar as the guys playing pool watched and stroked their cues.