Night Time Stories For Adults Novels & Stories

The exquisite terror of giving your blood, your body, and perhaps even your soul to something far older and more powerful than you. That obsession is precisely what led me to the website. It was past three in the morning. I had just finished a particularly filthy novel where the ancient vampire lord claimed his mortal lover on an altar of black marble while draining her during the height of her orgasm. My body was still buzzing, thighs slick, heart racing, when I stumbled into the darkest corners of the internet — forums so obscure that even seasoned degenerates whispered about them. And there it was. Blood Party – Invitation Only.

The evil ones. The kind of bedtime stories mothers whispered to keep their children from wandering past the watchtowers after nightfall. Stories I'd dismissed as folklore meant to frighten the young and gullible, nothing more than superstition wrapped in shadow. Yet here one stood, in my bedroom, as real as the floorboards beneath my feet.

Larkin said, her voice bold in an intimidatingly creepy and fear instilling way, her eyes wide as they stared from the children's faces to faces " a hundred years ago, when your mothers and fathers were but pups, when the bushes told tales to the ones you who listened well, a disastrous event happened. The night called the 'blood night'. It was a night never seen before. A night of total blackness, a night when hell froze over, a night which lasted for many Winters until werewolves couldn't shift and had to starve for many many months, hoping that the night would go away. It was a night when the blood riders crawled from behind the tall walls of the creeks and struck hard, giving an end to m

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.

Jennifer: Shrug emoji. I decided to take a different tack. This time, rather than pick safe, general stories, I chose a bunch of different categories and sent my favorites from each. One was romantic, about a couple falling in love. The next was about a wife who sleeps with another man. Another had a husband bringing in his best friend for a threesome. I chose one that had some bondage (not my thing, but I picked a story that was highly rated). I sent a Lesbian story and a Gay male one (again, I relied on the ratings). I linked a story about watching two people have sex in the woods, and one about a girl riding a sybian for the first time. I skipped two categories: nonconsent and incest. As

After the Thanksgiving dinner, we all retired to bed. ‎I shifted in Juliet's bed, waiting for Juliet to fall asleep deeply so that I could crawl to her mother's bed. My cock is rock hard just from the thought of fucking my girlfriend's mom tonight. ‎I can't stop imagining my hands all over Juliet's mom's body, my face buried in between her legs, or cock buried deep inside her cunt. ‎After making sure Juliet had fallen deeply asleep, I snuck out of her room and tiptoed down the hallway to her mother's room. I stopped in front of the closed door, wrapped my hand on the doorknob with my cock throbbing and straining my pants.

******WARNING: THIS CONTENT MAY APPEAR DISTURBING TO SOME VIEWERS - YOU'VE BEEN WARNED 😈 - CONTINUE IF YOU DARE.****** ******** Trisha wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand and glanced at her watch. 11:47 p.m. The zoo had been closed for hours, and the only sounds left were the usual night noises--distant calls from the bird house, the low hum of the air filters in the reptile building, and the occasional rustle of leaves when a breeze cut through. She was alone on the night shift again. Third time this week.

By now, we’ve all had more than a few drinks, and we’re halfway between tipsy and passed out. “Let’s tell scary stories,” Laura, one of my friends, suggests. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Kara asks. “These woods are spooky at night. I have to be able to sleep, you know.” “Maybe we should call one of those hunky forest rangers for you,” I suggest with a laugh. “He’d better bring a friend,” Laura says. “Or twelve,” Diana, another friend of mine, adds. We all laugh, and Laura starts in on the first story about night walkers, ghostly figures who march through the forest.

Before there were doors between worlds, there were stories. They whispered from hearth to hearth and ship to ship— of wolves that ran like midnight wind, of foxes with nine tails and nine more tricks beyond that, of fae who looked like carved moonlight and smiled like knives. Humans loved those stories—as long as they stayed in books and bedtime. The moment a story breathed, the moment a pair of eyes glinted from a tree line or a shadow stepped out of the corner of a room, humans did what humans do best when they’re afraid.

Chapter 1: Sinful thoughts I lay on the big king size bed in the master bedroom, the sheets already twisted around my legs. My husband had left yesterday morning for his week-long business trip. He had given me the usual quick kiss at the door and promised to call when he landed, but I knew he probably wouldn’t.