Novel In Stories Novels & Stories

My breasts were so swollen and sensitive that each flick of his tongue caused lightening to strike in my p***y. ‎ ‎I was so turned on that my p***y clenched in on itself and ached with the need to be touched too. He released my n*****s and I lay back on my elbows as he began nibbling my ribs and working his way down my stomach. He stopped at my belly button and he licked the water that had pooled there. I drew in my breath imagining his tongue delving deep in my p***y. His mouth moved downward and in the same swift motion as before, he loosened the straps of my swimsuit bottom and flung it to the side with the bra. He stared at my p***y for long before whispering.

Ghosts were just stories people told to scare each other. I parked the car and sat there for a while, hands resting on the steering wheel. The silence outside felt thick. I finally took a deep breath, grabbed my two suitcases, and walked up to the grand front door. The key turned with a heavy click. Inside, the air was cool and still. Dust floated in the fading sunlight streaming through the tall windows. The grand foyer opened up to a sweeping staircase and rooms filled with antique furniture covered in white sheets. It was beautiful, but also a little lonely.

But no one knows about the other side of me. At night, when the house is quiet, I hide under my covers with my phone and read the kind of stories that would make my mother faint. Dark. Filthy. Full of dominant men who take what they want. Girls who beg for it. Degradation that makes my thighs press together and my heart race. I touch myself to those stories, whispering things I would never say out loud, and then feel crushing guilt the next morning. I’m supposed to be pure. Innocent. The perfect daughter.

I sat in the third row, legs crossed, tapping my pen against my notebook. Professor Kane’s voice spread across the lecture hall like it always did. His voice sounded deep, steady, and cutting through my fucking nerves. No one whispered or checked their phones when he talked. For good reasons. You just listened. “...and that’s where the illusion of control breaks,” he said, pacing slowly in front of the whiteboard. “The characters think they’re above their desires, but desire always wins in the end. It’s what makes the story human.”

୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧ What choice would Izzy make when her two worlds finally collided?

Some stories started with hate. This one ended with everything.

The Taboo Chronicles is a curated collection of dark, twisted, and unapologetically erotic stories designed to push the boundaries of conventional desire. From the sacred halls of a silent church to the high-stakes shadows of obsessive power plays, these stories explore the raw, unyielding side of human hunger. Whether it’s the thrill of a secret shared in the dark or the surrender of a soul to a dominant force, nothing is off-limits.

The idea of me helping Sarah conceive, of sharing my seed with another woman under my wife's blessing, was a taboo that had turned my blood into liquid fire. Lillian pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes, her gaze predatory and hungry. She didn't say a word at first; instead, she slid her hand down the front of my boxers, her fingers curling around the thick length of my cock. I groaned, my hips instinctively arching into her touch. She began to stroke me, a slow, rhythmic glide that made my toes curl.

I have tried to seduce Lena countless times, but she always shyly pulled away like she was scared of getting tainted by me. I wanted to break that innocence. I wanted to hear her scream out my name in pleasure while I pounded her from behind as her huge tits bounced from the impact. I have envisioned this fantasy so hard that thinking about it made my dick twitch in my pants painfully. I fantasized about how warm her tight cunt would feel when I was balls deep inside her. How it would feel like when I fucked her mouth while those innocent brown orbs looked up to me like I was her salvation. And I would worship her like the goddess she was, if only she would give me a chance.

Months slipped by like smoke. Winter came and went, then spring bled into summer, but nothing changed between them. The apartment stayed the same size—too small for secrets—but the heat between Lena and Kai only grew thicker, heavier, more constant. They didn’t date. They didn’t fight. They just fucked. A lot. Often. Whenever the urge hit, which was basically always.