Online Short Stories นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Intimate. “Shh.” One finger pressed against my lips. “No more talking unless I tell you to. We wouldn’t want security to hear the prim little library assistant moaning like a whore when they finally check the building.” The crude word sent a shameful thrill straight to my core. I was already wet, embarrassingly so, just from one kiss and the way he was looking at me like he planned to devour me slowly. He stepped back slightly, eyes never leaving mine, and reached for one of the leather-bound books on the nearby table. It was an old edition of The Decameron, Boccaccio’s tales of lust and sin during the plague. One of the restricted volumes he’d borrowed before.

Chapter 1 Elena’s POV. The bus was packed tight with evening commuters, bodies pressed together in the sweaty crush after a long hot day, and I sat there in my short sundress with no panties underneath because the thrill of it had my pussy already slick and aching. There was no space left so I had to sit on this stranger’s lap, my bare ass cheeks resting right on his thick thighs while the bus rumbled through traffic and every bump made my wet cunt slide against the growing bulge in his pants.

Cora’s POV. “SMACK!” My skin sizzled from the impact of Ace's spank. I couldn't hold back the helpless moan escaping my lips. His palm grabbed onto the seam of my bum shorts, and he pulled it really hard, letting the fabric sit tightly between my folds. It felt so teasing, so hot, and my clit throbbed in response to the friction. “The way those pretty pink lips of yours fall out of your shorts is quite the sight. I wonder what they'll look like by the time I'm done fucking you,” he growls, now pulling the seam of my shorts back and forth.

Sleep shorts and panties were tugged down next—kicked into the shadows. Naked now, skin on skin, they pressed together—breasts flattening against each other, nipples brushing, sending sparks straight to their cores. Harper’s hand slid between Mia’s thighs—found her already soaked—two fingers gliding through slick folds, circling her clit in slow, teasing strokes. Mia bit her lip hard—trying not to moan. “Inside,” she whispered. “Please.” Harper pushed two fingers in—slow, deep—curling them upward to stroke that spongy spot. Mia’s hips bucked; her breath hitched. Harper added a third—stretching her—pumping steadily while her thumb rubbed tight circles on Mia’s clit.

Tara, a 28-year-old artist with a wild mane of chestnut curls and a body that curved in all the right places lived in a tiny run-down apartment in the city, and her bed, a sagging mattress pushed against the far wall was a tangle of mismatched sheets. And the thin walls of the apartment did little to contain all her loud, uninhibited moans that spilled out during her nightly self-pleasure sessions, a habit that had earned her raised eyebrows and whispered gossip from her neighbors.

A gift for all my slow romance erotica lovers, a short story from: dividing and conquering the professor I,II,III Lily's POV With my tongue tucked in my cheeks, I press the new toy against my pussy wall and the strong vibration causes my body to shake. “Ahh…” the small whimper that slips out, bounces off the bathroom wall. Biting my lips and pressing my thighs together only makes my moans come out louder. It's been too long since I got fucked, too long that a vibrator feels like paradise to me at the moment.

Well, I can't fuck myself, someone has to do the fucking" I replied. He chuckled. I returned to his cock, sucking like a slut in heat. I made sexual sounds to excite him; years of watching p**n and reading erotic stories had taught me that men love hearing erotic moans from women, even if they are just for effect, not because my pussy is actually getting stimulated. The New York best selling romantic novels were my best companions during my college days.

"Say it. What do you want?" His hand grabbed one of my breasts and fumbled with the nipple. "I want... it," I breathed out, biting my lip. "You want what?" he asked, his finger still deep inside me. My whole body was shaking from the sensation. I could feel my orgasm building up. "I want your finger inside me," I said. "Good girl. I will finger your little pussy so deep, Sara." And he did. ⸻ "Good morning, Sara." A yawning Layla walked into the kitchen. I gave her a look. "Good morning, sleepyhead. You sleep like a corpse."

I was left standing alone in the darkness of the night like a clown that no one cared about. I made an appointment for an abortion on my phone. Then, I turned to leave. I'd spent the past 15 years trying and failing to win Benjamin's heart. If that was the case, I didn't want it anymore. It was late at night when I returned to the nearest town. I got a room at a hotel and drifted off into a restless sleep. In the wee hours of the morning, I was jolted awake by the ringing of my phone. My superior at the TV station sounded anxious yet excited. "I heard a 5.3-degree earthquake happened at the old settlement near your location. You need to head there immediately to get the latest scoop!"

One would think her humorous tales were just for laughs or to pad the word count, but by the conclusion, it became evident that she was laying out foreshadows throughout. While working on her first novel, "Mizzy" also wrote several short pieces, each around two thousand words, which she simultaneously published on ScribeSphere and shared on social media platforms. These bite-sized stories, light-hearted and humorous in tone, could be devoured in mere minutes. Their appeal was evident when they were repeatedly shared across platforms, gaining her a good number of followers. However, many read her short stories without noting the author behind them, completely unaware of "Mizzy."