Philosophy Stories 소설 & 이야기

This is a lesbian story of soaked panties, and pussy on pussy. ************ This happened a few weeks ago. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since. It’s been playing in my head, over and over, like my body needs to remember every second. I had to write it down. I had to let it live somewhere outside of me.

— Centuries later—though the word centuries has lost precision by now—a scholar writes: We mistake continuity for intention. The world does not persist because it is guided. It persists because it is shared. The essay is politely received and promptly ignored. It will be rediscovered later and praised for its foresight. The scholar will not be alive to appreciate this. — There is a tendency, when stories grow large, to search for a final meaning. A moral. A warning. A principle that can be extracted and applied like a tool. This story resists that impulse. Not out of cleverness.

My name is Joseph Cains. At the time of writing I was still a member of the University’s music club, and I had an enormous crush on a beautiful mixed-race girl who happened to come along to the same club. This story comes from halfway through the academic year, just before her grading test. She asked me to come to the lakeside after my classes to help her practice her throws and tumbles, and I, being a lovestruck fool, agreed. It was one of the best foolish decisions that I have ever made.

She has all the time in the world and seems to be on a one-woman mission to fill every second of it with garbage. One of QD's most recent hobbies is the collection of "emptistories," or "empty stories." These are essentially stock plots, removed from their characters and particulars. She secretly believes these emptistories will somehow give her an edge over the Creator God, though even she isn't sure of how exactly that might play out. This hobby is, in part, the primary reason that so many places and people have names from real-world fiction and myth, as she suggested them from material acquired from other dimensions.

A life spent looking backwards misses all the beauty that lies in front of it. Your parents aren’t perfect. You might have realize this. But you’re pretty darn smart. So, like I said before, we have to forgive ourselves or the coulda, woulda, shoulda, fear and anxiety will creep into a crack of our weaknesses, and overcome us. Please know we’re not perfect, and we will never claim to be. Our personal journeys have stories to tell. THAT’S for sure. When it comes time for stories, though, talk to me first… because chances are your father’s are going to be inappropriate. HA!

“You mean underground.” “No, just hidden, often in plain view. You just need to know where to look for them, what turnings to take. They’re still there, whenever you need to find them. Like really old stories that lie beneath the surface of the new ones. Giving them shape and form, drawing people back to them over the centuries.” “Wow, you’re quite a philosopher aren’t you?” The driver smiled and shook his head. “No, I spend a lot of time driving round with just myself for company. Gives you the space to do a lot of thinking, you know what I mean?”

Who knows what we'll run into? The End

Phil looked at the papers with strong interest since what he saw was straight-up weird. "Uhm, sir. Are all these studies about non-scientific beings?" "Good observation Phil. Yes, they are studies on different phenomenons that cannot be explained by our modern science." Seth smiled at Phil who was staring at the papers intently. "Here look" Pointing at a paper that was filled with text about ghosts. "The one you saw behind your classmate could be a ghost." Phil was filled with doubts as he stared at Seth who was smiling while presenting to him the paper about ghosts

A man hit by a car in New York in 1977 got up uninjured, but lay back down in front of the car when a bystander told him to pretend he was hurt so he could collect the insurance money. The car then rolled forward and crushed him I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon. You can send me your short stories for a feature if you feel like it. Thanks for reading. Enjoy!

Lila’s POV The university’s bell has finally rang after waiting for almost two hours for this boring subject. I never liked math. For me, that was the most boring subject ever. Numbers, after numbers, and then numbers again. Tsk tsk. All I want to learn is cocks and cocks and dick. Smirking at my own thoughts, I took all my things and immediately left our room. The next subject is my favorite one. Not because I actually love the subject, but because our Prof is so hot I want to bed him even for a night.