Prose Stories Novels & Stories

“But how do you want to portray the terms of progress in this?” “I wanted to show a picture of how the idea of storytelling began. It started in different parts of the world and established the commonalities of views in various segments. Stories were created as a product of imagination and vast knowledge. People liked stories because they always had a possible happy ending. It portrayed virtuous leads and ideal societies. With such different roots, stories evolved and today, we’ve come this far in literature because of the introduction of novels.” “That’s correct,” Brett said. “But don’t you think it would be a tiring task for us to clear the questions that would arise in terms of the subjec

Granny completed the story for us not minding my presence maybe cause am her in-law or just another way around. " So that's how you lied to us all" A young man walked in without a knock to give permission, he just made his way through the conversation.

Author's Note This book is a short compilation of erotic stories. Please note that not all entries are heavily erotic—some lean more toward emotional moments, dramatic tension, or character interaction. Also, 99% of these stories don’t follow a traditional plot, so don’t be confused if there's no clear beginning, middle, or end. They’re written more for mood, moments, and expression than full narratives. Enjoy the ride,no overthinking needed. 😉 ********************************************* Kael didn’t wait.

The poor man had been publicly humiliated, and as he was restrained and forced from the carriage, he’d turned to the apathetic onlookers and in a deep gravelly voice, and said, “What do you want from me? Just because you don’t want to see it, it doesn’t mean it’s not happening. I’m just going to be homeless somewhere else!” His words resonated with Celeste that night. She wondered where that man had slept, squirreled away out of sight and mind, in some decaying squat in the city, or in a multi-storey carpark that stunk of diesel and petrol fumes, the effluence of affluence.

His hands venture over her curved body, exploring. They pull apart and open their eyes. They stare at each other, deep into each other's eyes. Hussaini's full of wonder and love, Nafisa's full of curiosity and passion. No words are spoken but a story worthy of them is communicated. He leans in a softly kisses up and down her neck. She lets out little whimpers of anticipation. He works his way back to her tender, smooth lips. As they kiss she rolls him over and lies on top of his strong, muscular body.

The old woman shivered and held her paper bag close to her chest. “Can’t you hear me? "Keith exploded. “Please let me go. I have very less money and I’m a needy person. I have purchased my bread for tomorrow morning. Please have piety on me!” The old woman cried with teary eyes. “This is the last time I'm warning you to hurry up” Keith moved the knife closer to her face. The old woman took out her valet but kept it in her hand. “Please” The old woman begged. The tension between them increased and Keith pushed the old lady down the road and snatched her valet. He ran away as fast as he could and didn’t turn around.

He let out the friendliest of smiles, making Anderson very uncomfortable. Anderson stared back and forth between Suit and the scroll. His mind was racing. The contract sounded simple enough. Straightforward, but he did not understand. ‘What did he mean by survive the stories? Did he not say I was going to tell a story? What does survive the story mean?’ Question after question popped up into his head. He could not help himself. He had no idea exactly what it meant, but one thing was for certain; He would not move forward if he did nothing but constantly question the situation

I cut him off. "Then it's fine. Is there anything you wanna do? Do you have any homework?" "I do, but I didn't bring any of my stuff." In the end, we just decided to watch some movies. After our talk last night, I kinda felt awkward. We're closer now, right? I mean, he told me some stuff about himself, so wouldn't it be fair if I told him something about myself too? Still, I don't think it's really the right time. I need to find the perfect timing to tell him about my illness. It would be better if I were honest about only talking to him because he has colors.

For the past few weeks I had been completely obsessed with p**n. Not the soft, romantic stuff I used to watch with my husband Mark. No. I had fallen headfirst into the rawest, nastiest, most cliché videos I could find. The ones where a bored housewife gets absolutely destroyed by the plumber, the delivery guy, the pool boy, or any random stranger who shows up at the door while her clueless husband is somewhere else in the house. I could not stop thinking about it.

“I'd like that. I don't like the way my mus is staring at me. it's creepy.” I giggled softly. “Mum, Ade and I would like to be excused. We have a school project, so we would be going to my room. Can you please ask the maids to bring some snacks up to my room?” “Alright love. My eyes are on you guys.” Ade laughed. ✍︎✍︎✍︎✍︎ “Your mum is really funny.” “Yeah. I know right?” “I forgot to ask you something. What happened between Christabel and Jeff? It seemed as though they had some sort of bad blood between them.”