Pure Taboo Homeless Novels & Stories

“Here? But… someone could see. We could be caught.” “Let them,” he said, his voice a low, cruel purr, a terrifying, thrilling prospect. “Let them see what a filthy little slut you are. Let them see who you belong to. Let them see the power I have over you, the power to make you fuck me in public, like a common whore.”

I cried out as one of the scavengers made to open it. They all looked hungry and dirty, definitely street kids, it was now it actually dawned on me where I was. THE NARROWS... I've heard a lot about this place on the news, it's like a refugee camp for homeless kids or orphans, because the social services in this town couldn't care less about the well fare of homeless kids. But I also heard one time that their territory had some degree of protection, but the juveniles usually get arrested a lot. "Hey have you guys seen this?, I took it off an old man's cart down the road." Some boy in a torn hoodie came around the corner with a newspaper in his hand.

I'd never cared about privacy before my Descent—it's hard to care about such things when you are psychically connected to all your family members—but here in the mortal realm, where such privileges were very much necessary, I found myself irritated that we didn't have a home. It's not like angels came down or fell with any type of money. We were never born in the traditional sense, so it's not like we had ID or birth certificates or anything necessary to start a life here. That's why we were often homeless drifters, relying upon the charities of others when we did come down. It wasn't so bad, being transient offered a type of invisibility that helped to hand-wave our more fantastical contrib

"I don't like this." The people around us have me on edge and I'm tempted to keep my hand on my wallet. Although I don't consider myself in any way 'soft', having Michael's solid figure beside me is settling. No-one would pick a fight with him without thinking seriously about the possible consequences. Although this is a main street, the homeless stretch out on cardboard 'mattresses', cradling bottles; the sting of meths in the eyes and nostrils as we pass by. Broken glass and needles lie unwarded on dirty flags. Benches are graffitied or vandalised.

"Security!" "We don't need security," Jessica adds smugly. "They're leaving." "You're really going to throw us out?" I ask incredulously. "Without even giving us a chance?" "A chance to what?" Mrs. Whitmore actually laughs cruely. "Sweetheart, I can spot a broke person from a mile away. You and your homeless friend can take your poverty act somewhere else. This is a place for real customers, not charity cases playing dress-up." The words hit like a slap.

Someone managed to click a picture of them kissing. "Fuckkkk". He cussed under breath. He looked for more and found someone blackmailing Zee to expose those pictures in return of some confidential information. That stated, it wasn’t only about money. ---- Tabby

How pitiful! She is literally homeless!

Maybe they simply knew that complaining was pointless—those two were incurable. Martin and Sabrina continued like that. Without labels. Without romantic promises. Just the certainty that, as long as they lived side by side, the low wall would never be an obstacle. They just had to jump. And every time one of them jumped, the other was already wet, hard, or open, waiting to be used. They were neighbors. They were addicts. They were eternal. And in Nova Lima, Minas Gerais, the sounds of wet pussy, violated ass, throat being fucked, and dirty moans continued to echo between the two houses… for a very, very long time.

I'd priced it low and included all the furniture, so the buyers barely hesitated before signing the contract. The money hit my account that same day. They'd be moving in within a week. After I hung up, relief washed over me. On social media, Emily posted what felt like 800 photos a day showing off their vacation. I scrolled past images of oceanfront hotels and trendy Instagram spots, feeling nothing. "Life is a vast wilderness," her caption read. I casually liked the post and looked at the zeros in my bank account. In a couple more days when they got back, their life would feel pretty barren.

The same man who had once threatened to arrest Lucy at all costs for fucking, broke down in tears right there in the hallway. “We don’t have a warrant,” Officer Brown choked out, voice thick with emotion. “But my daughter was recently diagnosed with Wet Pussy Syndrome too. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay. God, the way my girl screams at night. The pain she’s in. Always begging for dick. I know what this family is going through. That's all. I mean no harm."