Religious Stories Novels & Stories

Sarah’s hand lazily traced circles on my stomach, her full breasts pressed against my side. But the hunger in her eyes hadn’t faded. “Not done yet, baby girl,” she whispered, leaning over to kiss me deeply. Her tongue claimed my mouth as her hand slid down to cup my mound, two fingers slipping easily into my drenched cunt. I moaned into the kiss, hips twitching. Jake watched us with dark eyes, slowly stroking himself back to full hardness. “You two are insatiable.” Sarah smiled against my lips. “Watch this.” She rolled me onto my back and climbed on top in a perfect sixty-nine, her thick ass and dripping pussy hovering right above my face. “Let’s show your stepbrother how Mommy and daughter

There was one solitary, big book on a low table between them. "The title of the tale is The Binding of Autumn," he began, his voice an entrancing whisper just in harmony with the shriek of the fire. “It's the tale of a harvest god who offers a mortal woman a choice: one night of absolute freedom for one year of unimaginable riches for her people." He didn't move as his eyes met hers. "The consent is the matter at hand. It must be freely bestowed, not coerced, and whispered three times into the skin of his throat." “Do you have any idea what sort of story you're going to be reading me tonight?”

he asked. She thought for a second. “Ones that have happy endings.” “A romantic?” he asked. She never considered herself one. “I like noir—but the stories where the boy gets the girl in the end. Or vice versa.” “Top shelf,” he told her, indicating the back room. She went there and waited. What if he followed? What would that mean? She’d been out of the dating loop since she’d landed her current job, the one that had sucked up all her time, her mind, her soul, her life. Her fingers trailed over the broken spines of misused paperbacks, and she hoped he would follow her. But what would she say? What would she do?

'Myths are different than fairy tales or legends. Legends are stories based in history and are more or less true. Myths, on the other hand, are stories containing a deeper truth—stories that transcend time. If you were to travel the world, you would find myths that are remarkably similar to one another—stories of heroes fighting the darkness with the light.' ❤❤❤❤ ☀️MY RAE OF LIGHT (Part Two) ☀️ ❤❤❤❤

Gabriel would kill me if he knew. “Well there are a lot of myths and stories told for so many generations and cultures I’d like to believe those kinds of things are true. There are dragon stories from Chinese mythology and then you have the medieval knights fighting dragons. Sometimes I wish I was there to witness for myself what these people were actually seeing for those kinds of myths to told for so long. It’s very interesting.”

In this story I didn't create the names of the characters, the places used, even the dead people with the intention of hurting anyone. Neither do I want to hurt any religion or belief in the story. And I respect every faith. I truly believe in Jesus and I know the most about that religion, so if I talk about religion anywhere in the story, I will only use the teachings of Christianity. I will not give false testimony of my God anywhere through this story. I have said that all this is just a part of my imagination, so do not accept any miracle told in this story as true at all. I do not participate in the sin of perjury, nor do I ensure the participation of anyone.

We must always be thankful for this day, for it symbolizes the birth of our kind. The story had me enthralled. The hairs along my arms stood on end. I was now a part of this legacy, and would stand by Caleb's side as his Luna — his equal. Just as I had been taught the story of Christ from a young age, the Moon Story was Caleb's religion. I could see the devout faith mirrored in everyone’s eyes. They believed in their Goddess, vehemently. Werewolves existed … so I had no reason to disbelieve that she did too.

Talk of ‘spirits separated from their bodies’ reminded him of Ashkan and the ruined remains of the other men. “All myth starts as story,” said the driver. “Sometimes we call the story history, sometimes religion, eventually it all becomes myth. Beneath every myth is an ancient tale, a hidden belief that gives shape and form to every god that’s ever received a prayer on a dark and lonely night.” “Okay, now you’re getting wa-ay deep. Does this ‘ancient belief’ have a name then?” “It’s had many names, in every language ever spoken. Some call it ‘the Oldest Truth,’ others—the ‘Faith that Came before Man.’”

Someone else crossed themselves with a gesture from the old religion, then seemed to realize and drop their hand, embarrassed. Rin didn’t let herself glance away. “You’ve heard enough of my family’s story,” she went on. “You know what almost happened to my mother. Some of you have told that story yourselves, to your pups, to each other. As warning. As comfort. As…myth.” There were nods. A few faces tightened—wolves old enough to have been there or close. “For some people,” Rin said, “that story got twisted. They heard ‘a girl almost died on a rock’ and thought what was important was the _rock._ They heard ‘peace was bought without her blood’ and decided that meant something was _owed._”

Instead, we understood more deeply: Privacy security is important; The law is the most reliable protection; Trust and communication are more important than anything in marriage; Real life never needs inappropriate subtext or messy drama. Decency, steadiness, and peace are the greatest happiness. Occasionally, when I see the long-handled grabber by the bed, I remember that afternoon I was stuck under the bed. I originally only wanted to retrieve a small anniversary gift, but in the end, I unexpectedly found the most precious things in marriage: unreserved trust, the courage to face together, and plain stability. No inappropriate implications, no suggestive subtext, no messy drama—only an ordi