Short Criminal Stories Novels & Stories

Jennifer: Shrug emoji. I decided to take a different tack. This time, rather than pick safe, general stories, I chose a bunch of different categories and sent my favorites from each. One was romantic, about a couple falling in love. The next was about a wife who sleeps with another man. Another had a husband bringing in his best friend for a threesome. I chose one that had some bondage (not my thing, but I picked a story that was highly rated). I sent a Lesbian story and a Gay male one (again, I relied on the ratings). I linked a story about watching two people have sex in the woods, and one about a girl riding a sybian for the first time. I skipped two categories: nonconsent and incest. As

Emma checked her phone again. 11:37 PM. The pizza delivery was already twenty minutes late, and the three girls in her off-campus apartment were getting restless. “Fuck it, I’m starving,” Emma muttered, adjusting her tiny black booty shorts that barely covered her round ass. She was 24, curvy with full tits and a fat ass, wearing only a thin white crop top with no bra. Her two roommates — Mia (22, petite Asian with perky tits) and Zoe (23, athletic blonde with long legs) — were dressed similarly: tiny shorts and tank tops, bored and horny after a night of drinking and complaining about guys.

Juliette had heard these horror stories from the previous receptionist. As she got closer to the door, she heard a thud as if he had thrown his shoe at the wall. He threw things, but most often his shoes, she’d learned. She bit her lip at the thought that at least it wasn’t an employee’s head. In the brief silence that followed the thud, she slowly opened the door to his office. He was still on the phone and beckoned her to enter. She shut the door behind her and began to lay out the lunch that she had brought on the long table mostly covered in papers by his desk.

“Where is the fun in that?” “It’s not supposed to be fun,” I snapped, my heart hammering against my ribs. “You are supposed to be repentant. To change your ways.” “And the other day, there were two men,” she whispered. There were rattling sounds as she leaned closer. I could smell her vanilla perfume. “I was on fire that night; I had a lot to drink before. You see, these men were special, VIP. They paid for me and I gave them a darn good show. I had on my favorite gold bikini set. It’s basically a strip of clothing; doesn’t cover anything—”

The above sentences are the thoughts of the author about what he thinks, but it is my duty to tell all the things he has in his mind. The space science and the beginning of the human era, why I always talk about the past, why I'm interested in the dead stories, why I tell a tale of another time, why I don't like the present and, also why I'm not narrating about those dumbasses who were about to close the mysterious case of random killing by an unidentified criminal (creature)? You might have so many questions and confusions about the fact that I puzzle a simple story in what we call a Riddle…? But you can still believe in me that I'll give you a gift tomorrow.

I collapsed onto my back, my chest heaving, one forearm slung over my eyes to block out the dim glow from the city lights through the blinds. “Fuck,” I whispered to the dark ceiling. Seven months. It had been seven months since a man had touched me. The last one—Mark, the architect with the nice smile and wandering hands—had lasted three dates before he “realized he wasn’t ready for commitment.” Translation: he’d met someone easier. Before him there was Daniel, who cried after sex because he missed his ex. Before that, Ethan, who ghosted me after I mentioned wanting kids someday. The pattern was exhausting.

His body, which I knew from the look of it was hard, was perfectly defined in his white sando. When the bell rang, I groaned in frustration. That was already two hours? That wasn’t enough! I want to watch him more in this state, fantasize how rough he is on bed, and how good he is a fucker. I could say that that was the shortest two hours of my life. “Hello, Lila! Finally you answered your phone. I’ve been calling you for almost an hour now.” Mira, the landlady of the dorm I was bedspacing at, loudly said in my phone.

The lean one fisted my ass while the tall one fucked my pussy, the tattooed one jerking off, cumming on my stomach. “More,” I begged, and they obliged, lifting me into a standing 69, the tall one eating my cunt while I sucked him, the lean one fucking my ass, the tattooed one tit-fucking me again. The jungle echoed with our cries, cum and sweat mixing, until I collapsed, spent but craving. Chapter Three – Untamed Union

When S*x Duty Calls ~★My Hot, Cold Corporal★~ {Warning! Brutal S*x Ahead} ****** This crime locale was sophisticated from any other. Even as we matched behind the billboard to where the abhorrent event had transpired, our countenances enunciated the solemnity of the criminality. Admittedly, I hadn't worked with this bully–looking corporal quite enough, but one thing inarguably: I was dying of tempting him someday.

What she said made Daisy eyes widened in surprise. If truly she had destroyed the fake book, where then is the real one? And who has it? She thought to herself, ignoring the fight going on round her. ___ killing off the Ninja's that came with Craig wasn't as easy as they had thought. But Paul got the upper hand, his Samurai's were Immortals that can never die. When Philly saw that Samurai's can't die and how fast they were, he instructed his Nine Fingers to Protect Nora and leave the fight for the Samurai's.