Short Fantasy Books Novels & Stories

I picked up the book but the words blurred after two pages. My body was too lazy and turned on to focus. My eyes grew heavy, the warmth making everything feel loose and heavy and I drifted off into a light doze my bare tits rising and falling with each slow breath my nipples still stiff and shiny from the lotion. I don’t know how long I was out but the next sound that cut through the quiet was the low slow creak of the shared fence gate opening. My eyes snapped open. Marcus stood there shirtless, his work jeans hanging low on his hips showing the deep lines of his abs and that trail of hair disappearing into his waistband.

I stood up and held the table's divider while looking over at the boy and girl that were about to drive me insane with their fornication in a prestigious place such as a library. Libraries were meant for smart people, brilliant people who were trying to embrace their full academic potential and become the next big person in history. Not for people who wanted the thrill of testing their ability to make out in silence and distracting the rest of the clearly sensible people. “Do you two mind? Some of us actually come here for important busin—” I stop halfway in my whispered complaint when my eyes landed on the boys huge veiny dick grabbed tightly in the brunettes fist. His hand was underneath h

You guys have been the absolute best audience a writer could ask for. If you've been around since the beginning, you know this "short story" had a little identity crisis. It started as a quick idea, a little spark, and then it just... kept growing. Like a very polite, very well-dressed monster that just wouldn't stop eating my brain cells. And now, here we are, at the final page. This book is done! And I’m going to be honest with you about the ending, particularly that final chapter. I know some of you might be thinking, "Curvy, what gives? Where was the last-minute spice? The grand finale hookup?"

I sat cross-legged on my living room floor, wearing nothing but an oversized black t-shirt that barely reached my thighs, my dark hair spilling loose over my shoulders. The air smelled of damp wood and the vanilla candle flickering on my coffee table, casting jittery shadows across the room. In my hands was a leather-bound book I’d picked up at a flea market that morning—an impulse buy, its pages yellowed and etched with strange symbols. I thought it was just some occult novelty, but boredom and the storm’s restless energy had me flipping through it, reading aloud words I didn’t understand.

Anya's P.O.V. "Are we ready to ride, ladies?" I ask the gang as we all start up our engines. We're an all-female biker gang of bunnies. Yes, I said bunnies, and I'm not talking about Playboy bunnies or Easter bunnies. We're bunny shifters, and we're all in our twenties. Our gang has dwindled in numbers because some of the women have found their mates, but there are still about twenty of us.

" I say with a bright smile. His face has a sudden look of shock, and I realize that with the bright morning sun on me, the damn nightdress is almost transparent! I step back into the shadow a bit as he stammers, "Morning Sharon, I... I'm sorry to bother you but... could I borrow um ... uh ...three eggs?" It's too late to run now. I smile sweetly, and say, "Why of course, but it's a little late for breakfast isn't it?" Of course I immediately notice he's only wearing a pair of cut-off shorts.

The library stood silent, its towering bookshelves casting long shadows under the dim overhead lights, a sanctuary of knowledge where I retreated to lose myself in words. I was introverted, my mind a labyrinth of intellect, but beneath my reserved exterior simmered a curiosity about my own hidden fantasies—erotic encounters in quiet, public spaces, a thrill I’d explored before with lovers past. My skirt brushed my thighs as I moved, a book in hand, the rustle of pages masking the quickening of my breath as I imagined being caught in passion here.

Hi, I will not say much. This is an erotic story that contains a mom/aunt/son. As you know, I write about Aunt/Mom’s stories. Please support me by reading my other stories, too. Also, you can support me on my P*****n: p*****n.com/laxu00 Story starts

She wanted everyone to know that while the holy Father was dead, the town harlot was very much alive. Beside her stood Ruth-Ann. At eighteen, she was a masterpiece of untapped potential. While her friends spent their weekends getting sweaty in the backseats of trucks, Ruth-Ann had remained a fortress. Even with her boyfriend, Dante Grimes, the school's golden boy, she felt nothing but polite boredom. She glanced at her phone, seeing his latest text: 'So what do you say? Are you in or not?' Of course she wasn't in. The thought of Dante's mouth on her pussy made her stomach turn with a dry, clinical distaste. Why would people partake in such a disgusting act?

One of Danny's first reading loves was in the horror genre, devouring Poe, King, Herbert and others as a child, and he has recently developed a side line in writing horror shorts for the author and compiler, Samie Sands, which he enjoys very much. Danny now lives in France, and his book, A Tale of Aquitaine, is part auto fiction, part fantasy, and about his life there caring for a disabled child. He is now working on a forthcoming novel entitled, Lala's Non-stop Erotic Cabaret, a story of sex, murder, and insanity..