Short Short Christmas Stories Novels & Stories

“Pretty much all my life. Hell, I don’t even like to drive in them. I’ll pull over on the side of the road and wait it out.” There was a growing silence between them, but I looked into Remy’s eyes. They were sympathetic yet deep, soulful brown eyes that sparkled behind his glasses. I hadn’t noticed that before. A loud boom shook the windows, and I pulled the covers up to my neck. “What would Nathan do when it stormed?” I smiled. “He’d wrap his legs around me and hold me.” I giggled as I thought about Nathan’s dick usually poking me in the ass and one thing leading to another.

My name was Giselle Sutton, and I had carried myself with a demure and refined demeanor ever since I was a child. No one knew the truth—that I desperately lusted after men. Although I was the campus belle, I only started dating my first boyfriend, Blake Finch, when I was about to graduate because of my parents' strict rules. The atmosphere during Christmas Eve was perfect. Blake brought me back to his rented apartment, wanting to give me an unforgettable first time. I pretended to be reserved, but in reality, I was already brimming with impatience.

Lowering myself to her level, I held her shoulders gently and brushed a strand of hair from her face. “No,” I said softly. “No, honey. You just had a nightmare. That’s all.” She didn’t look convinced. “Mummy has no reason to hurt Daddy,” I added quickly. “I’ll be back soon. And guess what? We’re spending Christmas here with Grandma and Uncle Elliot.” Her face lit up instantly. “Yeah.” “I’m just going to get a few things for Christmas,” I said. “I’ll be back.” I turned away before she could ask anything else.

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

And remember, beneath the fiery heat of desire, there beats a heart that craves love, understanding, and connection. Thank you for joining me on this journey. I can't wait for you to experience the magic of the Spicy One-Shot Collection. With love and passion, Unusualdee Passion Pages “Passion Pages isn't just any reflection journal; it’s a powerful tool for those who wish to accept their sensuality.” — Unusualdee. After diving into this collection of short erotic stories, you absolutely need to grab the reflection journal designed to process all those swirling emotions and tantalizing thoughts that spring up while reading!

Pinky squinted to read it, her eyes tracing the loops and crosses. "Collection of short stories for ladies," the title read. "Stories of desire, of awakening, of the first time." Pinky blinked, her eyes widening as she read on. The handwriting was feminine, secretive, as if the writer were sharing her most guarded thoughts with only the pages. It was a confession. A revelation. As she began to read.

he says and I shake my head, refusing his threats. “Or…” he says and takes his hands completely off of me. He opens the book and flip through slowly, his fingers teasing the edge of the white pages the way I wish he would tease my hard nipples. I press my legs together, looking for a way to keep down my lust and the crazy thoughts as a drop of juice slides out of my pussy lips into the lady panties I have on. “Or…” he says again and runs his finger down the page of my last writing. Tomorrow morning is Christmas morning.

Chapter Three – Haven’s Hearth The Ember Haven transformed into a haven of shadows and warmth as the night deepened, the fireplace embers glowing softly, their light casting a tender glow over the rug where we lay entwined. My body was a map of Jake’s desire—bruises on my hips and thighs, bite marks on my chest, cum and sweat coating my skin—yet the hunger within me raged, a primal need fueled by our unrelenting passion. Jake loomed over me, his breath heavy, cock hard again, eyes locked on mine with a fierce devotion, ready to culminate the haven in a hearth of flesh and spirit. The cabin thrummed with the energy of our shared taboo, our friendship a sacred bond that tightened with each tou

Killian immediately shrugged out of his jacket and draped it around her shoulders, and she pulled it tight around herself, breathing in his scent. "I loved Christmas here," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It was—they made it so special. So magical. Mrs Morales would start decorating the day after Thanksgiving. She had made us all hot chocolate and put on Christmas music–Mary's Boy Child by Bonney M precisely, and we'd spend the whole day turning the house into something out of a Hallmark movie. And Mr Morales, he'd read us the Christmas story every single night in December, counting down until the actual day. And Daryl would—" She couldn't finish. "I hated the smell of Christmas

I shrugged, reaching my thumb and index finger out to pick the cherry on top of the drink. "So, what's your name? Or should I just call you hot Bartender that I want to fuck?" I asked, bringing the chery to my mouth but I didn't eat it. "You are pretty blunt, huh." He chuckled lightly, tearing his eyes away from the cherry that was grazing my lips. "I get told that a lot. Now, tell me your name or would you rather I call you that?" I asked, inclining my head to the side. "Jax, you can just call me Jax." He responded.