Short Stories For Adults Novels & Stories

Until now, strange short stories had only very short stories. But from volume two I intend to add stories that have 10 to 20 captains as well. These stories are not so long nor have so much visibility as a separated book. For this reason, I decided to move all then into strange short stories, that is already a storybook of different themes.

it was an erotic story ,titled the hot kidnapper) I raise an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in my eyes. I push off from the desk and walk closer, my heels clicking on the floor. “A story, huh? You think you can just walk in here and write a tale for me? How about you show me what you’re made of first? Tell me, what’s your fantasy? What gets you going in the dark?” I lean in, my breath warm against your ear, my large breasts pressing against your arm. (Pushing the paper to you I ask you to read it aloud ,you cheeks turn a faint red as you try to explain you brought the wrong story,I press a finger to your lips shushing you and telling you to read, you read it all)

I felt my pussy contract at his words, grasping at something that wasn’t there yet I desperately craved. “Just focus on the stars, baby.” he licked up and down my neck while his fingers finally parted my folds, finding my clit. He rubbed the bundle of nerves until I shook. I stared up at the ceiling as shooting stars and comets zipped by. I felt myself getting close, as if I could join those heavenly bodies up in the sky.

"Did you crawl out of a sewer on the way in? This is a Fortune 500 company, not a bus terminal bathroom." "I had car trouble, Mr. Graham. And then a shoe incident. And then a puddle..." "I don't pay you for your tragic life story, Wanda," he cut in, slamming his tablet onto the desk. "I pay you to function. Bare minimum expectations. Coffee that's hot. Bagels that aren't stale. You failed at both. Congratulations." "I'm sorry, I—"

Hi, everyone! This is Curvy Writes, and first things first: I need to take a deep, dramatic bow and then just collapse on the nearest couch. Because, people, we did it! I just want to say a massive, soul-hugging, confetti-tossing THANK YOU to every single one of you who has been reading my short story, "In Her Skin." Seriously, from the bottom of my slightly exhausted but extremely grateful heart, thank you. You guys have been the absolute best audience a writer could ask for.

~ Shine ~ I’m Shine, a 25-year-old woman who hasn’t had a stable income for the past two years. And honestly… I needed money. Badly. My rent was due in two weeks. My car had just broken down. And the small part-time job at the café? It wasn’t even close to enough. I was barely surviving at this point. So when the agency called with a last-minute tutoring gig for an eighteen-year-old boy who needed help with literature and history, I jumped at it. Two hours a day, and I will be working five days a week, and damn, they pay well. It sounded perfect.

’ She giggled and kissed his nose, ‘Well I’m quite sure the Brothers Grimm, never meant the Big Bad Wolf to marry Little Red Riding Hood, did they? The End

"Oh, your cheek doesn't look as bad as I thought." "Really? Thank the heavens. Do you think Aunt Autumn will notice?" "Probably not. Is she gonna be home today?" "I don't think so. She usually comes home after two days or more." "Then do you wanna stay over?" "That's pretty sudden. Why the invite?" He scratched the back of his head and avoided eye contact. "I thought I should probably tell you about the guy from earlier." He said. "It's gonna be a long story, so..." "...What?"

It doesn't help that we just had to turn the clocks back an hour for daylight saving, so now it’s already dark at five o’clock in the evening. Jon's Auto Shop is one of only two shops in the small town of Randleman, North Carolina. This is where I grew up and have lived my entire life. I want to leave, but I have nothing to leave for. I'm twenty-three, 5'5" with shoulder-length golden brown hair and hazel eyes. I'm not bad to look at in my opinion, but when all the eligible bachelors are men you've grown up with, it kind of decreases the options in the dating pool.

] The calls and messages between Conrad and me had now turned into those between Horace and me. Though Horace was sick and didn't talk much. He didn't reply to this message. Not long after, a popular drama suddenly appeared online. A nobleman was saved by an orphaned girl and secretly vowed to marry her. But the orphan girl was from a poor family, and the nobleman came from a prestigious family, so the marriage was forbidden. Of course, in the end, they broke through societal norms and lived happily ever after. At the conclusion of the show, the nobleman spoke passionately, "What does it matter if you're a commoner? Why can't a commoner be the head of the family? A gentleman always repays ki