Sleepy Stories For Adults 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

Within minutes, his breathing evened out into the deep, heavy rhythm of sleep. I lay awake for a long time, feeling the sore, used ache in my ass, listening to him breathe. The secret wasn’t a secret anymore. It was a tangible, throbbing memory in my body. When I woke, dawn was filtering through the blinds. John was asleep on his stomach, one arm flung out, the sheet tangled around his waist. His back was a landscape of muscle, and below… his ass. Round, perfect, untouched. A new, darker hunger uncoiled inside me. He took me. Now I want to take him.

He finished inside her, groaning quietly as his cum flooded her again. Elena became addicted to the danger and the pleasure. Every Thursday she grew wetter just walking into the library. She started touching herself lightly in class while looking at Roman. Her pussy stayed constantly sensitive. She loved the way her ass stung after his spankings. She loved feeling his cum leak out of her for hours afterward.

Michael did the same, lying on my other side, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me into a tangle of limbs and sweat. I could feel it everywhere. My body felt used in the most perfect ways, my skin tingling, my heart racing. Michael’s hand found mine, interlacing our fingers as his thumb stroking my skin. "Now let's sleep," he whispered. "We will go two rounds before we go to work tomorrow morning." I smiled, feeling a sense of peace settle over me. "You see," Divine said, reaching over to stroke my hair, "just let us know from now on if you need to cum, you don't have to be bothered when you have us here."

After the Thanksgiving dinner, we all retired to bed. ‎I shifted in Juliet's bed, waiting for Juliet to fall asleep deeply so that I could crawl to her mother's bed. My cock is rock hard just from the thought of fucking my girlfriend's mom tonight. ‎I can't stop imagining my hands all over Juliet's mom's body, my face buried in between her legs, or cock buried deep inside her cunt. ‎After making sure Juliet had fallen deeply asleep, I snuck out of her room and tiptoed down the hallway to her mother's room. I stopped in front of the closed door, wrapped my hand on the doorknob with my cock throbbing and straining my pants.

What I found was a world of explicit, detailed stories about aunts and nephews. Stories of seduction, of secret affairs, of dominant young men and submissive older women. I read one, then another. My face grew hot, my breathing shallow. Without even consciously deciding to, my hand slipped under the waistband of my linen trousers, my fingertips finding my clit, already sensitive from last night. The stories were graphic, filthy, and utterly compelling. They painted pictures of aunts who were initially reluctant but secretly hungry, who were awakened by their nephew's bold desire. They talked about submission, about being called names, about the thrill of the forbidden.

I’m going to take a small, well-deserved nap, but I’ll be back with new stories and new characters to obsess over soon enough. Have fun, enjoy the final read, and I'll catch you all later! — Curvy Writes

I said to myself. I began to yearn for a comfy moment. I walked back to my sofa, laid on it and I covered my body with the bedspread. My eyelids were closed but they couldn't measure with my reality. I lost my sleep, I opened my eyes, glued my eyes to the ceiling and I began to smile as I whispered, “night stories will be awesome” I called out. I stood up with no direction of what to do but my heart rumbled. I walked into my slippers, opened the door and stepped out

he said softly. He sat on the edge of the bed, his voice low and steady as he began. The story wasn’t anything complicated. Just something simple. Something about a wolf who got lost and found his way back home. But the way he told it— The way the kids listened— It did something to the room. Something I wasn’t ready to name. By the time he finished, all three of them were asleep. Peacefully. Together. I stood there for a moment, watching them. Then turned.

Then, in a low, even voice, she began telling stories. She told five. Thomas didn't seem remotely sleepy. In the past, by the third story, Theo would already have been asleep. But she knew better than to compare Thomas to him. Thomas's insomnia ran deep; his body and mind refused to rest easily. Patient as ever, Sharon kept going. She had prepared around thirty bedtime stories that night. If none of them worked, she would simply try another approach tomorrow. But the truth was—she hadn't slept much the night before, keeping vigil over him. Now, lulled by her own soft cadence and the drowsy pull of her words, she began to nod off mid-sentence.