Slipstream Fiction Novels & Stories

The Vanguard-01 did not travel through space; it tore through the fabric of reality itself. In the hyper-spatial slipstream, the universe was no longer a vast emptiness of stars and silence. It was a kaleidoscope of bruised violets, screaming oranges, and the long, streaking lines of data-light that formed the "Under-Grid." Inside the ship, the gravity felt thick and liquid, as if the air had been replaced with mercury. For the crew of the Iron Vanguard, it was a period of sensory suppression. They stayed in their stasis pods, their human minds unable to process the non-linear physics of the slipstream. But for the Lanes, the jump was a homecoming.

Easy access. The whole Uber ride to the coffee shop, I kept my thighs pressed together, acutely aware of how wet I was, how exposed I felt. Every bump in the road made the friction unbearable. I wanted to slide my hand between my legs and finish what I'd started last night, but I didn't. He'd told me not to come. So I wouldn't. Good little slut. Following Daddy's orders. I arrived at Brew Haven ten minutes early and ordered a latte I didn't want, just to have something to do with my hands. The coffee shop was busy—businesspeople on laptops, students studying, couples on dates. Normal people doing normal things.

Her moist pussy, swollen pussy lips and sexy legs made my penis throb. The stair well is warm and clammy from a steam pipe hissing steam as I approached this goddess. The steam made her smooth skin glisten as beads of sweat cascaded down her skin. Her body jumps as I run my hands up her cafes, my breathe is short as I enjoy the feel of her softness.

His rolled up sleeves reveal the thick veins in his forearms, and the scent of him, that woodsmoke and sharp musk, seems to drift across the rows of desks, clogging my lungs. "Most writers fail because they are afraid to feel," Professor Tyler begins, his eyes snapping back to mine for a split second before moving on. "They describe a scene like a blueprint. But a story is not a blueprint. It is an experience. If you want your reader to bleed, you have to describe the coldness of the blade. If you want them to burn, you have to make them feel the heat of the skin."

I wаѕ, but not fоr thе rеаѕоn they thоught. THE END Thank you for joining me on this intense journey through Lost in Lust.️ If you enjoyed this story, I invite you to explore my other novel, “Wild Pleasure”️ A very sexual erotic novel. Nuzel.

I don’t think the sliding has ever gone away. I think it’s always been with me, since that day. But maybe I didn’t hear it, because in all my writing that got published, I wasn’t seeing . . . except for that first book, about Michael Lockenstein and really, THAT’s why I stopped writing the sequel to Shades of Darkness, because I had become too scared to see. But now . . . I need to see. Even if I really don’t want to. And when I write, things are quiet. Peaceful. But if I don’t write, if I dare skip an evening confessional with my iBook, I dream. Of horrible things sliding down the hall, toward my bedroom, shuffling, slithering, sliding . . .

Reality was worse than anything he'd imagined. … The sharp smell of antiseptic filled my lungs. I lay in bed, drifting in and out of awareness. "The patient has suffered a slight concussion and requires a 24-hour observation," said the doctor, but his voice sounded far away. I closed my eyes, my mind replaying that brutal night. I remembered the burglar's twisted face, the speeding car, and the deafening explosion. When I woke up again, the TV was talking about that incident. "A traffic accident involving a tanker truck and a private vehicle occurred on Goodrich Avenue last night. The collision triggered an explosion. A charred body was recovered from the car. Police believe the victim to be

’ Aarif thought to himself. “Aarif!” Shaan and Meeran cried out, they teleported to Aarif and brought him to the roof, laying him down and sitting beside him. Aarif was staring at the sky, at the comet now as big as a mountain, about to fall on Gulistan in five minutes. “What happened?” Shaan asked Aarif. “What did he do to you?” Meeran asked. “It’s all pointless,” Aarif answered numbly, “My revenge is pointless. None of this is real. We are all fictional.”

The kind that’s not going to tell you she washed her hair because it was covered in cum. My mind drifted back to last night or this morning, since I didn’t come back till 4am. I felt a sharp thrill as a memory of me riding a cock while the others feasted on my body, flashed through my mind. A small smile crept across the corners of my mouth. I still felt sore from all the places I had been ravished. A fantasy well lived…so much better than what I had imagined. I bet you’re wondering, how did I end up in a room with a bunch of strangers, living out my fantasy?

When I see Reese Chapman again, it is exactly three years after I sever our mate bond. It is also the third year since I completely seal my wolf and hide at the edge of the Shadow pack territory, living as an insignificant healer. Tonight, the air in the clinic feels heavy and icy under his overwhelming aura. He carries a lightly injured female companion in his arms and forcibly takes over the best VIP ward in the clinic. During my shift, he summons me three times through his guards. The first time, he coldly orders, "There are wolfsbane fragments on the bedsheets. Change them." I send an apprentice herbalist to handle it. Two hours later, he has a nurse relay another order. "The smell