Smutty Book Pages Novels & Stories

Then my fingers brushed a book I was unfamiliar with. I slid the book forward, its spine bare, leather worn smooth by long-forgotten hands. The pages resisted, then sighed open in a cloud of dust. The script was older, the ink a dull copper in the lamplight. And at the top of one page, the words struck me like a heartbeat: The Trial of Flame.

Set it on the table and opened to the section where pages had been torn out. Four pages. Gone. Removed with surgical precision. I ran my fingers along the ragged edges still clinging to the binding. The paper was not yellowed like the rest of the book. Not aged. The tears were clean. Recent. Very recent. I pulled the lamp closer. Examined the binding. There. At the base of the torn section. A fragment. So small I had missed it the first time. A corner of a page that had not completely pulled free. I used my fingernail to carefully extract it. The fragment was maybe an inch square. Most of it blank. But in the corner. A few words visible in that same ancient script.

I asked myself as I opened the first page, it wasn’t right but I was doing it anyway. “If lost please return to this number, 047xxxxxxxxx,” she has very cute handwriting, she drew cute stickers on the note too, and decorated her name boldly on it, I held the book closer to my nose, and I could still perceive her scent on the book, and it smells nice. “What is wrong with me?” I asked myself as I flipped the book.

“My pussy is dripping at work. I need you so bad.” “Please baby… just one quick visit?” His replies were short and frustrating: “Miss you too. Work is killing me. Soon.” By the third night, I was losing control. After my shift, I skipped dinner and went straight to bed. I stripped completely naked, my skin flushed with heat. I positioned the full-length mirror at the foot of the bed so I could watch myself like a desperate slut. Legs spread obscenely wide, I worked three fingers in and out of my soaked pussy while my thumb circled my swollen clit. I was dripping everywhere juices running down my ass and staining the sheets.

Probably the sea, by the smell of it. I do however, find the words “the ring”, the ink half-faded near the back of the book, and a few pages later, two pages which have become stuck together. Carefully, I slip my fingernail into the top corner, and then gently peel the pages apart. A single entry has escaped the ravages of the ocean. The writing is thin and looping, and unmistakably gran’s. My heart hammers in my chest as I read. 2nd February, 1959

Unlock it, and the empty pages shall be filled for you to read. I stare at the words for a long time. Read them again. And again. “What does that even mean,” I mutter under my breath. Within me. Unlock it. Empty pages. I flip to the next page. Blank. The one after that. Blank. I start flipping faster now. Page after page after page, all clean, untouched, mocking me with their silence. No hidden ink. No symbols. No diagrams. Nothing. Just white paper. My grip tightens on the book until my knuckles ache.

~Kyle The book didn’t look like much at first to be honest. If anything, it looked too old and too pathetic to carry any useful information. The pages were yellowed, the cover half-eaten by time and maybe rats, and the spine crackled every time I turned a page. Nothing screamed forbidden in this book—but then again, the real ones never did.

I groaned deeply, one hand gently threading into her bun, not forcing, just guiding. “That’s it,” I rasped. “Just like that, baby. Use your tongue.” She moaned around me, the vibration shooting straight to my balls. She took more of me, bobbing her head slowly, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked. Saliva dripped down my shaft as she worked me, her hands stroking what she couldn’t fit in her mouth. Her glasses fogged slightly. Her bun was coming loose. She looked utterly debauched, an innocent librarian, I guessed on her knees with a stranger’s cock in her mouth, and it was the hottest thing I had ever seen.

Lord Yong opened the book and started looking for the antidote to break the curse. He continued to turn page after page with a menacing taste of what's to come. The front page of the book was dark and coarse, the pages had turned yellowish. Spells and amendments were written on each page of the book. The pages of the book are said to be made of vellum of animals.

One, matches the color of the moon. I carefully open it and immediately note how frail the pages are, it's clearly old. A burst of impatience seems to rip through me and I bring up the bulk of the book’s pages and flick to the end. I stop with about a quarter of the book left, since it isn’t completely filled out. There’s a list of names, going back hundreds of years.