Novel & Cerita Stories For Adults In English

“It is good to drink hot water when you’re ill,” Siddharth pursed his lips, he hated hot water, it was more tasteless than cold water, but he gulped down the entire cup Once done, he lay down and she dimmed the lights of the room and sat next to him, pressing his head “Samaira,” “Hmm,” “Tell me a story,” “What! Siddharth, are you a kid, why do you want to listen to a story? Only kids listen to it,” “Says who?, where is it written that only kids are eligible to listen to stories.. Why can’t adults not be entitled to it?, now quick, tell me a story,”

"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—"

I leaned down, sucking her nipple into my mouth, tasting my own cum on her skin as I fucked her deeper feeling her evening inch. “Oh, yeah, right there, Zaddy,” Ariana moaned loud, her voice shaking as her pussy clamped tight around my penis. I thrust harder, feeling the pressure build in my balls, my body tense. I couldn’t hold back anymore and came hard, my cum shooting deep inside her, filling her up. She’s a grown woman now, 21 and old enough to handle it, her body trembling as she took every drop.

Cassandra gasps as Willy, one of the oldest here, tells stories of his glory days. “Ask him how many ribs he’s missing,” I whisper to her, and her eyes widen in shock. “Four,” Willy says and holds up as many fingers. “Had them punched clean out of me.” “You’re lying,” she says with a laugh, and the sound of it heats my body from the inside out. “I’d never lie to a pretty woman,” Willy says, and his best friend George scoffs. “That’s the first person you’re lying to,” George says. “Don’t believe a word he says. But if you want to talk about real injuries, let me tell you about the time I dislocated both my hips and still won my fight.”

Her fingers slid easily back inside me, picking up where I left off , withdeep, steady strokes that made fresh wetness leak out. “He won’t be interested in you like that, Maya,” she said softly but firmly, curling her fingers against my G-spot while her thumb circled my clit. “Dad likes experienced women — women who know how to ride a cock properly, not innocent virgins who’ve only been fingered by their best friend.”

There was one solitary, big book on a low table between them. "The title of the tale is The Binding of Autumn," he began, his voice an entrancing whisper just in harmony with the shriek of the fire. “It's the tale of a harvest god who offers a mortal woman a choice: one night of absolute freedom for one year of unimaginable riches for her people." He didn't move as his eyes met hers. "The consent is the matter at hand. It must be freely bestowed, not coerced, and whispered three times into the skin of his throat." “Do you have any idea what sort of story you're going to be reading me tonight?”

I told the man. He blushed a bit and said, “There wasn’t a problem with the tape, b-but it’s against store policy to process tapes like that.” I guess I wasn’t on the same page as he was and I asked, “What do you mean?” His voice lowered to almost a whisper “we cannot process tapes of an adult nature”. I felt the blood rush to my face! The realization hit me hard. All I wanted to do was run from the store and hide! I don’t remember what I said and awkwardly made my way for the door mumbling an apology.

“Says the Alpha who gave his Luna oral sex in dream land.” “That would actually a very interesting story plot.” “Exactly why we should be doing more adventurous things while fucking…to spice up our lives and make good story plots.” “Hmm.” “Yeah, you mentioned one time that Everlery likes writing…she can write erotica stories with what we do and who knows? We might be the inspiration to a bestseller book.”

She looked comfortable, like she owned the place. “Getting late, Matt,” she said softly. “You look tense. Why don’t you tell me a story? Or better yet, let me tell you one.” She started talking in that low, husky voice. Stories about late-night deals, fast cars, and men who thought they could control her. Every one had a dirty edge. How she once made a rival boss beg on his knees. How power felt better when it came with pleasure. Matt listened, pretending it was just work, but his dick stayed rock hard the whole time.

he said, his voice a low vibration that hit me square in the chest. The chatter died instantly. He turned around, leaning against the podium, his sleeves already rolled up to reveal the lion etched into his tanned skin. My pulse spiked. I couldn't stop my eyes from tracing the golden outlines of the beast on his arm, remembering the way it seemed to ripple in the moonlight of my subconscious. "The Art of Storytelling is not a solo venture," he began, his almond eyes finally sweeping over the rows. "To understand narrative, you must understand collaboration and the friction of differing perspectives. For the remainder of the semester, you will be working in groups of five."