Twisted Cravings Novels & Stories

He plunged his tongue in and swept through Evan’s whole mouth, and he caressed everywhere he had missed so much. “Fuck!” he cursed inside him as he captured Evans’ nibble tongue. How long had he tasted this tongue, how long had he craved to kiss this little mouth, to suck the tongue crazily, to do more to the young man? He wanted him… he had always wanted him so much, but he had always been careful, holding himself back from pushing Evans down and sucking those pale lips. These past few days, whenever he was tired, he’d wish he could bury himself inside Evans, he’d wish he could have him, become one with him and hear him moan his name, but he also knew he couldn't.

“My body jerks like it's attempting to save itself, but I continue pushing and that triggers something and my brain goes foggy. My throat swallows, and it goes further. That is the point at which the astonishing frenzy thing occurs when I can't relax. My body heaves to save itself, yet I push it more profound and my throat gets generally delicious, similar to as having a climax. Then there's no restriction, I can take every last bit of it, and it gets me so energized I nearly get off. You ought to attempt it.” He gazed at her in dismay. “No,” he said, “I shouldn't. Is there something wrong with you?” “I have to strongly disagree if something is wrong,” she said. “For what reason do you need

I stuck my hand in the bag of toffee popcorn and pulled out as many as my hand could carry before shoving them in my mouth. The crunch and sweetness literally filling my body with happiness as I read for the notes my professor at college had sent out for everybody in class to read. I was a biology major and was really interested in going in to medicine, which meant medical school, but I was finding it incredibly difficult to study at home because I was more of a visual learner; I liked lab work over written work basically.

My mouth watered, a surge of saliva betraying my sudden craving as I imagined the warm, earthy flavors and the satisfying crunch of the veggies. The TV chef's voice was a soothing melody as they described the preparation, each step weaving into my senses, amplifying the craving into a near tangible desire. I sighed, my inner foodie wrestling with the practicality of a grocery run. The prospect of leaving the comfort of my home seemed daunting, yet the tantalizing image on the screen urged me on.

“…Please tell me you’re not about to drink pickle juice with chocolate milk.” I turned slowly, guilty as a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “It’s called cravings. Don’t judge me.” He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. His T-shirt clung to him in all the unfair ways, and his hair stuck up like he’d been in a bar fight with his pillow. He scratched the side of his beard, blinking blearily. “That’s not cravings, Amelia. That’s a cry for help.” I rolled my eyes, twisting the pickle jar open with a satisfying pop. “Go back to bed, caveman. You’re useless to me right now.”

In the quiet of the night, Amara stirred, her dreams interrupted by a sudden craving. With a soft sigh, she blinked her eyes open, the dim light filtering through the curtains around the room. As the haze of sleep lifted, the desire for something sweet intensified within her. She couldn't quite explain the craving, but it consumed her thoughts. She longed for something sweet, something that would melt on her tongue and fill her cravings with sweetness.

I’m getting wet just thinking about it. I stopped going further down that road by Goof saying “ You're right. It is pretty good. The question is who wanted what?” I laugh “ I think it was a joint effort. I wanted cheesecake. I’m guessing little bit wanted something a little tart.” “ At least you both are getting something out of it.” Goof said. “ That is the way my eating habits have been going lately.” I told him. “ Really?” Goof asked. I told him how my cravings were either a mix of salty and sweet, or savory and tart, and creamy and crunchy.

I wanted to feel her submit, to hear her scream my name while I buried myself deep inside her. Would she be shy? Or wild? I bet she was a screamer—the type to claw at a man's back until he bled. The images flashing through my mind were so vivid that they caused actual physical pain. For a second, I hesitated. What if I give in? Just once. A taste to satisfy the craving. They say forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest; maybe if I had her once, this obsession would vanish. But I was a fool. I knew that the moment my skin touched hers, I would be an addict. I would never want to let go.

I felt drained and craving to experience that again. "Fuck!!!" I moaned from the aftertaste. What have I gotten myself into? This was never what Ace asked me to do. He asked to have my release and not to get addicted to that mysterious sweetness inside her. I can feel my craving for it increasing "Fuck..." I felt frustrated and confused at the same time. How do I explain myself to Ace? Telling him that I lost myself along the way and discovered something irresistible? Something addicting that almost blew my mind away? How can I even get myself to tell him that?

--- (Grace's POV) The smell of roasted meat and honey-glazed bread filled the room, making my stomach twist with hunger. The moment the delivery wolf placed my order on the counter, I found myself reaching for it, the cravings unbearable now that the scent was embedded in my brain. Pregnancy cravings. They didn’t care for timing or subtlety. They hit like a storm, demanding satisfaction no matter what chaos was brewing outside. I tore open the bag, grabbing a piece of bread first. The honey clung to my fingers and dripped down slightly, but I didn’t care. I devoured it quickly, unwilling to let my thoughts wander too far from the food in front of me.