Whisper App Confessions Novels & Stories

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I know, baby.” Her breath caught. “You do?” “Mm.” Her grip on his sleeve tightened. “How?” Something dark flashed through his eyes. “Let’s just say Davis finally confessed For a second she just stared at the twinkling of deceit and madness in his eyes Then the realization hit. “He confessed?” “He sang like a bird.” “Alex.” “What?” he asked innocently. Penelope gave him a look. Alex laughed. The sound was brief, disappearing almost immediately but it made her feel warm like warm chocolate

I bit my bottom lip, not even sure when my mouth opened, breath shaky as I whispered, “I–I will do it, Father. As long as you forgive me… I will.” Silence. He didn’t reply, but I could feel him waiting on the other side, waiting for me to touch myself in the confessional booth of a church. Seconds stretched. I inhaled a deep, trembling breath and steadied myself. Then slowly, hesitantly, I opened my legs. My pulse hammered in my ears, heat pooling low in my stomach, and even before I touched myself, I could feel it throbbing, aching as if it was waiting for what I was about to do.

I blinked several times and refused to fall into some kind of trap, as I simply asked "What?" Ms. Whitney then leaned back in her chair and unbuttoned her suit jacket, allowing her to relax a bit more, and letting her full breasts to clearly bulge behind her white blouse. She smirked at me as she watched my eyes drop to her breasts. She let me sit there for a few minutes before saying, "Well, as I said Racquel and I grew up together and even now we have no secrets. So I know all about your numerous trysts. does your mother know that her daughter enjoys licking older women's pussies?" I stuttered out, "I...My mom knows I am a lesbian."

There was a strained silence inside; we spoke not a word to one another for some time-elongated minutes, the only sound was the steady drop of rainwater dripping off the window. And then, at last,, the whistleblower transformed. "Jane, I'm sorry to subject you to this tonight. I didn't think it was all going to turn round so quick." he was speaking in a hushed voice, his words weighted with an apology. "But that seals it: we have something on our hands here. They will stop at nothing to keep it covered up.".

I opened the app store and typed in “séance.” Stupid. I knew it was stupid. But I didn’t have a dusty old Ouija board or some gothic medium on speed dial. I had my phone. And right now, it was the only thing between me and the silence. I picked one with decent reviews: “SpiritLink: Connect with the Beyond.” It had the kind of silly interface you’d expect, candles, a board, swirling letters. But it said it used “energy-sensitive microphone response.” Whatever. I just wanted a way to call him.

he whispered. I slightly shook my head. “No need.” Then I mustered my best smile and locked my eyes on Maxwell Blair. “I've been working on a certain idea for a few years. It's an app that can provide entertainment and elements of self-development through daily-delivered pieces of life advice or so-called words of wisdom.” His brows rose. “That sounds quite interesting. How exactly would it work?”

“You’re my dirty little secret, Sylvia. My beautiful, moaning angel who gets so wet just from my voice.” We traded more confessions after that—me admitting how I’d touched myself in the shower that morning thinking of his mouth on my nipples, him confessing that he jerked off to my voice notes every single night, replaying the way I said his name. Every shared secret pulled another moan from us, weaving us tighter together across the miles.

He squeezed the ballpoint pen. I watch his already pale face become white. "We have to make sure there's no breach." A hand tapped on the table. "Are you saying I'm not trustworthy??" His voice sounded pitiful, but I couldn't care less. "No, it's just security measures." I reply, this time watching him squirm in that chair. I couldn't even think of working a year with him on this anonymous feature for Close Lips. This was supposed to be an app for women to get closure and healing from men like him.

I whispered. Christiana shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe we should slow down. He seems… different,” she whispered. I shot her a deadly glare. “Different? He’s a man. All men break. He’ll beg for this body before I’m done with him,” I hissed. The shoot wrapped up an hour later. As I changed back into a short red dress, my phone beeped with a notification about Sugar’s concert.

It had such a utilitarian purpose behind, and she did not know what to say. Jessica pressed the app for a long time with her fingers, and the icon of the trash can appeared above the screen. As long as the app was dragged to the trash can, it could be deleted. Thomas, the man who had encouraged her when she was at the lowest place. Was his encouragement with a purpose? Her throat slid with difficulty and her vision blurred once again. She did not know who she could trust in this world, and who she could talk about. She dragged the icon to the top of the trash can slowly with her fingers. She didn't want to hear her voice anymore. It was not hers, and it was all fake...