Wild Confession Novels & Stories

"Hello everyone this is Crimson Lee and i would first like to apologize to the public for this uproar, I would also like to apologise to my agency and my sisters here, even though I didn't drug the coffee it was I who bought it so it isn't off that Kristen would blame me for it. It was a few days ago, a week I think.... We had just gotten off our song recording session for our upcoming album, everyone was thirsty so me being the youngest had the responsibility to go get the coffee for everyone, I bought the coffee from the canteen in our agency and everyone picked out his can by himself so I don't really know if this attack was stationed towards who exactly. After drinking it Amber became ex

Some stains don’t wash off. Clarissa's confession came later, in a cold interrogation room with one-way glass and the smell of stale coffee. Eve and I sat on one side of the table. Clarissa on the other. Handcuffed. Broken. She cried the whole time—big, ugly sobs that shook her shoulders—but the words kept coming, like poison she couldn’t hold in anymore. She told us everything.

I choked out hoarsely when Jamal briefly let me breathe, my voice trembling with fear and arousal. David smirked, slowly stroking his thick cock as he watched Troy grind deep and slowly into my soaked pussy. “Oh, my lovely cheating wife. Your filthy diary was better than any sex video I’ve ever watched. Every night I read how you let other men use you while I jerked off like a pathetic cuck. And these…” He pointed at the multiple hidden pinhole cameras in the ceiling corners, light fixtures, and even the headboard. “These are all over the house. Bedroom. Shower. Living room. Kitchen. Garage. I’ve watched every single time you got fucked like a desperate whore. Every load you swallowed. Every

The confession had changed everything and nothing. Morwen had laid bare her darkest secrets, her deepest shames, her most painful memories. And Clara had accepted them all—not with judgment, but with understanding. Not with fear, but with love. But now Clara found herself facing her own confession. There were things she hadn't told Morwen. Things about her past, her fears, her doubts. Things she'd buried so deep she'd almost forgotten they existed. But Morwen's honesty had opened a door, and Clara knew she had to walk through it.

This was a career-ending sermon. Confessions were just as bad. As a priest, I obviously could not judge them, but it was quite something. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I lusted after my neighbor’s wife with desire in my heart,” the man confessed. I nodded sagely, trying to focus. “And how many times—” “But she looks just like that dangerous-hot looking Norwegian ex I had. Her ass is round and perfect and…” I coughed to get him back in order.

There are confessions that arrive like storms loud, sudden, rearranging everything in their path. And then there are the quiet ones. The ones delivered in six words to a stranger's phone at seven in the morning. Those are the confessions that take the longest to stop shaking from. Not because they are louder. Because they are more precise. Z. Cole, notes written in a parked car with the engine off She read the six words eleven times.

But in doing so… She’d also awakened monsters. Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Fall It started with a whisper. By morning, it had become wildfire. A video. Grainy. Shaky. Darkened corners of bedrooms, muffled voices, slurred confessions. A face—Helena’s—superimposed in scenes that weren’t hers. Her name stamped in the file title: HELENA_EXPOSED. Within minutes of it being uploaded to a private student chat, it had already reached hundreds.

My father’s whisper echoed in my head long after I left the hospital. It followed me through traffic, through red lights and rain-smeared glass, through the silence of my apartment. I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at nothing, hearing those words again and again until they stopped sounding like a sentence and started sounding like a confession. Daniel wasn’t running. He was bleeding quietly, deliberately, so others could breathe. That truth landed slowly, painfully, like a bruise forming beneath the skin. Every cold word he’d spoken to me. Every wall he’d built. The confession. The Will. The Swiss account. It wasn’t betrayal.

And just like that, the fireworks exploded inside me, accompanied by what I could only describe as an animalistic growl. My hand slumped away in exhaustion….and my face? I couldn’t help the tiny grin that spread across it. That was….it was good. But here’s the thing about post nut clarity, it snaps you back to reality at once. And my reality was, I had a fiancé waiting for me at our launch table. Oh No!! The guilt hit me as I scrambled to fix my clothes properly before bolting out of the stall. Who the hell abandons their fiancée to masturbate in a public restroom?

"I did as well. It could be that they basically circulated a cautiously-phrased announcement which was planned to be misinterpreted as a comprehensive disavowal. As such, it would have been seen to shelter all type of assertions concerning objects purportedly unearthed in the apartment, which supposedly denoted some wilful misunderstanding, or anomalous sex, on Tina's part. From our opinion, and what we have understood from Tina's relatives, we have assumed that all the testimonies intimating at uncommon erotic exercises or curiosities were obviously untrue and envisioned uniquely to specify deception. But evidently, according to what Hector said to me last night, this is not right." "I'm mu