Slow Stories

In the bruised-purple bedroom, Harold (72) and Elena (54) kneel, rope-burned and paddle-marked. Braids, collar, sippy cup, duck blanket, Goodnight Moon surround them. “I’m only lovable when little,” she sobs. “When Daddy,” he chokes. Pull-ups, journal confessions: I’ll die mid-story. They make love—tears, Daddy, Harold braided. Aftercare: salve, shared sips, blanket-cape. Miso purrs. Tomorrow: burnt toast, crayons, rituals. They stay—leaky, creaky, little, big—choosing each other daily.

A story in the Lesbian Romances Universe
In a dim record shop, a dropout clerk and a brilliant pre-med junior orbit each other through jazz and snow for one winter, trading mixtapes and almosts until her hand finally slides into his (cool at the tips, then burning). Their first kiss tastes like cherry balm and tomorrow. But tomorrow ends in May, when her dream pulls her to Baltimore and his stays behind with a pair of green gloves and a mixtape titled “Almost, but not quite.” A tender, aching love letter to the ones that almost were.

A story in the Lesbian Romances Universe
Clarita owes the mountain her seventh daughter’s seventh daughter. Michelle breaks every salt line she finds. Hate becomes hunger, hunger becomes rope and brand and fist. To keep the witch in the walls fed, they pay with blood, welts, hot wax, and shattering squirt under the Mothman’s red eyes. Love here is a debt paid in screams and perfect surrender. The ridge claimed them. They claimed each other harder.

Sheela wanted to change her company. She planned to interview for some not-so-good companies to get practice and then try for nice companies. An interview at one company changed her life.

Step-siblings Sophia (29, struggling artist) & Julian (27, guarded coder) ignite buried desire in an empty Kansas City mansion over Thanksgiving. Vicious confessions lead to brutal degradation: squirting shame, face-painting cum, personal humiliations in parents’ bed, threesome with Riley as toy. Raw fucking against family portraits seals their twisted intimacy. No redemption—just honest ruin they crave.

Lonely divorced mom Elena, 38, downloads a hookup app for thrills. Matching with young JakeWild19 sparks steamy sexts, nudes, and fantasies of domination. But shock—he's her 18-year-old son Alex's friend! Forbidden passion erupts in risky home encounters: deep thrusts, anal claims, creampie floods, and near-miss thrills by her son's door. Age-gap taboo, dirty talk, squirting ecstasy. 18+ only – ignite if you dare.

A ruthless CEO ensnares her young trainee in a relentless spiral of nylon-clad domination. Foot worship, smothering, rough fucks, and depraved insertions blur pain and ecstasy until vulnerability binds them in eternal, filthy surrender. Dark, visceral female-led erotica.

In the frozen wasteland surrounding Frosthaven, a desperate band of adventurers ventures into the treacherous Spectral Dungeon of Chill to retrieve the cursed Frost King’s Crown, a relic that could either save their town or doom it. As they struggle to survive, secrets unravel, loyalties are tested, and the true cost of the crown’s power becomes horrifyingly clear. The final battle against the Wraith King forces them to make a harrowing choice that will determine the fate of Frosthaven.

The rain wasn’t the first thing to touch her skin that night. And the storm wasn’t the only thing breaking in. Meera opened the door wearing more heat than clothes. Two strangers stood there—soaked, silent, and staring like they knew things she hadn’t confessed even to herself. One watched. The other wanted. And both stepped in like they belonged. What followed wasn’t loud. It was quiet. Intentional. Drenched in something darker than lust. A strap slipped. A gaze lingered. A breath caught. A