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some sort stories of taboo This story is a complete work of fiction; any resemblance to anyone, alive or dead is pure coincidence. All of the characters in this story are 18 years and older.

Ye Xian adalah gadis yang sangat terobsesi dengan Jiang Wanze, adik tiri Bo Tingshen, sang bos besar dari Grup Bo sekaligus bos Star Entertainment. Ia berpura-pura menjadi seorang pria demi bisa terus dekat dengan Jiang Wanze dan masuk ke dalam boyband FOR. Tidak disangka sifat dan penampilan Ye Xian yang dulu, kini berubah drastis. Ye Xian yang sekarang tidak lagi mencintai Jiang Wanze, bahkan ia serius menekuni dunia akting. Di satu sisi, ada Bo Tingshen yang selalu menghantui kehidupannya. Akankah Ye Xian bisa menjalani kehidupannya dengan lancar sebagai seorang pria yang berprofesi aktor dan anggota boyband FOR?

The abandoned infant Wang Xiaoshuai was adopted by the old rogue from a young age. When he grew up, he became the foremost villager of Wanmin Village, leading the villagers to wealth and prosperity, forging a legendary life!

For more R-18 lewd and depravities check out my Patreon https://www.patreon.com/YuujiEveryleaf An old man dies, torn by regret. Due to his high karma, he has "near-limitless possibilities for reincarnation". He chooses to reincarnate in a fantasy world as a voluptuous futanari succubus with big tits and an irresistible smile. 1st place winner of ScribbleHub's Metus Writing Contest. Discussion and updates: https://discord.gg/SbZe2qv

It all began with a poor orphan who would work every day for long hours to pay for his Aunt's medical bills. When his life begins to fall apart and he is homeless sleeping in an alleyway he hears a robotic voice. {Do you wish to integrate with the Dungeon System} "Yes" he answers, without much to lose. And from then his life had never been the same. He was taken into a dungeon each night to hunt and he began to realise just how little he really knew about the world that was much wider than he thought. Discord Server: https://discord.gg/TtnGfdKanr Note: I do not own cover art

"Mm!" A muffled moan, strained with the effort to suppress emotion, escaped. Cheng Yuan finally inserted his penis into the vagina of the beautiful woman he had dreamed of. Incredibly painful! It was even more painful than her first night as a bride! "It's, it's too big…" "Should I pull out?" Pan Cuilian quickly wrapped her arms around Cheng Yuan, kissing him passionately, tears flowing uncontrollably. "Don't be gentle with me! Go hard!"

story from literotica (To the reader if mc c*clord by someone just put warning in the title of the story.) I still don't read some of the story.. so I don't know if that story going to ntr(netorare)... well you can leave some comment to the title to alert someone... thats that.... I upload this for my own to read....

That feeling of ripping through your enemies and the feel of their hot blood washing over your body. What better way to relax the body after a glorious victory than indulging in the carnal pleasure from conquered women. All Evary Seth desires is supreme power, carnal pleasure, to screw his wife whenever he can and of course, to conquer his ridiculously powerful mother-in-law. Seth wants to be the strongest, but who is stronger? A primordial fiend? Or its creator, a God? What do Gods do when their biggest attack dog turns on them. ****** This book screams smut but please don't forget the first word in its title, do expect smut, but also expect a superb plot with character development and a touch of romance all the way to the end. The book cover isn't mine, if you're the artist behind this masterpiece, and you want me to take it down! I would gladly do it, just inform me in the comments! Cover illustration credit: Unknown

This is a story of a guy who loses everything, and then gets it back. Same old new world story, just a different kind of story teller. *** They took away our hunter tags. They had us grow our hair. They gave us a new brand, when we were over there. They staged us out of Dragur, East of the Olim Horn. I guess they call us Slaves, but no one calls us much anymore. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. Karn brought Sorrow. Pookie brought Fear. Milk brought the fly boys. They did work in Undia. I worked mostly clandestine. Some Legends I should not say. We played with better wands. I could use the extra pay. Did Mara give the order? Did venom pay the way? They said we were slaying demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. This was before HALO, and Codex was king. Hej atop the rider, he never felt a thing. When our rider caught a spell, and both the mages killed. It pitched us over sideways on some cold Sylph hill. My back felt like it was broken, my legs I could not feel. I kept on slaying demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. I never did heal up right from injuries sustained Officially in Torin, unofficially we train. I remember all their faces. They dream about me still. I guess I'm slaying demons, but it's kind of hard to tell. There no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. I speak the cold logistic, that old boys speak so well. Veni, Vedi, Vici. I'll see you in Hel. Maybe it's bravado, or an unspeakable guilt. That village, they were demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't wanna to do it anymore. I've done plenty. What is one more? -Corb Lund *** Come guess me this riddle. What beats shire leaves and fiddle? What is hotter than pleasures touch, and whiter than cream? What best wets his whistle? What is clearer than crystal? What is sweeter than honey and stronger than steam? What will make the lame walk? What will make the dumb talk? What is the elixir of life and philosopher's stone? And what helped Pookie-Baba dig up a tunnel, that runs from Shalamanda to West-Torin? When you are digging a crater, It is the best thing in nature, for sinking your sorrows and raising your joys. Sometimes I wonder, if lightning and thunder, is made out of the plunder, of the reddest hiski and oils. *** If you can keep your head when all about you, are losing theirs and blaming it on you. If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, but make allowance for their doubting too. If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, or being hated, don’t give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise. If you can dream, and not make dreams your master. If you can think, and not make thoughts your aim. If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster, and treat those two impostors just the same. If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken, twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, and stoop and build them up with worn-out tools. If you can make one heap of all your winnings, and risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss and lose, and start again at your beginnings, and never breathe a word about your loss. If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew, to serve your turn long after they are gone, and so hold on when there is nothing in you; Except the Will which says to them ‘Hold on!’ If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, nor walk with Kings, nor lose the common touch. If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you. If all men count with you, but none too much. If you can fill the unforgiving minute, with sixty seconds worth of distance, run. Yours is the World and everything that’s in it, and which is more you’ll be a Man, my son. - Rudyard Kipling

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