A Pervert Mga Nobela at Kwento

Due to my heightened sensitivity, even the slightest touch causes an uncontrollable reaction. My husband, concerned, sends me to the hospital for treatment. As I lie on the operating table, the attending doctor unexpectedly triggers a wave of intense response from me—right in front of my husband.

As the news broadcast reported a random serial killing near my residential complex, I knew—I had been reborn once again. In my first life, my husband insisted on going out in the middle of a snowstorm to buy weapons for self-defense. I locked every door and window, waiting at home, anxiety clawing at my chest. I never imagined the killer could pick locks. Before I could even react, a blade plunged into me, and I died on the couch. In my second life, I didn't hesitate. I hid in a concealed storage room, holding my breath. But the door was still pulled open. A man wearing a rabbit mask stared straight at me. "Found you," he said. In my third life, I ran to the police station. I rushed inside and told the officer on duty that the killings weren't random—that the murderer was coming for me. They looked at me like I'd lost my mind. Then my husband arrived in a hurry and took me away. But the moment we reached our front door, a heavy hammer smashed into the back of my head. Through the blinding pain, I forced my eyes open, but I never saw who killed me. Now, staring at the grave expression on the news anchor's face, agony surged through every inch of my body. Rebirth isn't a reset. The damage accumulates—and sooner or later, it will torture me to death. Without hesitation, I walked into the kitchen and set a pot of oil to heat. And I waited… for the moment the lock began to turn.

After three years of marriage, I suddenly began to realize that my wife might have a low libido. One evening, my older neighbor, who was sympathetic, kindly invited me over. That night, I stumbled upon his wife in the middle of a passionate entanglement with another man through a crack in the door. The next day, my neighbor said to me, "Hey, Cyril, you know, Heather has always liked you."

I gave birth prematurely, just twenty days before the due date. Two hours after I entered the surgery room, I had a stillborn baby. I did not cry at all. I did not even spare a glance at the dead baby. I endured the pain from childbirth and calmly walked into the hospital nursery. After the door was tightly shut, I turned down the temperature of the air-conditioning. The temperature inside the nursery would be too cold for newborns to bear after an hour. The doctors and parents were begging me on their knees to let their babies live. They screamed and cried. They said I was a mother and hoped that I would understand. Instead, I laughed and said, “Yes, I was a mother. But my baby died!” The gynecologist knelt on the floor and begged, “We may be at fault for not being able to save your baby, but these babies are innocent! “Please don’t be reckless just because you lost your baby! You’re so young. You’ll have more babies in the future.” I gritted my teeth and roared, “But my baby isn’t dead! “She’s still alive. I’ll give you one hour. Bring her back to me!” But I was unsure if she would still be alive after an hour.

I went to my boyfriend's home with him to celebrate New Year's. On the sleeper train heading to meet my boyfriend's parents for the New Year, I decided to spice things up. After the lights went out late at night, I crept over to his bunk, climbed on top of him before he could react, and kissed him hard. Something felt a little off, but I was too caught up in the heat of the moment to care. Halfway through, though, I realized something wasn't right. The size was completely wrong—this wasn't my boyfriend.

"S-Stop… If you keep spreading my legs, I'll get hurt…" On the subway, three muscular guys spread my legs roughly while I try to stop them the best as I can. The man standing in front of me suddenly draws out his belt and ties my hands with it. "Stay put! Sluts like you are born to give us pleasure!" Then, he spreads my legs once again before ripping my soaked panties off my body.

After my husband has passed away, I feel my carnal desires building rapidly every single day. At night, I yearn for someone to break and conquer me roughly. I'm at the age when I crave physical intimacy the most. Coupled with the weird ailment, I find myself constantly tormented by my urges all the time. Having no other choice left, I can only turn to the village doctor to treat my embarrassingly weird condition. But little do I know that he'll…

"Stop clamping around me so tightly. Just let me in…" Inside the bus, the man behind me flips my short skirt upward before thrusting heavily into me. When I turn around to look at him, I realize that it's Michael Wallace, an older man I've known for a long time. He has yet to realize that I'm his target at the moment. Just as I'm about to reveal my identity to Michael, I see him staring at my face unblinkingly. At the same time, his thrusts become heavier and more forceful.

A while ago, my buddy Aaron Miller took me to a camping site, and that’s when I truly learned what camping was all about. I also discovered why so many men become obsessed with camping and can’t get enough of it. Inside each tent, there were stunning women, each one more beautiful than the last. There were the intellectual and graceful ones, the mature and seductive ones, the petite and delicate ones, and the quirky, fun ones—there was no type you couldn’t find there.

I applied for a popular online job as a personal chef. I thought I'd be cooking simple, home-style meals, but I quickly found myself trapped in a world of surprises. The food they were craving was me, served on a platter. The wealthy women were looking for excitement, torturing me night after night. But what they didn't realize was, the real thrill came when the dogs turned on each other.