In 4 sentences, write a short romantic story

>I saw
>I conquered
>I came
>The end

I want to lick Connie's belly button! I want to blow on it! I want to blow my load on it! Marry me Connie!

We put our genitals together again and again.
We got along well in between all of that too.
6 years later we still aren't tired of each other.
Guess i'm getting married or whatever.

>There is no way
>For positivists to understand
>The joy of
>Having a waifu

He stared at the bright glowing signs across the cafe's wall until he had to look away, and there in the residual phantom light, a figure came. The buzz of people seemed to die away when she walked into their solitary cafe meeting place. Her hair was dark and matched her eyes, when she sat across from him they smiled. Their hands met and kept each other. The light caught inside her eyes like flecks of golden light, prayer lanterns, framed inside a circle of warm night.

this is really good man

nice kmart realism

This is actually good. Creates a realistic depiction of the lower middle class in the American midwest without letting off a glow of coastal elitism.

>we were just friends
>one magical summer later
>finally have you to myself
>I shit the bed

She stepped down the staircase with a flowing moonlight brocade dress as her slender hands flowed down the banister. We were going to Paris, to Egypt, to the isle of Crete and beyond today and tomorrow and all the days in the world and all the world. Her steps crept closer and her smile crept way from her face: she showed no recognition, or love or emotion and her face flowed with that moonlight. A single tear slipped and dashed against the mahogany floorboards.

My dad says no.
My brain says no.
My dick says yes.
I'm under arrest.

Holy...I want more

A boy falls in love with a girl.
Unable to confess, he is gifted with by a deus ex machina with the girl’s phone number.
Never minding the strange area code, he immediately calls her, and is overjoyed to find out that she has a crush on him as well.
But, the next day, when he recounts the previous day’s confessions to the girl, she only looks at him with a perplexed expression.

thanks guise, sage

Make the beast with two backs
just for another lobotomy
check your baggage
settle into an orgy

Benis
in
Bagina
:D

I took him to my house to help him with his homework.
He was sad about getting bullied at school.
I gave him a kiss.
Then I raped his ass.

write more you slut.

Darren B. Dwight Junior, in short B. was a young male with a strong heavy musk of masculinity and a big fuzz of harish things growing all across his body at times, somebody more, somebody less. He lived in North Dakota for reasons which remain private and indeed a great mystery to those who wish to know about them. More importantly though B. was assured that mutal nuclear destruction would be imminent. He hhad a rather widereaching sense of reality here, though he was so impatient that just the existance of a probality meant to him, that it was quite likely that that thing would happen soon, anytime, right where he lived. Driven by these miscalculations he would often go into bars, they would be swift in drink-dealing and the music would be rhythmic and evocative of sexual desire or even more so: A desire to be sexual. Woman there would often be barely clothed and sometimes you could see the space of skin between their breasts. This was what B. called "No Mans Land". The issue was that B. was a virgin and he was extremely terrified of fucking it up once and for all. Here his miscalculations also played a role, it seemed to him inevitable that such a complete fuck up would occur, so that he never dared to make a step towards realization of his libidual, strong were his, desires. He would often walk around the dance floor eyeing his prey, then forgetting that he was the prey. Indeed at such moments he felt that woman were predators. Their eyes so clever and and sensual, he felt they were more powerful than men, though when he checked hismucles nd compares them with their muscles he felt reassured that it was indeed man who were the more powerful gender. Also he remembered that woman had no penis and as such would always be on the receiving end of affairs. This only reduced the intensity of fear coming from being prey, but not motivate his actions toward sexual self-liberation. Driven by fear ofnuclear annihilation B. would roam bars all day and night, incapable of acting, of withdrawing or such things. His face was red like tomato, that could be seen in mirrors which people often put into their buildings. His stomach was curly, it reminded people of the way a balloon looked if left by itself for several weaks. but on the other side B. was nevertheless a radiant man, a kind of hero of the masses, atleast in his video games. Here he would often smirk at his copiuter screen and say "It's over for you now, i got the upper hand" or he would laugh and say:"I may be lucky but that's because i'm a child of luck" or when he was particularly cheeky (he played games of wits and skills) he would say: I think you were very courageous and tried quite a bit. He did this while containing extreme laughter and whenever he won he felt as if he was king of universe indeed. This was his life. Bars, Video games and nuclear annihlation. He did never work, because his mother worked for him untilhe would die maybe or maybe not. What is romantic about B's life is his utmo

OP said 4 sentences.

Control yourself prosefag

>I'm going to meet the love of my life today.
>We'll probably get married the day after tomorrow.
>I can't wait to spend eternity with her.
>*Pumps shotgun*

me neet. me weep. we meet. me we.

I drop of sweating trickled slowly down my forehead as I whistled and announced the end of class. Teaching 5th graders gymnastics wasn't always a trivial task.
I was about to head to the teacher's shower when my eyes caught little Robert hanging back, pretending to tie his shoes as if trying to wait for the other boys to shower and leave.
Poor little Robert usually got picked last for team sports, and I had my suspicions that he was being bullied by the other boys.
He was often alone.
I casually threw the towel on the floor and decided to go tamper with the climbing rope, as if I were trying to prepare or fix something.
After about 10 minutes I saw Robert finally heading to the boys' shower room.
I waited for a couple of minutes before removing my shoes and following on tip-toes.
He was standing in the shower all alone, with his back to me, a couple of moles visible on his sweet pubescent ass and back.
He turned around with shampoo in his hair:
"Oh, m-mr. Poole, I didn't see you entering, did you forgot anything?"

"Do you feel lonely Robbie?" I answered while my manhood slowly hardened in my pants.
I walked toward him, his eyes showing wide surprise and confusion.
In a rapid succession of quick motions, I grabbed both of his arms, turned him around and bent them behind his back;
"If you scream I'll kill you."

"P-please, I haven't done anything, please I won't tell anybody just le-"

"Shut the fuck up faggot." I said in a firm voice, while I began to kiss his neck and nibble his ears.
I put on arm across his throat and undid my trousers with the other.
My throbbing cock was gleaming with pre-cum as I slowly eased it into his asshole.
"Hnngg, please no, it h-hurts" he began to whimper.
"Just imagine you're in Disney Land and having fun, you little sissy."
I fucked his ass slowly, just with the tip to avoid ripping his sweet pre-teen asshole , until I couldn't take it anymore and game right inside his tight sphincter.
He fell to the ground and started sobbing.
"Remember, if you tell anybody I'll kill you and your parents" I said firmly.
That was but one of many sweet sessions I had with little Robbie.
Thinking back to it now makes me shed a nostalgic tear, although it really is a shame that he killed himself years later.

Fuck sorry for the typos, it's late and I didn't spell check.

she coming through
she coming through
she suckin dick
she suckin dick

Thats ok, mess should be messy

Here's a romantic story about a prosefag controlling himself. It is a complete tragedy as le prosefag was not aware that SELF CONTROL was a pathway towards SELF DESTRUCTION. Ignorant of this he walked right into his doom. After that happened he went to McDonalds, exclaiming to the person standing behind the counter and saying: Welcome to McDonalds sir, how can i help you? He would respond: Hello dear lady, may i ask you for a moment of your time. He would NOT wait for a response but simply stark talking about such things as Literature or Art. He told her of a japanese man who cut his head off and showed it on a plate to the national media. Apropos national media the young prosefag said. Are you even aware of ow we are manipulated day by day by national media? Isn't it for example strange how Donald Trump never ever talks about jews or bankers but instead gets money by them? The young lady had disappeared into a ward robe, probably calling the police. Bored by this uneventful encounter the swift and vigorous young prose fag leaved the institution of fatfood and went towards a place called Dr. Roger's. This was a place out of reach for regular people, i twas an exclusive bar for people who were part of secret circles and had access to secretive information and classified intelligence data. It was located within a box in a dirty and dark side street of a large industrially shaped city. Prosefag cralwed into Dr. rogers Establishment and held a onologue on the dangers of national media. He took out papers and also a pen and wrote down how he would improve the world if only he wsas finally granted the money the people owed him in general. These were the kind of thins le prosefag would do but sometimes he would also go to his laptop and open Veeky Forums and then he would think: These people think they are cool but in truth they are gay. They are so lame and predictable, instead let me show that i can be sontaneous and unpredictable in my choice of words. he would then open random threads and write 03000 signs of random giberish that attempted to evoke charmed reactions y referencing board culture, lots of typos and silly sentences and a pace that was driven by ADHD.

All of this changed when prosefag met yohanna de america. He would smile and say: Americana and laugh. It was love at first sight. They walked down beaces and she would say: I like your beard, it reminds me of my daddy and he would respond: hey don't say that. I dont wanna be compared to your father. They wouldn't argue since yohanna was filled with understanding and her philosophical studies had taught her the value of kindness. Instead what would happen was that both stripped nude and showed their sexual pats to each other and then jumped into the water and swam. here they felt free and prosefag never wrote any prose again and was able to live a peaceful live. Then Yohanna was violently murdered by a nigger in financial distress & prosefag became a regular visitor of Dr. Rogers again

best post. keep it 100 user

she suckin then we cudllin

She produced a laugh that might have been forced. Sometimes women looked at him like he was crazy, but he could never maintain eye contact for long enough to be sure. His toes shifted restlessly in his shoes and the laughter, he realized seemingly too late, had stopped. Her eyes were closed, her face close, hours later he remembered.

>man lonely fat virgin, online all day, hate life
>meets fun girl and becomes very happy
>man is me
>it was all a lie and I'm going to die alone

>guy starts dating sweet girl
>turns out girl is actually cute boy
>no hate, daily fucking soft butthole
>die of dick infection from poop dick but had good time

It was only summer. It always is. I was the young, wealthy American abroad, and she was the young, wealthy English girl visiting home, and somewhere in the romantic half of my mind, I thought it was fate when we met on Pembroke Street on one of those long summer days they have over there, but while I do recall I had just left from Emma for Fitzwilliam, I forget all else but the way our eyes met and how I instantly realized that she was the one that I had been picturing when I dreamed of my romantic exploits in England the entire year before, but more than that, and I think she was surprised when I approached her, as if she was almost afraid I was deranged until I opened my mouth and my brash accent told her that I was not insane but just an American, though many think them one and the same, and although I had no intentions of falling in love in my short time there, I was smitten in a few brief weeks, and what we had was not the flash that the summer romances I read about were, but a million little moments like that first day when I brought her with me to the Fitzwilliam and we learned we both loved Monet and hated the hall of old forks, or when she told me that punting was lame but I absolutely had to do it, just barely managing to stay onboard as I delivered an impromptu tour of her home town, or the dusks we’d spend in Parker’s Piece with just a blanket and a bottle of wine watching the local lads play soccer, or the nights we spent in my room dancing slowly to the music of our hearts, or that most perfect moment of my life when she fell asleep on my shoulder as we watch the sun go down in the Tuileries Garden, but most of all it was just any moment when we were together, when I could look over at her and just take it in like a pleasant dream, but she could never know the way my heart skipped when I looked into her eyes, and she could never know how I adored the way her frazzled blonde hair would toss around her head as she spoke, putting such an endearing emphasis on her every word, and she could never know just how much I had fallen in love, because, and she said it herself our last week, as we both sat one last time under the stars, it was only summer. It always is.

>Hitler walks into a room
>a milf comes in cumming all ove rher panties
>hitler starts fingering
>boom baby

fire exchange anons, big ups

>boy loves girl
>girl does not love boy
>boy sad
>boys goes to a mongolian pottery board to post in tfwnogf threads

O.o

>they saw each other
>they smiled to each other
>they talked to each other
>they lived happily ever after together

He was a boy, she was a girl
Can I make it anymore obvious?
He was a punk, she did ballet
What more can I say?

.

not 4 sentences but still nice. Didn't like your description or examples of the "million little moments" though.

Really? I thought I kept all my clauses in check in the third sentence to prevent any run-ons. I might have made a mistake though.

I loved her, though she didn't love me back.
That's fine, as long as she's happy.
I don't think I'm happy.
It's okay.

my bad. I somehow saw 5 sentences in there

I can just feel the cropped out iFunny watermark

It's all good my man. I was pretty tired when I wrote that last night so I easily could have seen one getting past me.

I love you user.

:(

V good stuff, user.

>I like her friend
>she likes my friend
>whacky antics into getting each other's friend
>we fall for each other instead

>I get dumped by long time GF
>Go out with cool 15 year old qt
>qt turns out to be my long lost sister
>who cares, got laid, lol.

Utter dogshit. You are trying way to hard, and your metaphors/analogies don't even make sense. You're not as intelligent as you think you are.

>My new friend dosen't like his stalker childhood friend
>I take her instead
>Oh noes - my memory-erasing trauma's coming back. I forget about her.
>I remember again. Happily ever after. Also new friend takes MY childhood friend this time.

The bed written man didn't feel like living let alone writing. "Trite" he said. He started to cry. The women tried to comfort him by reading what he already wrote.

>bed written
Stop posting.

>Be me: too broke for laptop repairs, and end up falling into cliched fantasy world.
>Meet pink haired qt. She hates me, but not "hates me - hates me"... baka inu.
> I git gud, form my own harem.
>Still marry pink hair though.

>Be me - heir to a vicious mob family, also muh memories.
>Qt blonde is heiress to my family's rival, also muh memories.
>Form Harem to find muh memories.
>We truly are... False Love

>My best friend gets all the girls. He's pretty, I'm strong.
>One day girl genuinely likes me.
>I'm too stupid to figure it out.
>Whacky antics for me to figure her out.

Woeful

>Be me - girraffe girl
> be him, manlet.
> "Let's stay friends"
> Whacky antics ensues to change his mind

> Be me
> Chi?
> Chi?
> Chi?

There was a beginning. There was a middle. There was an end. Idk maybe I'll write an epilogue for it or something but I'm pretty busy with this food truck shit me and my friend Aaron have started, which is pretty cool I guess.

> Be me, school delinquint
> Be her, a complete airhead
> Try to fruitlessly pursue her as she pines for that boring turtle, kappa guy at the back of the class, whilst I'm dealing blow back from the try-hard, glasses-wearing mofo cause he thought I was nabbing his neko, mind-reading, autistic girl, which is also my girl's sister, and this causes a drama with the blonde friend of my girl who turns out to ALSO like me and wishes to use me as her stand-in for a fake marrige because muh friends, lol.
> I get cucked by vegetable anyways.

> Be me, merchant in the medieval period.
>Be her, Fox Godess
> Economics, bruh
> Whacky antics ensues.

Her stunning bedroom eyes. Her sweet, sexy voice. Her massive Adams Apple. Hey, wait a minute!

>Be me, living genki lifestyle
>My sister likes anime
>Form a harem of qt 1.14 girls because anime, lol.
> Dump them all for blood-related sister.

kek

underrated.

He saw her.
She saw him and was bored with her partner.
He banged her and she got pregnant.
Her partner now raises what he thinks is his kid, but isn't.

*** The End ***

the puns come alive in the night

>I stand on the highway overpass waiting for my true love.
>Masturbating furiously while watching the cars below.
>Her green convertible with the tan top comes into view.
>I shoot my semen into the sky, a perfectly timed shot of milky white ejaculate arcs across the universe and splashes her face.

She had never known the taste of wedding cake, sadly, for all her 78 years of being alive. Then one day, a wedding cake salesman, 48, named Stanley Hardwick, stood on her front porch, knocking impatiently while she arthritically made her way to the door. She opened up, invited him in, and they both went to sit on her couch and drink tea and talk about cake and eat the samples he had brought. He wanted to sell cake and she wanted to eat it.

I could see Pynchon writing something like this

Really good actually

"You're my friend, user"

underrated

>he let his eyes glaze over as he stared out into the green, allowing himself to relax for but a moment
>briefly, he felt like she was there, letting her own gaze flow with the willow leaves
>these are the moments she lived for, absent-mindedly digging trenches with her shoes and talking to him for hours about nothing until the cold wind blew them home
>his lifeless carcass now cast a shifting shadow over her headstone, as grass grew over the trenches and the wind blew, moving no one

>She meets his eyes with a glance across the room.
>His penis becomes erect.
>Woman notices erection, and becomes aroused too.
>It was all just a dream, you wake up alone.

>MY ANACONDA DONT
>MY ANACONDA DONT
>MY ANACONDA DONT WANT NONE
>UNLESS YOU GOT BUNS HUN

Although he caught a glimpse of her earlier, it was only when she turned to his direction did it came to him. The possibility of a awkward candlelit dinner followed by amazing sex, passionate courtship, uneasy marriage and a family of ...

It was her stop. He waved to her, she didn't.

>A young couple make love in the heat of passion
>They marry and grow old together
>Their sex life begins to fade as they age and he struggles to get hard, this upsets her
>Deus Ex Machina

>One was an emo, the other a goth
>They got along well, they were planet hoth
>When it came to tie-the-knot
>Around their necks the noose grew taut

HE WAS A SK8ER BOI

SHE SAID SEE YA LATER BOY

Give. Me. The. Succ.

>Every post is about a woman.

It's almost like men have no personality independent from their vagina-having counterparts.

Eh, I'm high on pain-killers. Sue my Goth-boner.

its almost like most men are attracted to women, call me old fashioned but that seems likely

>romantic story
>most men are attracted to women
What a brain blast. Here's one to satiate your autism.

It is winter high on the horizon. All the nuts of the colony are cached deep within the communal tree. A squirrel lays in the embrace of B squirrel, whispering of love forbidden. "We'll need no nuts this winter, nor ever again", B chitters to A.

We were children before we were friends.

She was an adult before we were lovers.

I'm still there, shaking, waiting for her to come near.

With a warm, humming word she sentences me to the little death.

The pale night brought the hot effluvium through the nostril. However it was a remniscent memo of the activity of the afternoon. He sat there with the thought of breasts pressed on his abdomen. Alas her alacrity was the reason for his smile