Fetish

Daniel was divorced and living alone. His stupid job had been the cause of his marital problems because he had to spend so much time on the road. If only he and his ex-wife Sally had kids, she would have had something to keep her occupied whenever he was away. But that was not to be, no matter how hard they tried, and Sally’s apparent barrenness overburdened the shaky marriage. Perhaps, he had always thought, if I had spent more time at home, filling Sally’s cunt with my sperm, she

My Name is Robert Walsh and I have been through some significant transformations in my life and I need to tell someone about them; “I need to tell my story”.

How it began…

I am 49 years old now, but this all began for me about 39 years ago when I was a boy living with my mom in a 1 bedroom apartment in the basement of the Babylon Shores Motel. I didn’t know this at the time but my mom had been divorced because my dad had caught her several times in our house screwing her

The small car’s engine roared as it trundled down the city street, cars passing to either side, most honking. There was the occasional middle finger thrown as well, as if for good measure. The noise coming from under the hood would have been fine, even welcomed, had this particular vehicle not been electric. It should have been whisper quiet, unlike the petroleum-fueled pollution machines that had preceded it. But the last gasoline car had been scrap for at least fifty years.

And so the

I got good grades in Classical High School, Providence, Rhode Island not because I was endowed with great brains, but because I studied hard. Basically all I did was study and play a little High School football, but to say I was the best back-up running back for Classical wasn’t saying much. I wanted to date but that didn’t go far since I was tagged “Mikey the Geek boy”.

After I graduated from Cornell with a degree in managerial accounting I didn’t find the job of

You know the saying—and I’m sure I date myself by saying this—”I want to marry a girl like the one that married Dad?” Well, that holds true for me. I come from a big, traditional Italian family—Dad worked and was head of the house, Mom was at home in the kitchen (and pregnant for the most part). We didn’t have much money, but we were never hungry, and because there were seven kids, we had a lot of fun. I always assumed that when I got married, I would have the same kind

You wouldn’t have suspected it when he walked in so casually. With jeans and a tight t shirt he looked very comfortable with himself. Even his walk, a very collected and aggressive stride that drew the attention of both June and Eden, hid his purpose. Imagine their surprise then when, after searching through the entire store, he came to the counter empty handed.

June, her hair pulled back in a ponytail which gave her the appearance of being much more conservative than she actually was,

We’ve always liked to use food to enhance our sex ever since we read “Like Water for Chocolate” and that book by Marquez where the wacky dictator puts asparagus into the vaginas of the local towns women. I think that is actually where we got the idea from, sophomore year of college literature class. We passed notes back and forth to each other describing what we were going to eat off of one another and how we would become human sundaes. Jesus we ruined a lot of bed sheets back

It had been almost a month since Trudy’s first foray into the exciting world of dominance and submission and she and Mr. Wilson had enjoyed adventure after adventure. Trudy had found a whole new level of excitement in surrendering herself totally to her lover’s desires. Just putting on a blindfold was now enough to cause her pussy to literally drip with excitement. Mr. Wilson had tied Trudy in a number of different positions each more exposing than the last. She had enjoyed being

The chill October breeze sent a shiver through my body as I closed the front door of my parents’ house who I had been visiting that evening. As I locked the mortice, I heard a sound to my left. I looked round and, in the frame of light created by the open front door of the neighbouring house, I saw, over the dividing fence, my ‘childhood sweetheart’ struggling to manoeuvre a large fridge/freezer over the precipice of the doorstep.

I last saw her at the funeral of her father a

Lisa Moeschen’s large, floppy boobs hung on each side of her skinny chest as she lied on her slender back watching Bob Fisher’s huge testicles descend to her mouth. She was twenty-five and had lost her virginity to Bob, a painter ten years her senior whom she said she loved, and did in a way, but really considered him little more than a man who licked her tender pussy for hours and who had an enormous cock and big, shaven balls she could feast on.

Now her tugging mouth barely stretched around