The heading at the top of the screen simply reads: “What is your ultimate fantasy?” I don’t know how I found this website but I have been staring at the screen for the past ten minutes too afraid to start filling out the survey.
On the home page it states that once you fill in all of the blanks the company will write a personalized story based on what you have described as your ultimate fantasy.
The cursor keeps blinking but I am staring at the empty boxes. “Type, type,
I don’t know why I married a panty slave. It’s not like I didn’t know about James’ fetish before I said yes to his marriage proposal. He had been quite up front when we were dating about his desire to be controlled by a strong woman, and the instrument of her control was to be her underwear. He isn’t into bondage or spanking or any of the more traditional bdsm fare, although I sometimes incorporate these things into our kinky love making.
He also isn’t
What attracted me to…
Linda Groves at first was the hair on the arms. The blonde that worked with me at my part-time job at the grocery store during my first year of college was not extraordinary looking in any other way, but one look at her arms got my attention right away.
Her slender arms had a profuse growth of hair on them that grew from just above her elbow to her wrists, yet the hair was so fine and fair that it was almost invisible despite the extraordinary volume of it. You could
Nikki, being an Arab, had been raised very repressed. Having been born without a cock made her less than complete, she made almost a fetish of pissing standing up and was fascinated by my pissing, she would often find some excuse to follow me into the bathroom when I was taking a piss. She would stand and watch me; eyes fixed on my cock and her lips parted a bit, her tongue just peeking from between them.
She appeared fascinated, and that fascinated me. After we had been fucking for a couple
It had been a year since Surgeons had removed Fern’s left leg just a few inches below her hip. She was now very adept and comfortable with her one leggededness and she and her husband Don had grown to enjoy the difference from other couples that they shared.
Both had grown to agree that the loss of Fern’s leg was tragic and sad but that it wasn’t as much of a hardship as it could have been and that it certainly couldn’t have happened to a better prepared couple.
From a
‘I was sure he had a good view down the Mall to the palace. And I was sure he was saluting’
How do I find them? Well, it’s not a science. It’s hit and miss, good luck and bad. Friends, business colleagues tell me about theirs. I ask them questions, nothing obvious, but little things slip out that give me clues.
And I look through the Yellow Pages listings — for an interesting name or angle in their ads. And they’ve got websites now. Some of them put their
It was late and I was bored with the television, so I turned to the Internet for something to occupy my mind. I knew that I should be upstairs asleep by now because I had to get up for work in a few short hours, but I was still jazzed up from drinking cup after cup of Coca-Cola. It was after midnight already and I wasn’t even the slightest bit tired.
The T.V. remote slipped through my fingers then I clicked and surfed my way across the World Wide Wasteland, forsaking one cathode ray
Shrugging into the jacket of his tuxedo, Jacob smiled hearing the chatter of the crowd that had rapidly gathered in the parking lot below him in anticipation of the doors of the club opening. Earlier while making his rounds seeing that everything was ready he shook his head glancing outside seeing the wealth of jewelry that flashed and the vibrant colors of the couture clothing the women were sporting as they clung to the arms of their tuxedo clad gentlemen.
Those invited to ‘Club
I stand and watch her walk toward me. Her fingers are cool and dry as she places the collar around my neck, nimble as they buckle it in the back, the leather touching my skin all the way around, not tight, only touching. I feel her breath stir my hair.
A snort of laughter escapes me and I stifle it quickly. She pauses, her hands still on the buckle, and leans around to look at my face. “Yes?” she inquires, lifting an eyebrow, that same slight half-smile barely curving her perfect
“I must be crazy,” Elise thought fleetingly as she jabbed the needle into her left breast, two inches below the nipple.
It hurt, but not as badly as the needle already buried in her right breast. That one was still stinging, sending a thrill through her that left her gasping. She had hoped that the one in her left breast would balance the pain. Pulling her breast up by the nipple, she withdrew the needle, blessed it in the smoke of the incense, and then stabbed again.
This time, she