Mature

I grew up in a very small town. Well, I didn’t even grow up in it, I actually had to grow up outside of town. It was a simple life for my family.

Starting in our early teens, my brother and I started mowing lawns. It was a good job for us, being in school. We’d go to school and mow lawns in the evenings or weekends. When summertime rolled around, we’d do even more.

The majority of our customers were older people and some small businesses. We did it for years, continuing to do the same customers

I have always been attracted to older men. It was clear to me that they enjoyed watching me and I suspected they often dreamed about what it would be like to play with me. I’m not talking about board games or cards I mean really playing with me.

I was a very well endowed girl. Knowing that men, especially older man, liked to look at my breasts was very exciting. It was easy for me to accidently brush up against them and sense them quiver with excitement when they felt my nipples, hard and

Imagine a good-looking guy, tall, straight, intelligent, 20 years old and still a virgin. Sounds strange doesn’t it? Still it exactly describes my situation at the time. Sure, I’d had girlfriends. You know how these things go. They all wanted to kiss, and in some cases they even let me touch there breasts, but sex… nope. On the other hand my friends all seemed very experienced. They told me stories about how they made love to loads of women and I could only nod. Nobody knew that I

It was pouring rain as I pounded on the door to my best friend’s house. The lights weren’t on and her car wasn’t in the driveway, but I was so enraged that I didn’t care. I was about ready to give up on the door and just crash through the front window when the light in the front hall came on and the door flew open.

“What in the hell…” Ashley’s dad looked furious until he saw me. His jaw dropped as he looked at me, and he was silent for a moment.

I was making my rounds in an electric cart of a local supermarket, picking up a few things for dinner, minding my own business … and keeping an eye out for a shapely bottom or a full-sized breast or just a pretty face when … I caught a glimpse of all three in the same jeans-and-vee-neck-blouse ahead of me.

I followed her up the aisle, slowly, savoring the narrowness at her waistline, the way she rounded out the backside of her jeans and, yes, the more-than-handful globes in her

As I told you in my first story, ” The Boys from next door “, I currently own a home for retiree’s. It, of course, caters for both men and women. I currently have eleven males and nine females. I employ twelve staff for nursing needs, eight females and four men. On top of that I also employ five catering staff. I, of course, jump in and help where-ever I’m needed. I’ve been doing this since my divorce four years ago. I enjoy it immensely. I have great satisfaction

CHAPTER 1

Kate Scott, a curvy brunette and associate editor of the Evening Herald and judge of the newspaper’s story competition, smiled when she read the covering note attached to the thick manuscript.

My name is Harry Blackwell. I submit this story as my entry in the Evening Herald’s Annual Best Story Competition. I don’t believe I have much chance of winning the $100 prize and have to admit my entry is many times over the 800-word limit but there you are.

All I can tell you

If the motel were busier, you wouldn’t even notice her. She was about five foot five inches tall, brunette, 130 pounds, mid-forties, nice shape and probably fun to look at under her jogging suit. I had seen her yesterday in the operating waiting room. Like now, she had looked tired, down and alone. Company for continental breakfast seemed like a good idea, so I walked over to her table in the corner by the window. “I saw you at the hospital yesterday. My I join you for

I was tall and skinny in high school. A dork, although I didn’t know it. I was interested in making good grades and succeeded at that. I had a few dates. Guys that were dorks also and had no girl friend would ask me to a dance or a party when they needed a date. Socially I was a misfit. And I don’t think I ever thought about sex. If any boy ever did try anything sexual with me I don’t remember it and I definitely would have rejected him. Sex was something bad and dirty. Good

You don’t have to have read Beach Stud to enjoy this one.

Jason scrolled down the screen, saw the current price of the shares he had been following and hit the buy button. They were just a tad over $1.05 and had dropped from $4.85 in a week. He bought 200,000 and knew that in less than a week, given the asset backing of the company, he would clear a quarter of mil, minimum.

Sighing he leant back in the chair and considered what he was going to do for the rest of the day. The beach was