INTRODUCTION
The summer I was sent to Mountain Farm, I was in my late teens (19). A had for a couple of years already been soiling the sheets with my nightly juices almost every night and my attention to schoolwork and helping out at home had become more and more distracted by my growing and constantly aching cock and balls. The actual trigger was when my mother surprised me twice one afternoon when I was happily stroking my member in the family bathroom but had forgotten to lock the door.
It
Olivia scurried nervously down the pot-holed street of the poor, downtown neighborhood of the city. Having grown up in the wealthy suburbs, she had only visited this part of town once or twice in her life. She recalled coming down here with her father on one of his business errands a couple years back. As she breathed in the hot night air, she recalled from that earlier trip the same sweet, slightly rotten smell of the city in the summer.
Being downtown by herself on a Friday night was
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
A cold and rainy Saturday in February. The rain is unusually heavy. Instead of the usual “mizzle” that mists the air with tiny, slow-falling droplets, it’s pouring in sheets, pattering against the window. It fills my bedroom with a dull and depressing sound. My mood is equally bleak. I’m snuggled in bed, shivering and miserable. I have the heat maxed but it’s taking forever for the room to warm up.
I’m thinking of you. Even though I’ve known you for
Cheryl turned from the guys, shrieked with laughter and ran back towards the water….
As soon as caught up with her, I gasped, “Oh my god Cher, you planned that out perfectly! I thought you were serious!”
“Katie, I was!!!! I would have fucked Chris right where he sat if I thought I could have gotten away with it and still shown our faces at this beach again! I’m so horny right now, if they followed us into the water, I’d fuck them standing up!!!
I told you
I was a nude life drawing model when I was in my 20s. I was regarded as an excellent model since I was completely comfortable being nude in a group of clothed people and I could hold poses very well. I also was very creative in my poses. I worked very regularly, and worked around five times a week for ten years. It is now over 25 years since I last posed, and I am looking back upon my most interesting experiences. The following experience took place after I had been posing for eight years, so I
I had to write to tell you how my wife, Gill, recently fulfilled her long-term fantasy. You may think this to be very weird but for many years her kinkiest desire has been to be gang raped. Seriously, she is incredibly turned-on at the thought of being powerless to resist as two or more men screw her against her will.
She told me of this some years ago when she at first admitted that she liked to be fucked with her knickers still on.
To these, she soon added other items of clothing and I
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
I had been back to Carol’s many times since that weekend when she first made love to me out in her pool house. No longer was I only a weekend visitor, I spent many weekday afternoons and evenings over at her place, usually using my babysitting as an excuse to tell my parents.
There was still a level of truth to that statement though as I did watch little Amy while Carol finished some work that she brought home with her. That was always followed with time alone with her after we put Amy to bed.
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