Wow Lola, What a thrill is it to get your emails. I always get a double delight from them. The first thrill is just reading them and getting turned on. Your ideas always dampen my pussy. The second joy is reading them to poor Aaron and watching his face get beet red, knowing I’m telling
My name is Jack Duncan. I am 45 and a professional photographer. My wife Debbie is 32 with wavy, natural blonde hair atop a 5’6″ body weighing 123 pounds. Blessed with a beautiful face and stark green eyes, Debbie has shapely hips carried on long, lovely legs. With supple breasts filling a B-cup, she is
I’d always thought of myself as a fairly down-to-earth, open-minded, sane guy, but apparently, I was turning over a new leaf. I had woken up to find myself struggling naked against hand, ankle, waist and chest restraints. The room was a stark white, with the only furnishing being the standard exam table I was lying
I began the walk home, dreading it. It is so far, through the darkened heart of the campus, all deserted during this holiday weekend. I trudged under the arches, a brief glimmering smile at their legend, and tucked my head against the whipping wind. My mind drifted, stopping on this, pausing on that. It was
I become a porno star. You should know that I’m neither a recovering nymphomaniac nor an amateur easy-after-a- few-drinks-take-me-home-and-have-your-nasty-way-with-me nymphomaniac. Instead, I’m an ardent, unabashed, full- fledged, let-it-all-hang-out, celebrating, practicing, sucking, fucking, raging, roaring, whoring nymphomaniac. Mrs. Goddard looks very different out of her lacy see- through chemise and back in her librarian’s glasses, a
Alan and Allison were newcomers to the small northern sea side town; they had decided to move north after selling their small business in the south. Tired of the long cold winters they had moved up the coast in search of a warm tropical climate. Travelling in a caravan, stopping at different resorts until quite
Zoe sat staring at the white haired woman sitting in the room with her. It was a Sunday afternoon and once again Zoe’s parents had dumped her off at her grandmother’s house while they went to visit some friends in the countryside. Usually Zoe would protest finding her Grandmothers small suburban house boring but lately
This story was written as a fantasy. The bar was a dump and located in the worst part of town. It never seemed to close, as required by state law. Most of the men who came here were drunks or trouble makers. Women very seldom, if ever, came in. It was always crowded from noon
Jenny sat on the barstool talking with her friend, Amy, about what had been going on in her life the past few weeks with work and her home life. She didn’t get to get out much and being a newspaper reporter was no easy job. It was Wednesday night at Michael’s and it was ladies
It was late at night, mum and dad were fast asleep and I crept downstairs, mobile phone in hand. I had turned the sounds off so no chance it would make a noise and wake anyone up. I got to the foot of the stairs, listened for a few moments then texted Sean “come to