I like to think of myself as urbane, and I like to think of Chicago as the ultimate urbane city. It really is just the way it looks in movies. Slick. Clean. Great architecture. Lots of live music if you know where to look. But I also like to daydream too much. I was at
He leans over my ear and whispers: ‘Are you going to obey me, or am I going to have to hurt you?’ His blue eyes glimmer in the twilit room. I am gagged and roped. I know I’m sitting down, but I can’t move her arms or legs. ‘Do you want me to untie you?’
“I wish we’d been born sisters.” Jesse said, gently daubing ‘Watermelon Pink’ lipstick onto my pussylips. I was sitting on the edge of the bed in just an oversized T-shirt, legs spread wide, while she sat on the floor between them in just her panties, her face just inches away from my hole, decorating it.
Guests were starting to arrive, and she was nervous. They had gone to several other parties before, but this would be the first one that they had held for the group. He stood behind her and rubbed her shoulders and whispered “Relax” into her ear. Then he bit it gently. The “zing” made her giggle
It was fairly easy to notice that Mrs. Graham, our high school senior teacher, was constantly looking at the black boys crotches in class. The only problem was she finally looked at the wrong one. Mine. I stayed after the other students left class that evening to test my theory. She didn’t notice as I
I never thought I’d get pregnant. I’d been trying with my husband for almost three years when new neighbors moved in across the street and we invited them over that fateful evening. John and Kristine were your average looking couple, he was nice enough looking that — in my mind’s eye — I had him
It took only a second for me to recognize her at the other end of the bar, because she looked the same, even though I hadn’t seen her for 20 years. I felt a stirring at my crotch, and it made me laugh to myself. Catherine was turning me on as if I were still
Alison always felt safe going back to work in the afternoons. She was a teacher in a school that was safe. The students, she thought, all liked her. The janitors were always around and the school had no problems. She had no idea that this day would be different. As she walked into her classroom,
Marshall blinked in the bright light, shut his eyes, then opened them and slowly lifted his head. All he saw was blue and white. He was in a room with white walls and a blue floor, and he was lying on the floor. It didn’t feel like a floor because it was soft and springy.
It was in the late 70’s and I was visiting my cousin in the south during spring break. The worst of the segregation issues were over but there was still tension in that area. I had longish hair and was very buff as a member of my schools swim team, but was out of action
This trip wasn’t all that different from the typical business trip thus far. I was stuck at an airport hotel for several weeks while I served my client. I was terribly bored, although this time I had rented a car so that I wasn’t stuck. To ease my boredom, I had rented a couple videos
My sister Jennifer blindfolded me and drove me somewhere. In all our years of fucking, we surprise each other constantly. We went into a house, I think, and someone put a hood over my head to replace the blindfold. Then I was led downstairs and my hands were cuffed in leather restraints and my arms
Greg gave the rope that tied his sweet slave Allie’s hands behind her back one more good pull just to make sure the bindings where secure. The young, blond woman was bent over in bed, a stack of old towels supporting her so she could comfortably lie with her ass in the air, Allie was
“Asshole!” “Yep. And you love watching it get fucked – don’t you?” I grinned back at my wife. “Only fair. You can’t seem to get enough of mine.” She smiled lazily at me. “I’d kiss you for that but I seem to be tied up for the moment…” I jerked a thumb over my shoulder
It’s hard to describe the turmoil of the last two years. A part of my beautiful wife, soul mate, lover and idol has been taken from me and I have some responsibility for the loss. We’re in our early forties, comfortably off, well-paying jobs and rediscovering some freedom as our son and daughter have fled