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
My wife, Beth has a problem, she just can’t say no. If her boss wants someone to come in on the weekend he calls Beth. If he wants his dry cleaning picked up and brought out to his house two counties away he calls Beth. Her boss likes to entertain from time to time so
5:30 am and my alarm goes off. I look over and see my wife and Mistress, Karen looking at me and smiling. I know what that smile means already and I start to move down before she says anything. “That’s right. I started my period again last night and you know what that means don’t
I am a high school mathematics teacher while my wife is an English teacher. We both teach the ninth grade where the students are all about fifteen to sixteen years old. They are freshmen and are the small fish in a very big pond. For some it is hard to adjust to it because just
I’ll begin by saying that I am well aware this particular fantasy of mine is pretty odd and that it may well gross out some of you reading this, but what can I say, I guess I’m a pervert. I can’t say exactly when my fascination with the female posterior began, but I do know
She couldn’t believe she was actually doing this. How many times had she thought about it, but figured it would never happen, or worse case scenario, she might chicken out. But no, here she was, about to realize a fantasy that was too long in the making. Patti sat in her car for a few
My former college roommate Carol had called me the week before to invite me to lunch at one of Saint Louis’s nicest restaurants. We had been in and out of touch over the past several years and we had both just turned 38. We were born a week apart in the same year. It had
When my wife Jane asked if I would be a volunteer worker at her company’s western night, I said sure, why not? She told me she would fill me in on the details as the time drew nearer. A couple of weeks before the event, Jane started making a satin saloon girl outfit. I teased
Jane and Mary, were sitting in their living room watching TV. They’d had a good meal and had decided to spend a relaxed evening in. After a while of companionable silence Jane spoke. “I meant to tell you Mary, that I’ve really, really come alive since we started our fun games. You’re such a good,
Donna Hartley was no shrinking violet. She had the kind of job many men would have envied; she was a sports commentator for super bike racing and loved every minute of it. She presented the image of a tall confident woman in her late thirties, not frightened of the world and what it had to