Chatham Prep School
- 3 years ago
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Chapter One
‘I should have brought a newspaper or a book or something.’
Nearly unpacked, having already survived her first class at the Savannah College of Art and Design in the old Barnard School building across the square, and feeling the itch to get back to her dolls, Ginny had eschewed the thought of fixing her own breakfast of burned toast and weak coffee this morning and ventured out onto the square to William’s Café at the corner at West Taylor.
The serious and mournful-looking young man two tables over had brought his book and hadn’t looked up once since Ginny sat down. There were just the two of them on the outdoor patio of the café, which was not unusual for this time of day.
Ginny was intrigued that he was reading a book on textile art, which was what she was teaching at the college on an interim assignment while she determined what she thought of Savannah as a more permanent home. He was nice-looking enough. Clean cut and his hair nicely trimmed—something Ginny had seen little of in her class the previous afternoon. As scruffy as all of her students were—at least the ones who showed up half awake—Ginny wondered how they could turn out fine art work. But she had been assured that they did. And as the class progressed and when it was over and she walked down the hallways of the old school building, with its walls plastered with examples of their work, Ginny decided that maybe this was the right decision after all—at least for the interim.
It had been an eerie coincidence. She had barely come to the conclusion that she simply couldn’t go on in Richmond, living in the Fan district and teaching the art of doll making at Virginia Commonwealth even for another month, when, on successive days, she’d received an offer to teach at SCAD for a term at least and notification that she had inherited her Aunt Marie’s co-op apartment on one of Savannah’s old squares. Ginny took it as an even clearer signal when she discovered that the building she’d be teaching in—Savannah’s famous school of art and design being housed in old buildings all over the sleepy preeminent southern city—was right on the same square where her aunt’s apartment was located. Chatham Square, one of the quietest, most picturesque, and charming of the squares mapped out for the original city plan.
The bequest had been a curious one. Ginny had known her aunt only through a series of letters exchanged over the years without the knowledge of Ginny’s mother, Marie’s sister. There had been some sort of falling out between the two sisters. But Marie had persisted in sending letters to Ginny on the sly until Ginny broke down and realized that she looked forward to the chat and worldly advice from the woman and opened up to her in writing—in ways that she didn’t open up even to her mother.
Marie had hidden her illness from Ginny over the past year—being more focused on Ginny’s own activities—only hinting at her condition by repeatedly suggesting that it would be nice if Ginny came down to Savannah to visit her sooner rather than later. In hindsight, considering what happened not long before Marie died, Ginny came to believe that she had been insensitive and self-centered in her relationship with her aunt. She hadn’t come—at least before Marie unexpectedly did die.
It wasn’t because of where Ginny lived or what she taught that had become oppressive to her. It was because of Lenny. Lenny had shared Richmond with her. Wherever she turned, a memory slipped back in of what she and Lenny had done here or there. What Lenny had said. How he had smiled at her—that ‘forever’ smile. That smile that now seemed so false and curdled her blood—blood that had run hot for Lenny. All too briefly, but all too painful now. Lenny had been her first love. She was told she’d get over it, but she didn’t think that was possible.
Her Aunt Marie hadn’t told her to just get over it, she had counseled that Ginny should get away—change her environment and her activity patterns and look for new, surer footing. And then, while to two were discussing plans for a visit by Ginny, Aunt Marie had died—and left Ginny her co-op apartment in Savannah, on Chatham Square, in what was one of the first cities in the New World to be designed for urban livability on paper before foundations were laid and paths cleared for roads.
Arriving in Savannah, Ginny had been pleasantly surprised. It was different from Richmond—sleepier, more southern, if it was possible to be more southern than Richmond. She had to admit, however, that Richmond was becoming northernized and urbanized at a fast pace—much faster a pace than she was seeing in Savannah. But in those differences, there also were similarities that made the transition easier for her. Old Savannah was of much the same cloth as the Fan district of Richmond where she had lived. And the art school. Well, creative students are a blessing no matter where they are found. And her work and her students truly were blessings for Ginny. She had no idea how she would have survived the loss of Lenny otherwise.
Whenever Ginny felt hurt or depressed, there were always her dolls. She could always begin making another doll. She could put all of her expression in her art.
What surprised her, though, were the people. Whenever she said she was moving down to Savannah, the first thing she would hear about was the graciousness and friendliness of the people of Savannah—and then they would mention the city’s squares and how restful and serene they were.
But thus far Ginny hadn’t seen any of the friendliness, except perhaps glimmers—no, to be fair, more than glimmers—of it at the college. She was trying to be fair. She hadn’t been here long enough to make sweeping judgments. But thus far graciousness and friendliness weren’t the first traits that came to mind concerning the people of Chatham Square—from the bag lady haunting the otherwise magical park in the square, taking up the best bench and humming her songs and rocking back and forth and not even looking up when greeted, to the man in one of the two hunkering Greek Revival piles glowering at each other across the square, one on the west and the other on the east, who gave nothing more than a curt, ‘Yes, it is,’ when Ginny had passed him the previous morning en route to the college and remarked on the beautiful morning.
Ginny had already fallen into gritting her teeth when coming back to her new home, a very nice two-bedroom, second-floor apartment with large, high-ceilinged rooms and large windows fronting the square on one side and a charming walled stone patio in the back that was shared by all. The apartment was one of several in a row of old townhouses lining the southern side of the square that one would take for separate single-family dwellings in passing. The co-op idea had sounded inviting when Ginny had been told of the apartment—but she already was learning the downside of that.
The first-floor apartment in her section of the townhouses was owned by a crotchety old man who Ginny had, thus far, principally experienced by the view of his bent back and a broad rear as he flounced back into his apartment from their shared foyer and slammed his door. Ginny had found several things that needed immediate attention when she had moved in—a leak in the roof tiles, plumbing that banged and balked, and a broken step on the stairs down to the street from the entry. And she had quickly learned that in a co-op arrangement, these had to be commonly addressed. But so far, Mr. Richards, on the first floor, snapped and retreated at any mention of a common solution to the problems—and the couple who owned the third floor apartment apparently weren’t even in residence. There was a smaller apartment in the English basement, but Ginny saw as she was moving in that it had a foreclosure sign on the door that dated back into the previous year.
And here, as cheery and inviting as William’s café had looked when she passed it on the way home f
rom the college the previous afternoon, it certainly wasn’t lifting her spirits now, despite the delicious, chicory-smelling coffee and the flakey croissants she found there. And she knew exactly why. The people here were pulling her down. There were only two of them besides Ginny at the outdoor café this morning—the young man who had his nose in the book and who was spoiling his handsome features with a perpetual frown and the waiter, who was even more glum than the book reader was. It wasn’t that he was inattentive, it was that he seemed to be miles and miles away.
And at this moment, Ginny wasn’t at all sure she had solved anything by moving miles and miles away herself—putting distance between herself and the memory of Lenny.
She was deep enough in thought going back to her apartment that she forgot about the broken step and almost tripped. Mr. Richards was standing inside his door when she entered the foyer—he always seemed to be there to see her come in even though he didn’t want to talk to her when she did.
‘I almost tripped on the stair again, Mr. Richards. We really must do something about that. And about the roof too—they say we’re expecting some heavy rains next week.’
‘Do what you want about it, young lady. I don’t have money for such as that. Your aunt, Marie, she never—’
‘I’m sure she didn’t, Mr. Richards. That’s why—’
‘Don’t need any of your sass, either, young lady. Savannah girls don’t—’
‘Oh, all right. I’ll call around for someone to start fixing them,’ Ginny said, exasperated and feeling the familiar dread of irritation and aloneness clutching at her. Richards said nothing—until Ginny had reached the fourth stair and couldn’t resist saying over her shoulder, ‘I’ll get the work done. But it’s a co-op. I’ll send you a bill for a third of the cost.’
‘I didn’t OK any billing,’ he muttered. ‘And there’s the basement apartment too. It’s not my fault that unit’s in foreclosure. I’m not liable for any more than a fourth of anything on this hall.’
Ginny heard Richards’s door slam right before she slammed hers. She felt foolish. He was just a grouchy old man. He probably felt as alone as she did. There was no evidence there was a Mrs. Richards, but the glimpses that Ginny had gotten of the living room of that unit around Mr. Richards’s retreating back showed definite signs of a woman’s taste and touch.
Ginny went into the second bedroom that she was using as a workroom and sat down to work on the latest doll she was making. Ginny didn’t make dolls for play, she made elaborate historical period dolls as art objects. Each one cost hundreds of dollars to make and hundreds more than that to own. It was her art, and she made good money at it. She also was good enough at it that she was widely sought as an art instructor and gallery exhibitor.
She was having trouble concentrating on the doll she was working on today, though. The isolation at the café and this little set-to with Mr. Richards had put her out of sorts. No, she realized, she already had been out of sorts. Now she was downright despondent. This was how she had felt when she had left Richmond. Her first two weeks in Savannah had been more uplifting, but now she was sinking fast back into what she knew would become clinical depression if she didn’t do something about it.
The letter was there on her work table. She’d read it a thousand times already. She reached out to take it up again, but then she jerked her hand back. She wouldn’t do it. She wouldn’t let herself wallow in her grief and misfortunate—and her shame.
She had to get out of the house—into the sunshine or the shade or a pretty garden. It didn’t matter what. She just needed to try to do something she wasn’t now doing to lift her spirits.
Maybe if she made a lunch she could take out into the park in the square. A picnic. She decided it was worth a try. She’d take the doll and do some fancy embroidery on the gown it was wearing—or maybe fashion something regal to pin into the doll’s elaborate white powdered coiffure.
The bag lady was occupying the bench with the best mix of sunlight and shade when Ginny entered the park. This was no surprise, of course, but the woman didn’t make any gesture of moving enough to one side for Ginny to sit there too. So Ginny sat on a bench facing the woman.
Fed by a cry for human contact deep inside her, Ginny took half of the sandwich she had made and reached out over the pathway that separated the two women. ‘I’ve found my eyes were bigger than my stomach. I can’t eat all of this sandwich I just made. Would you like to have half?’
The woman stopped humming and rocking and looked up at the proffered sandwich and then into Ginny’s eyes. If Ginny had expected to receive some spark of contact, she was disappointed, because there was nothing but the look of indifference in the woman’s eyes. Ginny couldn’t determine her age. She could have been anywhere between fifty and seventy. She wasn’t dirty, but there was an air of unkemptness and ‘I don’t care’ about her, which Ginny thought was a shame, because the woman had a face that once must have been strikingly beautiful. There was no way of telling whether she was malnourished or obese, because she had wrapped herself in many layers of clothing. She no doubt was wearing everything she owned, Ginny thought.
The woman was surrounded by bits and pieces of what looked like cast-off and completely useless mismatched material. She held a pair of scissors, and the way she was wielding them as she cut away at the material scraps made Ginny wary.
Ginny heard the woman give a grunt, and when she looked up, she saw the woman shrug and gesture toward a piece of cardboard sitting on the bench beside her. Ginny shuffled over to the other side of the path and put the half of sandwich down on the cardboard and quickly retreated to her own bench, her eyes all the time on the flashing scissors.
Almost immediately a flock of birds descended on the pathway in front the old woman, and Ginny watched in irritation and surprise as the woman took up the sandwich and pinched away at it, tossing bits and pieces of the bread and meat to the dancing birds as she did so.
Of course Ginny felt insulted—and put in her place. She had meant it as a gesture of introduction, of friendship, not of pity and smug charity. But it had been taken wrong. She felt she had been done a wrong herself, but, equally, she wondered if it had been she who had gone beyond the bounds.
She just didn’t know anymore. Ever since she had received that letter—that letter from Lenny—she had been off kilter. Her whole world had gone awry and she had begun to question everything she did—why she did it. Were her motives good or self-centered?
Ginny was still struggling with this while she busied herself with what she brought to work on and tried not to look at the old woman, who had gone back to her mad stabbing at the scraps of material as the birds lost interest for the moment and flew back up into the trees overhead.
It was while Ginny was trying to avoid a confrontation that she noticed a little girl standing at the arm of her bench. She was a little black girl of seven or eight in a loose-fitting cotton dress, white—or once white—with tiny lilacs on it, and with tightly pulled cornrow pigtails.
‘Hello there. How are you?’ Ginny said with a smile, trying to cover up the snub she’d just received and show that she was ‘the nice one.’
‘Fine.’
Ginny recognized her as the daughter of a woman who lived in the basement apartment of the section of the co-op building just to the west of hers. The woman had been recommended to her as a cleaning lady by the realty company that had watched over her apartment while the inheritance papers went through and Ginny was able to take possession. The woman apparently cleaned several of the co-op apartments on the square and was a housemaid for the Armstrong Inn that also occupied a portion of the
square. There was no sign of a father that Ginny had seen as yet.
‘Would you like to have a cookie? I have more here than I can eat.’
‘No ma’am. Can’t. My mamma says I can’t.’
Yet another rebuff. But at least this time it was for a sensible parental protection reason. Ginny could see that the little girl very much would like to have one of the cookies and that there wouldn’t be any questions of the birds getting any of it if she had it.
‘It’s still in the package, honey. Sealed. I haven’t opened it. So, why don’t you just take it home with you and give it to your mother and ask her if it would be all right for you to eat it?’
‘Yes, ma’am. Thank you ma’am.’
Ginny saw signs of a slight curtsy as an obviously pleased little girl reached out a small, thin hand and delicately took the cookie package. Ginny was already on edge from earlier in the day and from the encounter she’d just had with the woman who was still sitting across the path now—and now showing more interest in Ginny and the little girl than she had shown to just Ginny, and Ginny felt herself trembling—on the point of both tears and a nervous giggle. She willed the little girl to turn and run off home, but the girl just stood there and looked at her, a mixed smile and quizzical look on her face.
‘What is it, dear? Do you want something else?’ Ginny asked. She felt the words clutch at her throat, though. She felt overwhelmed and full of regret for having come to the park.
‘Is that a doll?’
‘Yes, it’s a doll,’ Ginny said, the tension beginning to drain from her now. She was returning to sure footing.
‘What’s wrong with it?’
‘Nothing’s wrong with it. I’m still making it. I make dolls. See,’ Ginny said, as she lifted the doll. ‘It’s a queen doll.’
‘Why is the queen so sad?’
It was a simple question, but it shot through to Ginny’s very being like a bolt of lightning. She looked at the face of the doll, and indeed, it did look very sad indeed. How could this have happened? This wasn’t how she made her dolls. How could she have painted a sad face on the doll and not have known she was doing it?
‘She’s a queen who led a very sad life, dear.’ It was the best answer she could come up with on the spur of the moment. And that it was true quite probably wouldn’t be either here or there in the view of a child. It did seem to satisfy the little girl, though.
‘Do you make happy dolls too? I like happy dolls.’
Ginny started to answer, but both she and the little girl looked away, toward the line of row houses on the south side of the square as they heard a woman calling. It was the little girl’s mother. With a little apologetic smile, the girl turned and limped away.
It was then that Ginny noticed that the girl’s legs were malformed—well, at least that one of them was. It was turned outward so that the girl’s right foot was pointed at an outward angle rather than straight. She was trying to run to her mother, but she couldn’t manage more than an awkward lope and constantly had to correct her movement to remain in some semblance of a straight line.
‘Yes, of course I make happy dolls,’ Ginny murmured as she watched the little girl struggle down the park pathway, her voice choked by a tear that had appeared.
Ginny tore her gaze away from the departing figure of the little girl and looked across the pathway at the woman on the other bench—who now was looking at her sharply.
Was that a judgmental stare? A dare for Ginny to show some emotion, some misplaced sense of pity and charity?
Ginny didn’t wait around to find out. She gathered up her doll and what was left of her ruined lunch and hurried across the park in the wake of the little girl and back into her apartment.
She stopped inside the closed door of her apartment, her back plastered to the strong wood separating her from the world, to catch her breath. When she could breathe again, she headed straight for her workroom and scanned the shelves to examine her dolls—the pieces of work in various stages of completion—knowing now what she would find, what she didn’t want to see. Sad faces. Every face she had painted on every oblong object of porcelain or wood that represented a doll face in preparation bore a sad expression. These were all faces she’s painted since receiving the letter from Lenny.
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Hannah wouldn't be home until after 10, so George decided to drop in on Joanna and Dave. Dave was out and wouldn't be back until late; he had an evening meeting at his school, but Joanna and the children where home and made much of George. George noted they all had moist hair. "Yes, we're only just back from swimming down at the aquatic centre with Catherine's young man," Joanna said. "Mum!" Catherine exclaimed, colouring up beet red. "What young man?" George asked sternly. "Is...
At 50 years old I began to pursue my curiosity about sucking a man. I was married and definitely still enjoying sex with my wife, but I just couldn’t deny how turned on I could get fantasizing about men. My wife was not open to such things, so I kept the fantasies to myself. But I finally decided to experience what was on my mind.So, one day I got my courage up and answered an ad on Craigslist for a man saying he had a big load for a cocksucker. I didn’t get a photo or anything, just told him I...
I know she’s up to something. My stepmom Carmela Clutch is at a hotel and my dad is not there. I’m watching her as she tries on her lingerie and slaps her own plump ass. She hears me in the room, I’ve been caught! But it’s not like she is innocent either. She tells me her sex life with my dad is not the most exciting and she needs this to keep up appearances. I (Johnny Love) tell her I have a crush on her. It seems like a win/win situation. My stepmom spreads her legs...
xmoviesforyouNaomi’s boyfriend have been dating for a long time and have never cheated even when they went to separate colleges. What they do have though, is ‘The List’ – a collection of celebrity crushes and choices of people they would love to hook up with if they ever had the chance. After realising that one of her list entries is staying at her hotel in the form of a hot sports celebrity, she knows she may never have another chance to make this fantasy a reality. At first, it is...
xmoviesforyouMy sister Kate had introduced me to the wonderful world of group sex, one in which my incredible endowments were tested to their limits. I had surpassed all expectations, being able to pleasure five horny teenage beauties several times each in the space of a few hours. My tireless monster cock had unloaded plentiful loads of sweet cream onto their gorgeous bodies. However, with mum back, I had lost interest in those marathon fuck sessions. I preferred to pleasure my ultra-boxom mother, and...
For the second time that morning, Locke splashed cold water on her face. For the second time, it did no good. Her hands were shaking; but she was not cold, nor frightened, not nervous nor weak. She stood upright, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Another. While she still felt a little disoriented – kind of a not-quite vertigo – if she had to put her finger on it, she'd equate this feeling with waking up from a long nap. "Wow," she exhaled. Locke, as she studied her pretty face in...
When I was 16 I had a job working in a Hardware Store in town. It was a small kind of country feel store, the owner's name was Glenn, he ran the store with his son Jake. I worked there while I was in high school. One day Jake came and asked me if I could stay late to help him unload a truck that was running late with a shipment, I said I would stay. The truck arrived around 8 pm, we unloaded the freight and sent the driver on his way. It was now after 9 pm , Jake asked me to come to the office...
How We Met When I heard my favorite magazine was having a contest which involved writing an essay on how you met the love of your life, I couldn't resist it, if only because we arent a typical couple. My submission went like this: The first time I saw the love of my life was at the YMCA. She was just relaxing in the water, sometimes moving but mostly taking it very easy. Then came the moment that made me want to get to know this lady better. A kid came by, and accidentally...
After stopping at the tattoo parlor where I had a gold ring inserted through Lisa’s clit hood, Andy, Lisa and I drove in the Bronco from the Denver airport to the ranch north of Glenwood Springs which I had inherited from Uncle Bert. It was a cold, clear, crisp Colorado day, with the sun bright in the sky with we arrived about three in the afternoon. Andy and I were glad to be home. We had been gone a month, training in New York with Mistress Diana, the Amazon dominatrix, and in San...
Hey it's Rose again. I'm 21 now, and still my hormones rage on, but at least I have full control over my body. I'm still a hermaphrodite. I decided to keep my penis, I guess you could say my life wouldn't be as fun without it, but lets not get dorky, I'm not gonna name it. I'm 5'11" tall now, my red hair is still waist length, I've only cut it once since high school, but just to line it up with my hips. I'm very happy to say the most that's changed about me is my penis grew a little bigger,...
IM 39 YEARS OLD AND MY MOM IS 64, WE HAVENT SEEN EACHOTHER OR EVEN TALKED IN 19 YEARS. AND I DONT KNOW WHY? MY PARENTS DIVORCED WHEN I WAS 8 AND I WENT TO LIVE WITH MY MOM. FROM THEN ON IVE ALWAYS LOOKED AT MY MOM IN A DIFFERENT WAY. I SLEPT IN HER BED ALOT BECAUSE OF SCARY SHIT THAT YOUR SCARED OF AS A k**.MY MOM WOULD WALK AROUND NAKED WHEN SHE GOT OUT OF THE SHOWER AND GOT READY AND I REALLY STARTED TO LOOK AT HER DIFFERENT. SHES 5'2'' WITH BIG BOOBS,NICE WIDE HIPS,AND A HAIRY PUSSY! SO I...
I gave the handle of the leash to Laura, and quickly grabbed Becky by the hair and pulled her head backwards to where her ear was right next to my mouth. This was so that she could clearly hear the instructions that I was about to give to her “Mistress”. “The cunt set the number by how many blowjobs that she gave tonight. That number is three. You will walk our little cunt on the leash so that she looks just like the little “Bitch in heat” that she seems to want to be. You will walk her all...
Meeting up with Lyndsey on Monday for their now regular shared lunchtimes was a pleasure, Mason thought as he rushed from the depot to the café they had selected for today. It was a raw day, drier but much colder than Sunday, with possible snow forecast for Wednesday night and Thursday morning, with a bitter wind coming in from Siberia. He was a couple of minutes late and she was already sitting at a table, but she greeted him with smile and got up to exchange the kiss and hug that had now...
It was the highlight of my life. She was beautiful, vibrant and she was mine. We spent a lot of time in bed, but we did hit the beach a couple of times. She wore the most conservative bikini, the first time, then went with the racy thong bottomed one the next. When she found out tops were optional, it was gone instantly. Men and women stared; she was that beautiful. Oddly, it didn’t bother me as much as I thought it would. I was proud of how attractive she was, and was confident that although...
Things were finally smoothing out with Cindi. She seemed to be happy again. She'd changed, however. Some of the changes were good, some not so much. On the good side, she was less shy than she used to be. I think our experiences together helped with that. She also developed a better sense of humor than she used to have. She was now able to give Amy as good as she got in the teasing department. Previously, it was Amy that always teased her, and Cindi usually just looked at her somewhat...
Chapter 29 - The Students Arrive So far: The river saved another cancer victim, who decided that she and her daughter may stay in the area. Then news came of a near- disaster at Moose Portage Reserve that was narrowly averted by Rod and the girls. Finally, Mark wins twice, getting his trophy into the new house, and con(vinc)ing River to treat his hides. ---------- ------ ------ Sunday morning found River in her usual spot. She had a pair of trousers of her fathers to mend, and...
Part way through the evening our friend, Tom pointed out that he had heard of a 'house' party planned at the university which was just a short drive away. It wasn't long and we were at the party and there were students everywhere - Now this was a party! There was lots of dancing, music and people laughing everywhere. Soon Tom and Bill (my hubby) were engrossed in one of their conversations. Pam and I wandered downstairs to the rec room where everyone was dancing. We got out on the floor...
Miriam Smith looked forward to her Friday nights withher fellow teachers from school. She and several of theother teachers got together for a ladies night out tolet their hair down and celebrate the start of thecherished weekend. The pretty blonde wife taughtEnglish at the high school and enjoyed her work but shealso enjoyed having a good time as well. She wasdefinitely no ‘stick in the mud’ when it came topartying on the weekends.Sometimes the group went out for drinks at a bar or puboutside...
The dreary day is a mirror of my personal feelings. Life as I knew it for the last fifteen years violently ended three days ago. Sitting in the backseat of my natural father's car my life from the prior three weeks flashes by. The tears slowly ebb down my cheeks as I travel to the unknown. Life in Minnesota with mom and dad is great. One of the best things in my existence is Lucy my new girlfriend. She is just about at the point of letting me take down her panties. We have been close for...
Felicity and danielle got the call, and set off into the car. They were ordered to bust into a warehouse. They were in uniform and bullet proof vests, and had a gun each. Felicity had an undersize vest on because she could feel it stretching over her 36d chest, she would have to ask for a new one. Danielle said "Fuckin druglords, causing us trouble" Felicity replied "Yeah, all we have to do is take em out" The pair had a good and improving reputation on the workforce. Their boss relied on them....
LesbianHi, all this is Vicky raj from Chennai.I thank all for your comments on my previous story with my cousin.Those who doesn’t now about me, here it is I am 22 with a muscular body and 6 feet of height and a hard dick ready to fuck.I am doing my pg in a reputed college.My mail id is Comments are always welcomed.And my dear ladies, I am ready to make love with you so be free with me mail me.I am here to satisfy you. I thank iss team for making such a wonderful site to share my experience with you...
IncestAfter initial inhibitions and hiccups, my small daily routine help leads to a beautiful relationship with my aunt which we still endure. This story takes place towards the end of my high school. Currently at 38 residing along the IT highway in Chennai, happily married with kids, I still endure this incident in my life with was a start to my sexual life. Still leading a great sexual life with few more incidents in life that i would be sharing in this forum soon. Pls do comment on raj_sr81 at...
IndianThe gardens were alive with light and colour, as the streaks of sunlight filled the grounds of Dunvegan. High up in the Fairy Tower, banners were raised and the soft wind had them fluttering gently. Benches were placed in rows for the guests to sit on and two rows of colourful flower petals delineated the path for the couples to walk along. Servants and staff were busy at first light, preparing food and drink for the feast afterwards. The hall was decorated in bright colours of cloth and...
In ancient times, a group of young Futanaris devoted their lives to protecting Athena, the Hermaphrodite Goddess of Wisdom and War. These Futas were capable of fighting without weapons—a swing of their cocks alone was powerful enough to rip the very sky apart and shatter the earth beneath them. These brave heroes became known as Saints, as they could summon up the power of the Cosmos from within themselves. Now, in the present-day, a new generation of Saints is about to come forth. **Toyko,...
FantasyFake brunette plastic surgery whore Charley Ozvik sits on a couch looking right at us. Her big bolt-on fake tits packed into a too-tight t-shirt, erect nipples threatening to push through the thin cotton at any moment, the material so tight that we can even see the outline of the little golden bolts that are punched through them. Her shorter than short denim shorts almost disappear up her twat between those perfectly toned thighs. A big, happy, friendly looking golden Labrador retriever,...
Beryl Davin was a fifty-nine-year-old woman that had worked in the shop owned by Philip and Theresa Compton for the best part of thirty years. She and her husband John had become close friends of the Compton's over the years.The Compton's were both aged in their early sixties and were looking forward to their retirement.Beryl had started gambling and she was proving to not be very good at it or at least not very lucky with it.She was having to finance her losses by 'borrowing' from the...
SpankingEYES ON THE PRIZE - CHAPTER EIGHT As I clambered up the slope to consciousness, I fell into what had become my morning routine. Eyes flickering open, blinking against the harsh reflection of the artificial lights on the bare white walls of my cell. Ears registering the sound of the alarm. The now familiar, almost comforting feel of the satin negligee against my hairless skin. And the same dream again, so fresh in my memory. A dream of waking from a very long sleep, in this same...
He stood on the same beach facing the Fractal Being. The fractals equations were speeding across the surface of the being with blinding speed. He stared down at his own body for the first time and saw the same fractal equations expanding and contacting across his ‘body’. He finally understood that “translated” meant that in this location he was no longer a biological entity. He was an entity of pure energy. There was no hand in front of Porter’s face but the thought of a hand transformed into...
As Trish straddled her horny, muscular young son, preparing to fuck him, she felt her pussy twitching and throbbing with horny impatience. She had thought at first that she wanted him to be on top of her while they fucked. But now, she was afraid that if she touched him too much or if she made him move around too much, he would shoot his load before she had a chance to get his big, gorgeous prick inside her tormented, wetly oozing cunt. "Stu, darling, don't move. Let me do it. Let me do...
Bad Daddy POV! Oh fuck yes, let’s talk about some kinky shit. You know I like to get real nasty on this site. BadDaddyPOV is a really fucked up website with some primo A-class role-play videos that are all about pretending you have a daughter that wants to fuck you. Well, it’s not that fucked up. It’s just role-playing like you get in the bedroom. I know I’ve fucked a lot of bitches who called me daddy before. It’s some sort of fantasy they have, and I have to say it gets me hard as nails too....
Premium POV Porn SitesI was attending a wedding at a plush south Delhi hotel. I was quite inebriated and was just getting my last drink at the bar while I bump into this hot women( The bride’s divorced NRI cousin). I think I can communicate well and when it come’s to women I’m very confident. So I apologized for accidentally spilling my drink on her and I told her that she looked pretty. we kept talking for a while and talked about England and turns out we were both brought up in the same city in England. I told her...