An Eye For An Eye
- 2 years ago
- 11
- 0
The thing that I had nearly forgotten was that what I told my mother on the phone was only half a lie. I really did have a meeting with a guy from a gallery, just not that day, but the next- Saturday. Lucky for me it wasn’t until two, so even though I has slept till noon, I had (barely) enough time to pull my hung over, sex rumpled self together and get my ass to my appointment on time, and (hopefully) looking at least semi-professional.
The man’s name was Guy, and he was about 65, with short silvery gray hair. He was very handsome and sophisticated, but unfortunately for me, I could tell within moments that he was gay. Maybe at a later date, I could introduce him to Glen, if he wasn’t already involved with someone else.
Anyway, if Guy noticed anything was off, it didn’t show. He seemed impressed by me and my work. He wanted to put three of my paintings up in an exhibit called ‘Flights of Fantasy’ which was going to be showing for about three weeks, depending on the reception. He wasn’t going to buy them, but if they sold, we would share the profit 30% for him, 70% for me. He didn’t really expect them to sell, because type of showing usually generated more lookers than buyers, but the exposure would be good for me.
He told me to price them however I wanted, so I put $100 on them each, thinking that was pretty high. Just in case, I took photo’s of them and put them in my portfolio with the label, ‘Old Town Gallery. Exhibit: Flights of Fantasy. Price $100 each.’ and the date. Weather they sold or not, my portfolio was important both to document my progress, and to show other galleries or clients what I could do and had done.
Guy liked most of my fantasy work, so he left it to me to choose the three to include. I selected a willowy dryad emerging from a tree in a forest near a small lake, another with a colorful confetti burst of butterflies mixed in with pixies, so that you don’t notice the pixies right away, but when you do you sorta stop and go, ‘Oh!’ And the third one was a painting I had done using Zoë as my model some time before. The fairy stood with her back to the viewer. She had heavy almost velvety wings spread wide open while her legs where crossed at the ankle. She was levitating just a few inches from the top of an end table, and her face was turned so that you could see a full view of her beauty. Her expression was quite cheeky- cute and impertinent. It was one of my favorites, but I wanted to show it off. After looking over it for a good long while, I crossed off what I had written on the price card and wrote ‘Not for Sale.’
The first night of the exhibit opening, the local paper showed my ‘Not for Sale’ on the front of their Arts section. I bought at least five copies, clipped one out for myself and another to mail to mom. Then I clipped the rest and put them in a folder so I could toss out the rest of the paper. I called Zoë to tell her the good news, but she wasn’t home.
The second night, my dryad picture sold. I was amazed. Somebody somewhere had a ‘Nicole London’ hanging up in there home! I felt like I officially had made it.
A couple of days later my mother called again. She had gotten the pictures.
‘Congratulations,’ she said in a gracious manner before launching into what this would all mean for my personal life.
‘So what’s the guy from the gallery like?’
‘He’s gay mom.’
‘Oh,’ she was disappointed I could tell.
‘Well, what about the guy who bought your painting?’
‘I don’t know anything about him, if it even is a him. They don’t tell you these things.’
‘They don’t!’ she was shocked. ‘You mean somebody had your painting and you don’t even know who?’
‘It’s not my painting anymore, mom. It belongs to whoever bought it.’
‘Hmff!’ was all she said. ‘Maybe you’ll meet someone at the gallery?’ she asked hopefully.
‘Maybe, mom.’
‘Just don’t-‘
‘Give away the milk for free. I know mom.’
‘My daughter, a famous painter! You’ll have no trouble finding a man now!’
I didn’t know where to start with this one. ‘I don’t- I mean, I’m not famous mom. It’s just one painting.’
‘And two more up in a gallery for hundreds of people to look at. Oh your sure to find the man of your dreams. He’ll take one look at your talent and he’ll have to have you.’
‘It’s a painting, mom, not a personal ad.’
‘Well, all the same. Congratulations honey , I’m so proud of you!’
And then she was gone. Funny how when I want to get off the line, she just keeps going and going but when she’s done- she’s just gone. I was left feeling like the only reason she was proud was because- in her mind at least- I was one step closer to the alter- and giving her those grandchildren she so was dreaming about spoiling. Oh well, at least she called. It gave me a chance to think about what a failure I was as a daughter, even while my career seemed to be taking off.
Just as I was about to let myself wallow in self pity, the phone rang. It was Glen.
‘I saw the papers. It’s just FAB-ulous. Do I get an autograph?’
I chuckled. ‘Sure Glen, whatever makes you happy.’
‘Darlin’ what makes me happy, you can’t give!’
‘Well, maybe I can. Would you like to go with me to check out the exhibit. I haven’t been there yet, and I don’t want to go alone.’
‘I thought you’d never ask!’
It took Glen about twice as long to get ready as it took me, so after I changed into the most elegant thing I owned and painted my fingernails and let them dry I called him back. No answer, I guessed that he must be on his way.
‘You look WON-derful!’ he exclaimed when I opened the door. ‘Va-va-va-Voom!’
‘Thanks Glen,’ I said, kissing his cheek. ‘You look wonderful too.’ He wore a salmon colored dress shirt with no tie under a navy jacket with matching pants. His leather belt was coordinated with his top quality Italian shoes, shined up just for the occasion. He also wore an expensive watch. Glen was a man who paid attention to the details.
Once in the door, he took my hand and spun me. ‘Let me get a good look at you,’ he said, making me feel a little giggly and little girlish. My gown was a deep blue velvet spaghetti straps with a modest neckline but I more daring low draped back. On my feet I wore silver sling backs with a medium-high heal.
There’s something about the attention of a gay man that’s surprisingly reassuring. After all- he’s not trying to get in your pants, so there’s no ulterior motive- but he’s still a man so his opinion means something different than if your girls tell you the same thing. I basked in his compliments for a moment. Who doesn’t love to be told they are FAB-ou-lous?
I offered Glen a Pepsi, but he was eager to leave, ‘Besides, I’m bubbly enough inside right now, just looking at you!’ he enthused. Did I mention exuberance? There’s nothing like it when it comes along with a compliment.
We were taking Glen’s car, so we went out to his black sedan and he courteously opened the door for me and even held my hand as I got in. I felt like Cinderella going to the ball.
It was about 7:30 when we got there, and it was just starting to get dusky outside. Inside, people milled around with plenty of room to navigate. It certainly wasn’t a crowd, but it wasn’t deserted either. As we entered, I saw the first collection, painted in flowing watercolors. There were about five pictures featuring garden fairies flitting around over various flowers and plants. They had a very soft and misty quality, similar to the Mona-Lisa.
Another grouping showed dragons in bold colors and scantily clad women in metal armor who were riding them, taming them or standing beside them. Another artist we passed featured ancient mythological motifs, mainly women in there everyday activities being approached by gods disguised as some animal or other. I noticed that the grouping was sub-titled ‘Rape and Ravishment’ and seemed to have caused a small
amount of buzz.
As we made our way through the gallery, I saw Guy walking toward us. He was dressed in black pants with a belt, a lime green t-shirt and a draped black sweater that looked like it must have come from a runway in Milan or Paris.
‘Ah! Miss London!’ he called out as he approached. Your work is an absolute smash!’ He was bold an exuberant in his speech, but then he lowered about an octave to a more conspiratorial tone. ‘Who’s your fiend?’ With that he tipped his head toward Glen and lifted one eyebrow, a combination of question and interest on his face.
‘Guy,’ I introduced him, ‘This is one of my dear friends, Glen. Glen this is Guy, he owns this gallery.’
The two of them shook hands, and I noticed that Guy gave Glen’s hand an extra little squeeze. ‘Won-derful to meet you,’ Glen told him airily. ‘Likewise.’ the gallery owner replied. For a few moments I felt invisible and then Guy turned to me. ‘I hope you are enjoying yourself. If there’s AN-y thing you need, you just holler.’ Just then a well dressed man walked by with a tray of campaign and Glen took two and handed one to each of us. When the caterer departed he said, ‘Well, I must be off, but-‘ and then he looked at Glen with bedroom eyes, ‘I’ll be seeing you around.’
When he was out of earshot, I grabbed Glen around the arm and pulled him toward my exhibit. ‘Wow! He’s got the hots for you, what do you think?’
‘He’s QUITE a number. But I’m not going to get my panties in a bunch just yet. He was just flirting. He’s probably like that with all the boys.’
‘We’ll see,’ I said hopefully, leading him around in search for my paintings. At last we reached the spot.
‘Here it is,’ I announced. The tall rectangular dryad picture had a sign above it announcing ‘Sold’ and I felt both pride and pang. I wouldn’t be getting it back, it was going out into the world on it’s own. I felt like a mother sending her son off to college, and I guess I realized how my own mother must have felt. No wonder she calls me all the time. There would be no phone calls for my painting however. After I left the gallery, I would probably never see it again.
‘What’s this?’ Glen asked, breaking my reverie. ‘Getting sentimental already?’
‘I think I’m experiencing separation anxiety.’
‘But don’t you give your paintings away all the time?’ he asked gently.
All the time? No not all the time. Sometimes. I can’t afford to be giving paintings away left and right but I know what he meant. ‘Yes, but I always know where they are going to end up! That sounds silly, I know.’
‘No. It’s not silly. But cheer up honey. You’re a working artist. You’re a success! You’re fabulous!!!’
That made me laugh. ‘Thanks Glen. Let’s go look at some of the rest of the exhibits.’ It’s good to have a friend who can make you laugh when you come close to having an emotional breakdown in a public place.
We looked through the other displays. Many of them where quite impressive and humbling. I felt awed to be in the same group with artists like the one who’s Ferry mural depicted fairies rowing what looked like human souls across a stream in various watercraft formed from flowers and leaves. The only hint that it wasn’t a photograph was the nature of the subject.
Then there was the scandalous grouping of Flower Women who stood in a garden with flowers between their spread legs. The flowers were obviously a part of them, attached to their anatomy and planted into the ground. Was this meant as a statement that we are being held down by our anatomy? Or just an example of how nature repeats the same beautiful patterns throughout? The women were labeled by names such as Lilly, Rose, Violet, and Jonquille. It was beautiful with amazing effect, but slightly disquieting. Every exhibit or course must feature some erotic art, something controversial to get people talking, and of course to prompt at least one critic to claim that ‘all art is erotic.’ This was certainly all of the above. It was beautiful, shocking and provocative. Looking at it, I felt dwarfed, and completely untalented. My pictures were so provincial, so devoid of metaphor or hidden deeper meaning. What was I doing in this gallery among all of these great talents? I was a fraud.
‘Hey!’ Glen said, pushing me with his hip. ‘Your just as good as this Flower Woman is! And don’t you be thinking any different.’ I smiled and we walked on as an argument began to break out about the merits (or lack there-of) of sexually shocking art.
‘I don’t want to see that,’ I heard one man comment as I departed. ‘And if I don’t want to look at something, it ain’t what I’d call art!’
‘Ah, everybody’s a critic,’ Glen said with a smile. I was glad to get away from there just in time to avoid the entire discussion. The last thing I needed was to get embroiled in some heated debate about what are was or what it wasn’t. To me, art just is. I don’t think it really needs to be defined. But it’s a hard side to adequately defend on the spur of the moment. Most people don’t quite understand what I’m talking about or they start saying stuff like, ‘Are you saying anything can be art?’ and then they start listing weird out of the way things for me to pronounce as art or not. Like feces paintings or twisted mangled metal or a bare light bulb in an empty room or performance art. Hey, I don’t get these things either. But just because I’m a painter, doesn’t mean I was appointed the last word on what is or isn’t really art. From my experience, most of us who actually create art are a lot less willing to define or limit art than those who don’t. I really wonder about this sometimes. But it’s best not to say things like this- they tend to alienate your audience.
Even though I’m hadn’t been a commercial artist up till now, I still have a sense of concern for the audience. I think every artist secretly wants to be loved- for there work and for themselves. When someone doesn’t like you, they tend to be harsher toward your work, and when someone doesn’t like your work, it can feel like a personal rejection, even when it’s not.
Amazingly, I also found some artists whose work was on display that I felt was inferior to mine. Not in a snobbish way, I don’t think but in a sort of reassuring way. It feels ok to be in the middle area between the adequate and the awesome. I guess that’s pretty much how I feel about myself as well. I’m not completely untalented, but I’m not the best. I’m not rich, but I’m not starving. I’m certainly not ugly, maybe even beautiful, but not perfectly so. I have faults and flaws and I do my best to hide them and to emphasize my strengths, but I know they’re there. I know that my breasts look perky because of my under wire, not because they really defy gravity. I know that my belly looks best covered in a one piece than on display in a skimpy bikini. But I also know that with the right outfit, I can make it look like you’d want to see me in that skimpy bikini. I know that with just a touch of plastic surgery and some braces I could have perfectly straight teeth and a cute little nose, but I’m pretty much ok with being imperfect- most of the time. I know that I could die my hair blonde and my sex appeal would sky rocket. But I’m happy with my black tresses even though they could use a trim and even though it’s not what the TV and magazines tell me is ‘in.’ I’m not perfect, but I’m good enough. And I’m thankful for what I’ve got.
My friends- they’re flawed too. How can an imperfect person have perfect friends? They aren’t the hippest, or the smartest or the richest people in the world either. But they are open minded, fun, generous and forgiving. Those are the things that really matter, in my book.
I had a chance to meet with some of the other artists while I was there, and that helped to ground me to. It always come as a slight shock to me (even though it shouldn’t) that they are people too. Some are young, some are old, some are jerks and some are nice. Some are attractive and some are not. Artists are not all
the beautiful people like they always seem to portray them in the media. They have about the same proportion as the rest of the population. For some reason it often comes as a shock to see the painter of really delicate lovely images and they turn out to be a bony, angled gnarled old man with a crooked nose and yellow teeth. But it happens- it happens a lot.
Kristin Slate, the painter who created Flower Women was a young college student with an neo-hippie activist sort of feeling about her. She was full of ideas about how the world should be, about patriarchy, about oppression, about women in all corners of the world sold into slavery or doomed to lives in corporate bondage. I found her fascinating. She had been involved with a lot of service work with various organizations and had lots of stories to share about the places she’d been and the changes she was trying to bring about. While I was engrossed in listening to her, Glen excused himself to go do a little bit of man-hunting. There’s never a shortage of gay men at an art gallery, and I couldn’t expect to keep him to myself the whole night.
Kristin knew a number of the other artists and introduced me to a few. Becket Winter had a beautiful pen and ink display with some very intricate drawings of lesser known mythologies. I was amazed at what he could do with the use of only black and white. ‘I do use colored inks as well, but the black and white always get the best response. Plus, in an exhibit like this, they really stand out. That’s always a plus.’
Massimo was a foreign sounding artist with no last name apparently necessary. But I got the feeling that his accent was fake, and Kristen agreed with me later that he was totally pretentious. His paintings used darker colors, thick outlining and obscure subjects. His style was somewhere between realistic and abstract and almost gave the impression of stained glass, if stained glass were completely opaque.
Cassidy Keen was the painter of some lovely watercolors in a series called Magick. They featured swirls and other patterns that were quite lovely to look at. Cassidy was a short heavyset woman with thinning gray hair. She wore a blue button up shirt un-tucked over a pair of jeans. She has a face that reminded me of Cinderella’s fairy godmother in the Disney movie, and a sweet personality to match.
I was having a wonderful time meeting with some of the artists who were there that night. And Glen was apparently having a great time to. Occasionally he’d flit over to me with some little tid-bit of gossip or just his high hopes for the direction things were taking with Guy. It seemed they were really hitting it off.
By the time we left, Glen had Guy’s phone number and I had made several valuable contacts. It had been a good day. Gen seemed to agree. We were both in high spirits as he drove me back home.
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Warren quickly muttered the words from a spell he had read in Willow's own personal hand written Book of Shadows. Even before becoming Tara he had learned a couple of spells from Andrew, who knew several of his own. Andrew groaned in pain and dropped to his knees as his guts felt as if they were twisting around inside him. "Listen, you freaks, if you try anything, one of two things will happen. Either Willow will come after you after killing me, with murder in her mind - she would...
The DST Agent, Star Command Bravo It had been a long trip to get here, Stephanie sat back now cuddled in Tops arms, feeling his strength and love as he held her. They'd watched the rest of her command as they filed past two days ago. Some saying they were going to retire, others asking her blessing to go sign on with the Slammers, and following Major Jinx Hammer's squad. She still had no clear idea what she wanted to do though. She kept telling herself she was retired, or going to...
One of the boys said grab him in which the other two immediately grabbed me by the shoulders and d**g me into the woods. I struggled but knew that it was helpless as these were boys who were on the football team and were much stronger than I. Once we were back in the woods a ways, I hear the click and the sound of a Polaroid camera taking pictures. I turn quickly hearing the same sound in which the lead boy has a camera and has the camera pointed at me. The other boys are holding the earlier...
She started by quivering, then shaking. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she laid there before me.I told her “Breathe, breathe, or you’ll pass out.” Still shaking, she gasped a breath and suddenly froze.“What the hell was that?” she exclaimed as she slowly recognized her massive orgasm.Giggling, I brushed her hair from her face and gently kissed her lips.“That is what you said you wanted.”My older sister Stacey and I are both in our late thirties, both married with children, and have always...
IncestThe next morning I leave the girls money for a cab and a little note for when they wake up. I am on time to work, but the only way I can stay awake is to take some X-Plus-water. It’s a designer drug mixed with water. This version only heightens the senses and gives a boost of energy. It was developed for the adult entertainers of Slutty Inc. to keep them working longer and help them to enjoy their work. I am given a tour of the office and am introduced to Fiona in passing. They give me an...
Danny swung over his Mom without breaking the kiss, he know that if he break the kiss his Mom will probably ask him to stop or say sorry again, that is the last thing that he wants to hear now. He was now laying half on top of his Mom. His Moms hand under him where his manhood laid in her palm. Danny moved his one hand to the front of her panty pressing his hand between her legs pushing her legs open, he felt she hesitate for a Moment. He caressed her thighs and moving up to her panty. He...
Chapter 21 Showdown I slept fitfully all night long. I awoke several times to reality during the night and had a very difficult time trying to get back to sleep. Finally, I gave up and dragged myself off of my makeshift bed. Lying there served no useful purpose. I never thought I could feel for another human being what I felt for the unborn fetus in Sam's womb. I just had to find some way to protect that baby. This wasn't a hypothetical woman...
It was a hot day in Tuscany and we had spent a nice day on the beach. My wife, Fiona, and I had spent the day teasing each other whilst in the sea by touching one another. She had even flashed her boobs at me and anyone else who was looking in our direction whilst she changed her bikini top for a dry one. I did enjoy seeing her F-cup boobs in public.No one had gone topless, which was a shame as she couldn’t join in with going topless on the beach, but she took off one top completely before...
MasturbationIt was the end of July 1978. Kelly had been wanton in her desires for the past few months. She hadn’t been lying out working on her tan for the past few weeks. Ever since the day her brother’s friends had all jacked off on her, she knew it was too risky to be around them half-naked. Yvonne had offered the small patio on her third-floor apartment to her. She even gave her an apartment key. Yvonne was working full time during the week so Kelly would need to let herself in.Kelly was sticking to...
Group SexAfter turning twenty-one, I started to frequent Jerry's Saloon, a popular dive bar near my college campus. One night early in the school year, Lena and I both ended up leaving Jerry's at the same time, and headed back to the dorms at the same time. I had talked to Lena often when I would bump into her on campus, and more recently I was also starting to see her at Jerry's. I was (and mostly still am) really not a ladies’ man. Despite some very exciting sexual experiences, I haven’t been with...
BisexualIntroduction: Please read Parts 1 & 2 Please read Parts 1 & 2 for a better understanding of this chapter. Names have been changed. __________________________________________________________________________________ When I opened my eyes and looked over at the alarm clock the following morning, it was 10:57am and through the small cracks in the drawn curtains, I could see the sun was out blazing and bright. It was just another scorching summer day. But this morning, I had a smile on my face, the...
(episode 19) This story occurs during the few weeks following The Halloween Party. Anal sex: Secus ani, sexual intercourse in the anus. It was just a few days after Halloween that blonde sexy cool Amber called me on a Friday night and said she wanted to meet me at my place. At the time I was at my fraternity house enjoying a rather large impromptu party but with no immediate sexual liaison planned I was more than willing to leave that party to see Amber. Amber proved to be her typical self by...
Hey, whoever's reading this. I'm not much of a story-teller, but I have got a story to tell. First off, my name's Jane. It used to be Joe, then it was Jo for a little while, and that's pretty much what this is all about. I was a pretty depressed little boy. My parents watched sports and my brother played them. At school, all the boys wanted to be professional athletes and all the girls wanted to be performers or didn't have the self-awareness to consider the future at all. All but...
Introduction: Morgan is a bitch, written from Morgans perspective I liked the story Morgan is a Bitch, so I decided to rewrite it from Morgans perspective. I hope the original author doesnt mind! —————————— Im on my way home from school. I am so excited for the weekend! My friend is having a party and shes gotten some more alchohol&hellip, its been a while since weve just been able to go crazy. I smile to myself. I see my house and pick up the pace, ever got that feeling that someone was...
Avantika finished her bath, and she went to her room. As she went in to change her dress, she saw her father-in-law entering from the main door. Surender came and sat in the dining in the hall. Avantika felt weird about her father-in-law coming in the middle of the day. He usually comes from the farm in the evening. She then thought that he might have come because of some work. But again, she thought that if he had come for work, why was he sitting in the hall. Meanwhile, her mother-in-law...
IncestHer hands were tied behind her back and her mouth covered by a black gag. Her dark eyes stared up at him as he stood naked in front of her. She was knelt on the floor. Naked and her soft breasts rose and fell quickly with her breathing. He held a black whip in one large hand and she shivered at her hard look on his handsome face. She had disappointed him today, she had been late to meet him and she knew he was going to have to punish her. ‘You know why I’m doing this don’t you Anna,’ she nodded...
The following event was the kickstart for us to begin our journey. We moved into our first house when I was 25 and Clare was 23. It was a quiet street in a village outside of town. Everyone knew everyone and it was very friendly. A few doors down lived a family with two children, they were Simon and Jenny and their kids were Steven and his younger sister Sophie. We got on well with the whole family and I used to kick a ball about with the kids in the park at the end of the street. A...
Me and Dawn was both born 'n raised in Hooterville. We never dated, though. We'd just hang out with our friends at the Tasty-Freeze and stuff. We was always "Just Friends." You know, the kind of friends where the girl just wants to have fun and the guy just wants to fuck. Yeah, I really liked her, maybe even loved her a little. By the time we was thirty, I'd moved to the city and Dawn had gotten married and divorced already. We hadn't seen each other in years. So when I was in town for the...
HumorIntroduction: I call this little tale fiction, but a small part of it is actually true. Which part is your guess? For years my wife, Lynn and I had many arguments about her lack of wanting sexual activity. She didnt care for any sex and I wanted it. She would find any reason to avoid all sexual contact. One time we had a very nasty fight and I left our martial bed to sleep on the couch alone, much less stress. Eighteen months later, I was still sleeping on the couch alone. My wife wasnt the...
I found myself standing on the beach, wearing, I imagine, the stupidest face in human history, and absolutely nothing else, not even my wedding band or my four-metal bracelet, which was meant to control rheumatism. Since there were no mirrors about, I could only guess that my face reflected my feelings of utter consternation. I remember thinking so much for Alfred and his big mouth the one moment, next I'm here. The sand felt soft and warm underfoot, the sky was clear, the sun hot but not...
Hi Guys, I love ISS a lot but wanted to write a story which recently happened in Madras. About Me: My name Sam(name changed as i love my self called as SAM). Medium size body, not so Like body Builder has little family pack………… I am not telling u that I am rich like people telling they come by aero plane as they are rich. (hope u guys would have read stories people describing about themselves ). Let me come the story which happened very recently. As now a days in Chennai its very cold, so...
I had no idea what might come next, still shaken by the intensity of my own orgasm and Marci’s, not to mention the soul-searing intensity of seeing and hearing my wife rocked by a massive orgasm while engaged with and impaled upon another man’s huge cock. That he had entered her and come, mostly deep inside of her, had clearly been her choice, not his… not that he’d tried very hard to avoid the situation. To be fair, though, in the midst of his own orgasm that would have been expecting a lot....
Wife LoversI would come home from exercising one of the horses, my fanny wet with the constant rubbing in the saddle and she would be there to finish me off! She would take the horse from me and untack it and make it comfortable. In the meantime I would go upstairs to the privacy of my tack-room and wait for her there. By the time she came up the stairs I would have peeled my tight jodhpurs down to the top of my boots and would be sitting on one of the trunks waiting for her to finish me off. She...
The other was a small adult theater. I’d not been to the theater before, so I checked its times and found it was open. I’d heard that guys and couples go there to play at night. Of course it wasn't night, in fact it was midafternoon, but I decided to go there anyway. I figured that if things didn't work out I'd just head to the bookstore and find some guy to suck my cock through a glory hole. Strange Adult Theater FunPart-1-of-1 Strange Adult Theater Fun-[GH-102]-part-1-of-1 The other was a...
GroupHello, this is Nishanth. The true story to tell happened around few weeks before with a female I met and that too on the first day itself. Last month our community(samaj) election happened in our city Bhiwandi, Mumbai. Our areas arranged 6 auto-rickshaws to take the voters to the election booth and we few were appointed to make sure everyone should votes. Many males visited the polling booth by their bikes. So left behind were old and housewives. Time was given at all flats so that we can...
I was in Kuwait in the early 1990's and had to liaise with some local hospitals and the NGO I was working for. I had to borrow a US military 3 ton ambulance to get into the city as we had no vehicles of our own. It was a German UNIMOG as this was the early days of the humvee and the Americans weren't giving those out freely.I went into a small local hospital in Kuwait one day for work and there at the reception desk was this young, tiny Palestinian girl wearing these nicely snug-fitting scrubs...
When I finally came to, it took me a few seconds to get my bearings. Someone was holding my head. When I moved to see who it was, I noticed that the face and hair were shimmering with light. Later, when I regained my senses, I realized that the sun had been directly behind the person, giving the impression of an aura. Two hands were cradling me gently. I quickly took a survey of my injuries. My head was throbbing, my side was aching, and my ankle was in a great amount of pain. It didn't...
It's time to take a deep breath, close your eyes, and thank the almighty that you are living in a platinum age of porn! Praise the lord! If you picture crazy black dudes and fat mamas shaking their big tits in a church while singing gospel in unison, something is wrong with you. On the other hand, I am sure that all of God's people would approve of masturbation. It doesn't hurt anyone besides your right wrist, and you clear your mind from twisted thoughts. Yeah, all good baby-making material...
Female Masturbation Porn SitesI put my head down on Mr. John's knee, thinking about what he was asking of me. 'Did I want to stop? Was I ready to go home and for this magical evening to end? What more could I feel tonight?'He gently stroked my hair as everyone patiently awaited my decision. This was one of the hardest things I've ever done. I leaned back on my heels, wiping my tears away. "Sir, if you will still show me tonight I want to continue. I want to feel that amazing feeling again."Mr. John smiled at me, "Are you...
First TimeHi all! Me Gunu hun from Jagatsinghpu Orissa mera umar 24 saal ka he aur mere mami ki umar 39 saal he bo dikhne me kafi sexy he uske boobs bohot bada he mere hamesa se ichha thi ki kese me apni mami ko chodunga akhir bo din bhi agaya kafi intajaar ki bad me apni mami ko kese choda isike bareme likhne ja rahi hun yeh mera pehla anubhuti tha Orissa me raja nam ka ek festival hota he 3 din ka to me apni mamaki ghara gaya hua tha kafi Din ke baad me mama ki ghar gaya hua tha isliye me mere dost...