A Cumslut s Progress
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"Yes," the housewife said, "Would you like one?" She handed him the coffe and leaned back against the doorway. She wore capris and a modest short-sleeved button-down blouse. He had on his dirty jeans and t-shirt which clung to his tight, muscular torso; he was not your average plumber. Just then the doorbell rang. "That'll be him now," the workman said, and she went to answer the door. While she was gone he pulled a small packet out of his back pocket and emptied the contents into...
This is a female authoritarian sissy boy story, although with a softer touch than many others. There is sugar and spice and (mostly) everything sissy-nice! So, if lots of frilly outfits, swishy behavior and a little kinky sex are your thing, please read on. If not, thanks for looking anyway. It is also a purely fictional fantasy work. No references are intended to portray any actual persons, places or events whether past or present. This chapter is rated X, as there is some sexual...
Progress Dirty Rachel (c) 2019 Earlier this year I got a call from an old friend, Tom Houston. Ten years ago Tom and I had been drinking buddies at our alma mater, UNC Chapel Hill. He had gone on to law school, while I had gone on to Bartending School... a 2.0 GPA like mine made options like that seem reasonable. I hadn't seen Tom for a year or so, so I was surprised to hear from him. He was even more surprised when I told him my news: For the past six months, I had been living...
OIL ON CANVAS, A WORK IN PROGRESS The boy stood watching us, uninhibited, as Andrea and I attempted to re-arrange our dishevelled appearances. Only moments before, my friend’s face had been buried deliciously between my thighs. Her lips were still damp and glistening from her foray. My shirt was open, my tits exposed, hard little nipples protruding eagerly. How embarrassing! I was aware of a deep, warm blush flooding my cheeks, this seemed to amuse him. His eyes played greedily over my body...
Skeletons in my closet part 5Part 5 A Work in Progress I hung up the phone. I went to John and he wrapped me in his arms. He kissed me deeply then broke our kiss as we stood there near that island in his kitchen. As he held me he picked up a small remote clicking it a few times. John asked me, ”Care to dance?”Country music filled the house. "Leap of Faith" was playing. I laid my head upon his chest as he danced me around the kitchen. I thought how appropriate that song was as I was about to...
Summer was at its peak and I took a little before free from jobs. Cycled through Jægersborg and bought some supplies to the beach, Euro Mann and a bottle of water.I love to lie in the sun and bask and yes, looking at beautiful women. Now arrived in Charlottenlund fort, you know the ice house and the path around the fort. Tractor my bike quiet while I Marked for me the best seat and view. Where should I lie and there is the perfect place for comfortable long distance, but still within reach of...
PERCY PERIWINKLE'S PASSAGE PART II - PERCY'S PROGRESS by sissystevie The big black car whizzed down Federal Highway 53 not far from Fromage, Wisconsin with Miss Wilhelmina Willing Waxwell at the wheel. Seated beside her was one Percy Prigmoore Periwinkle. It was one month to the day since they had made this journey. Percy shuddered as he recalled the last trip back from the Society of Enlightened Ladies in the trunk of...
Wimp's Progress - Chapter 1 At the impressionable age of fourteen, Charles began to experience a new feeling towards members of the opposite sex. Unfortunately this included his three sisters, one his twin, and the other two older. This manifested itself in developing ways to peek into their rooms at the slightest hint of an open door, and attempts to purloin their underwear from the family hamper so he could use the smell and texture as ways to sexually...
OIL ON CANVAS; A WORK IN PROGRESS The boy stood watching us, uninhibited, as Andrea and I attempted to re-arrange our dishevelled appearances. Only moments before, my friend's face had been buried deliciously between my thighs. Her lips were still damp and glistening from her foray. My shirt was open, my tits exposed, hard little nipples protruding eagerly. How embarrassing! I was aware of a deep, warm blush flooding my cheeks, this seemed to amuse him. His eyes played greedily over my body...
ToysAshley fidgeted with the envelope that Ms. Ford had given her. She had not yet had a chance to give it to her father, because he had been busy every night. Her history of bad letters from school made her nervous, but she realized that she had put it off long enough. It was time to show her father the letter, so as Cade sat on the couch relaxing after dinner, she slowly approached him and nervously stood before him. Cade was enjoying a cigarette, tired from his long day of working. He noticed...
It took me less than two hours to provide Kevin with a list of the sequence of components for the prototype. The next three hours were spent trying to come up with some dimensions for items that didn't yet exist. Kevin and I would be doing something he called a "SWAG." "Scientific Wild-Assed Guess," he grinned. "Used it all the time at L-M. They have a design place called the "Skunk Works" in Burbank. Been around since the thirties. That's how the SR-71 got built. It was the...
Summer is at its halfway mark. The gardens are blooming to their fullest. The Thursday Bunch, as they have dubbed themselves, are all in a state of bliss. New love for all of them. Enjoying the days before noticing flaws. Totally enamored with their new mate. Time will take some of the stars out of all their eyes. But during this harmonious period, if perfect, it can be the backbone of what is ahead.Tim is involved with getting his new division up and running properly. But he does not...
TransII. The good man hard to find. Marcia was soaping the morning coffee carafes in the back room when she heard the jangle of the bells and Walt's cheery "hello." She smiled as she continued to scrub away at the indestructible orange ring at the bottom of the pot, listening to the flirtatious interplay between Walt and Grace, as regular and satisfying as a ritual. At last, Marcia dried her hands on the dish towel. She poked her head around the corner to say "hi." "Hey there," Walt...
Just how easy is it to do or say and not worry too much about reaction and feelings. A lack of thought or empathy. Understanding or accepting... well that takes effort and some will not even consider the reasons and are blind to possibility. This is one of those dark and un-redeeming type things conceived while I was in a mood. You know, one of those where for a few days everything is grey and a bit bleak and nothing you say is right and nothing fits and nobody likes you and you don't...
Steam was King! Steam was clean, the cheap power to the masses. From the end of the nineteenth century to the end of the twentieth century, steam drove everything. And in that time, inventions were all powered by steam.Big and small, steam was there, the driving force of all industry. And along with steam came the fashions of the time, heavy calico shirts, and dresses, corsets, and trusses for the bodies, hobnail boots, and woollen stockings, all were there. And controlling it all was the vast...
SteampunkGENTLEMEN’S CLUB RENDEVOUZNOT BASED ON A TRUE STORY IT IS FICTIONOne day, I woke up from a sexy dream and said to myself there is something that I want to do out the ordinary that no one would have never thought that I would never do. That fantasy is to visit a high-end gentlemen’s club in mid-downtown DC‘s business district. I have always been this ‘good girl’ always expect to do the right thing and follow the rules. Some say that I am somewhat prudish and on a conservative side. I want to...
Author’s Notes: ‘Patchwork Knight’ is set in the Sweet Dreams universe, but is otherwise a standalone story. *** ‘Patchwork Knight’ *** Does everyone remember their first crush with such clarity? Forgetting his is impossible, and if he were honest with himself, he would acknowledge that she is the standard by which every other woman that he has admired or dated is judged, and has found them lacking. He knew that he was not the only one who fell in love with her in those glory days of high...
Introduction: This is about Jordan and me, we were (and still are!) close workmates that became very close one particular night alone in a tent! WARNING: SERIOUSLY SEXY! ???? Hay, If youve read another of my true stores, you will already know a tad about me. If not, Hi! My names Josh, Im an actor and I live in the south of England. You will probably also know that I like to detail my stories very much, so it may seem very long but if you want the full benefit of it I do suggest you read all of it...
Workmates Wife Fucked over Blacksmiths AnvilThis happened way back in the very late eighties, I worked one season for the silage contractor before getting a full time job in a quarry. I worked my way up to being a mobile plant fitter. The only time the quarry was quite was a Saturday lunch time when the men that was working the full day got together and we had our bait together, we would have a laugh and take the piss out of each other.One Saturday I told the men about a dream I had about one...
Football season and school progressed as did my relationship with Jeryl. I maintained the straight A average I had always had in school, but this time with a fraction of the effort I had previously put into classes. My cousins and I butchered our cattle and sold the beef for a tidy profit before re-investing our earnings in more feed steers for the next year. My car slowly took shape as I mounted the electrically driven wheels with their individual motors and started wiring the controls to...
I've been having gay sex with my coworker, we both have gfs but love gay sex, and thought that would be the only affair we'd ever have, but we would be in for another twist. One day while hanging out he ended up telling me that something recently happened. I asked him what it was and to cut to the chase. He said that my gf had been messaging him and that eventually she started flirting with him. He told me he felt like she was definitely coming onto him. I told him it really didn't bother me....
Tuesday, June 18, 1996, Sanford Maine I lay awake snuggled between my sister and our best friend and lover CC and quietly contemplated how complex my life had gotten so far. It was hard to believe that just a relatively short time ago, I had been a single clueless teenager of fifteen-years-old. Now I was a semi-clueless teenager, sixteen-years-old, and had two girlfriends to my complete amazement and disbelief. In my quieter moments, I had been analyzing the relationship that I had...
Workplace Standards By Monsta I awoke to the slight shaking of the bed. I groggily looked at the alarm clock through my blurry sleep crusted eyes and saw it was 3:12am. After waking up a bit more and getting my bearings about me I realized the bed's motion was the result of my wife Ellen masturbating. I lay in bed motionless, pretending to be asleep. If she knew I was awake she might try to involve me, and at 3:13am I just wanted to sleep. My wife's sex drive was way higher than...
No one really cared who was giving the workshop instructions. All they knew is that it was some gal and that she had prepared a few hours of instructions and slides and a film to watch and they didn’t really want to be there all day. The table she sat at on the stage was about 8’ long, just like one of those banquet tables that fold up. Covering it was a black velvet type material with pleated sides and a nice smooth top. On the front of it was a sign that described the workshop itinerary....
EroticSarah hated the Monday morning rush. she'd woke up late again dropped the k**s of at school done the shopping and just wanted 5 minutes to chill. it was now 10.45am and the gasman was due at 11. what to wear? she thought. Sarah was in her late 20's size ten figure. pert tits legs to die for and a nice tight arse. She went for the short skirt blouse knee high socks look with her hair in pig tails not out to impress or anything. The door rang dead on 11. " 1 minute!" as she called out the bedroom...
Workplace Standards 2 By Monsta My wife Ellen and I were having a bit of an argument. Nothing serious, just one of those grocery store arguments long term couples tend to get into. Ellen wanted to get the "organic" milk, whereas I thought paying an extra $2 per gallon for milk was silly. Ellen seemed to get offended that I didn't "respect her opinion" and, well, bickering ensued. Unfortunately, we were right in the middle of that bickering when we rounded the corner and I ran into a...
Unfortunate for me, my first wife was a bit monogamously challenged. I knew she was a DTF girl before we married, in fact, that was some of the attraction, but after finding evidence of infidelity a few times, I drew a line in the sand that unfortunately she crossed. The thing with her, is that alcohol always lowered her inhibitions quickly and made her extremely horny. She told me stories about being drunk and fucking multiple guys after a party, multiple one night stands, sucking off two...
If you’ve read another of my true stores, you will already know a tad about me. If not, Hi! My name’s Josh, I’m an actor and I live in the south of England. You will probably also know that I like to detail my stories very much, so it may seem very long but if you want the full benefit of it I do suggest you read all of it (if you can last!) This one is about Jordan and me; we were (and still are!) close workmates that became very close one particular night! This was actually my most...
IV. The big fat middle of nothing. Outside the bus window the night was something solid and impenetrable, not a star to be seen, only an occasional porch light burning on some farmhouse miles in the distance. For hours now they'd been passing through endless blind tracts of dark country, where shockingly few people lived, but Phoebe could still feel the cows out there in the night, watching, chewing, uncomprehending. Cows, cows, and more cows, that was her impression of the great...
V. The diner on memory lane. The last time Marcia had spoken to anyone in her family it was to her brother Matt. That would be winter five years ago. They met in a 24-hour diner by the side of a highway in Metuchen, New Jersey. Pointedly, it was a restaurant Matt had never visited and no doubt never intended to visit again. Through a series of emails and two brief phone calls, she had explained the general situation and Matt's reaction had grudgingly advanced from "this has got to be...
VI. The perfect pie crust. The windows were dark, covered with condensation. Inside, at the kitchen table, Marcia pressed the heel of her hand against the back of the santoku knife and cleaved the apple in half. Fuji, this time. There were five other apples prepared on the cutting board, skinned an unearthly greenish-white, already tarnishing. She was making an apple pie for the Blue Cat. "I still don't understand," Grace had said. "What you've got against birthdays. What's so...
VII. A bicycle built for two. Everyman's Cycles looked like a bicycle field hospital. Wherever you looked bicycles, or parts of bicycles, stood, leaned, or lay in various states of distress, awaiting Walt's attention. He'd get to each of them, eventually, in his methodical, patient way. Walt took in stray bicycles the way crazy old ladies collected cats. Most of them were rescues. Bicycles he found abandoned in fields, weeds growing through their spokes. Or locked for months to streets...
VIII. Snowballs in paradise. Grace was unpacking a snow-globe collection from all fifty states that Mavis Pritchard had brought into the shop the day before. "Look at this," she said, holding one up with a hula girl and a palm tree inside. "There's even one from Hawaii. "Hmph. Snow in Hawaii. Who would imagine something like that?" "Someone who'd never been to Hawaii?" Marcia suggested. Grace turned the globe over. "Made in China. Well that explains it, I guess." She gave it...
IX. The momster. Her whole life Phoebe's biggest fear was that her Mom would die suddenly and without warning. Even as a little girl, she was kept awake with nightmares that seemed to foretell his horrible event in detail. She remembered anxiously watching her mom sleep, afraid that she might stop breathing, nudging her awake just in case. How cranky she would be! "What!" she'd bark, snorting and spluttering. "What's the matter with you? What time is it? Why aren't you in bed?" It...
X. The amoeba life. In the stories of people she admired, there was always a defining moment, a dramatic event that summed up their lives to a critical point and provided the pivot for a new life to come. Marcia would like to have had a similar "defining moment" in her life, but it struck her that her life not only lacked a defining moment, but that it really didn't have any definition at all. It was a more amorphous thing, her life; if it advanced, and that was often in doubt, it...
XI. A ghost and a riddle. Night again. Bus travel made her sleepy, but only during the day it seemed. She traveled through the night hours wide awake. Phoebe could see her reflection like a ghost super-imposed over all that limitless darkness. She felt like a ghost, too, like something not quite real, a figment of someone's imagination. But who's? She was a ghost floating across the countryside to haunt a person who'd run as far away from her as possible. What brought her back...
XII. Mirror, Mirror. The woman framed in the glass wore a flower-print silk skirt, a white blouse, and a light black sweater cinched tight above the waist. It was the sixth outfit she'd considered that morning, not counting the dozen or so she'd tried on mentally, rejecting them one after the other with a shudder of second-guess horror before they even made it out of the closet. "What do you think about this? Too frumpy, right?" Walt was sprawled on top of the bed, head propped on...
XIII. Lame burger. The bus that was supposed to bring Phoebe to Hope Crossing came and went with no Phoebe on it. Only a handful of passengers disembarked from the coach. A tall, elderly, stoop-shouldered man with a sharp-featured face descended first. He took a quick glace around, readjusted his grip on a battered suitcase, and trudged up the street. He was followed by a stout, middle-aged black woman in a church-lady pantsuit. Behind her were two children, chattering, bickering,...
XIV. Gimme shelter. "You live in a garage?" They were standing on the little concrete square outside the front door, staring up together at a tidy two story structure that, modifications notwithstanding, still, in fact, looked very much like a garage. "Well, it's not exactly a garage. Actually, It's a converted carriage house. I'm just renting. The woman I work for owns it. She lives in the main house across the garden." "A carriage house? What's that?" "It's where they used...
XV. Breakfast club. Sunlight poured through the checkered curtains of the kitchen window. The sliced bananas and butter were simmering on the stovetop. Marcia added to them spices she'd already toasted--cinnamon, nutmeg, clove. Together they filled the carriage house like incense. This was the Church of Home and she was performing the celebration of Good Morning. She measured out a half-cup of white flour and poured it into the mixing bowl. In another bowl she whisked three eggs, a...
XVI. Buried Secrets. First thing I do on that first day is I take a detour through town to check out this totally demented store where Marcia mentioned she has a job. What kind of a job, I can't quite imagine. From what I can tell, it sounds like something super low-ambition, some not-trying-too-hard menial position that can't possibly pay very much. Given my main reason for showing up here in Hope Crossing, that doesn't bode well for the future of yours truly. You can imagine my...
XVII. Hell's Angel Walt was in the workroom of his shop when she called. He was putting new brake cables on a Rivendell Sam Hillborne. He was customizing the bike for one of his more well-heeled patrons, a dentist who fancied himself a cycling aficionado. He was the kind of guy who outfitted himself like he was racing in the Tour de France just to tool his way through the park. He always bought the very latest, most cutting-edge gear. Everything high-tech and top of the line. But he spent...
XVIII. Beauty and the beast. So I finally got to meet the boyfriend. Surreal! He was one of those big, burly, biker-types. His arms (and who knows what else) covered in tats, the seriouso kind. I'll bet anything some of them are prison tattoos. Long gray hair tied back in a grizzled ponytail. Grizzled beard, too. He was exactly the kind of guy that every dad shudders to imagine his daughter will bring home one day. And here my dad was bringing him home to me! See what I mean by...
XIX. First draft people. An occasional bat flickered across the stars overhead. The gardenias and hibiscus had long drawn in their petal- awnings. Across the lawn, the hunched bushes looked like a queue of black-robed monks marching back to their monastery. And in the middle distance, fireflies marked a secondary night-sky of transitory constellations in what might have been an even more unpredictable universe than the one we find ourselves inhabiting, one that blinks in an out of...
XX. Glass houses. To the sadly uninitiated, a bicycle is simply a convenient means of transportation, low-tech, eco-friendly, inexpensive, ultra-democratic. For the fitness conscious, it's a superior form of practical exercise: you could get your aerobic workout and run errands at the same time. For others, the bicycle endures as the conveyance of childhood memories--tricycle, Big Wheels, training wheels, scraped knees and paper routes. However to someone like Walt, a bicycle was all...
XXI. Full Xanax moments. Her heart skipped a beat before her brain was fully conscious of the reason. There'd been a total communications blackout between them of several years running but Marcia recognized Claire's old email address immediately. She remembered, too, clicking open the message, the standard post-divorce tone of Claire's emails: terse, authoritative, and demanding. Then, as now, Claire communicated with Marcia as she would with a subordinate whose compliance was taken...
XXII. The x factor. It was a strange council they made that evening sitting on Grace's porch. Walt and Marcia, Claire, and, of course, Grace herself, puttering about busily, trying to make everyone comfortable. It brought to mind those old photographs of Yalta, where Stalin, Roosevelt, and Churchill posed with forced congeniality for the camera, the most unlikely and unnatural of allies, each of them knowing full well that their cooperation was only temporary. That the moment the...
XXIII. Strange geography. They really should teach more geography at school, that's what I'm thinking. I mean, I've got to get to New Mexico, but I'm not even sure where it is. In the Southwest, somewheres, which is good enough to say, if you're living two thousand miles away in New Jersey and have no intention of ever actually going there. I don't even know if it comes before or after Arizona. I'm in Oklahoma now, a really godawful place from what I can see of it, which isn't...
XXIV. Cactus country. The day was cool and clear. An auspicious day for new beginnings. The cloudless sky stretched tight, a blue tarpaulin snapped to the horizon. It was almost enough to give Marcia a feeling of hope. Between all the preparations, hastily made as they'd been, throwing together a pair of travel bags, gassing up the truck, collecting maps and whatnot, they were on the road a little later than they'd planned. Traveling south on I-640, traffic was still light but picked...
XXV. Who's your daddy? When they asked me at the hospital who my parents were, who my emergency contact was, I guess you can say that I kind of panicked. They were making it pretty clear they weren't going to let me out of here on my own, no way, so I had to come up with someone. Who could I finger for the honor? Mom was out of the question, at this point, and once Marcia found out that I'd lied and basically stolen her money, which I'm sure she must have realized by now, she wasn't...
XXVI. The great escape. One could imagine a thousand things going wrong, but there was no hitch at the hospital. Their quickly improvised charade worked like a charm. Walt's performance as Phoebe's concerned but understandably angry father was spot-on. Marcia, in her supporting role as distraught mom, hadn't had to act at all. There were the usual papers and forms to sign, a brief interview with a representative from the Chupadero police department and another with a representative...
XXVII. Just south of normal. For the next month, they very much resembled a real family. In the meantime, peace talks with Claire continued, though they were touch-and- go. Grace had gently offered to help mediate and Marcia gratefully accepted her offer. Grace was making progress, working her indelible magic, but it was magic in slow motion. In Claire, she'd met her match, a woman as resistant to miracles as they come. Marcia's ex was angry and would likely remain so, on some level,...
XXVIII. Departures. It was one of those mornings that seem unable to decide what it wants to be. Halfway to the airport, a fine rain blew up against the windshield of the pick-up. A few miles later, the sun unexpectedly broke out from a temporary gap in the impregnable line of gray clouds massed like battleships laying siege on the horizon It had finally been agreed that Phoebe would return to New Jersey and sign in to an outpatient rehab clinic. At the same time, she would take...
XXIX. When cows fly. There are no cows outside the window at thirty thousand feet, no oil drills, no billboards, no fast food chain restaurants either. Nothing but space, space, and more space. You always expect to see things clearer on the way back from a journey. I'm not sure if anything is really different than it was before, but I do see it differently, and maybe that makes all the difference. We'll just have to wait and see. I'm not so mad anymore, I guess. That's one thing...
XXX. Book of changes. One morning Marcia came into the Blue Cat and found Grace packing up the snow-globe collection. She carefully wrapped each plastic globe in newspaper before nesting it inside a box beside the others. "What happened? Did Mrs. Pritchard have second-thoughts about selling?" Marcia's eyes widened in disbelief. "Don't tell me you got a taker for the entire collection?" "Neither, I'm afraid," Grace said. Marcia began setting out that morning's baked selections....
XXXI. The wisdom of ghosts. Edgar Birdwell was an awful poet. There was just no two ways around it. It wasn't only that his language was stilted and clunky, antiquated even in his own day, or that his themes were self-censored, disguised in tortured euphemisms to the point of utter obscurity. He was simply a bad writer. There was a good reason he was self-published. Who else would? Birdwell had an ear with more tin in it than a can. Marcia's fantasy, ex- graduate student of...
XXXII. Welcome home. Autumn was now more than just a hint of wood-smoke in the nippy air of a summer evening. The trees had turned and the leaves were in free-fall. In the night sky, the constellations had subtly shifted position. The stars were sharper. The frogs and crickets had grown quieter. "Good evening ladies." Walt waved to them as he cruised passed the porch on the tandem. He was showing up all over town lately riding solo on that bicycle. He was becoming famous for it....
Do you want to know a secret? I’m crazy about you. Of course I won’t actually say the words to you, but I’ll show you because it’s easier for me. Look at me. Look at my face when you smile at me, doesn’t it tell you everything that I won’t. Feel my fingertips on your arm as you drift into a sleep, they’ll continue to stroke you long after you’ve lost awareness and when I eventually fall asleep pressed up against your warmth, I’ll have a contented smile as I dream of you, as I dream that...
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