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Ever since I can remember people have told me what a nice guy I was. I was a nurse at the city hospital; decent looks, comfortably off, kind and caring or so they said. But I didn't have a partner and I'd never ejaculated inside a woman and that was becoming the obsession of my life; I would have given anything for a woman who could take my full length so I could fuck her properly and cum inside her.

My problem was that my cock was a full twelve inches when erect.

I'd read stupid stories on the internet about women begging for a big cock and taking twelve inches and enjoying it but that's just fiction. It doesn't happen in real life. I'd had plenty of dates and they'd given me the occasional hand-job or blow-job but when I got eight inches inside them that would be it, they couldn't take any more and they would bail on me.

Late one night after finishing my shift I was going round the supermarket with my trolley when I came across a pregnant woman. She was six or seven months gone and dirt poor because although she was clean and looked healthy she obviously dressed from thrift shops. With her bump she was finding it very hard to reach items high up or low down. The supermarkets do that on purpose, they place the products with the biggest mark-ups at eye-level, not giving a shit about folks on a tight budget who want economy products but can't reach them.

I bent down to pick up a large, heavy bulk-buy from ground level for her, and she smiled and thanked me. She was really pretty so I asked her why the baby's father wasn't there to help and she told me he was a no-good jerk who bailed on her when she told him she was pregnant.

We ended up going round together, chatting as we went. She was bright and witty and really easy to talk to. She confessed that she was more than a little scared about the prospect of being a single mother, and hoped she would be able to cope. We split up when we got to the checkouts and I felt a pang in my heart that I might never see her again after making such a connection.

When I got to my car with my trolley, I noticed a held-together-with- string piece of junk parked next to it. While I was loading my shopping into the trunk, the woman from the supermarket waddled up to the piece of junk pushing her own trolley. Surely that was a sign. Half a plan leapt into my mind and I only had a split second to decide. Too late, I was committed. I called the woman over to the trunk of my car on the pretext of showing her something, then seconds later she was bound and gagged and in the trunk with my shopping.

I looked around nervously, expecting to see people rushing to help. But nobody seemed to have noticed, not even when the woman had got out a strangled scream before I had clamped my hand over her mouth. I finished loading my shopping into the trunk, then added the woman's own shopping. I closed the trunk, and pushed both trolleys back to a trolley park. Then I got in my car and drove out of the supermarket car park as though nothing had happened, leaving the woman's piece of junk behind as though it had been abandoned.

I didn't return to my city apartment but instead I did the two-hour drive up to the cabin in the mountains which my parents had left me. It was always very quiet up there; on the few occasions I had visited the place I had never seen another soul.

I carried the woman into the single bedroom in the cabin and laid her on the bed. I took off her gag. She screamed. I told her that she could scream as much as she wanted, nobody would hear. Between screams I apologised and told her that I'd have to keep her tied up for the moment but I'd fix that as soon as possible.

When the woman had calmed down she told me that she had no money and begged me not to kill her. I told her that I wasn't going to hurt her but I needed her in order to fulfill a lifelong ambition and then I'd let her go. The woman slept tied-up on the bed in the bedroom while I slept on the floor of the main room in a sleeping bag.

Next morning I called in sick, then I drove down to Home Depot and bought everything I would need to make the bedroom into a prison. I spent the rest of the day installing it, pausing only to cook us both dinner. The woman looked as though she'd rather choke than eat my food, but she was hungry and when I urged her to think of her baby she eventually succumbed.

As soon as the bedroom window had secure bars on it and the bedroom door had a secure bolt, I untied the woman. She immediately flew at me, trying to hurt me with her flailing fists, but I managed to catch them and hold them securely until she calmed down.

Next morning I left the woman locked in the bedroom with some food and drink and a toilet bucket while I drove in to work. When I got back I cooked us both dinner. When I unbolted the bedroom door and entered, carrying the woman's dinner on a tray, she threw the contents of the toilet bucket over me with a gleam of triumph in her eyes.

I don't know what she was hoping to achieve, but I left the bedroom door open so she could watch while I discarded the soiled dinner, replacing it with my own share. Then I cleaned up and made myself a sandwich. When she realised I wasn't going to react or take revenge and that I'd sacrificed my own dinner as a replacement, the look was replaced by one tinged with sadness and regret. She never tried that again.

I worked long hours, five days on then three days off. When my next three day break came I made the rest of the cabin secure so that the woman could use the bathroom and the stove while I was out, and after that I let her have the run of the cabin while I was at work, only locking her in the bedroom at night.

I took the woman's measurements and bought her some decent maternity clothes and plenty of underwear so that she was more comfortable. I found out her tastes in food and drink so I could stock up with things we both enjoyed. After a couple of weeks she seemed to realise that I was telling the truth when I said I wasn't going to hurt her and she thawed a little.

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It happened a long time back when I did B.Sc. Computer Science. There was a lecturer named Lincy who was the beauty queen of the college. Even all male staffs try to act smart when she crosses them. She is 28 years old, lean and very attractive with cute boobs hidden inside sari. It’s the college rule to wear sari for teachers. So, all the students were lucky to have a sneak on their favorite teachers’ boobs during the class hours. Return to story; I am the poorest in studies and won’t study...

Beths Lesson

While I was in graduate school, Sarah and I lived in a house with two others, who went home on the weekends. And so, with the exception of Saturday daytime, when Sarah worked, the weekends were when Sarah and I enjoyed each other. We were “body-buddies” and had been for about a year. More than that, Sarah was my teacher. What I knew about teasing, anal sex, group sex, I had learned from Sarah. This particular Saturday night, Sarah was out with her lady friends partying and celebrating...

Body Art Chap 1

He was a post graduate art student, already with a bit of an artistic reputation. He had irritated his professors by declining a tutoring job at the university and instead had taken this position in a private academy. Sure the money was better, but underlying motive was talent; not artistic talent, that would be in short supply, but female talent and challenge would be here. At the uni there were plenty of attractive undergrads, but after three years Jack had become bored. Bored with their...

Sissy Of The Lamp Finale

Taking a bowl of potpourri from the table she emptied the contents on the floor, then clicked her fingers. Davina gasped as her attire was instantly changed from that of rubber assistant to French maid. Black glossy eight inch stilettos, opaque black stocking with a seam meticulously straight up the back. Black satin dress the skirt held up horizontal by the froth of petticoats. The waist waspishly tight and of course her tits thrust out on display like two melons. Was it her imagination...

ldquoLingerie Lovingrdquo extract Layla and Charlotte

Charlotte was a pretty, shy girl of about twenty: two years older than me. The older woman! I’d been entranced by her beauty since watching her win the hundred yard sprint on sports day. She had long, blonde hair, pale skin and willowy legs, but also incredibly large breasts. I only discovered this later – she had them strapped down when she was running. There were all sorts of rumours about Charlotte – that she wanted to be a boy, that she was having an affair with a local farmer, and so on....

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