Infidelity
- 3 years ago
- 31
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Part I: Ache
She is a long woman, lean and pale. Long legs pull your eyes up to where they meet. Her long neck carries them further, to her face, that sweetly weak chin, her mouth. Only her lips are full bodied.
She has never liked her body, thinking that she is much too tall, that her hips are too wide, that her butt sticks out, that her chest is too flat, but men, and some women, enjoy watching her walk past and turn to look when she can’t see them, to imagine her naked, imagine crawling between those never-ending legs, imagine her eyes swollen and half closed with desire. Many a man or woman has sighed with a private disappointment after she has passed, the strength of the sigh depending only on the strength of imagination.
She is right, though, at least about her absent breasts. Her chest is flat: two peas on an ironing board, as some men used to joke. No one will move his (or her) hand from chest to breast and delight in the smooth curve, because there is no curve. No one will feel the rubbery texture when her breasts are pushed up from below.
She could fix this, she supposes, by having a doctor insert gelatinous bags beneath her nipples, but it wouldn’t any longer be her. It might even — one might think — take attention away from her neck or her mouth. Perhaps her breasts would grow larger if she had a child, though she is unlikely ever to know. People come as complex packages. This is what comes in hers.
What else comes is fascination. She watches the breasts of other women in her dance classes surge forward with centrifugal force during their steps, then bob around, furtive looks so well camouflaged that no one has ever suspected her, mixed with chatty commentary on technique but full of longing, enough longing to make her ashamed. She sometimes gossips about how men talk about tits and bazooms, but that’s an excuse. She has seen her own reflection in the studio mirror often enough, and found nothing noteworthy there.
She is certain she couldn’t attract a real lover and hasn’t a clue as to how her husband came to want her. She thinks it couldn’t have been her looks. Now that several years have passed since they married, and his interest has diminished, she understands that he must be tired of having to work himself up for someone who lacks a true woman’s body. Along with that understanding, she has almost convinced herself that she is reconciled to a life of little passion.
That reconciliation is an illusion: while standing before the mirror after bathing a few weeks back, she suddenly made a despairing cry and began smacking her chest with her hands. It took almost an hour to regain composure, to fix her face, before she could meet people with her usual gracious smile, backed by an inner light.
*****
In any event, while a life of little passion defies longings it doesn’t banish them. Hers is as deep a well of desire as anyone’s, producing forbidden fantasies that entrance like visions of water on the desert, but being a good Christian woman she isn’t going to act on them. It shames her a little that she even has them. Hers may be a liberal church, full of good, open-minded people, but she struggles to be morally straight. Judge not. Only judge yourself.
Her fantasies slip into her mind at night when she is most vulnerable, forming from the swirls of almost- sleep thoughts, little universes of lust growing out of nothing, brushing her belly, awakening her body. She doesn’t feel she deliberately calls them out, but there they are, and they are insistent, full-color images of sex with this man or that from her job, movies, even her church. Sometimes he is anonymous. It really doesn’t matter. They didn’t used to include full naked bodies on display.
Ever more during one of these fantasies her hand will slip from her side to her waist to her pubic mound, over the almost hairless mound to a spot where she can stroke herself with stealthy fingers. On occasion she resists. When she does touch herself she moves the fingers slowly between her labia, circling her clitoris, getting high, afraid of waking her husband while surrendering yet again. There are times that she can’t keep herself still or quiet, when she’ll finally go into the living room or bathroom to finish.
The acts she conjures once came mainly from R-rated films or the explicit romance novels she has taken to reading, but that ended when she stayed alone at a hotel that had a pay-per-view adult movie channel. On a whim she picked a movie almost at random and was devastated. Which was stronger, disgust or desire? She probably doesn’t know to this day, but her repertoire of fantasies began growing that night.
After masturbating, once her breathing has slowed and she considers the visions that have driven her pleasure, she feels vile. Shame is her other secret burden, so much of it for such a good person. She certainly wouldn’t ever cheat with any of those men. Once or twice a man from work came on to her, just a little, and she cut him down right away.
*****
For awhile there was one man in her fantasies more than any other, a dance partner in their little community ballet. They’ve teamed on and off in ‘The Nutcracker,’ practicing once a week, then meeting daily during performance week. She is a principal dancer. He is a volunteer from the community who replaces a non-existent male dancer, there being no senior men in the company.
They’ve enjoyed playing dress-up, dancing, pantomiming. They’ve held hands. He has kissed her hand, often, often. He is actually the only man besides her husband whom she has touched regularly in any way for years, and one evening last Fall the hand kiss suddenly made her wonder what it would be like if he kissed her mouth. What if he pulled her to him and … did what? That. All of that.
She had been expressing amazement at the dances of Herr Drosselmeyer’s toys, paying attention to the actions and positioning of the party goers, but at the thought her vision was obscured by quick flashes of fucking. She wouldn’t use that word, but it’s what she saw. It was followed that night by a detailed fantasy of degenerate sex that wouldn’t make her feel guilty: what if he kidnapped me and forced me to submit? What would he make me do?
Please don’t hurt me. You don’t have to hurt me. I’ll do anything you want.
The intensity and the pleasure frightened her, enough that she decided to avoid him, to talk only when on the floor, but the thoughts recurred throughout the season, finally fading only after the performances ended, when she wouldn’t see him for eight months because their lives are completely separate and he too has a spouse.
How many little ballet troupes are there, hundreds? All performing ‘The Nutcracker’? How many fantasies are generated by them? How many come to nothing?
*****
One shouldn’t think that hers is a life of quiet desperation. She keeps telling herself it is a good life, economically, religiously, intellectually, and much of the time it is exactly that. Every life has some issues, she argues persuasively. She keeps herself busy.
And yet.
She has growing periods when can’t stand to be around other people. She withdraws to her room to think and be alone, to trace the passing of the years, to fantasize and to wonder what happened to her life, how at one time everything had seemed possible.
Along with her romance novels she has started reading poetry from her old college textbooks. One Sunday afternoon she read ‘To His Coy Mistress.’ When she came to the line ‘time’s wing’d chariot hurrying near,’ she threw the book across the room.
*****
That was her life until this evening, when something happened.
What was it? As winter passed, her fantasies had shifted around to focus on some stranger she saw at the grocery, when she unexpectedly saw him — *the* him. It is out of season for him, late spring, but there is a party thrown by a couple who t
urn out to be friends of friends of each. It’s how a small world works. It’s also how her God shows His sense of humor by — just for the fun of it — setting the stage for her seduction. Or perhaps He has another wager with Satan.
The earth is enjoying one of its magic times, the air rich with unimaginable varieties of blooms. The flowering began weeks ago and will continue another month, first early bloomers like forsythia, fruit trees, and daffodils, then the later blossoms to carry springtime along. The azaleas and their kin are colorful, the dogwoods, though, are achingly white and this is dogwood country.
It rained earlier today. The air is still sweet with it, the walk damp underfoot, and isolated drops still fall from the oaks, but the sky is almost clear and there is the slimmest crescent of a moon. Lone baby clouds scoot low in the sky, hurrying to a place people never see. Down below, the trees and shrubs have been waving to the sky all afternoon, a physical hosanna to whatever deities of Spring they worship.
She first saw him when she looked up from the walk, her mind filled with patterns of mud and raindrops, smelling the rain-cleansed air, aware of the clouds. He arrived in a sudden gust, without his wife, and when she saw him she felt the earth lurch, or the time, or something. Her husband was with her, but he groused about these boring parties and finally asked if she could find a ride home later, so that he could leave. Then *he* gallantly offered a ride.
So the air was charged from the beginning, exactly the same as always, but different in that indefinable way known to shamans, as though an invisible wave had washed away the part that was familiar, leaving a world that is alluring but strange. Jamais Vu. She feels shaky, physically ill at ease, and she thinks if she has a bite to eat it may help her. Or if she gets away from him. She doesn’t want to think about him.
He walks to the table with her.
They have to talk, of course. She comes up with something interesting to say while he spreads baba ganousch on pita, nothing really, but they are able to chit-chat. It may all amount to nothing. She takes fresh vegetables and some kind of dip. It may be easy. She feels nothing special, and is about to relax when he takes her hand to pull her away from blocking the kitchen door.
Yes, the hand feels the same. It is a large hand, warm, not rough, and without warning there is the memory of rehearsal, of how his hands always did feel especially warm to her.
She hadn’t considered his hands when they first met, when his daughters took ballet and he spent his time playing with the smallest children, helping them do backward flips and giving them airplane rides. She had just thought he was funny, still a big kid though much older than she.
His hands. They announced themselves later, when the two of them had played husband and wife so long that they could casually hold each other’s before going on stage, and his would help warm hers until the lights heated the air.
There is another, related memory, the one she doesn’t want to remember, the one of yearning and remorse. It is of that first, really cold night of dress rehearsal last December, how she had been shivering and huddling backstage, and how he had seen her and put his tuxedo jacket over her shoulders without being asked. When she had hugged it around herself she had smelled him and been suffused in his body heat. Though this was after her decision to avoid him, the smell and the feeling and the fact that he was so thoughtful had made her think about him all night long and want him to hold her.
It was bad, so bad that she had forgotten a step during one of their dances together.
She couldn’t not think of him, but she’d stayed away from him as much as she could and she hadn’t really thanked him. She knows she was cold to him and once again feels shame.
The memory arouses fantasies and regrets from wherever they have been resting, leaving her shy, making her wish she could extricate herself, making her want to stay. Oh, why did her husband have to leave?
She puts aside the plate of vegetables. He gets her a drink and their hands touch when she takes it.
Someone asks them to show a step from the ballet. This inspiration is doubtless generated by higher powers: these are arts people, sure, but there is no reason for this. The question leads to discussion of which step to show, a hasty improvisation, and the required holding of hands. The kiss on the hand. She tries to look lighthearted.
There is real improvisation when he spins her under his overstretched hands, catches her, and lets her lean down in his arms like a swing dancer. Their bodies touch, brush, catch on each other. For a second his face is right over hers and he looks her full in the eyes while she leans against his arm and body and tries not to look back up at him. She is frozen. She thinks he may kiss her right now.
An epiphany: all at once and without words she knows that he desires her.
Why doesn’t she laugh and get up, move away? She could. It would be easy, if only she and her body weren’t so busy betraying each other.
So she lies back in his arms and looks up at him blankly, swallowing, unable to muster the coquettish look she would once have used, telling herself not to be stupid but out of the blue feeling those sensations, the tingle or spark or subtle movement about her sex, the sensation like a tiny electrical current, the odd stirring in her lower belly. She knows them well, just hasn’t felt them from contact with a man — not like this — in a long time. She feels herself growing vaguely damp where her vagina touches her panties. She thinks she can feel a bit, just a tiny bit, of trickling, a minute tickle along the walls of her labia, before finally he lets her up.
He wants me. He does. Me.
The thoughts echo, circle, blend with the fragments of fantasy and the sensations in her belly, and tell her that something is happening to her. Can anyone else tell? She looks around at the other guests, laughing and clapping or not paying them much attention at all. Thank you, Lord.
She needs separation and self-control, so leads him to a couch where she sits in a corner, but her leg touches his because all the seats are taken. She crosses her legs and her arms and leans as far into the corner as she can, to make herself invisible, to sort her feelings and get control of them.
There is general conversation. He is telling stories about major blunders during their performances, about prima donnas and untied Pointe shoes. She makes just a small comment now and then. She’s normally active in these things, but she needs to look at him closely and can’t do it while people look at her.
Why does she feel this way? Is there a clue in his flesh? If he acts childlike sometimes, and he looks younger than his years, how can his eyes be surrounded by fine wrinkles that form folds upon folds when he smiles, and why does one eyelid droop a bit more than the other? Was he injured once?
The hostess announces a fresh plate of canapés. She calls them ‘munchies.’
Our good woman is not hungry now, not at all. She looks around the room. The picture window is framed with a deep green cornice and drapes. She tries to watch the man via his reflection, but there are ghost figures behind him. When she focuses on them they become two teenagers who must belong to people inside, embracing just outside on the sidewalk. Their foreheads and noses touch as they talk, then they kiss deeply and open-mouthed, pasturing on each other.
Her mind flicks instantly to the political campaign, how Al and Tipper Gore had kissed at the Democratic convention. She hadn’t liked it at all, because it was so hard and unmoving — a fifties movie kiss.
Back flicks her mind and she is again being held by her dance partner, but this time he does bend to her and start to kiss, the kiss of the teens,
lips and tongues, a kiss that goes on and on, lovingly and sensually, until there is one final flash and she realizes two things: that they couldn’t kiss like that in front of everyone and that the hostess is holding a tray of munchies out toward her.
The conversation is all party talk, never turning toward anything serious, but twice, when someone asks about her husband, she says, ‘Oh, he’s fine,’ in *that* voice, the one that says she doesn’t want to talk about him. The second time, her dancer friend turns just a little to look at her with a serious expression.
‘Isn’t it stuffy in here?’
Yes it is, suddenly. He asks if she would like to walk on the deck out back.
Thank God! There may not be such an easy opportunity to stop this later. He hasn’t been obvious, but she saw how he looked at her. She knows he wants to be alone with her, and that he knows that she knows, and all that. They understand each other completely, so when she says ‘no’ he will understand that, too.
‘Just a minute. I have to find my shawl.’
*****
It is time, time for time to accelerate. Not the clock, but the experience. There is a sense of something rushing, of movement in the earth, though the wind has gone away to rest, and the air is finally still. Expectant. Naturally the night is empty for them, as though prepared in advance.
She feels it. Does he?
It is cool enough for her to pull her wool wrap tightly, but the night doesn’t seem to affect him a bit, he doesn’t even wear a sweater.
What’s he saying? There’s some flowering ajuga just below the deck. There, see? He leans out over the rail of the deck to make his point, standing closer to her than he should and she can feel the heat pouring off him. She looks, but she’s too aware of his closeness to pay attention, so just says ‘Um hmm.’
It isn’t that she’s thoughtless. She’s thinking the whole time, setting scenes and conversation, visualizing possibilities. How would he take it if I put my hand on his arm, if I simply rested it there? I could lay it there only for a second. What would he do? Would he freeze? Get shy? Take it as an invitation?
She almost does it. No, no, no! This is getting absurd. It’s time to go back in.
They don’t. Different music begins, something slow and familiar that she can’t quite place. He asks, ‘Dance?’ and takes her hand at almost the same instant. Inside her the alarm bells go off, clanging in the night, warning her that this isn’t any longer fantasy, telling her to refuse as she turns toward him to look, first to his mouth, then up to his eyes. She sees the party inside through half-open blinds, only for a second before the view is blocked by his body. Say no thank-you, she tells herself. She doesn’t say anything at all.
This is how it happens, not to everyone but to her. She hasn’t decided in her mind to let this man fuck her. She probably couldn’t make such a decision, not coldly, not in advance. There is simply a flow to events. One would think that she would get help with her resolve.
So they begin to dance. It is slow motion. It is like lightning. She puts her free hand on his shoulder, feels his hand on her waist, lets him begin the step, judges his stride and his rhythm. They’re too far apart, dancing like children, so ludicrous. She is talking to herself, trying to understand what is happening, though what seems most important is that she shouldn’t stand so awkwardly apart from her partner, so she steps closer and lets him slide his hand around to the small of her back, to pull her gently to his body. He is large, he almost envelopes her.
Her face is at his shoulder. It brings the memory of December, how his tux jacket felt, the heat, the faint smell of Mennen now replaced by the real thing. She can feel his real heat with her cheek. Then, without any internal argument at all, she lays her head on his shoulder and leans her body completely up against his. It is a big step, her first one to push the situation along, and it scares her to death.
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Oral SexThe Right Of The King Lorena Mae, 1995 He pulled back, spent, satisfied. The therapy room around him was institutional, cement brick with a cold stainless steel table dominating the space. She laid in the stirrups, softly moaning. He looked at her empty eyes in the midst of a beautiful face and wondered what she thought, if she thought at all. She had been in institutions for most of her life, unable to communicate or even control her body very much. He liked to believe...
My husband, Ben, has always had a kinky side. He is into mild fetishes like light bondage and cosplay sex, and he has even wilder fantasies regarding multiple partners and wife-sharing. I have to be honest and admit that I share some of his milder fantasies, and willingly help fulfill others simply because he is my husband and I love him. I had drawn the line at multiple partners, or other guys, though. I was not prepared to cross that line. One night we had made a bet over the outcome of...
Chapter 1: The Green AlbaThe room is deaf and silent, the only thing you will hear are the ticking of the clock and the sound of computers clicking. It’s really a slow day here at LifelineIT, a computer specialist shop at downtown Detroit. I was assigned at the repair department. There are only three costumers today, the two clogs in the cartridge and the other one only wants consultation about her pc overheating. Now I am stuck making “reports” about the store’s inventory which sucks because...
This is a marketing story by George, yes these people do walk the earth and vote... MARKETING GENIUS True story. Went to a major grocery chain store today to buy among other things, a mop bucket. Had no problem finding mops, brooms, whisk brooms, dust pans et.al. No buckets. I managed to flag down a store manager of all people and asked him where I could find a mop bucket. I was NOT very politely informed they do not stock mop buckets. "But you have mops" "We don't stock mop...
The bay was calm and sheltered, converged upon by woodland and coves, it was a serene and gentle spot. Behind us, back in the town, the sounds of merriment and laughter rolled across the water with a distant echo. Out here, along the shore, it seemed a different world to our own quiet, secluded and peaceful scene. The boats, large and small, that dotted the marina were gently tossed up and down on the low waves with a quiet, rhythmic beat. Lights from the occasional boat joined the sparkling...
AUTHORS NOTE This is the story of my first real affair. I was then a soldier of 20, stationed in Massachusetts and the year 1965. And as always feedback is welcome, message me and I will answer. SWEET NAN PT I In the spring of ’65 I stumbled into situation that was to blow my mind and change my life and my view of women forever (again , I seem to just stumble blindly in life.) The Army had me at a post in a small town outside of Boston, and I often went to Philadelphia on weekends to visit...
Just like the many before her, Aria Carson is a cheater. Aria just got engaged and loves showing off her new ring; however, Aria’s at a stranger’s apartment. She doesn’t even know the dude’s last name…and Aria’s not even sure if the first name he gave was real. But that doesn’t matter. Especially when Aria’s horny and on her phone, swiping right while her future hubby is at work! “Swipe right for a fun night!” is one of Aria’s...
xmoviesforyouI recently started a new job and with it came a warehouse of young men and a few areas to hideaway for some masturbation if it was needed. As I got my tour on the first day I noticed not only the guys, but areas that I could possibly hide away for a few private moments but like most places of work there was always the chance of being seen. After the first week I noticed a few of the guys were being just a little more friendly than the others. One in particular would wink at me every...
As two college buddies looked over the morning campus news, Kelso shouted to Jason, "Check this out! Space duo seeks males - blood characteristics required, probably need to be Aryan - get to mess with the Prez, travel, meet ladies. Two out of thousands will qualify, but they must already be friends, when applying. Blah, blah, blah..." "This would make a perfect sabbatical, dude!" continued Kelso. Jason said, "It's probably bullshit, some frat prank. Why would they advertise?" Kelso...
Been with my wife for f******n years now. Although some may disagree, I find her beautiful.True she is getting a bit of a belly, but she has a round mouth, wet pussy and a tight ass, all of which I can use at will. She has accepted the fact that I am the head of the household and with a little of the right type of training she would be a very good submissive. It’s a work in progress. She has accepted the fact that I believe in domestic discipline.We have rules in our house, some written,...
I had to go down south on business, and was invited to stay with our family friend, Leslie, a really hot mature who’d panties I love to cum in. She wears very sexy, full cut satin panties with nice wide gussets perfect for catching a big load of cum. We’d had a few encounters previously when she found me jerking off with her panties. I didn’t expect anything to happen this trip because her husband was home, but it turned out he had to out of town on business.The night I arrived was...
All of you horny readers will love jerking off to this incident that I am about to share. So, grab that bottle of lubricant and keep your cock on standby. And those who don’t know me, I am Simraan. Last week, I went to the mall with my lover to do lingerie shopping. It is my view that a former flame will select the best bra and panties than a lousy husband. I call him ‘love’ because I am an open-minded married woman! My lover and I picked up a few pairs of bra and panties for trial. We both...
IncestNote from the author: Note from the author:Since this story was first published as ?Hypno happiness? on BDSM Library the site has changed hands.? The new owners have adopted a policy of refusing or removing anything depicting pre-teen sexual contact.? I entirely respect this decision. As a way of enabling me to continue to publish this story I have re-written it so that it does not contradict the new rules.? To avoid any confusion I have re-named the story. I hope you still enjoy it. As...
CHAPTER TWO: THE GATEIt took a long, bumpy, regional, prop plane ride, a long bus journey, and two legs of boat segments before I arrived on the docks of a tiny village very deep in the jungle. The villagers were clearly a mixed group of regional tribes in wide-ranging dress … or undress. In my full habit garments, I received many stares of curiosity. Struggling with communication, they looked at me and simply pointed me through the village and out the far side. In short order, I found myself...
‘Have you met with my new driver?’ Mia Jensen asked looking up her young assistants’ short skirt, thinking back to her glory days in Hollywood and being the most sought after actress, but now she was lucky to get a dog food commercial. Carly turned to reply and was shocked that Miss Jensen was looking up her skirt. ‘He should be here by now. I told him that his room would be ready today and that he was to report at eight this morning.’ Carly said standing up as fast as she could, wondering why...
Ephus - the godling man with an unusual power. Dr. Quinn - human wife of Ephus Egyption Goddesses and wives to Ephus _____________________________________ Bast - Goddess of cats, protection, joy, dance, music, family, and love Sekhmet - Goddess of fire, war, and dance Hathor - Goddess of the sky, dance, love, beauty, joy, motherhood, foreign lands, mining, music and fertility. Serket - Goddess of scorpions, medicine, magic, and healing venomous stings and bites Maat - Goddess of Truth...
Mera naam hai Kishor Magani. Mein tis sal ka hun. Mein aur meri patni Gujarat ke ek gaanv men ek nabalig jamindar ke trustee hein. Ye hamari khud ki kahani hai. Jab mein chhota tha tab ham bahut garib the. Pitaji ke paas chaar paanch bigha jamin thi. Do saal ki lambi bimari baad pitaji mar gaye tab mein solah saal ka tha. Mein aur meri vidhava ma akele rah gaye, kuchh bis baais hajar rupiyon ka karja sar pe liye. Karja dene vali meri dur ki chachi thi, Kesar. Dusare gaanv men rahati thi jahan...
Tim’s turn: My ex – Vicki’s mom – is in town, and in the interests of keeping things as civil between her and me for Vicki’s benefit, she’s staying with us. That little act in itself is a little poke in her eye. Our house is meticulously clean and organized, partly due to the efforts of me and Kim and Vicki, also due to a couple of ladies whom we’ve hired to provide domestic support for a community of busy people. Karen was a lackadaisical housekeeper at best. Seeing this – well, SHE was...
Molly was a hot bodied beautiful mom. She had a super high sexual point in her life when she was younger. The event memories surfaced when her young son wanted to try out his new digital camera, by wanting to take some pictures…of her….….Molly….….I didn’t realize it at first but I was really getting very sexually excited over this. It slowly came back to me about having my picture taken and the most sexually exciting day of my life…. ….I was camera obsessed when I was young, loving to have my...
Hi readers and horny girls and Telugu girls and unsatisfied ladies. I don’t know writing stories well as it is my first experience and also story. Hope you enjoy and become wet when the real story starts. Anyone can approach me if you like my romance and experience and if you want to enjoy that feel. Virgin girls are welcomed as they can enjoy a lot with my romance of your wish hard or soft. I am Kalyan from Kurnool of Andhra Pradesh. This story occurred two months back when my parents are out...
Somewhere on the top floor of the Sylph Corp Water Pokemon R&D branch's main building, three figures emerged from the darkness. The trio crept silently from their hiding place in one of the air vents, and quickly scanned the fish tank filled room. "This is it?!" exclaimed James in a harsh whisper, "Nothing but magikarp!" "Pokemon, are pokemon," replied Meowth with a shrug as he walked around there corner, "Besides, there's more than just magikarp here." "You're just...
When I got up this morning, I made my usual walk over to my b*****r’s room to wake him up for school. Donny is a senior in high school while I’m in my third year of college. I crept in his room and saw that he was still sl**ping, loudly snoring as usual, but his amazing upper body was still out and exposed to the world. He looked like porn model purposely laying in position with his arm up over his head and his other arm covering his abs. This was just perfect…. he was perfect! I walk over...
In the chair was Betty, stripped to the waist, with a towel placed over her lap. Paul was tattooing her left breast. It looked as though he had only just started on the outline. Mary could see that the design would be flowers and leaves. Betty said. “I have always wanted a tattoo, so when I saw you getting one last week, I thought that I would take the plunge. I live on my own, so I don’t have to worry about what anybody thinks, and I will be having my pussy tattooed as well, as soon as my...
Everyone was up by 8am, was coffee'd out, had eaten breakfast and introduced themselves to the gym for a good morning workout. This would actually be the routine they'd follow while they were at "The Ranch", as they had now begun to refer to it. The girls have always been early risers. Bob's time was dependent on the night before. The girls would soon learn that sometimes the music took them into the next morning -- after the sun had come up. Billy arrived fairly early the morning after...
Let me tell you about myself first of all. My name is Dawn I’m 22 years old and got married 2 years ago. My marriage is a happy and very eventful one but the following story is the true story of my wedding day and how my life changed for the better since that day. The whole day had gone perfectly timing speeches and now it was the evening due every one was dancing or chatting getting happily drunk, including my husband. I had watched all evening as friends and family supplied him with...
The morning shower felt great and prepared me to meet the day and my sister. I had taken the day off to make final preparations for our drive to Texas and knew I would spend more time with Debbie. My wife got the children off to school and told me that she was going to get her hair and nails done and that she would be gone all morning. Debbie walked into the kitchen still wearing the nightgown from the night before but with the buttons all buttoned up. My wife asked her if she’d like to go...
My grandmother is attractive for her age. She has kept very fit and has a pretty nice body. Her hair has that blondish white tint and she tries to look young, all while avoiding acting young. It always confused me. I would drop by my grandmothers once in a while and let myself in. She always liked seeing me and I enjoyed seeing her. Especially those 72 year old boobs in those cleavage baring dresses. But she was very straight forward, very strict. So sure, I always thought in the back of my...
This story is a follow up to "Caught wearing my mother's stockings"I decided to go to the party and be the tranny slut they were looking for. After all, it's nice to be wanted and I really would do anything to keep those photos of me dressed in my mum's stockings, private from my friends.I've never had anything up my ass before, in fact I've never even had sex at all. This was going to be my first sexual experience. Unless you include being wanked off by my mum or kissing and groping fat girl,...
“Sergeants Fuller and Sinclair, what’s going on?” the desk sergeant greeted Ernie and Kara as I led the rest of the group behind them. “Never you mind that,” I told him, much to his annoyance, “Bubba, huh? Could you any more redneck?” I read his nametag. I then pulled the lanky, middle-aged, mustached man up to my lips and kissed him hard on the mouth, watching the shock on his face as he became putty in my hands. “Mom, feel free to use him as you please,” I invited Mom. Mom being Mom,...
Gary's Golf "Outing" Chapter 13 What's Good for the Goose is Good for the Gander I woke up with an incessant ringing in my ears. What is that? Is it ever going to stop? I opened one eye and saw that the sun was high in the sky. I raised my head and realized the phone was ringing. It was my wife calling from Chicago to see how my evening at the CD club went and to tell me about her night on the town. "Oh, hi Kay. What time is it? I just woke up. We didn't get in till late." "We...
Introduction: Im new at this.. so be gentle…If I get enough posidive feed back Ill put up more chapers CH1 Larain and Robby lived in the middle of Butt Fuck no were. When they had first gotten together he was sweet and sensual, always wanting to fuck her and explore her body. Now though it seemed as though all he wanted was to hunt and drink. He had ,after all, bought the 120 acres with the huge ranch house in the middle of the property just for her. He wanted to be able to fuck her hard so she...
Rima was lying on her bed thinking about the recent events in her life. She was wondering what had happened to her, why she gets so easily seduced by other men. The fucking with guards could have been easily avoided if she had acted tough, but instead she was excited and horny by the touch of other men. She keeps reminding herself that she was blackmailed but deep within her heart she knew she wanted it, she enjoyed it. Even after passing of two months since the first time both the guards...