A Summer Sunday In Savannah free porn video

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Please do not make the mistake of assuming the ‘when’ in this story. It could be 1970, 2006, 2030 or whenever. I’ve intentionally blurred the time frame so that I don’t get a bunch of inane political comments concerning current events from the lunatic fringe of any orientation.

This is a story with military overtones, there are no dogs and no corporate America anecdotes—although I almost added the dogs near the end. This story does deal with the publishing world, I don’t have any first hand experience so apologies in advance if I’ve missed some nuances. Then again this is fiction in an unstated era so who’s to say how the industry might evolve?

There’s a wonderful romance here but probably not the one you expect, I thought about, ‘that one’ and changed my mind as I was writing. There’s no outrageously raunchy sex, what little titillation there is comes very late. If you were hoping for stroke material, just move along…nothing to see here.

Savannah will always be one of my favorite cities along with San Francisco, Chicago, New Orlean, Fort Worth and Portland. All are unique, all are tied to important moments in my life.

* * * * *

‘Taxi!’

The battered yellow vehicle screeched to a stop a few feet past him. He had noted the attractive well dressed woman some years his senior standing a number of yards up the urban street also attempting to acquire carriage.

‘Where are you headed?’ He shouted to her.

‘Airport.’ She replied.

‘Same here. Do you want to share a cab?’

‘That would be great!’ She exclaimed, seemingly surprised that he had offered. The cabbie showed his irritation at the delay by lowering the flag on his meter prematurely. The woman had a single Pullman, moving with surprising speed she was beside him in a matter of seconds. Settling in for the half hour ride to the airport they introduced themselves.

‘I’m Mike—Mike Carson.’

‘Victoria…Simms.’ She replied, extending her hand, checking him out briefly and then seemingly losing interest. Mike was all of twenty-seven, he judged Ms. Simms to be at least two decades his senior…his mother’s age? She was a handsome woman, impeccably and conservatively dressed. Mike was in the mood for conversation.

‘Where are you off to today, Ms. Simms?’

‘Savannah.’

‘Business or pleasure?’ He inquired, refusing to be deterred by her remoteness.

She turned and examined him closely. He was a good looking young fellow at a hair under six feet with a stylish suit and highly shined shoes. He looked respectable, probably a young executive on the early rungs of the corporate ladder, she mused. She really didn’t want to hear about his recent marketing adventure but he was persistent and she was always polite.

‘A little of both. I have some work to do—brought it with me—but this is essentially a pleasure trip…a family thing.’

‘Well it would seem that we are headed to the same final destination, Delta through Atlanta at nine?’

‘Why yes. And you, Mr. Carson, a business trip?’

‘Returning home, actually. I came up to spend a few days with my grandmother. She still wears me out at eighty-six. Are you from Savannah?’

‘No, not really…ah…Mike. It just happens to be a favorite city. Every year the women in our family—sisters, daughters, mothers—get together for a long weekend…’girl fest’ we call it. Last year it was Chicago, this year Savannah, although we’ll be staying out at Tybee. Are you from Savannah? I didn’t note any accent.’

‘No, but I do like it and I did choose it as a place to live for a short period. I’m stationed there—in the Army…Hunter Army Airfield.’

‘You’re in the military? In the Army?’ She responded almost incredulously.

‘For another six months or so, I’m an officer…Captain. You seemed surprised. The suit? Not an Armani but a very well made and obscenely inexpensive knockoff complements of Bangkok, Thailand—six for the price of one original. The shoes are also of Thai origin, hand made and custom fitted. The watch? The real thing at a third of the U.S. price. My hair is probably just past the regulation limit—I’ll need a haircut before work on Monday.’

‘I confess I’ve never really talked to or known anyone in the military. Were you drafted?’

‘Nope. I accepted a fully paid four year education at the best school to which I was accepted and in return for that four years I owed Uncle Sam four years.’

‘Where’d you go to school?’

‘Dartmouth.’

‘Really?’

‘Same school my current boss went to…thirty some years earlier. He was the captain of the Dartmouth ski team, the entire team enlisted on the day after we were attacked.’

What was your major?’

‘English Lit officially but essentially pre-law.’

‘That seems like an unusual major for a military person.’

‘We’re a very eclectic organization.’

‘Did you attend law school?’

‘That I did, University of Virginia. I even graduated—JD.’

‘Doesn’t the military have a special program for lawyers?’

‘That they do—JAG—Judge Advocate General Corps. I had to fight like hell to stay out of it. Fortunately they weren’t that short on lawyers at the time I graduated so they let me switch to something more to my liking.’

‘Which was…?’

‘Aviation. I’m a pilot, dual rated actually but I spent most of my time flying helicopters.’

‘Have you been overseas?’

‘I spent a year and a half in the current combat zone. The first year was a given—98% of my flight school class went. The second six months was my own choice.’

‘Why on earth would you do that?’

‘I liked what I was doing and the people I was doing it with, extending gave me a chance to command a detachment. I got a free round trip ticket to anywhere in the world and a thirty day vacation. By agreeing to extend for six months I reduced my active duty obligation by about a year. I’ll be a free man in under six months.’

‘Did you see combat?’

‘I was assigned to and later commanded a flight detachment in support of Special Forces, so yes, someone seemed to be trying to kill me almost every day.’

‘Were you wounded?’

‘Not seriously, certainly not seriously enough to get one of those damned purple things.’

‘I thought every wounded soldier received the Purple Heart?’

‘Only if the powers-that-be find out about it.’

‘Didn’t you want the award?’

‘No, nor did most of the people I served with. First—and this is a commentary I suppose on the perceived invulnerability all young pilots seems to have—most of us viewed it as the, ‘I screwed up and got hurt’ medal. I guess we also thought that the kids that really got chewed up, lost essential pieces of their anatomy and such deserve it…earned it. A piece of shrapnel here or a clean through and through there…’

‘Clean through and through?’

‘A bullet that passes through the body without doing any permanent harm.’

‘That happened to you?’

‘Only once, thankfully plus a few assorted pieces of shrapnel here and there.’

‘Do you come from a military family?’

‘Let’s see…my father joined right after graduating from college immediately following our being attacked—Cornell. ‘Served in the airborne as an officer, today he’s a chemical engineer. One brother served in another crappy war as an enlisted Marine—more a judge’s decision than a choice. My other brother—Yale—was a Navy carrier pilot during peace time. In carrier aviation even in peace time people get hurt, roughly ten percent of the guys he graduated from flight school with died in accidents. He’s an aeronautical engineer and always loved to fly and found something ludicrous about designing military airplanes without actually flying them.’

‘What are your plans?’

‘I wish I knew. I don’t really want to practice the law. I’ll probably end up
working for some corporation we’ve all heard of.’

‘Mike, I can’t say I approve of this war…no offense intended.’

‘None taken. I have nothing to do with making U.S. foreign policy. I’m certainly not high enough up in the organization to determine the overall combat scheme. I’m glad I served, I’m proud to have performed honorably under fire. We certainly don’t have time between here and Savannah to discuss why we’re there, what we’ve done right or wrong and so on.’

‘Some people believe this war is illegal.’

‘Those people are wrong, Congress hasn’t declared war in decades but in this as in every other ‘conflict’ or ‘police action’ the President, aided and abetted by the Congress entered into military conflict—and the judiciary chose to let him do so. It’s a tired and frankly ignorant statement to say this war is illegal. I did get an ‘A’ in constitutional law. Most of the folks making that claim wouldn’t know the Constitution or the law if it bit ’em.’

‘What about immoral?’

‘We will have decades of discussion on that front! Chalk it up our nation’s indefatigable idealism. We always get into these things with the very best of intentions, I choose to believe. We mean well, sometimes we leave a better world after the shooting stops, sometimes not.’

‘How do you feel about those who have avoided serving?’

‘Those who confronted the system and risked imprisonment—you have to have a grudging respect for, they have principles and are willing to suffer for them. There are numerous members of the military who, generally on religious grounds, refuse to take up arms—but they serve willingly in non-combat roles, often as medics under the most dangerous conditions. Those who ran across the border are moral and mental cowards. Just as always happens after our little forays across the oceans they’ll get a free ride when it’s over.’

‘Not having encountered a person who has served in the military in combat before, I’m never quite sure what to say.’

‘Thank you for your service, thank you for your sacrifice and welcome home. Follow it up with smile and a hug. That’ll do more good than anything else you could think of. They don’t want to be pitied or patronized. The ones who saw combat don’t even want to talk about it.’

‘Do you ever have…nightmares?’

‘No, but I’ve known some who do. Some of those who do weren’t well wired before they went. Some were as solid as they come but simply experienced events too horrific to even comprehend. It’s an individual thing. For the record, mental illness, suicide, adultery, ‘going postal’, drug use, alcoholism and all of the other ills of our society occur no more frequently in the active military than in the civilian world. The anti-military press just makes a bigger deal out of it when it does occur.’

‘When you and your peers are together…what do you talk about?’

‘Not war unless it’s a funny story. Women, booze, food, music, art, literature, politics, sports—the usual stuff. Plus in my line of work, we do talk about flying too much.’

‘Somehow I’ve always viewed the military as a haven for the disadvantaged, lesser educated, racially disenfranchised…’

‘The military does provide a chance at a future for those on the fringes of society…a ticket out of the barrio or ghetto. Most do well by it, some waste the opportunity. Another myth I need to dispel: in spite of the reinstitution of the draft—which I despise—combat units are strictly volunteer. The Army accepts draftees because Congress has mandated it. Doing so lowers the overall standards of the Army. Up until it was reinstated, the Army wouldn’t accept anyone without a high school diploma, now they have to. I was pretty lucky, just about everyone I dealt with in Aviation and Special Forces was a volunteer.’

‘What does the Army have you doing now?’

‘I’m a glorified secretary, my official title is, Secretary General Staff. I report to the Chief of Staff, the number three guy and I take care of him. It’s a pretty neat job but demanding, it’s given me a chance to be part of an organization’s high level decision making.’

‘How’d that come about?’

‘We knew each other ‘over there’ and came back around the same time. He asked me if I’d take the job.’

‘Asked you?’

‘It’s a high visibility job with long hours…strictly volunteer.’

‘How does your boss view you leaving the Army?’

‘He’s more than okay with it, if truth be told he’s encouraged it. It looks like we’re almost here! And you have let me talk incessantly for the last half hour and I don’t know your story!’

Mike and Victoria checked their bags and proceeded to the ticket counter.

‘Let’s see if we can change our seats, Mike. I’ve enjoyed our conversation and would love to continue it.’ The task was accomplished in short order. The two travelers continued their conversation waiting in the boarding area.

‘So Victoria, what’s your story?’

‘I was born and grew up in the city we’re getting ready to leave. I have two children, a daughter who is twenty-five and currently working for a publishing firm and a son twenty-two who is working on what appears to be an eight year bachelor’s degree. I’m divorced, no real animosity, we still speak on occasion. We just grew apart. I own—along with two other individuals—a small publishing firm. We’re sort of a jack-of-all-trades concern, we act as literary agents, editors and publishers. We don’t get into distribution, we have relationships with several of the big book companies and they handle that.’

‘That sounds fascinating!’ Mike said as they worked their way down the jet way and found their adjoining seats.

‘You’re being way too kind. While it’s true we’ve had our share of successes—found that special author or had our name associated with the occasional best selling novel—all too often I spend too may nights reading really drab and dismal prose by people who have no concept of what telling a story is all about. I have several to review during my supposed ‘holiday’ and based on my first flip through I don’t have high expectations.’

‘How did you end up in the field?’

‘I loved books—my mother’s influence from an early age—loved to read and also majored in literature. I took a job right out of college essentially as a proof reader, learned everything I could about the publishing business and decided one day that I was smart enough to strike out on my own. The three of us were friends and we’ve been together since day one. It provides a respectable income and I still enjoy going to work every day.’ Victoria paused. ‘With your educational background I have to ask—have you ever considered writing for a living?’

‘Not for a living but I do write, I’ve published a few well-received short stories in respectable periodicals…even gotten paid for it. I love to write but I’ve always feared that if I had to write it wouldn’t be fun anymore—and I wouldn’t be able to do it.’

‘So, Mike Carson won’t be the author of the next great American novel?’ Victoria said with a grin.

‘Probably not! I’ve actually started three full length works but only finished one…the last one…involving my time over there. It’s a work of fiction but based on fact and certainly technically accurate. I wrote it purely for my own purposes…my own needs.’

‘How long is it?’

‘A little over 85,000 words.’

‘Has an editor seen it—what stage is it in?’

‘It’s done, typed up on a word processor and proofed by a retired friend of mine up in Ohio. I don’t use an editor per se. He’s too humble to call himself one. My boss read it, he liked it. It’s not a war story as much as it is a story about people thrown together in a war zone. My secretary also enjoyed it—as did my grandmother—but that is the limit of distribution at this point in time.’

‘Can I read it?’

‘Now you’re being too kind and you already told me you had more than enough amateu
r wannabe prose to review over the next few days.’

‘Do you have the manuscript with you or not?’

‘Of course, I never leave home without it.’ Mike said, retrieving the work from his carry on. Victoria snatched it from him and began to thumb through the bound pages.

‘The title…’364 and a Wakeup’?’

‘The day you arrive in the combat zone they hand you a special locally fabricated calendar, you cross off each day you survive. On the first day you have 364 days remaining and one final day when you wake up and go home.’

Uh, huh…’ Victoria replied, then retrieved a similar bound document from her brief case. ‘If you don’t feel like napping, make yourself useful, I hope I’m being kind—this is probably the best of the crap I brought with me to review, feel free to mark it up. Can I do the same with yours?’

Mike nodded in assent. The two travelers grew silent as each burrowed into their respective manuscripts. From Mike’s perspective what he had been handed was ponderous, trite, superficial, hackneyed and entirely unfulfilling. After two chapters of kindness he went back to the beginning and began entering critical comments. He tried to avoid looking at Victoria, he didn’t want any commenting she might be doing to distract him from his task.

Victoria was in fact making some strategic notes in the margins of Mike’s work but she was finding her task far more enjoyable, she was sure, than Mike was. The kid could friggin’ write, his characters were rich and well developed. He knew how to spin a yarn, it never dragged. As the seat belt warning was announced for their decent into Atlanta she had three chapters to go, as much as she didn’t want to put it down her eyes were tired and the pure emotion of the story was exhausting. She needed a break. She looked at him intently and spoke.

‘It’s good, it’s very good. I’m not finished yet but I need a break. How ’bout yours?’

‘It’s horrific crap on almost every level one can imagine. If you think what I’ve written is remotely decent, trust me, you don’t need to read this drivel.’

‘I’d hoped I’d given you the best of the group I brought with me.’ She said, laughing. ‘How long have we got before the Savannah flight?’

‘A little under an hour on the ground.’

‘Good! I need a drink and a break and we can chat.’

Mike and Victoria found a suitable bar that served alcohol prior to noon.

‘Mike, you are a gifted writer, this is a superbly crafted story. Talk to me about fact and fiction.’

‘The characters are for the most part amalgamations, certainly bigger than life in terms of the core individuals they represent. The actual events—the battles, losses, time lines—are all correct. Some of the dialogue is almost verbatim in parts but expanded fictionally based on what I felt the fictional character would have said.’

‘Are you one of the characters…the main character?’

‘Again, yes and no. There are pieces of me in three characters—the narrator, of course, the character that represents who I believe I was—at least as viewed by others—and finally the personality I wanted to be—wanted to be seen as.’

‘Any issues with the statement, ‘any resemblance to actual persons, blah, blah, blah?’

‘I wouldn’t think so, those I served with that read it and see the character they think is ‘them’ as heroic won’t have an issue. Those characters who are decidedly not heroic or honorable are totally fictional. Now, if one of those individuals reads it and thinks to himself, ‘I acted that way at times’ the events associated with that particular character do not fit any real world scenario. Major Bass is a dishonorable, low life, immoral prick and quite probably a borderline war criminal but he is a purely fictional creation. He represents the worst behavior of several individuals of different ranks. And the most dastardly of his actions—didn’t happen at least from my experience.’

‘How long is the flight from Atlanta to Savannah?’

‘It’s almost a joke, it’s only around 150 miles by air. We’ll spend more time taxiing than actually flying. We’ll be in baggage claim forty-five minutes after we back away from the gate at the outside.’

‘Okay, I can finish it in that time but I fear we won’t have time to chat—and we need to chat. What are your plans for the rest of the day?’

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Captain Peter Carr looked at the woman he had just magnificently fucked, he cherished her and their relationship was an item now, they really had to stop the secret rendezvous in his office on the make believe that she it getting another telling off from her commanding officer. She looked well happy, her eyes still glazed and looking stunning and as beautiful as ever, Pete wanted her again and again: ‘I tell you what. let’s do it just once more huh baby?’ he asked taking a good hold of his...

3 years ago
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Sunday Love Songs 02

Second and final part. It will make more sense if the first part is read first. Both parts are quite long. ‘Steve Wright’s Sunday Love Songs’ is a real BBC Radio 2 programme: Nine till eleven am GMT every Sunday. I’m not sure if they still do the long lost friends item. In any case, they never connected Kevin and Nicola with each other, since they are both fictional characters! All characters in sexual situations are over eighteen. —– We left Kevin searching and worrying about Nicola who...

4 years ago
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The Visitor Monicas Diary Sunday June 18

The Visitor Monica's Diary Sunday, June 18 This morning, like every Sunday morning, began last night. I don't mean the taking of baths, the laying out of clothes, and the getting to bed early enough to get a good night's sleep merely. Saturday evening family devotions are usually longer and call for more personal introspection than most nights of the week. Nathan reads the Bible aloud--three chapters a night and five on Sunday--and either explains or questions us about it as he...

4 years ago
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New Kid Easy Like Sunday Morning

Martin Bloom was finding it hard to fit in with any of the cliques at Shaler High School. He was the new kid in town. If being the new kid was not bad enough, Martin transferred to his new school district while school was in session and his fellow students already had their routines. Plus, he has only been a student there for a week. Finding one's place took time. Also, the other kids wanted to feel him out before they had more social interactions with him. Martin's personality did not...

1 year ago
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ALazy Sunday Part 2

As the week wore on, I began to wonder if Sunday wasn’t really a dream. To have your wife tell you that she wants to have sex with another woman, while you watch, is a little hard to believe. And as Monday moved to Wednesday, and Wednesday to Friday, there had been no further mention of that lazy Sunday morning conversation. I wanted to ask her if she was still interested in pursuing the idea, but I was afraid I would appear too eager. I thought that the idea might be a bit fragile. Like if I...

Erotic
2 years ago
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Skinnydipping Sundays

(A tryst of fate series: #2 brought to you by Dr. MaxMon) Skinny-dipping Sundays, by MaxMon The doorbell rang again and Peter answered it dressed in Hawaiian shorts with a beer in his hand. As he opened the door splashes were heard from the pool out back, along with faint yells and playful conversation from the small group of partygoers who had already arrived late in the morning. Greg and Brenda greeted Peter at the door with smiles and happy feelings since they had grown accustomed to each...

3 years ago
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Another Sunday Church Morning

Another Sunday Church Morning----------Another Sunday morning, and Katherine, the newest farm helper was late again. I know that these girls are working just to be around the horses, free riding and using the swimming pool, but being on time was important to keep our customers happy with someone present to help. I decided that I must pull her aside and talk to her about it, and see what we could do about her tardiness."Katherine, I need to speak to you alone please. Come into the office for a...

3 years ago
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Going DownSunday May 6 2001

Tommy Cornelson loved May. Actually, he loved all the months from May through October, but May was special. May marked the end of the Winter season and the beginning of the summer season, so business on his fishing pier picked up considerably, as it did on the entire oceanfront, but it was still early for most of the tourists, so the May business was mainly locals. He almost regretted doubling his prices. Almost. But they'd double again in mid-June when the Canadians and damnyankees invaded...

4 years ago
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Anal Sunday

I lay in bed listening to the birds chirping outside my window and yawned and stretched. I lay there just relaxing taking in the quiet of the morning. Richard must have gotten up as I didn’t see him which was odd. So I got up and took a shower and wrapped a towel around myself and made my way downstairs to the kitchen. There sat Richard and Tim. I didn’t pay them much attention as I got toast and coffee going as I fried an egg. I sat down at the table and Richard say hey mom, tell Timmy what...

2 years ago
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Anal Sunday

I lay in bed listening to the birds chirping outside my window and yawned and stretched. I lay there just relaxing taking in the quiet of the morning. Richard must have gotten up as I didn’t see him which was odd. So I got up and took a shower and wrapped a towel around myself and made my way downstairs to the kitchen. There sat Richard and Tim. I didn’t pay them much attention as I got toast and coffee going as I fried an egg. I sat down at the table and Richard say hey mom, tell Timmy what...

2 years ago
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Super Bowl Sunday

Super Bowl Sunday Here in America on Sunday, February 1, 2009 Super Bowl XLIII (43) took place. Our version of football is quite different from that of the rest of the world. In soccer you don’t need a helmet and pads for protection and the other team isn’t trying to drive your body into the ground. This year the two teams were the Pittsburgh Steelers and the Arizona Cardinals. To make a long story short Pittsburgh won. Now for what really happened… My five best friends and I...

2 years ago
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Gloomy Sunday

Chapter 1 He had arrived in New Orleans on the eve of the first full moon of the year. It seemed inconsequential to him at the time but soon it would be so relevant to the rest of his life. He had spent the last 24 hours on a binge in the French Quarter with his golf companions. They’d been to every bar from Decatur to Bourbon Street and back. They’d seen just about everything while wandering through the mass of staggering bodies, it seemed the party raged nonstop whether it was Mardi Gras or...

1 year ago
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Sunday Morning Delight

You awake in strange surroundings. It takes a moment for your eyes’ and your mind’ to focus. Just for that moment you can’t really place yourself within the universe. You realize that you are lying in a bed. Surrounded by a sea of silky sheets. A light yellow with pale green flowered accents. But whose bed is it? It seems so unfamiliar. So alien. As you sit up your eyes scan around the room, and you remember. It is a room – an open room – in a small Polynesian-style home. Woven grass mats...

3 years ago
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Sunday Love Songs 01

I wrote this story as a present for my wife, who loved it (she said), so I decided to post it to see what a less biased audience would make of it. It is rather long, and is in two parts, both of which have been submitted. It is my first submission and depending on the response, it may also be my last! It is written in British English. Though written in the first person, it is not autobiographical. All persons in sexual situations are 18 years old or older. The age of students in the final...

2 years ago
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Sunday morning

Sunday mornings were always my favourite. Whether it was as simple as a long lazy lie in, or sitting with a cuppa and just talking and feeling close, it always made me feel good.This particular Sunday felt different though. Coming round from an unusually deep sleep I had an odd feeling, like a pressure in the head. I suddenly realised I couldn’t hear anything and as a moment of panic ensued I opened my eyes, but in that moment something was placed over them.Thoughts racing, it was quickly clear...

4 years ago
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Moms Sunday Night

My mom was divorced when I was very young. It was just her and me living together while I was growing up. I hate to admit but she was kind of slutty. And what excited me most was her sexy size 5 curvy high arched feet. And she used them like a weapon, dangling her stiletto high heels at just the right moment when men of interest were around. Although she was slutty, she was a religious slut, attending church every Sunday. This particular story happened when I was 14. We were driving to church...

2 years ago
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Nice Sunday to worst sunday

Hello guys Hope everyone doing great and enjoy my true story Sorry again guys not very good English so grammar its not theirWe all enjoy our Sunday especially now it’s NFL Playoff guys into games so am I I just buy new big screen TV and love watching games at my on place.As I woke up on Sunday late morning around 11:30 am still im in my sweet bouquet layered baby doll (nitie) making coffee and doing dishes get my coffee sit on couch watching TV my cell phone ring one of good all Spanish she...

3 years ago
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Breakfast on Sunday chapter 1

*******************************************************************************DISCLAIMERTHIS STORY BELONGS TO KARENKAY HER PAGE MAY BE FOUND AT WWW.LITEEROTICA.COM.AND VARIOUS OTHER WEBSITESI AM ONLY POSTING MY FAVOURITE STORIES AS A FAN AND NOT TAKING CREDIT. I WISH TO SHARE MY FAVOURITES AND IF ANYTHING PROMOTE THE AUTHORS HANDYWORK FURTHER AS A CREDIT TO THIER WRITTING.SOME PARTS OF THE STORY ARE EDITED TO MAKE IT MORE EROTIC AND ENJOYABLE BY MY STANDARDS AND HOPEFULLY YOURS.... BUT ALL...

4 years ago
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My Super Sunday

So I got this opportunity to have sex with women of around 52 yrs of age. She is also like my aunty and her name is Nambana Khunur. She works in a bank as a clerk. Due to my banking transactions I need to visit bank and where I met and so to get the things done quickly I had made a pretty decent relationship with her. She is a divorcee her both sons are working abroad. So she feels lonely most of the times. She is around 5’4″ tall, fair complexioned and had the tightest of boobs. She also had...

2 years ago
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Living on a Dead End StreetPart One Sunday and Monday

Living on a Dead End Street~ Part One ~ Sunday and Monday by Ginny Wolf The clock said it was almost 10:30 on a Sunday night as I sat on my "beauty lounger" in the den. My was hair tightly set on 38 small brush rollers and covered with a pink hairnet. A layer of thick white cream covered my face in the kind of rock-hard facial that severely limited my ability to speak, with only my eyes visible under the beauty mask at work "softening and cleansing" my skin while giving me "deep...

4 years ago
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SARAHS SUNDAY EXHIBITION

“I told two of my girlfriends about our sex life over coffee today baby,” I tell my man with a self satisfied smile. “They are the same age as us. “I told them you think my big, firm ass is glorious and how you love licking and kissing my ass cheeks as foreplay while I watch in a mirror. “And how I love you licking me to multi-orgasms with my legs over your shoulders while I watch in a mirror. Before I blow your thick, nine-inch erection. “And sometimes we have an extra person, male or...

2 years ago
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SARAHS SUNDAY EXHIBITION

“I told two of my girlfriends about our sex life over coffee today baby,” I tell my man with a self satisfied smile. “They are the same page as us. “I told them you think my big, firm ass is glorious and how you love licking and kissing my ass cheeks as foreplay while I watch in a mirror. “And how I love you licking me to multi-orgasms with my legs over your shoulders while I watch in a mirror. Before I blow your thick, nine-inch erection. “And sometimes we have an extra person, male or...

3 years ago
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Sunday Surprise

It was 20 years ago that it happened. It was like a dream or a male version of that old movie "Starman". When I was about 30 years old something or "Someone" strange happened to me. I could only find time in my busy job to run or walk for an hour a week. I had recently bought myself a pick-up truck as a treat. I decided to go looking for a quiet place to walk or run in and I remembered a place called 'Heber Downs Conservation Area' where I had taken, my now wife, Joan on a few picnics and...

3 years ago
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Bec4 The Wrong WardrobeChapter 25 Sunday Mischa

Editor’s Note: The next page is another extract from the journal of Mischa Doeple dated Sunday, December 5th. I guess today was Sunday. There are always more visitors on Sunday than any other day. I never get visitors but that’s a good thing. I never want to see any of my relatives except one and he can’t visit. But today, when I woke up, I was looking forward to seeing Bec’s family or her friends or whoever. How weird is that? I had another bad dream last night. I woke up in the middle...

4 years ago
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Sunday Night Football Sissy

Sunday Night Football Sissy It's no surprise that we love football here in Texas. We all head out to watch high school ball on Friday nights, and of course we love to cheer on our college boys on Saturdays. And the grown men dominate our Sundays. Especially if you're a sissy slut like me. I am a sissy cock slut who happily serves a small group of men here in town, and things took an interesting turn a few years back when I learned that Master David was an avid Cowboys fan, while...

2 years ago
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Two Birds a BlokeSunday Lunch

Phil had moved to London because of his job. He had worked in the company's Leeds office, serving the North of England, but he had been the brainchild behind such a successful campaign for double glazing, that the firm had insisted he move to the National office in London. He had been reluctant at first, he really didn't want to leave his family and friends, but the new salary was just too good to turn down. He now lived in an expensive apartment, with a brand new sports car and a host of...

3 years ago
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Summer Voodoo

Continuing the Summer saga, this story picks up where "Summer is Hot in Cozumel" left off. "So, John, what's the deal with you sexually propositioning Aaron?" "WHAT?!" Grinning, Summer poked him in the ribs. "Don't try to deny it, you glorious freak. I heard you on Dave's phone call, trying to talk Aaron into helping you join the Mile High Club." John leaned back and laughed, "Oh god, you heard that? Okay, fine, Summer, you're onto me! My secret is out!" Still grinning,...

3 years ago
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Summers Story

The two of them walked through the double glass doors of the convenience store with a whoosh of wind following them, blowing through the center aisle way next to the service counter, magazines and pages flipping through the wind. There was no one else there but Jeff, the clerk working the register, who at the moment was using the customer restroom on the other end of the convenience store. The cameras were the only things that caught them at first.One was male, tall and skinny, seemed to hide...

4 years ago
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Summering in Femininity Part 12 Summers End Continued

The next morning, a Saturday, Taylor was awoken by a gentle knock on his door. He sat up to see Aunt Agnes waiting by the door. "Is something wrong?" Taylor asked, yawning. "I was about to ask you the same thing, Emily hasn't come by yet and I got worried," Aunt Agnes stepped into the room. "Worried? Why?" Taylor reached for his phone and realized that it was nearly noon. "Wow... She let me sleep in?" "Did you two have a fight?" Aunt Agnes asked. "No," Taylor replied. "I...

4 years ago
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A Wet Sunday Afternoon in 1961

DAVE'S WET SUNDAY IN 1961 - WITH GODDESS GERALDINE It was a typical Sunday afternoon in England in late 1961, with the rain pouring down. My sister Wendy was expecting her best friend Geraldine to stop over for the night and they would both go off direct to school the following morning. Wendy and Geraldine were both 16 and I, Wendy's younger brother, Dave, was a couple of years younger at just 14. Our parents had gone out for the day to visit friends and were not expected back until...

4 years ago
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Sunday Stroll

David James moved up behind the skimpily clad, statuesque brunette and slid his arm around her waist. The girl, Emma Harris, flinched slightly and then appeared to relax as David whispered in her ear, "I'll show you mine if you show me yours." David allowed his hand to drift upwards towards the girl's naked breast. In his opinion one of the few good things about the approaching Sa'arm invasion had been the sudden appearance of flesh amongst the female population. A fashion change that...

1 year ago
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Sunday Orgy

Five & Damon had shared an apartment for just over a year they were the best of friends but they both had totally different personalities. While Five was shy and very committed to his long-term girlfriend Joanne. Damon was loud and was in and out of relationships every other week. Five and Damon had an agreement on the apartment so to keep out of each others way the agreement was Wednesday to Saturday nights it was Five's night which meant Damon had to go out and Five had the apartment to...

Group Sex
4 years ago
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My Sundays as a Maid

My Sundays I look forward to Sundays. It is my favorite day. I know Mondays are dreaded because of work, but for me, Sundays bring to my soul what I miss all week. We have a routine by now where the kids spend Saturday night at grandmas. My wife picks them up after dinner Sunday evenings. This arrangement allows us time to be alone and indulge in some of our kinkier activities. This is a real story, my wife is very tolerant of my other side and our marriage has been wonderful since she...

2 years ago
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Summering in Femininity Part 1 A Bummer Summer

A Bummer Summer? It was the dream of every seventeen year old, during the summer before his senior year of high school to spend it miles away from all his friends and all his stuff. In case you couldn't tell, that was sarcasm, because for Taylor Hughes, that was the last thing that he wanted. Unfortunately, he had no control over the matter. His parents were going out of the country on business for the entire summer, and trying as he might, Taylor was unable to convince them to let him...

4 years ago
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Summer Is Hot in CozumelChapter 3

"Aha! I see you found the old tank top," Dave said, hugging Summer from behind as she stood at the kitchen counter chopping potatoes. Wrapping her arms around his, Summer smiled. "Did you think there was any chance I wouldn't? I'd already found it way before you left your phone message." "Well, I was right, you do look absolutely amazing in it." "Thank you, sweetie. I'm glad you like it on me. It's shorter than that little nightshirt you love so much, which at least sort of...

4 years ago
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Summer My Sisters Best Friend

This is a Summer Lovin’ contest story. Please vote. * Stephen’s love of his life is his sister’s best friend, Summer, a woman eight years older than him. Summer, I’m in love with Summer, my sister Christine’s best friend and I don’t know what to do about it. Love at first sight, it all started the first time I saw Summer in the summer of 1968. She was in the backyard with my sister in the pool. As if my sister was swimming with an angel, a woman with a model’s face and a porn star body, I...

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