It was a wild midsummer's night. The rain was pelting down in sheets and the wind was howling through the trees like the banshee's lonely wail. I was sitting in my favorite chair with a half full bottle of single malt Scotch in my left hand and a revolver in my right hand. There was only one bullet in the revolver and I was getting up my Dutch courage to play the first round of Russian roulette.
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Lydia stood before me petrified. She wore a loose fitting tank top over her bra and panties. Her arms were crossed behind her back and each wrist was tied to her opposite shoulder. She stood erect and scared, her body trembling ever so slightly. I motioned her forward and the approached me cautiously.
"Closer." I said as she stood before me. To get any closer she had to part her legs and straddle my knees. "Now sit down."
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My wife was fairly discerning when it came to other men she wanted to have sex with. But I knew there was one guy she was crazy about. He was a dancer at an all male revue. She had once admitted to me that she would have had sex with him at her bachelorette party, just a couple of weeks before our wedding, if she had had a chance and her friends wouldn't have judged her. Every time she described her feelings about him and his body while we were in bed, we had earth moving sex.
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The cold blast from the shower left me spluttering and I swear I could hear a soft chuckle from the bedroom. Grabbing a towel, I pad down the landing, leaving a trail of wet footprints in my wake. The towel pooling on the floor as I spy you, laying on the bed, arms folded across your chest and a devilish gleam in your eyes. Maybe I hadn't run out of hot water after all.
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"Oh yes, unh, yes, we can do that, uhh, sure, tomorrow, ahh, three thirty, uhh, okay, see you then, uhhh...Mariss' you lil' devil!"
Andrea Vaughn snapped the phone shut and slid forward in her high backed leather chair. It had become increasingly difficult to discuss terms with a potential advertiser while her lover/partner was between her legs licking her pussy.
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I walked up the sidewalk in the rain towards the lighted porch. The weather matched my mood. I had come home from my office on campus and found a note. "Sorry, I don't think this is going to work our. I've gone back to Tennessee. Karen." I guessed that she had gone back to stay with her aunt.
She had left me and I was stunned and angry and depressed and sad-and somehow lighter and freer. But I needed to talk to somebody and that's why I was walking up to Greg and Rosemary's door.
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I was swimming the day my chance came. It was a nice day, but for some reason there weren't many people at the beach. I'd swum out to one of the rafts that the council provide and was just lying there, when she also swam out to the raft and hopped aboard. It was definitely my lucky day.
Denise. What can I say about Denise. She was our beautiful, virgin, bitch queen. That description isn't a hundred percent accurate. She was definitely beautiful, and even more definitely a bitch.
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1.
Wow, so it was really going to be real. My husband Ted had finally gotten that job in California. We were moving out west; in three weeks we would be out of the apartment and out of New York City, driving a Ryder truck across the country, on our way to a whole new life.
It still didn't seem quite real. And yet there was so much to take care of, so many loose ends to wrap up.
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I love the way my breasts look. They are large and full looking with big sticky-out nipples. What's more they are full of milk - too much milk!
I gave birth to a baby about six months ago and, since then, my body has become virtually everything I ever wished for. I've worked hard on getting my tummy flat, and have succeeded fairly well, and then there are my tits. I think they are simply amazing.
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WARNING-DO NOT attempt this at a furniture store near you.
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"We need new lounge furniture," Leonard said. "Our old arm chairs are looking really sad and saggy. I don't like Veronica buying furniture as she always gets something flashy and cheap and never wants to try it out properly first.
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