Carmen was in the den, sitting on the couch with a knee tucked under her chin and her foot propped on the coffee table, applying polish to her toenails. She was wearing a short-waisted, loosely knitted cover-up jacket that revealed dots and dashes of a tiny, neon-orange bikini top. Except for the presence of a thin thong waistband, a profile view of her bare, toned thigh and rounded, firm buttock would give the impression she was nude from the waist down.
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As the only secretary at the legal firm where I work, my workload was constant and I usually got to finish work on time. That was until a month ago, when a new solicitor joined the company. My workload has increased to the point where I am constantly working back. It is not uncommon for me to finish work well after 5pm. I have even had a few post 10.00pm finishes.
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In April 2004 my husband announced that his 25 year old secretary was 6 months pregnant and he was leaving me and our two daughters to be with her. Apparently I'd become boring and had put on weight – no longer the slim nymphomaniac that he had married 21 years previously. To say that I was devastated would be somewhat of an understatement. I thought that I'd been as good a mother and wife as I could be while also holding down a career as an accountant with a pretty large clothing company.
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The year was 1994. I was 18 years old and about to graduate high school. The prom was only a week away and I did not have a date. I was an average looking guy. I was 5'10, 190 lbs, short dark hair, and dark eyes with a decent build. I guess my best quality was tucked away in my pants. My dick was nearly ten inches long and very thick. Having had a girlfriend in private school for three years, whom I had just broken up with, word had not really spread throughout school about my goods.
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Amber shivered as she was led into the room. A million things were going through her head. She wondered how many men were in the room with her and what they were thinking. The blindfold prevented her from seeing anything and there was an uneasy silence. She was nervous. Nervous and afraid. What were they going to do with her? Her mind raced. She thought of what she must look like being led by a leash into a room wearing only a fishnet body suit and a blindfold.
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Pleasantly surprised when answering the door, but instead of inviting her in, Shawn joined the euphoric teenager on the front deck.
"You look happy," he smiled, eying the tight microskirt, enjoying the sight of luscious tan legs. "Ah, that's right! Today was the big day, wasn't it? Live up to expectations?"
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I am leaving work about fifteen minutes behind everyone else. I got stuck on the phone and missed the mass exodus to the parking garage. I hate walking though the structure in the dark by myself. Even though nothing has ever happened here, I still don't feel safe. The dim lighting and confusing echoes make me nervous. I walk quickly with my head up, clutching my keys tightly in my hand.
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Henri smiled.
Susan liked the cheerful, guileless concierge-come-garçon de café that was as much a part of the pavillon as the faded, not-quite-peeling paint, the louvered shutters and the balmy salt breeze. She'd come to treasure this quiet little place on the Côte d'Ivoire. Henri's warm grin and genuine welcome greeted her every time.
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So, here's a story you perhaps don't hear every day. It's a true story, but it has a couple of layers, so allow me to explain some of the moving parts. I'll try not to ramble too much so we can get to the juicy stuff. My name is Max and this happened to me. Sometimes I still can't believe how it all played out. I work at a small business in the hospitality industry.
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She wakes, quietly but thoroughly, her hand cupping one soft, breast, the nipple hard and elongated beneath her palm. Her fingers sweep out and under, trailing butterfly touches along the sensitive underside of her breast. Squeezing gently, her eyes seek the stiff red tip, measuring the length of her arousal. Her dreams are wisps of ether, hints of sexual longings and sweet couplings. She already feels aroused.
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