It was another argument, one that left both of us angry and heated. Sitting on the bed, simmering down from the pent up emotions, I watched as you played on your computer, ignoring the rest of the world. I knew it was a way for you to release stress but I still didn't like it. Watching you play the keys on the keyboard and move the mouse around was always an erotic sight. Always I wondered why you couldn't play me like that.
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Helen was sifting through the latest batched of replies to her online adult dating advert when she came across Graham's and laughed! His self-assurance bordered on arrogance - in fact it didn't border on arrogance - it was arrogance! He was a self proclaimed master of the bedroom, promising Helen a time she would never forget, with complete satisfaction guaranteed.
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I am trembling, my legs shaking from the force of the desire i have for You, Master, and i stand in front of You, sliding into Your arms, wrapping one arm around Your neck, my fingers stroking the hair at the back of Your head and my other hand tracing across Your cheekbones and i kiss Your chin, around Your mouth and finally Your soft lips.
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Synopsis; 'Plain Janes' are not always as they seem – some have been tutored by relatives who lurk in the background, waiting to receive those caught in a contrived web.
Jane Whistler's appearance was that of a well groomed, prim and clean living girl. At 30, she appeared to have been left on the shelf. She rarely socialised, other than to indulge her workmates on rare occasions – she was rarely asked to dance by the males as she was considered to be flat, a bit fat- not like the beanpole women that the 'blokes' seemed to lust after-and very plain.
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He woke up about 7:30 a.m. and, at first, thought it was a normal morning. He felt a little chilly and reached for the blanket when he realized he wasn't covered, but didn't find it and opened his eyes to find the bed was stripped of blankets.
All he could see was a sheet of paper on the edge of the bed, so he put on his glasses and picked up a note from his wife.
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She stands in front of the apartment. Naked thighs cold from the wind swirling around the edges of the long coat she wears. She pulls the coat closer around her and shudders. He heart is racing as she raises her hand to knock on the door. Her nipples harden immediately. She knocks, once, then twice before she takes a small step back.
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It is one of those hot humid nights. All the windows are open in my apartment, but the air seems to be still. I am wearing my black yoga stretchy shorts and a halter-top in red. My clothes feel sweaty, probably still from yoga, but also from the intense heat. I wish I had a pool to jump into, maybe a cold shower will cool me down.
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Her heartbeat pounds out a familiar rhythm as she waits in the dark, stretched silently across the mattress like an offering, knowing he's on his way. The sensation of her pulse is primal. She's tried to fill the long desolate stretch of daylight hours, anticipation rising with the setting of the sun. A few more hours, a few more mundane tasks, a little more self control. It's a mountain she climbs daily, the precipice of which she now balances on, waiting alone in the tangle of blankets.
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I didn't think that I quite understood what I had just heard. My face must have been quite red and Brittany admittedly blushed as well, realizing that she had just said. My lovely, nerdy young tenant and neighbor (her husband and she leased a home from me) had just propositioned me in a way I couldn't quite forget.
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You call me as I sit in traffic and ask me to come over. I am excited at the idea of seeing you, but the traffic is bumper to bumper and my AC is out. I was already frustrated by my predicament and your call hasn't helped settle me. I growl something noncommittal into the phone and feel a pang of regret at the let down sound in your voice when you say ok. I realize you need me there. I smile after a long moment but then grimace again almost as quickly.
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