She woke up a little later than usual, her first reaction to check the clock. Before her heart could race at the thought of being late, she remembered it was a Saturday, and her next thought was of the night before, the smell of his cologne and sweat and cum drifting up from the sheets.
Looking around, she wondered if he had left – a typical one-night stand – or if maybe he was just in the bathroom.
Cindy checked her watch, sitting at one of the outside small tables for two. Her white chocolate latte sat steaming inside her insulated Starbuck’s cup before her as she sat back in the chair, a soft sigh emitted from moist berry-stained lips. He wasn’t coming. After all these months and time spent putting into what she thought might have a chance off-line, he was just all the sudden going to pull a no-show. Fuck him! She deserved better than this.
Bill walked into his office after a meeting. He was shocked to find his secretary, Daphne, sitting cross-legged in his large leather chair.
"Daphne? What are you doing?" He asked apprehensively while putting on smile.
The raven haired assistant brushed her hair. "Hey Bill. I just needed a couple files and seeing as how you were in your meeting, I took the liberty to help myself." She switched legs giving the boss a nice view of her black hose. "And while I was doing so, I discovered something ve~ry interesting."
"Oh my God," he moaned as he slowly woke, wishing he hadn't. Zac Knight's head was throbbing; a hangover, first class. Slowly, gently he rolled onto his back. He waited while the spinning stopped. His tongue licked dry lips. His mind refused to work, so he shut his eyes tight to try to doze off. He could vaguely recall last night; party, Halloween party. Fragments of recollection, some gorgeous blonde, arrogant bitch, bit of an argument over ... over?
Sister Mary Theresa opened the door to the bathroom a crack and peered out into the dim bedroom. She was sure she'd heard something like a door closing, but she was supposed to be alone. The usually familiar and comfortable confines of her bedroom seemed alive with menace now. She was far too conscious of the string of break-ins that had occurred in the complex over the last six months.
Kelly double-checked that she her keys, purse, and her cloth bag before heading into the mall. She was a student at the local university and it being a pretty progressive school most of the students were fairly environmentally conscious, but having grown up in the country and spent much of her free time as a child out playing in the fields and woods by her house Kelly had more of an appreciation for the environment and hated when she had to use plastic bags while shopping.
I love touching my pussy. I love the feeling of my most personal effect in my hand. I love bringing myself to orgasm by playing with my pussy. I love the feeling of being in charge of my own happiness. I love feeling my silken gift at my fingertips, and the feeling of intimacy that it provides for me.
I've also had to learn to love all of those things.
I've come to love them over the last several years, as masturbation is my only true sexual outlet right now.
Bound to cum and cum again.
I was tied spread eagle on the bed; I had been allowed to cum, but only after three hours of being teased to near climax and then stopping just short of climax. I can't take it that long, but I did not have a choice. After I climaxed she did not stop, she kept trying to milk my limp penis.
Breeding season was always a bitch. Jasper knocked down another drink as he took in his surroundings. He wasn't generally a fan of women - he preferred his fuck toys to be men, but breeding season came with the overwhelming urge to mate. He needed to fuck his cubs into some bitch, and unfortunately, she couldn't be a werewolf. Women of his own species couldn't carry cubs to term - they lost them at the first change. This meant that males had to outsource, and as the leader of the pack, he needed to find a woman to pump his cubs into.
"Hello. I'm Mr. Devereux to see Ms. Hill," I said to the receptionist. My voice was clear and authoritative, but not overly aggressive. I was standing in front of her desk, which had the usual assortment of secretarial accoutrements; a large phone, pens, paper, rolodex and computer, which she was busily typing away at.