I would like to tell you of an extraordinary episode in my life. It was a time of growth and transformation, a sort of rite of passage if you will, that began when I met an amazing woman named Claire just a few days after my 24th birthday. She lived on the same floor as me in an apartment building that also housed a big indoor swimming pool. It was there that we first met. She was then, by the way, 68 years old.
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This is an edited version of the original. A comment mentioned that the ending of the original didn't really fit and after reading it a few times, I realized he/she was right and I changed it. I hope you enjoy.
"Love has nothing to do with what you are expecting to get - only with what you are expecting to give - which is everything." - Katharine Hepburn, Me: Stories of My Life
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Alison. What can I say about Alison? She was eighteen, nearly nineteen actually, quite lovely, platinum blonde hair, blue eyes, excellent figure and, to top it off, she possessed a natural sexual allure that automatically turned heads.
Any male coming in range of her sensual aura was instantly drawn to her, irrespective of age, girlfriends or wives. It wasn't her fault. It was just that indefinable something she had.
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Although Jo took Ann to the same area several more times following their encounter with the voyeur, the man never reappeared. At least, not physically. But he remained vivid in Ann's imagination. At home, Roger's attentions continued to be spasmodic and unsatisfying, and while meetings of the Friday Flower Club, supplemented by private sessions with Jo, delivered orgasms of varied intensity, Ann was growing conscious of something missing.
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Fiona Lindsay sat to the rear of the coach, slightly dreamy and looking forward to her day out. She was with friends, lots of them. Since her boyfriend David and she had split quite amicably, she hadn't really been looking for a new serious boyfriend though she had to admit she missed her Sunday afternoon shags with him. She was just 19 and if she hadn't been Scottish, you would have called her an 'English Rose'.
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Mr Valens reached towards the numbers on the alarm panel inside the front door of his modern, two storey home. The red light was not flashing. He paused and cast his eyes around without moving, noting the gleaming kitchen bench, the bleak smell of domestic cleaner. Then he remembered. Today was Wednesday - Sharni Peller's cleaning day.
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The internet is all about efficiency. Every day, the internet transfers electronic funds from businesses buying stuff to businesses selling stuff. You can register your car online and never have to stand in that soul-crushing line at the DMV. Thanks to the internet, you can do all your Christmas shopping in an hour without leaving your desk. But most importantly, you can find someone to suck your dick -- and very well - in about fifteen minutes.
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Aven peered through the bars of the cage. Looking about her surroundings, whimpering softly for her master. It was dark in the room, and she could hardly make out anything. The door to the room was slightly ajar, and through it came light, but it beamed on nothing but the floor and her face through the bars.
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"Well, this is something new!" I thought as I stood in front of the full length mirror for the millionth time and preened, although it wasn't exactly 'preening' more 'steady the nerves'. This was my big 'coming-out' and my friends were about to get the shock of their lives. I'd always been the respectable one, the controlled one, the smart business-like one, the boring one!
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I had found my wife's stash of pictures, mostly women missing one or both legs, a few men at the bottom of the pile. I resisted letting her know, instead I spent time searching the net to learn about her fascination. There are hundreds of fictional stories about people wanting to be with amputees, but I stumble upon a few where some actually want a limb amputated.
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