As a full-time student at the state university's city campus, I've found a part-time job to supplement my student loan and make ends meet. Nothing unusual about that, quite a few of my classmates work at least one job; but when I tell people the job is in a donut shop, they'll invariably smile and tell me I'm lucky. I agree with them about being lucky but not for the reasons they think.
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Day 1.
My wife Pam is very pretty and has a nice figure. She is also quite timid and will avoid confrontation at almost any cost. I worried that would eventually get her into trouble, and while I was partly right about that, it turned out to be something totally unexpected that was the dominant factor. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
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You check the mirror for the last time. The blue slut top. The collar and fishnets. The heels look good. And the riding crop feels at home in your hand. You're ready for him now.
As you leave the bedroom and make your way to where he is waiting, you find an anger you didn't know you had welling up inside.
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Sara had been a cheerleader since junior high school and had been too more sporting events then she cared to remember. She enjoyed football season but could have cared less about basketball and wrestling. Why wrestlers needed cheerleaders had been a question that often raced through her mind as she feigned interest during their meets. After all, who wants to watch a bunch of guys roll around on the ground?
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Lynette went about her cleaning, but her mind wasn't really into it. She'd had another argument with her husband about money, and it was getting old. What did he expect, she was working three jobs. Money problems and newlyweds, her life was a stupid cliché. The only reason they had any money at all was because of her dad. She worked as a sales clerk during the day and a part time office cleaner at night. On Saturday afternoon, she spent a couple of hours cleaning her dad's house.
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The follwing story is a work of fiction, based on facts from my life. The names of all parties have been changed to protect their "innocence".
"Hey Jim, you need anything from Supply while I'm down there?"
"Naw, I'm good Marv, thanks anyway."
I headed down the hall to the elevators so I could get to Supply. It was Thursday, and I was winding up some details so my weekend wouldn't be interrupted by any calls from the office.
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Her name is Donna, and she's a co-worker of mine who I got to know very well over the course of about a year. While I admit that the initial attraction was physical, when you get to be middle aged, there has to be more than that in order to keep your interest.
Fortunately for me, Ross Browning, there was more.
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It was my last evening in England and I had been invited to spend it at the coffee lounge just around the corner from my hotel. I had spent many happy evenings there with the owners Bob and Vicky. I had spent the last five months working at the English office of the company that I worked for trying to salvage something after a manager had run off with a large amount of the assets. I had recovered most of what was missing and felt that I was leaving after a job well done.
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I am here for your amusement tonight. For both of you.
You haven't told me all that I am in for. All I know is that you had invited one of your friends around for dinner. I will serve you both. All I am allowed to wear is my leather collar and black high heels. I love to wear sexy shoes for you.
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"Happy Birthday, Arthur!" Sandy exclaimed as she opened her door to her paramour. He smiled and hugged her, their lips fused open together, their hands gripping and sliding over the other's back and buttocks.
"So, what did you get me?" he asked as they paused for breath.
"Not what, but who," Sandy corrected.
"Say again?"
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