It's amazing how hard it is to think logically when you're horny. I had the house to myself for the entire morning, a rarity anymore, and I was finally able to spend plenty of time in front of the computer searching my favorite porn sites. On a day like this, when I know my wife will be gone for hours and there is no chance of being disturbed, I like to take my time with things. I grab my lube, strip down and watch video after video, browse through stories, look at pictures, and try to make my pleasure last as long as possible.
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My eleventh grade English teacher was a short, full figured woman of 23 in her first year as a full fledged teacher. She had a classic hour glass figure, huge tits and a very full butt with wider than average hips. She was not the type that I was attracted to. I liked 'em tall, lean and hard. Interestingly, her waist was tiny.
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Heidi and Jeff have been best friends to my wife Tracey and me pretty much forever. Heidi and Tracey first met when they were in grade school; they were best friends all through their school days, and even went to the same college, just so they could stay together. Jeff and I met in college; we just kind of hit it off and went from there.
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Hot breath hit my ear over the throb of the techno music, piercing through my ecstasy induced fuzziness. I felt long hair sway against my arm and a hand gently pull me closer. "We're so fucking high," whispered her voice, "We just want someone to come away from here and give it to us."
I gulped, swaying in surprise, and took a closer look at the girl propositioning me. She was alluringly sexy and instantly filled me with lust.
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The thumping bass sound announced the approach of Miguel's car long before Damon saw it come around the corner and pull up to the side of the basketball court. Damon took one last shot, banking the ball off the backboard and through the hoop before jogging over to the high chain link fence surrounding the court where Miguel's car sat on the other side. The passengers side window of Miguel's Camry slid down and Luke leaned out.
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The time was 1995 and the place was a sleepy suburb of Albany, New York.
He was a bored man in his mid-40s whose wife had taken off with another guy, leaving him with a house he didn't want and a lot of time on his hands - until he started paying attention to the sights around him.
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Insolent.
That was the only word that came to mind as I looked at Jeremy Saitou. Everything about him seemed to radiate impudence: his brightly colored hair (red enough to rival any fire engine), his pierced brow and lower lip, the electric blue plugs in his stretched earlobes, his mouth, which—thanks to a small scar on the right side of his upper lip—was curled into a permanent sneer.
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James Wiltshire was the type of professor who was notorious not for his academic prowess or scholarly reputation, but for his looks and background. He was a new appointee to the University of Miskatonic in the fall to the history department. The women on campus gave him more attention than what he was comfortable with. He supposed it was his English accent that endeared him so to the female population.
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Sachel and I met our freshman year. We'd been through all the same orientation events, and had a couple of classes together. There was also the work we both put in with the Black student association. By the time students were asked to select their rooms for the upcoming year, she and I were good friends. We put in our request early enough to get a room in one of the nicer dorms on the campus.
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In most senses Bran had been invisible at the Hayden saloon the couple of months he'd been there. But as he came out of the back room into the main saloon hall, carrying the bucket of water Levi Yost, the saloon keeper, had told him to use to freshen the bowls in the rooms upstairs, he looked at the tall Christmas tree in the corner. Sadie, Katie, and Faye were busy happily decorating the tree with colorful bows from their own drawers. The tree had been his idea.
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