Anne was the typical all-American girl.
She was smart with a sassy attitude. Her mother had raised to be a career driven woman, and she became just that. It wasn't long until she moved off to San Francisco in pursuit of a good education.
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It was one of those hot summer days in New York State, and after a long cold winter this was a day that I described as a "Three H" day; Hazy, Hot, and it made me oh so Horny.
You could say I am a fairly domesticated suburban type guy; I have a lovely wife, Liz, two kids, a decent house, and a 9 to 5 job. I would say I live a fairly safe life by most people's standards but hey, I like it that way.
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“Damnit!” Catherine exclaimed as the wrench slipped and her knuckles scraped violently across the faucet handles. She dropped the heavy silver tool into the sink with a loud clang as she recoiled. Her hand drew up, curled and hiding the hurt. With the other she gently eased open her fingers. She stared down at the torn flesh across her knuckles and brought them to her lips.
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"This has been way too easy," I think to myself as I pause to take in the scene before me. My petite young nurse/radiologist is bent over in front of me, stark naked, her upper chest and the side of her head resting on the examination table, her arms at her sides and her little hands spreading her ass cheeks, eagerly waiting for me to impale her tight little anal canal on my rigid nine inch cock.
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I have this reoccurring fantasy that I dare not tell anyone who actually knows me. I identify as a bisexual woman, but I much prefer women over men. One thing that REALLY turns me on about men however, is them watching me and them masturbating.
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"Kathryn?"
I heard her sigh.
"Yes Mike, it's me. Kevin is fading, he may not last the day. Will you come?"
"I'll call back just as soon as I can confirm my flight. Hold on."
Kathryn was his old personal assistant, but was more than that. She was more like the mother he never got to have. While most walked around him fearfully, she chided him for scaring the employees.
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She answered the door to me wearing the same robe as the previous week, short and low cut leaving no doubt that she was naked underneath, the outline of her nipple bars clear to see.
"Hi Marco, come in."
"Thank you Mrs Morganite."
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It was a cold winter night. I was standing in my closet with a towel wrapped around my chest, drying my wet body after a shower. I stood there wondering which pajamas to wear when suddenly I felt two hands grabbing my breasts. A warm body embraced me from behind. I didn't have to turn around to figure out who it was. Her warm breath on the skin of my neck was enough to know.
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Wally and I were roommates in college when I realized who I truly was sexually.
Before Wally, I had been with girls. Hell, I liked being with girls a lot and loved eating pussy particularly. Hardly the resume of a gay bottom, but maybe the way I lost myself in the act of giving pleasure to women should have been a tip-off to me somehow. There was something submissive about the way in which their pleasure became my pleasure.
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Alice van der Poole loved her boyfriend. Really, she did. Ben was perfectly handsome, perfectly sweet, perfectly... bland. Every kiss was preceded with a gentle, "May I kiss you?" and followed by a whispered, "You're so beautiful." At night, Ben would tell her how precious she was, how delicate and sweet and lovely. His fragile, perfect little rose. Alice wanted to scream.
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