I have seen so many misdirected and misused young women in my long active life, that I often just ignored them. I was building a house near the IHOP and both breakfast and evening meals were convenient there. The lovely young female, still searching for identity, had waited on me for a week now. We had talked and teased every day. I was getting a sense of her unfulfilled sexuality and the frustration she lived with. Tonight her body was tense and her hormones were surging. She needed to belong and serve. She was slow coming back to take my order.
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Jane squirmed in her seat. She hoped the hostess wouldn't notice her shifting in place. Jane hoped no one would detect her lightly bruised lips as the evidence of the rough kissing wore off. She looked over at Tom, who was staring at her with a twinkle in his eye. He knew just how uncomfortable she was feeling. And he loved to see her fidget and wriggle.
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Nine o'clock on a Tuesday and I'm in bed reading. I feel you in the doorway before I see you. I look up to say hello and the words die in my mouth as our eyes meet. Intimidating is a word most people would use to describe my half of our couple. You're the affable one that everybody loves. You're the perfect boyfriend.
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LeRoy was sitting on the porch, rocking and rubbing the head of that old hound dog of his, as Dinah walked up the stone path from the mailbox at the edge of the muddy road. She had walked slow up from the bus stop in the nearest town, at the mouth of a fold back into the Blue Ridge. The suitcase she was lugging, balanced on the other side by her guitar case, was heavy, but she wasn't walking slow because of that weight. She was weighed down by something more serious than that.
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I won the lottery. Really big....over 300 million dollars paid out over the next 25 years. In my late twenties and now filthy rich. What to do? What to do?
After I won, I did all the things that you are supposed to do: traveled, bought a nice house, not too big but certainly big enough, and pampered myself with all the gadgets and everything else to fill out my home. One of the things I pampered myself with was Sarah.
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Amanda looked down at the doorknob with mixed emotions. On the other side of this door was a man that she knew, without any shadow of a doubt, that she hated. She hated everything that he was, everything that he stood for, and pretty much everything in his world.
She also knew that she was about to give him one of the best blowjobs that he would ever get in his miserable, pathetic life.
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I was a nude life drawing model when I was in my 20s. I was regarded as an excellent model since I was completely comfortable being nude in a group of clothed people and I could hold poses very well. I also was very creative in my poses. I worked very regularly, and worked around five times a week for ten years. It is now over 25 years since I last posed, and I am looking back upon my most interesting experiences. The following experience took place after I had been posing for eight years, so I considered myself very experienced.
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Miranda had been single for just over two weeks. Two glorious weeks of parties, girl-"dates", movies with friends, and relaxing by the pool. It was too cool to swim just yet, but she sure didn't mind putting on a skimpy little suit and flaunting it in front of the new lifeguard as she and her friends tanned on the deck.
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You joked when we first started seeing each other that the reason you had bought the four post bed was so that you could tie up naughty girls and do naughty things with them, but admittedly this had never happened. While I was never inclined to let anyone tie me up, I have to admit that the idea teased at my more erotic side and led me to many such fantasies. Sometimes when I came over and you were up before me, I would sprawl out, reaching for the posts and imagine that I was tied there to be used by you. Such fantasies led to hot sex, though I never told you what had got me going.
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I stand and watch her walk toward me. Her fingers are cool and dry as she places the collar around my neck, nimble as they buckle it in the back, the leather touching my skin all the way around, not tight, only touching. I feel her breath stir my hair.
A snort of laughter escapes me and I stifle it quickly. She pauses, her hands still on the buckle, and leans around to look at my face. "Yes?" she inquires, lifting an eyebrow, that same slight half-smile barely curving her perfect dark lipsticked lips.
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