Sleeping beauty was a dream cum true!
But she was his daughter.
She was Sleeping Beauty; she was a dream cum true. She was my daughter. I of course knew she was a gorgeous and sensuous woman, just like her mother had been when we were first married. But she was not her mom's uptight restrained girl; she was her daddy's libertine libido in feminine form.
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For all intents and purposes, this is a sequel of sorts of my first story. Those who read the first story know about the affair I had begun with John and how it helped liberate me from the shackles of my life. It takes place after my lunch with my daughter, Beth. She had gone to tell John about the man she had met and how she had already slept with this man. John reacted in bewildered amazement, according to my daughter, cursing at her before leaving the apartment. Beth called me immediately in tears, upset that she had made a mistake.
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Don't get me wrong. I love a good sexy scenario as much as the next horny young woman. But even I knew this was completely unacceptable.
I was your typical rebellious girl. My parents had divorced when I was little, and I refused to bother with anyone of their partners. I didn't see the point in pretending to like people I had nothing in common with and who, as far as I knew, were only bothering with me to please my parents.
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Since the semester began three weeks ago, I haven't seen my dad. My parents' house was a 90-minute car drive away -- close enough to consider a spur-of-the-moment trip every now and then, but too far to do it too often. Classwork was keeping me really busy, too.
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Working in construction for so long I've been able to work my way up to foreman; which in my case, basically means that I point out what others are to do and I don't do much physical labor anymore. I've been doing this, with the same company, for almost twenty years now, starting when I was just seventeen. I've been able to keep myself in great shape, physically and sexually. It's no secret that there's a special category for construction workers in a lot of women's, and men's, fantasy worlds. I've been able to take advantage of a lot of a lot of those feelings over my career and I hoped to keep it up as long as I could. After all, I'm only thirty-six years old; I expect to be able to fuck like a madman for another few decades.
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It had been a rough week. Fighting with the wife had made my night life quite quiet. To top it all off she had decided to go and visit her mother for the weekend. She must have been really pissed off as she told our daughter that she could have one of her college friends spend the night.
I wasn't really impressed as I was now responsible for the two of them and all their miscreant behaviors.
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"Write me a story," my lover says, her eyes glinting with deep, sensual desires.
I kiss her, savoring the warmth and wetness of her mouth, as I say, "What shall I write, my love?"
She smiles at me wickedly, her hands fondling my growing erection. "Something – naughty," she replies, her voice low and soft, caressing me like velvet. "Something – forbidden..."
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It was the first Saturday of April and I was dozing on the sofa watching daytime Sports TV when Mum and Dad arrived home from a day shopping in town.
"Guess what?" Dad grinned as he playfully shook me from my half-sleep. "I've arranged an interview on Monday; for a Summer job for you!"
"You've done WHAT?" I growled as the enormity of the sentence hit home.
"Dad has organised an interview for you with Nick at Nicholas Shoes". Mum repeated Dad's life changing sentence as she changed TV channels.
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Jeni was on her way downtown just shy of rush hour and already having a stressful day. "This week was rough," she muttered to herself while her Jeep Liberty sat in traffic. It started out hectic, progressed towards crazy and it was far from being over. Her brother was getting married and the proposal was only two weeks ago; it left little time to plan.
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After accepting a promotion in a town I was unfamiliar with my boss permitted me a couple of weeks to establish myself there before having to report to work. During that time I contacted a realtor to help me locate a new place to live.
It was late one August afternoon when I arrived at a prospective house for a viewing appointment. I had hardly parked when I became aware of someone standing at my door.
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