"Ahhh, that were very nice," I said with a deep, satisfied sigh, as I spilled my seed down Des's chin. We were in the boathouse on the lower lake, here because Des had wanted me to fuck him. But now we'd have to sit and talk for a bit, listening to the racing shells grind against the dock outside in the bit of a squall that had come up over Sandhurst. It would take me a few to recharge.
I was long overdue for a vacation and since I wasn't seeing anyone I thought I'd take one alone, rather than with a friend or a group. And I didn't want to do what I'd done before, go to a gay resort where everything is so gay! gay! gay! An unattached dude at one of those places deals with too much shit. I just wanted to relax and I wasn't looking for a meat market, so I thought I'd go spend a week at a Caribbean resort I'd heard about. This was one of those pleasure-focused places where straights and gays vacationed together and nobody was uptight.
Down came the windows, though she knew that the interior would have a fine coating of gravel dust by the time she returned home. It was the first truly warm day of the year. The office had hired a couple of people to reduce her workload. She'd finally come to her senses and returned to single life after a string of two bad relationships.
Jake Hughes, the owner of Blue Sky Horse Farm, sat at his kitchen table sipping coffee as he stared out the window at what could only be described as a gloomy Saturday morning. Overnight rains had left the farm drenched and a heavy fog had set in, obscuring his view of the mountains that encircled the pastures where his horses grazed. The house was quiet and dark and it was times like this that he was most lonely.
Gina let out a quiet groan when she was awakened by the clock radio alarm. Blue Christmas by Elvis was playing, and the music merged with her feelings as she'd drifted off to sleep. The bed shifted, and she knew Brian was sitting up to shut off the alarm.
In a fit of pique, she rolled over, facing the wall. A quiet sigh let her know that the gesture hadn't gone unnoticed.
I was a married bisexual 35 year old cruising gay chat rooms again. I had some oral experiences, but really wanted to try getting fucked deeply. I had played with toys but found them boring. I wanted the real thing.
I met a black man on line who liked married white men like myself. After some small talk, he invited me to his house for some afternoon fun.
Sitting under the awning next to her truck, Vanille looked down the street and decided that the fair was beginning to wind down. She breathed a sigh of relief both because the long day was over, and because she was going to turn a decent profit from working the small town street fair. Considering her name, she might very well have been destined to sell homemade ice cream from the back of a truck, but it certainly hadn't been her plan.
He stretches himself out, the sheets rustling as he flexes his muscles and lets out a long yawn. Nick smiles at the smooth, warm form resting at his side. Glancing over, he sees her red hair spilling across her face and pillow, her creamy white skin exposed to the air. She moans and moves closer to him, one arm draped across his chest while one leg slides up along his own.
Renee hung up the phone and leaned over the desk, cradling her head in her hand. The day at the office had been bad enough, and this was just the icing on the cake.
Somehow, the computer at the thrift store had picked up a virus. Without it, she couldn't print tags, enter anything into inventory, scan it out when someone purchased something, or keep up with the government paperwork.
Living in a small town certainly has some great advantages ... and also a few disadvantages. One of those disadvantages is gossip control, or, the lack there of. Having a really tight bond within your circle of close friends is about the only way gossip can be controlled ... well, to some degree, anyway.
Our little town, Websterville, had four girls, all seniors at the P. T. (actually Percival Taylor) Webster High School who were absolutely inseparable.