"Lay down on the bed," she said, standing before me wearing just this little diaphanous garment so thin and short I could see the twin dark circles of her jutting nipples, as well as the gentle flare of her slim hips. Just a hair's breadth below the gauzy hem was the trimmed pubis and sweet pink flesh I wanted to badly to plunder. But not right now. She was in control tonight, and I was doing whatever she said.
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I had been teaching at the university for some 30 years, and I had never encountered such an intriguing vision as Soleil in all my days. She is a beauty, and an enigma. She was breathtakingly refreshing and very frustrating...beautiful, yet exasperating. I came to be rather obsessed with this 20 year old vixen from the first time I saw her in class, just something about her that caught my attention: she was half Thai, and half American.
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The evening sky was painted vivid colors of crimson, yellow, purple and azure. The sun was just passing over the horizon completely. I was anxious, alright, I was downright scared. What had I agreed to? What was it that made me want to be on the "list" for eight and a half months?
As I walked down the crowded avenue, I wondered if anyone could tell what I was about to do.
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Mandy's weekend had not been good at all; from the early start to the heavy traffic to the slowest bellman in the entire country to the flaky actresses, the Georgia peach was anything but sweet by the time she arrived home. A more apt description would be an ornery lioness, ready to claw the next person who had the audacity to simply look at her wrong.
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One day, a classmate from my Asian Arts class stopped me just after class. He invited me to a party at his fraternity. I thought about it, and since I had no other invitation, I decided to go and have a little crazy fun while I was there. You know; you're only in college once.
Frat parties have not been on my list of 'must do' social events since my third semester.
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Tracy tested the silk scarves wrapped around her wrists and forearms. They were so expertly tied that you couldn't really see where they were knotted and it didn't feel at all restrictive until you tried to move. They were bound together in front of her and from there tied by a single large rope that extended to the end of the bed secured to the bed frame beneath. He legs were tied in a similar fashion. Her small 5' 0" frame lay comfortably face down on the largest bed Tracy had ever been on.
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My name is Waylon Fielding and I am married to a wonderful woman, my wife Celine Fielding. I would like to say that my life is perfect, or even good, but after two years of marriage I'm pretty freaking miserable and it's all Celine's fault. Actually, it really isn't her fault; it's her Mother's, the lovely Melissa Harmon.
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Mark and Penny headed towards the hotel. Both were more excited then they let on; Penny had been given a precious gift from her husband, and now, months later, she was giving him one back. Mark had been touched that his wife wanted to live out his fantasy with him and now they were on their way to do just that. As they drove through the city, Mark thought back over the conversation that had led them to this new adventure in their lives.
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As we pulled up to my house I enjoyed the fact that no bicycles were strewn on the driveway and no soccer goal stood on the lawn. Just my wife and I at home tonight, with no kids to interrupt and no reason to try and maintain any appearances. I had been looking forward to this for weeks. I got out of the car and turned to say goodnight to my neighbor from down the street.
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"So, what did you have in mind?" you ask with a coy smile.
I thought about the evening out from which we just returned. The kids were away for the night. We had been flirting and teasing each other all night, and I could feel the sexual tension between us. I knew you could feel it too. I could see it in the way you had been looking at me. In the way you slowly unbuttoned your heavy coat when we walked through the door, one button at a time, watching me until it was open and you let it drop to a chair.
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