Jackie could not believe that she was doing this; kneeling on the floor beside the bed in her motel room, performing oral sex on a twenty-one-year-old total stranger. She had met Eric in the bar across the street from the motel that she was staying at, with her eighteen-year-old daughter, Karen.
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Rob entered the bar apprehensively. It was warm and lively. He had never done anything like this before. What was he thinking? He had a very strong urge to return to his room for a quiet evening of reading. But he promised and a promise is a promise. Although he could just tell ... NO! That would not be right.
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I never dreamed I'd experience sex with my own father. Never. But it happened when I was twenty-two and he was forty-seven. My parents were on vacation in Montana when they were involved in an automobile accident on the Interstate. A car in the lane opposite theirs sideswiped another car causing the two cars to spin and turn over.
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"You are kidding?" I shouted at the van driver as he walked to his vehicle; "Seriously...you are just leaving them there?" He continued ignoring me even though I had my hands on my hips and I was tapping my foot on the pavement, to show him that I was really angry.
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He knew someone was watching when he heard her gasp. He opened his eyes to see Denise Fuller, his best friend's mother, staring with her hand covering her mouth. His hand stopped moving on his hard cock. They made eye contact, and he froze in terror.
"I--" she began, her eyes returning to his cock. Then she turned and left the room without another word. He felt panic spread through him as he yanked up his underwear and tried to figure out what to do.
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Please, don't ask me to explain how it happened, I don't know myself. Perhaps it was a late-night noise which awoke me from a pleasant dream, perhaps it was merely the need to see that everything was all right, that the windows were closed and the door to our shared apartment locked, or to get a drink from the communal kitchen.
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She stood in front of the mirror, slowly taking in what she saw reflected. Most of her day had been spent alone, so that she might have ample time to prepare. Her dark eyes flickered as they moved over her image, checking carefully, looking for even the smallest flaw.
The short sundress she wore appeared white at first glance, but was actually a pale lilac. It had an embroidered bodice and hem, and spaghetti straps that left her shoulders exposed.
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The noisy alarm clock buzzed and buzzed. Wanting to continue sleeping, he flailed his arms out reaching for the snooze. To no avail, he groggily opened his eyes and stepped out of bed shutting off the dastardly invention. The clock read 6:00pm. Jeremy had gotten a nice Saturday afternoon nap in before his date that night.
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I've been at this gig for about three years now in a Northeast city. It isn't what I expected to be doing, career-wise, at my age, but I can't gripe about the pay. This is for a private apartment complex (not a hotel, mind you), so it's rightly what Europeans define as being a Concierge (attending to high-end residents' needs).
I'm in my mid-twenties, tall and reasonably fit, outfitted in a blazer, gray slacks and dress shoes, and I sport a genuine-enough smile that's kept fresh every day.
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My name is Kavita and I am a 30 year old married professional woman living in Delhi, India. I work in an MNC and Raj, my husband, is a fairly successful businessman. We have been married for 3 years and you can say we are as happy as an average married couple. We have our ups and downs, good days and bad days, so to the words I am a typical Indian woman taking take of her husband and household. However, the truth is far from that.
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