Nick dropped his keys onto the table beside the front door, it had been a long day and he was really looking forward to a relaxing bath and his evening meal. He removed his coat and turned to hang it on the hook on the other side of the door, his wife's coat was already there since she always got home before he did.
She woke up a little later than usual, her first reaction to check the clock. Before her heart could race at the thought of being late, she remembered it was a Saturday, and her next thought was of the night before, the smell of his cologne and sweat and cum drifting up from the sheets.
Looking around, she wondered if he had left – a typical one-night stand – or if maybe he was just in the bathroom.
I waited eagerly for you at the door. Peeking through the small windows hoping you wouldn't see me before you got inside the door.
The suit I wore was driving me crazy...so tight and hot. My skin couldn't breathe at all and I was getting sweaty.
It felt like the 10 min it normally took you to get home from work was taking far too long.
On the hottest, steamiest night of the summer in the big city, I almost met my Maker. I was an undercover cop working for the vice squad, about to observe and take part in a drug transaction outside the Frisky Bar, a gay strip joint in a seedy part of town.
Moving down the alley closer to the drug buy, I moved out of sight of my partner (a mistake), and passing behind a dumpster, I saw the perp and his customer.
Matt sat on the edge of the bed looking down at the steel tube which encased his cock. He'd waited so long for this moment, but still he was tremendously nervous. As he looked down he caught sight of his face, reflected in the highly polished surface of the chastity device. Could he really go through with this? He steeled himself and pushed the small padlock through the locking holes and snapped it shut.
"Sure" you texted me.
It was a simple, unvarnished word, but in this instance, laden miraculously with the stuff of utter elation.
I had arranged a trip out to the mountains on a pretext with the hope of seeing you for the first time. It was a very adult thing, I reflected on the flight over.
There is a large house overlooking the ocean. It stands alone on a high dune covered with sea grass. There are many balconies and windows mounted in the dark wood of the outside walls. There is a large picture window in the front of the house, and through the glass, one can see a single figure, standing still and alone. It is a woman. Her name is Passion.
Imagine a mental hospital - not the realistic environment, more like what you see in movies like "One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest." There was a large room where the inmates could gather. The nurse's station was next to it. There was a wire fence over the window, so the nurse was protected, but could see and hear what went on. Next to her station was a wire gate, locked.
It was a beautiful fall day in Niagara-on-the-lake, in southern Ontario. It is the time of year for the grapes to be harvested in the wine region of Eastern Canada. Matthew's schedule was tight and he had been watching the vineyards closely since returning from Chile on the World Winemaker's Conference in Santiago. His Assistant, Richard de Grosse, had been invaluable to him during the summer lead up to this.
The first time I saw her I felt a strange thrill that I could not understand, along with a desire to be around her as much as I could. We were at the Student Union building, in a large, circular booth, just hanging out between classes. The booth was growing more crowded for a while but by the time the next period started it began to thin out. I skipped a class because I could not bring myself to leave while she was there.