"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.
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By the time our second meeting ended, I had decided two things. First, my Master was very, very good at what he did to me. And second, there was no way I could wait until Christmas for our next visit.
Almost a month had passed since our second "date." I had been teased, pleased, fucked, and damn well tortured during our short time together.
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Tim pulled the garage door shut, and slowly washed the grease from his fingers. Wheel bearings and axle seals were dirty work, but the hand cleaner did its job.
"All done?" He smiled as he heard Mary's voice echo down the hallway.
"I sure am. Your mustang's ready for another 100K."
"I think we'll need a minivan before that long."
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My wife Joan is 62 years old. She is a doctor and a dancer; her lifelong devotion to the art has kept her slim and strong, with great vitality, despite thinning skin, age spots and thickening around the middle. I am passionately drawn to her, find her very attractive, love her with a depth I never knew was possible, and want to fuck her often. (All you young people out there, just because we're old it doesn't mean we're dead.
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Asleep, comfortable at night, you lay snoring soundly. Your wife in deep slumber beside you, you feel something tug at your arm. A soft seductive voice calls your name. You stir gently, the voice beckoning, purring your name. You feel a hand searching under the blankets finding your leg she drags her nails up your thigh. You awaken fully to the realization that it is not your wife searching for you, but Vix. You open your eyes fully to find a dark figure kneeling beside the bed.
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My back was killing me by two o'clock. At eighteen I'm in good shape but, Damn!
My sister has a lot of crap!
Some how it's become my job to move it all.
My dad would help, but at sixty his back doesn't need the strain. And he's working on the family barbecue grill.
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Hi, this is just a one-shot. I hope it's an entertaining scene/scenario, although it's probably totally unrealistic. But that's the beauty of fantasy... enjoy, and please rate and review, I love all the feedback I get, good or bad!
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I vividly remember touching myself in the shower. I was making sure I washed well because I have always been a bit of a clean freak, and as I rubbed my hands through my pussy lips I got that feeling, that "oh my god what was that feeling." Needless to say, like most all girls I began constantly touching myself in the shower, using the hot water and the shower head to send me to climax after climax! Months later, again in the shower I ran my finger a little harder than normal across my tight little asshole.
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Julie had just gotten her kids to bed after a very stressful day and headed to the bedroom as she winked at her handsome husband, Steve sitting in the living room. "Phew, they're finally asleep, I am going to shower real quick and then I'll get started. Don't wait too long or I might cum before you get there."
"Don't worry, he said, "I won't let you get too far."
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I gripped the seat with excitement as the driver turned off of Thomas and into the crowded parking lot of the Veterans Memorial Coliseum in downtown Phoenix Arizona. It was a warm August night in 1982, and the spotlights from the arena caught the flinty dust in the air, creating a sparkling light show above the gravel parking lot as the sleek white limousine headed up to the main entrance. I glanced at Andrea, who was sitting beside me grinning madly.
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