Ive always been a big shooter, my cum has always been quitea lot, so when
Some might find me a wimp and some might say I should
Carla moaned softly. The aluminum cigar tube slid up into her cunt, pressing apart the soft folds of slippery pink flesh. Smaller, colder, and harder than a mans cock, it still felt fantastic. It felt wonderful to have her cunt filled again, even with such a crude imitation of the real thing. Lying on her back with her legs spread widely, straining the tendons on the insides of her thighs, Carla slid the tube deep into her oozing hole. It pressed the end of her cunt, stretching her. Then, slowly, tantalizingly, she fucked the tube in and out, in and out.
It had started like any other night at work.
Paul left me months ago.
Come on, Don, baby… the boys wont see… well go into the garage! Carolyn anxiously tugged on her future husbands sleeve and guided him with determination away from the ranch-style house toward the garage.
The fantasies flashed through his brain in little lightning shocks. Lips caressing the backs of upper thighs, licking softly, a white leg rising up an inch or two with each wet kiss… the aroma of untapped moisture from a steaming body, a hot fragrance. His testicles filled to bursting… plunging for the blessed snarl and gulp of the sticky mouth bath… spreading and splitting those thighs apart, burying his face against the drenched and turgid cavity… his tongue wet-sliding, dipping into the naked throb itself, toying there with the fire-hot vulva heart, licking and encircling the clit in a feathery rage… the candy taste and the swallowing of the creamed pussy.
This is another story that takes place in the timeline of a major world war. It does not pick up where Collateral Damage left off, but is rather another slice of life from the time period Ive envisioned and actually takes place earlier than Collateral Damage, during the most desperate portion of the war, when the enemy is driving into the United States, seemingly invulnerable. For those of you who wrote telling me you found Collateral Damage too dark of a story to be enjoyed, I would suggest you not read North of the River. It is even darker. For everyone else, please let me know, as always, what you thought of it. As with all of these stories Im posting, they are all self-contained stories capable of being enjoyed by themselves, and all potential first chapters in an ongoing series. I make no promises as of yet to continue them.
This is ridiculous, I thought, standing outside St. Josephs cottage waiting for Brother Robert to answer my knock. What excuse can I give for coming by this time. Surely by now hes aware that these frequent meetings with him to talk about the boys on his work crew are contrived and unnecessary.
Mark, did you hear me?
In the year after I turned 18, three incredible things happened to me. The first two sucked. I guess the third did too, but youll get that joke later.
Tamera West slouched in an easy chair, watching an old Tarzan repeat on the television and eating an apple. Her thoughts werent on the screen, but on her date for that night, Eddie McDonald, a big, handsome boy, with craggy features like James Colburn — only younger, of course, Eddie was going to be a senior when school started again, (but sadly, he was going to be bussed to another district. Still, there was the rest of the summer to see him, and who could tell what would happen by September?) Shed only been out with him once, last Saturday night, on a blind date arranged by her best friend, Nancy Cannon, whose steady boyfriend Jason, had brought Eddie along. And wow!
Suzi was a stunningly beautiful young woman with
The house was in its usual chaos. My kid brothers and sisters were always scrambling to get ready, to get dropped off somewhere or my mother was scrambling to go pick them up. Dance, sports, band, so-and-sos house. Today mom was bopping from kitchen to living room and up the stairs shouting orders, questions and reminders. I was on the couch, weekend bag next to me, watching U-M getting abused on the football field. My dad was at work, doing an extra weekend shift to keep us afloat.
At first the young girl pretended the noise she heard was nothing but the wind rushing through the tall pines outside the cabin. At the age of fourteen, she considered herself too old to be frightened by a few stray sounds in the dark. But she couldnt keep herself from ducking her head under the cover and burrowing her turned-up nose under the pillow. She pressed her adolescent breasts into the smooth sheet and hugged one arm across her trim midriff for comfort. The light scuffling sound came again, closer this time, and she drew the lengths of her slim thighs up under the covers until her rounded knees were tight against the hardened tips of her small brown nipples. She lay in a ball in the middle of the unfamiliar bed and felt her heart trip faster and faster. She had to admit now that the noise wasnt coming from outside the cabin at all.
Richard held on to his mind with difficulty. His senses were reeling. He felt dizzy. It was one of those numerous delightful nights which all young married people will remember later on in their life with nostalgia, one of those honeymoon-like nights when the bedroom atmosphere is charged sensuality and the husband wants to make love to his wife and not just have sex with her…
It was ten-thirty on a beautiful April morning when Conchi Thorne, the woman in Apartment 6-B, looked at her nude self in the bathroom mirror. She was preparing herself for Keith Broys who would come to her at eleven.
Hunting. Its perhaps the oldest ritual known to man. So it was thousands of years ago and so it is today. My name is Jack Huntington. Im a Hunter. Its both my profession and passion. Im a profiler for the FBI by trade. My favorite prey are large criminals of all races and my favorite thing to do is having sex. Anal sex to be exact. Im an anal master and connoisseur. Just call me the Backdoor King. The front door is overrated if you ask me. There are so many pleasures and wonders in the back. Im an explorer of this seemingly forbidden passage. A scientist, if you will. These are my stories.
I get to the airport two hours early. Im always a little off-kilter when David has been away – not in the way that one worries over the possibility of a plane crash or car accident, but just simply unaccustomed to the quiet of the house, the noises that suddenly seem so loud without his presence, the other side of the bed still cold come morning. I miss him during every business trip and am always eager for him to be home. Today Im extra excited, my mind running over the plan Ive been formulating in my head the last few days. David has no idea what hes in for tonight and Im counting the minutes till I see him.
It all started a couple of years before I was even in high school. A group of guys who pretty much hung out all the time together started this game. They were constantly bragging about which girls they’d bagged the night before or some kinky thing they did. It got to where the stories were so elaborate, they decided to make a big poster-board chart of the various girls, what their kinks were, which would do what, who had done them and how. This way, if a guy was interested in doing one of the girls on the chart, he knew exactly how to get her and what she was into. It pretty much guaranteed success and saved a lot of time and effort.
It was 11 am of a sunny and glorious morning at a popular international Resort in Cancun, Mexico. My lovely wife Angela and I were enjoying the 2nd day of our 1 week vacation, and, recommended by a friend of us who suggested the place, we were not disappointed at first sight. A beautiful sandy beach and crystal water enchanted the place where, mostly Europeans, were already in full-beach mode, plus hotel facilities and its food choices were amazing.
Judging from some of the fan mail she has let us read, Grace Eddy is rapidly becoming one of the most popular writers at Surrey House, Inc.. All of her many exciting novels have been very good sellers for Rated X and Surrey Collectors.
The Sisters Savoy they were known as, when they had their nightclub act. They sang and danced and told funny stories about growing up triplets. They were each as beautiful as the other, even though they were never that famous. I broke up the act you see, when mom became pregnant with me. That bulging belly broke the symmetry of the three and they never got back into show biz after that. Susan, my mother, married my dad, a local hardware store owner. Shortly after, Aunt Sylvia wed a rich man, who died when his private plane went down, a few years back. Aunt Sally hitched her wagon to a long distance truck driver, who was seldom in town.
FUCK YOU you stupid, ungrateful MOTHERFUCKER!