The sex hot dog
I named him Frank, as in Frankfurter, because he was a schnauzer, and as kids, we called them frankfurter dogs.
I named him Frank, as in Frankfurter, because he was a schnauzer, and as kids, we called them frankfurter dogs.
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.
Me thinks the layd doth protest too much, said Hamlet. This statement, or something like it, can be applied to anyone who complains too much about how exploited he is sexually.
Ohhhh, Billy! Oh Billy! Ooooohhh! Mmmmmm! Wait, I dont know if we should do this!
From the backstage wings of the Lucky Nuggett lounge-stage Victor Redgrave studied Sherry Trent (that was her stage name) as she held the boozed and gambling-weary Las Vegas audience spellbound. Even at sixteen, his daughter Sherry had stage presence that some veteran singers might envy. Guitar in hand, her fringed, white western attire so tight-fitting it had the male members of the audience open-mouthed, Sherry held the entire audience in a near-hypnotic trance. Charisma, some critics called it. Victor knew it was sex-appeal. Whatever it was, Sherry had it — in spades — that and an incredible vocal talent that had raised her Nevada price to four-thousand dollars a week.
The men could hear the roaring engine long time before they could actually see the car. The road meandered through an isolated mountain area and the nearest neighbors were many miles away. Finally they watched the Range Rover take the last turn and drive up towards the hunting lodge. The dogs began to bark but were quickly silenced by their owners. It was Friday late afternoon and the heat was intense.
Paul left me months ago.
So there I was, nervously waiting in the parking lot for my job interview at UPS. I was applying for jobs all summer that year. Application after application, and not one single response. It sucked big time. Lucky for me I found an ad that UPS had posted online wanting warehouse package handlers, at $15 an hour. Wasnt bad for an entry level position. It was a new facility too. 20 minutes from where I lived.
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.
I hate whenever people start these stories by saying Im just a normal person. Well, you clearly arent, or you wouldnt have such a fantastic story to tell, now would you? Im not a normal guy, and Im proud of it. I am not, however, above clichés, so I will get that out of the way right now.
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.
It was a bizarre, schizophrenic existence, being a sorority slave. During the day I would attend classes just like the other girls, and be required to use my mind and brains, to think clearly and question things. Then I would go back to the sorority house, where I would immediately strip and don the chains of slavery, where I must close off all thinking lest I question or hesitate or give offense.
I loved playing X-Box, and was pretty good at it. I could play three sports with relative skill. I did so-so in school, and could have done much better if Id really tried. I had over thirty sexual fantasies per day. I dreamed about owning a car, but couldnt afford one. I worked to make a little spending money, but not enough to put on a résumé. And, I had a sister, though I suppose thats not something that you could call being average.
Me thinks the layd doth protest too much, said Hamlet. This statement, or something like it, can be applied to anyone who complains too much about how exploited he is sexually.
This gorgeous married lady is a genuinely submissive lady who would love to answer Mails from men who appreciate her sexy body, and would like to tease her and instruct her into doing naughty things!! Any notes/comments will be forwarded to her by Hopebeach, and she promises to answer each reply if you leave your Mail address.
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.
Alfred Hamcock made his way down the aisle of the 767, squeezing by
The seething passions that lurk within many individuals are often hidden beneath a veneer of normalcy, exposed only under extremely tempting conditions.
Synopsis: Jim Hartman is a paramedic in Heritage County, California. A man who has not been laid in years. Follow his exploits as he tries to hook up with Robin, the loose registration clerk at a local hospital, to end this dryspell. The first in a series of tales written about this fictional county.
His hands trembled slightly. Yet his appearance was one of outward calm, a methodical thoroughness that obliterated emotional reactions.
Robin White has a reputation as the woman who will gladly give it up for the cost of a night at the Faraway Club. But lately it seems shes been losing her touch. One Saturday night she has no date at all but elects to try her luck at the Faraway alone. There she meets a handsome stranger with an agenda of his own. What follows is the most erotic experience of her young life.
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.
Toni Lindroth, once Toni La Rocca and now Toni Lindroth
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.