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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
The once balmy air and vibrant, fiery hues of an unusually pleasant Indian summer gave way to the rainy, chilly beast of fall that devoured this particular October Friday in one great gray gulp. The morning and early afternoon started out partly sunny with a light comfortable breeze carrying the delicious scent of nutmeg, cinnamon, and a hint of burning leaves. But by the end of the school day, the cheerful balmy weather gave way to a more somber mist and cold. It was a gnawing, bone-chilling sort of cold.
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.
When I first met her she had been divorced for several years and was different from any women I had ever met. She was a throwback to an earlier time. A very gentile southern woman with beauty, charm and warmth not common in women today. She was never vulgar always dressed appropriate and was a calm, kind and loving woman. I wondered when we first met if this was part of her act.
Synopsis: He gets the sole custody of his daughters and that puts him in a very good situation to be in contact with all the lonely mothers in the neighborhood.
The end justifies the means. How many times have we heard that expression? And how many people act as if that were their sole moral code?
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.
The knowing, wise, old eyes of the school nurse regarded the lovely, auburn-tressed girl who sat across the desk from her. The complaint was a common one; the girl was suffering some faintness with her menstrual period. Ordinarily, Ernestine would have sent the afflicted girl home with instructions for bed rest for the remainder of the day, but she was stopped in mid-reach for the special form excuse she would have to fill out. The girl had just said that she didnt want to go home, asking instead, that she be allowed to stay in the Health Office until the close of school.
Living in the boarding house gave all of them more sex than they could handle. Still it was little brothers big thing that held most of her attention… so rigid and so near and so always ready for her hungry lips.
FUCK YOU you stupid, ungrateful MOTHERFUCKER!
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.
Description: A young versatile university PhD professor is tired of being the object of derision as the pocket protector guy. When offered an opportunity to join a unique company, he takes a chance and enjoys the transition.