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5 The next morning at breakfast Peter was like a child waiting for a sweet shop to open, constantly looking out of the window for the postman. Claudet decided to say nothing, even though she knew that he should go and do something constructive to make the time pass more quickly. After a while he got up and went into the living room and she could hear him talking, ah, he’s figured it out for himself she thought. Then she spotted the postie coming up the garden path and rushed out to meet him, hoping that Peter wouldn’t come back into the kitchen and spot him. The postman was about…

I would say that I imagine you, but I don’t. It’s more like a memory that hasn’t happened yet – your scent and the feel of your skin is so real in my mind. Standing next to you, almost but not quite touching. It’s somewhere public, but it could be almost anywhere – it’s night and there are people around. With your back to me you can sense my presence, feel my desire for you sparking across the almost imperceptible gap between us. You felt it from the moment our eyes met – that I want to devour you. The way your body stiffened slightly, the way your breathing came…

Edited by Angel Love ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I pulled into the parking lot and it was just as I expected. I can’t believe I’m this late. The lot’s packed. The line is going to be insane and they’ll all be inside already. I parked the car and headed for the club doors. Sure enough, the end of the line was at the top of the stairs. Standing there, I took off my coat and started my wait. Checked my watch – 8:47pm. Behind me a group of giggling girls had just come in. ” . . . so if he’s here, like, I’m SO taking him home with me . . .…

(This story was written for a friend, hope you like it. All characters are over the age of 18. Please make sure to comment and vote. Thanks) The e-mails drifted into her mailbox one at a time, each a little more daring then the rest. Did he really know what he did to her every time she opened one of these? The red head hung up her phone telling her friend on the line that she had work she had to get done. She never could concentrate when Rob sent her his pictures, she would become distracted for days thinking about him, dreaming about his body reacting to hers, his…

Dale’s Women (Chapter 1) Kathryn M. Burke Dale Willis was an altruist. At twenty-four, of independent means as a result of the early death of his parents, he was constitutionally disinclined to undergo the tedium of pursuing a career. He had had his share of dalliances with the debutantes in and around his hometown of Greenwich, Connecticut, but their frivolity and baby-doll prettiness had become unutterably wearying, and so he sought to expand his horizons with involvements with females of a very different sort. In other words, he became interested in older women. He was well aware that the women of his parents’ generation, whether they were safely married, divorced,…

*The fictional story of an everyday mature white woman who wants to feel really sexually alive for the first time before it gets too late as told by the one who she eventually turns to for help. Her first and most likely last Lover. A Black Man. CHAPTER THREE – COME CUM NOW, LADY Everything you may have read about Linda till now is what I learned from her as I got to know her better. The bonds of trust allowed her to share it with me. Because her story is one that can be written of so many I have shared it. Some forget and some will never really…

It had been too long and she felt desperation creeping up on her. Her little forays into self-gratification were not satisfying any more. She was vulnerable and ripe for the taking and she knew it…yet she yielded to sound of his flattering silver tongue. She knew that his lines were just lines rehearsed; she was not the first and probably not the last. But his sensual way of just asking how her day was progressing made her tremble violently. She felt as is she was a schoolgirl. Yet those days were far behind her and too many years of marriage and commitment had crept into her repertoire. She knew that…

Amy knew Steve’s face pretty well, in a “small town” kind of way. This wasn’t unusual; having lived there all of her life she recognized most of the town’s residents by sight and knew Steve from before High School, where he was a year ahead of her. It wasn’t like they stopped and talked across shopping carts for hours at the grocery store, more that Steve was “just a guy” who seemed to be around—someone she always enjoyed exchanging a friendly smile with him at the gas station or the post office, but nothing more than that. That summer she signed up for a creative writing class, one evening a…

COVID-19 & THE SUBMISSIVE – Musing # 1348: Family Quarantine – Day 17 INTRODUCTION “I’m not sure this is what they meant by concept social distancing, Angus,” I managed to say. I understood. This COVID-19 madness was tiresome. Folk all over the Welsh countryside had hashtags like #MustBreakOut, #COVIDBlues, and #CanIStopPlayingw/MyKidsNow. My baby momma’s favourite online past time was Bethesda’s new video game, Escape Room: Pandemic, where you could play from different points in history, using the tools available to them at the time although you could use 21st-century knowledge to cheat your way through. Between marathon hours online negotiating trade deals of Welsh lamb for PPEs from Singapore through…

She sits in the bath, surrounded by bubbles, wondering what she should do. The house quiet, kids out for the night at sleepovers, a couple of candles lit and one of the movie channels on for background noise. I she sighs and leans back. A little over an hour and he will be here. She bought a new red and black lace and silk bra/ panties set for tonight. She had sent him a pic of it to get a reaction. He said he liked it. She bets he would like it more on the floor. She reaches a hand down and traces a line down to her newly shaved…