Monthly Archives: August 2006

Woo Hoo Lets Party!

Parting words, “There’s plenty to eat in the freezer.  See you in a fortnight.  Oh, and Suze be good”.  Of course I will, hehehe.  Those were the last words from my parents as they left the house for their holiday in Cancun.

Fourteen days of being on my own in the house.  Whoopee fucking do!  Of course Suze will be a good girl.  “I’ll be the perfect party host!”  😀  Not only had they left enough supplies to last me for at least 10 days but also a hand full of cash, should I need anything.  The amount I don’t remember but at that time, it was a lot of money.

I would have been about seventeen and a half and left to fend for myself and look after the house for the first time.  My parents must have suspected that little old me would not quite be an angel whilst they were gone.

The first phone call I made was to my boyfriend Scott at the time.  Followed closely by my closest girl friend Liz, whom I have spoken about on this blog before.  She was a lesbian and fancied the pants off me.  Which was fine as I liked her too.  😉

I cooked them both lunch out of the freezer (I didn’t want to spend any of that cash on food now, did I?) and we opened a bottle of white wine (my palate hadn’t developed to the finer tastes of a good red at that time.  LOL).  I would replace the wine before my parents got back, so not a problem.

We had a great afternoon of fooling around.  Playing records which my parents didn’t like and turning up the volume on the stereo to “11”.  LOL.  My parents didn’t speak much to the neighbours anyway so fuck em!  They were hardly going to report back to my parents, were they. 

My parents hadn’t even been gone a day and there we were wondering who to invite to the party.  It just had to be done, I never had parties at home for obvious reasons.  Well not since I was ten, when we politely had cheese and pineapple on sticks and party sausages.  This was going to be a different party all together.  With booze, loud music and lots of fun!

Liz volunteered herself to making the invitation phone calls.  I was rather naive in thinking that I could restrict the party to just invited friends and acquaintances.  How wrong was I, but I didn’t find out until much later.  She must have extended an invitation to about ten good friends, which seemed to be to be a nice controllable number.  After all I didn’t want the place trashing or to wake up and find half of the furniture and ornaments gone.  😀

We did the sensible thing and boxed up the most delicate or “eye catching” items in the house and took a chance on the rest.  Scott then climbed in to the attic and secreted the items away for safekeeping.  You’ve all seen Risky Business, right?

Scott was a little older than both Liz and myself and offered to go and get the booze in his car, so we both went along with him to choose and of course for me to pay out of my supplies money.  I had a vodka thing going on at the time, so we bought a couple of bottles (this could have been because it is not very strong on your breath.  Remember in the UK it is illegal to consume alcohol in a public house until you are 18.) So it was the booze of choice to avoid parental detection.  LOL.  Not sure what else we bought but I spent the majority of the money on making sure we all had a good time.

The guests began to arrive and Liz and myself made sure they got a drink and added their bottles to the kitchen table.  We were getting together quite a bar and I had dug out a few snacks to soak up some of the alcohol.  Every thing was going fine but as the night progressed I was sure that there were faces at the party I had never seen before.  Liz confirmed this, some of the people invited had brought friends.  Not a problem as long as they brought drinks I thought.

It was difficult to contain the party and there were people outside sitting on the back garden chatting and some had gone on to the front.  Shit! Alarm bells rang.  I didn’t want to attract attention to the house by having drunken teenagers all over the driveway.  I ran outside and mustered them in.  The neighbours on the other side did talk to my parents but were elderly and hard of hearing, so I hoped they wouldn’t notice anything unusual going on next door.

It’s strange how you don’t notice pissednessâ„¢ creeping up on you.  I thought I had been very careful to stay reasonably sober so that I could oversee the party.  But no, I was as pissed as my guests.  That would explain why I tried to get my best friend Liz off with a guy called Andrew.  I told him she had a crush on him and to wait in my bedroom whilst I send her up to him.

This was a very bad idea.  She ran downstairs crying and I felt really, really bad.  I managed to calm her down and she told me that he had tried to put his hands inside her pants.  She was annoyed at me but forgave me and Andrew for his vain attempt at chatting her up.  Not quite the technique I would have used Andrew.  Liz saw the funny side and laughed about it later.

Everyone managed to keep their clothes on, partly due to me and Liz patrolling the bedrooms for most of the evening until our legs would not carry us upstairs anymore.  By which time we most of our friends and gatecrashers had left.

I recall climbing up the stairs on all fours when everyone except Liz and Scott had gone.  Liz slept in my bed and I climbed in to my parent’s bed.  It would have bothered me to do that under normal circumstances but I was a little worse for wear and my conscience was inebriated too. 

Up until this point Scott and I had not slept together or indulged in sex at all.  But that night it felt right to let him slide in to bed next to me just to hold me.  He had his boxer’s on and I had my bra and pants on.  I remember drifting on the edge of sleep and consciousness when I felt his hand wrap around me and his fingertips slip under the elastic of my panties.

I felt comfortable with his advance and pretended to be asleep.  He pushed his hand further inside my panties.  I stayed perfectly still not sure if I should release my vocal encouragement or remain silent.  As if by doing so I excused myself from the burden of consent.

His fingers advanced towards my lips, which were moist from anticipation.  I could feel his warm breath on my neck as he pushed his body against mine.  He cheekily pushed his groin in to my buttocks and I could feel his erection sticking in to my butt cheek.  His finger parted my lips so gently and he glided his fingers along my slit lubing me as he went.

A moan escaped my lips as he pushed his finger inside me and I pushed against him for maximum penetration.  He was rather clumsy and fumbly but he did bring me to orgasm in bed that night.  It was his first time and he savoured the tasty fluid coating his fingers after I came.  That was such a turn on to watch but I wasn’t quite ready to take it to the next level yet…

Me And The Girl Next Door

Long time readers of this blog are aware that I swing both ways and I make no secret of the fact that I am very much attracted to other females. Unfortunately, I haven’t had many opportunities in my life up to now to explore this side of my sexuality.

I’ve been on the receiving end of a few long glances from other girls, one of which I missed when we were at the mall a while ago. Alex said the girl took a really lengthy, maybe even desiring look at me. I missed it and by the time he had explained the situation to me, the girl had disappeared. So I blew that one.

The longest tryst I have been in with another woman was about 2 months, one hot summer over 10 years ago now. But it was so special to me that I will never forget it. I don’t recall ever going in to detail about this encounter, so as I feel reflective today I will try to fill in the blanks.

My boyfriend at the time was in a very good job and had a mortgage and his own 2 bedroomed house in a very quiet suburb. Just goes to show you never know who is in the neighbourhood. 😉 A couple of houses down from him he had become friends with a guy who shared his interest in cars. I know, Yawn.

He wasn’t quite the Max Power man but pretty close and his cock was well, let’s just say he didn’t need a fast car to compensate for anything 🙂 …Where was I? One sunny Saturday afternoon he invited his friend and his wife (He was married but very young. They both were) round for a BBQ.

She seemed very nice a pleasant girl with a very cute giggle. Not stunning in the looks department but a very kind and gentle look about her. Nichola was about 5’1″ with a petite frame and I towered above her, or so it seemed at 5’7″. She had gorgeous sparkling green eyes. In fact they were the first thing I noticed about her and shoulder length blonde hair.

I found myself staring at her, captivated from the moment they entered the rear garden of the house. Her husband Dave stood about 6’1″ with a medium build and badly pock marked skin. Looking beyond this, he was a really happy go lucky guy with a heart of gold and a great sense of humour. Which in my books is one of the most important characteristics a man can have.

The sun was fairly warm that day and we were all dressed in light clothing from what I can recall. Strange that, I can remember that Nichola had a blue cotton mini dress and flip flop style sandals and I wore a pair of denim shorts and a black t-shirt. Don’t ask me to tell you what the guys had on because I really don’t recall.

We ate and drank and laughed our way through the afternoon and in to the early evening. It started to get a little chilly so we moved inside and put on some music. The wine was flowing and the converstation was easy. I seemed to immediately click with both of them. Especially Nichola.

All three of them sat on the sofa and I sat in front of them on the floor. I like to face people when I speak to them and quite often find myself sitting on the floor. It also gives you some of the best views when one of the guests is wearing a very short dress. Oooh, stop me, before I go off in a dream! I clearly remember catching the odd glimpse up Nichola’s skirt during the evening.

She kept crossing and uncrossing her legs and I was treated to the sight of her tanned thighs and her white panties (g-string as I found out later). The wine continued to flow and the conversation began to turn to things of a more adult nature. I was now sitting on the floor with my right arm across Nicholas lap as I turned the conversation to underwear.

After a few minutes of talk about what we all preferred to wear and our partners to wear. I disappeared to my boyfriend’s bedroom and returned to the living room with my kinky underwear collection. Both Nichola and Dave were sat on the sofa fondling my lingerie, it was quite surreal but with the amount of alcohol we had consumed perfectly OK. Nichola expressed an interest in a skimpy pink cami top and pants and without a thought I suggested that I try them on to show her how they look. Nichola eagerly accepted and I rushed to the bedroom with my heart racing to change.

When I returned to the room wearing just the two items I was greeted by three pairs of keen eyes and a resounding agreement that I looked good in them. It was about this point that Dave suggested that Nichola ought to try on my red bodysuit if that was ok with me. I wasn’t about to object and off we went to the bedroom to change.

Nichola slipped out of her dress and removed her bra before stepping in to the body suit. She had her back to me but I managed to catch glances of her as she manipulated the suit over her torso. I found myself wanting her and she seemed to be giving me positive feedback but there is always doubt in your head. Things like that never happened to me.

We probably tried on about 3 more outfits before collapsing on the bed next to each other with our legs overhanging. I don’t know quite how it happened but the next thing I know her lips are pressed against mine and we are kissing softly at first and then deep and passionately. My heart must have been audibly beating in my chest I was so turned on.

The kissing progressed in to fondling and then undoing on buttons and next my finger was inside her wet slit and feeling her moist walls. I began to finger her and lick her clit as I lay between her outstretched legs. Her head hung off the bed and moans began to issue from her open mouth.

Her nipples stood hard pointing upward, pink buds of flesh waiting to be sucked. I moved up her body and sucked her left nipple between my lips and ran my tongue around it. My fingers were working her faster now and I recall her juices running between my fingers. Now I had three fingers inside her, fucking her and massaging her interior wall. She seemed to be enjoying my ministrations but something was missing, she wasn’t giving herself completely to me.

I move over towards her face and asked what did she want me to do. She told me to lick and suck her clit. I transferred my attention to her erect clit and began to alternate between gentle rubbing with my fingertip to licking and sucking with my mouth. Nichola began to buck and thrust wildly. This was obviously working. I had spent ages fingering her and within minutes of me stimulating her clit she was announcing that she was coming.

Hearing this threw me in to ecstasy, my pussy was pulsing hot and wet. I flicked and licked at her for all I was worth, trying not to get my nose bashed in the process. Her moans driving me on. She began to quiver and I tasted her warm cum as it hit my tongue. I lapped at her with the greed of a wanton woman as she squirmed beneath me.

Her husband and my boyfriend had entered the room during this but we had been so involved that we didn’t notice. Dave climbed on to the bed besides me and kissed me and it seemed the right thing to do as I had just taken his wife. My boyfriend smiled at me when our lips parted and I knew this was going to be a good summer.

The guys left us girls to it and when Nichola recovered her compostion she fucked me with my vibrator and I came again and again. It’s more than just sex when it’s new territory, it feels like you are also having your mind fucked. A totally hot sexual experience. We thrashed it out in the bedroom for the rest of the night and parted with a see you soon.

We did see each other again but most of the meetings were due to me going round to their house. Most of the time just to chat because she had a young son aged about 3 at the time. So we would chat and have surreptitious exchanges when we could. I would reach inside her panties and rub her clit whilst we sat at the kitchen table. Thankfully the table cloth served as a good shield from enquiring eyes were we to be stumbled upon.

She would reach inside my blouse and tease my nipples whilst the her son and the neighbour’s kids played in the yard. This all very new and exciting and my boyfriend got off on the fact that he knew what I would be up to whilst I was down the road visiting Nichola. When I got back he would fuck me senseless. So all in all this was a very sexually liberating time.

Over the next few weeks I began to sense that Nichola was getting colder and colder towards me. This hurt, it felt like the breakup I had with my first crush. Our encounters became fewer and fewer and eventually the whole thing just fizzled out. It took me weeks to get over it I felt so hurt and rejected. I do still think of her from time to time. What is she doing now? Is she still with Dave? Would she still fancy me and, could we?…


Long time readers will know that I experience a form of synaesthesia . In my case this manifests itself in me “seeing colours” whenever I experience intense sensation. This can make for some amazing orgasms.

Last night we made love twice. The first before we watched a film, the second afterward. The first time was very enjoyable, as it usually is. The second was something special.

I was very aroused and without going into the detail, Suze was enjoying my vigorous thrusting attentions very vocally. As I felt the orgasm building within me, coinciding very nicely with her final climax of the evening, I knew something was different.

It was a whole body thing. I suppose what people into Tantra describe as a whole body orgasm. I’ve had similar before, but my orgasms are always different. Both in intensity and the depth of synaesthesia I experience. My body was, well the best way I can describe it is charged, with sensation. I felt that my skin had turned white and was crackling with green sparks as I came.

My cock was hyper-sensitive. More so that you’d normally expect after ejaculation. Even as I came inside Suze I became aware of this. Until each thrust was thrillingly agonising. Did that make sense, I often have trouble expressing these synaesthetic experiences in words.

Eventually I came to rest inside Suze, holding her, shuddering, even the slightest movement of my penis against her soft, wet passage sent waves of searing white pain through me. I was gasping and holding her tight. Afterwards she said she thought I was sobbing and was a little concerned.

Eventually I withdrew from her, it was like someone was applying an electric shock to the back of my neck. I can still feel it now, the memory alone is making me shudder.

The cool air on my wet penis was enough to make me shake.

More Jizz Biz

I was over at Mr Fabs this morning and he was talking about the latest influx of adult spam he had received in his mail. We all get it don’t we. Lately I have been inundated with erection inducing drugs. I’ve had so many offers that I am starting to wish I had a dick of my own. LOL No offence Alex.

These preparations must be helpful to some but I don’t want to improve my erections, neither does Alex. *wink* And I do wish they would learn how to spell erection properly, something doesn’t look right here “erecxction”. Hehehe.

He mentions a drug beginning with “S”, which I am not going to give advertising space to here. It sounds very intriguing. A sperm enhancing product…now that got my attention.

First I did a little research in to ejaculation. Male orgasms are usually about 17 seconds in duration but can be anything from a few seconds to a full minute (you lucky sod). During which time the amount of ejaculate ranges between a teaspoon and a tablespoon in volume.

I’m not sure how much Alex ejaculates because it usually ends up inside me or being swallowed. He would probably be well under capacity due to the frequency we have sex, on a bad day it may only be once. 🙁 On a good day four or more times. 🙂 So maybe he only emits by the teaspoon on a good day.

If we could both go without fucking for a day I could probably research this better. But we can’t so I won’t even go there. LOL

S’s hook line is “Ever wanted to ejaculate like a porn star”. Strangely enough I felt compelled to read on. I never really thought about it before but there are some quite good ejaculators out there in the porn industry. I’ve made a habit of watching them for years. 😀 I always thought they abstained from sex for a few days prior to shooting (pun intended) to increase their volume. I needed to learn more.

One of the testimonials for S came from a couple that like to shoot their own porn videos and he claims that his ejaculation has improved significantly. His money shots only used to be worth a dollar, now he claims that a veteran porn star would be jealous.

At this point can I just add, if there are any producers of this potion reading this who would like us to selflessly trial this for them, in the name of science Alex and I would like to offer. LOL

The promo material says there are no side effects from taking this. Well one came to my mind, a smile stretching from ear to ear and a very happy partner. Unfortunately happiness does cum at a price (that was intentional) a bottle of 60 (20 days supply) costs you almost $60.

There are two main contenders in this market, the other one is “O” which has some very interesting ingredients. Below is a list of ingredients for both.

S: L-Carnitine, Vit C, Vit E, Vit B12, Folic Acid, Zinc, Vit B-6, Green Tea, Dong Quai

O: Tribulus, Yohimbe Extract, Epimedium, Muira Puama, Panax Ginseng, Catuaba Bark Extract, Damiana, Horny Goat Weed

I’m not sure which one I would select to try as they both contain ingredients of interest, Dong Quai and I just love Horny Goat Weed. 😀

My research has not discovered one way or the other if these preparations work. So, over to you dear readers. Is there anyone out there who has tried one of these preparations and if so did it work? Or has anyone discovered a dietary aid? I’m interested to see what you all come up with.

Night Scented Stock – Part 2

The old stones that framed the door had witnessed the entrance and exit of every visitor to the house for nearly two hundred years. But they had never seen anything like Clara before.

She tapped on the dark wood, the gentle touch of her delicate fist rattling the leaded windows at the front of the house and sending a wave of infrasound through the timbers of the upper floors. The party guests took it as a particularly bad-ass riff from Ollie Riedel. Rammstein indeed.

The door was opened by the host, washing Clara in a pool of music and light. He smiled, “Wow you look, amazing!”

“Aren’t you going to invite me in Nathan?” she asked.

“Do come in, M’Lady.” Chuckled her host, bowing elaborately.

She stepped across the threshold and into the midst of a party in full swing.

“Drink?” asked Nathan, waving a bottle of Chablis at her.

“Later perhaps.” She smiled as she slipped out of her cloak “I’ll take this upstairs.”

“Third door on the left.” Shouted Nathan.

She made her way past the groups of revellers on the wide staircase.

Even on the upper floor the house was full of music, the sound system downstairs muffled by the intervening timber and plasterwork. In common with the rest of the rooms, the “coat bedroom” was occupied. The pile of discarded garments on the bed rose and fell, driven by the oscillating buttocks of one half of a copulating couple.

Rather than use the bed Clara opened a wardrobe and hung her cloak on a hanger to avoid unnecessary dry cleaning.

She descended the stairs, eyes scanning the faces of the other guests. Her nose twitched almost imperceptibly, seeking the telltale molecules that were leading her to her quarry.

She smiled as several friends and acquaintances greeted her on her way to the main hall. As one might smile at a puppy when it lovingly delivers your chewed, saliva covered newspaper to your lap.

She strode through the double doors into the hall and became submerged in the sea of music, strobes and lasers that was Nathan’s 21st birthday party.

The cacophony from the speaker stacks was the kind that drove logical thought from the mind and left only feelings and instincts. Clara’s pupils were pinpricks now, her eyes able to perceive the smallest handful of photons. All the better to seek her prey in the darkest of places.

He was close now, her mouth watered in anticipation. She was drawn to the corner of the room, to a table next to the furthest window. A bow wave pushed before her, party goers pausing in their terpsichorean courtships to turn and stare at the porcelain skinned vision as she passed.

Black thoughts, shards of obsidian, sliced through her mind. She was becoming accustomed to this new way of thinking already, no remorse, no regrets, only her final objective mattered, and that end justified any means to accomplish it.

Clara stared at the meek looking young man sat alone behind the large oak table, hugging his pint of beer. She took her place next to him on the settle. The rest of the party seemed to have forgotten her passing for the moment.

“Hello Ben” Clara’s quiet voice seemed to enter his mind without passing through the intervening air. Ben blushed, girls like Clara didn’t speak to Ben. “I’m so glad you came to the party, so glad I found you.”

Ben gulped, “Er, Oh.” Was the extent of his attempt at a nonchalant reply. She leant forward and kissed him on the lips. Ben froze. The perfume of night scented stock enveloped him. Her soft pursed petals lingered on his frozen visage, the enchantment only broken when he felt her bite. “Aaargh!”, he pulled away, licking his lips. The ferrous tang unnerving him.

Clara ran her tongue slowly across her exposed teeth, smearing his blood across them and leered at him.

Ben was about to protest when she slid below the table and began to unfasten his belt. He felt his hips tugged down to aid removal and his flies undone. His trousers slid down to his ankles. Ben looked around, panicked by the realisation that he might be literally caught with his pants down. But no one was looking.

He felt unseen hands seek out his turgid member, lips enveloped him. Her tongue began a slow sensuous courtship with his cock, teasing, it to full arousal. He was big, she had sensed that, and beautifully formed. The head, now bursting with blood almost filled her mouth. She followed the contours of his perfect plum, tasting him, drinking in the fluid that had begun to seep from him.

She released the end of his cock from her mouth, just for a few moments, to lick his shaft. She followed the throbbing veins almost tasting the blood that flowed through them. Her incisors grazed him, soliciting a gasp. She reached the base of his cock, nuzzling into the thatch of light brown hair, nose burrowing into his scrotum, nestling for a second between his balls.

Back up her mouth travelled, kissing and nibbling, oh so gently to the tip. He felt himself consumed again, deeper this time, the lively muscular gatekeeper of Clara’s throat coaxing him in, inviting him to slip deeper and deeper.

She gently moved back and forth, allowing the contours of her throat to tickle his glans. She had no need to breath, for her that was an affectation and only really necessary for audible speech. He was close and this simply added to her excitement, the crotch of her panties was sticky with her juices, inner thighs glistening wet.

Ben grasped the edge of the table with both hands. His excitement was reaching its peak. His fingers seemed to become one with the dark golden wood of the table, fingers sinking into the surface. He felt the seasons pass, in quick succession, each so different. He emerged as a green shoot from an acorn buried under the leaf mould. Wet springs, long warm summers, windy autumns bidding farewell untold thousands of yellow leaves, to bitter winters that froze the end of his branches. Then finally the cruel blows of the axe separating him from the earth forever.

She reached up and grasped his balls in her hand, gentle at first, then hard, cruelly hard as she felt the muscular contractions that signalled his orgasm. She felt the waves of cum charge along his cock and spray into her throat. He moaned, hips thrusting until he could cum no more.

She let him slip almost from her mouth, running her tongue around him, tasting the last milky droplets as they oozed from him.

Ben’s euphoria slipped away, replaced by the practicality of pulling up his trousers as inconspicuously as possible. He looked at this hands, flexing his fingers. For a moment he thought he heard them creak like boughs blowing in the wind.

Clara slid back onto the settle beside him, licking her lips. She placed her hand on his upper thigh “Come outside, I’d like to get to know you a little better.”

Smooth As A Baby’s…

When the weekend arrives it heralds the start of 2 days of hot sexual activity in the house. To start the weekend off properly we groom each other’s private parts so that they are nice to nuzzle your face in to.

Alex is always first on the list. I lay a large bath towel over the bead for him to lie fully naked on. Yes, fully naked you’ll find out why later don’t be so impatient. He lays there whilst I set up the shaving foam, razor, washcloth and bowl of water on the bedside table.

I then climb on to the bed, straddling his left leg which I spread wide open exposing his perineum and slightly parting his ass cheeks. I have a routine, it may sound rather anal but it works. I wet his upper groin stubble with the washcloth, then shake the can of foam and spray generous dollops on to him.

Here is a shaving diagram so you can keep up with me. And just so you too can imagine that you are shaving Alex along with me (perhaps this will only work for some people. LOL) this image is taken just before I shaved off his stubble. 😉

Ahem! You can stop looking now…

The most effective way to remove this way is by using upward diagonal strokes, working out in a sunburst pattern. I then remove the remaining foam with the washcloth and dab dry with a towel. Next I shave the perineum, scrotum and base of his cock. Alex has to give me a hand at this point and he doesn’t object to having to hold his cock taught and out of the way.

He takes a firm hold of the tip and pulls it slightly towards the opposite hip. This gives a little tension on the balls and helps to lift them. The perineum is best shaved upwards as it is awkward to shave the other direction. At this point I will openly admit the scrotum is the worst thing to shave in the world ever! The balls are constantly turning and moving the flesh coupled with the fact that it is not easy shaving a walnut. LOL

The balls are best tensioned as you go with your free hand and plenty, lots, loads of shaving foam. Which makes them all the more difficult to shave because the flesh is hard to grip, so you will have to resort to the pin down. Which is basically pulling the flesh upwards whilst applying even pressure on them. But not too much pressure or you may get a kick in the pussy!

There is not set rule about shaving this furrowed terrain other than to advise that you feel your way and shave from every direction until the area feels smooth whilst you are looking away. By this time you will have noticed that things are beginning to tighten down there of their own accord.

It is round about the 2nd quarter that My Dinkle starts to get hard, which further exacerbates the ball shaving as they churn away in reaction to the looming erection. It does aid shaving the other side now that things are beginning to be less flaccid and surplus skin is now becoming one with a rapidly growing hard on.

Now I repeat the procedure for the opposite side and I must admit shave this side faster than the other. 🙂 Alex is usually rock hard by the time I get to the upper groin area, so I am usually swift and effective with the razor by this point.

Then comes the acid test. I take his erection in my hand and push it up towards his stomach. Then I encircle each of his balls in turn with my tongue, checking for any unwanted stubble. Finally in one long slow languorous stroke I lick up his shaft to the tip of his hardness. All the while Alex is lying back on the bed groaning with my ministrations and running his fingers through my hair. This could be his favourite part of the grooming routine. 😀

When I am at the very tip I gently pull back his foreskin and enclose my mouth around his girth. This makes usually makes Alex involuntarily push his hips towards my face. I grip his cock between my lips and push my tongue forward as I slowly descend on to his erection. This is the next part of the smoothness test. As he bottoms out in the back of my throat and my nose is pushed in to his groin, I ask myself “can I feel any stubble against my face?”.

The answer should be “No”, if it is I am satisfied that I have made a good job of it. Alex confirms this by thrusting slowly in to my mouth, my reward is imminent. He pulls his cock free of my mouth and moves around the side of me whilst I recline on to the mattress.

Grabbing hold of each of my ankles he moves his groin towards mine and places my ankles over his shoulders. Using my knees to pull me on to his shaft. Now, practically bent in two he fucks me deep and hard for being such a good willy barber. As you can imagine, I can’t wait to repeat the process next week. Any volunteers? 🙂

Night Scented Stock – Part 1

Her cheek slowly became accustomed to the cold of the marble. Or was it that as the life left her body the tabletop was more akin to her flesh, white, almost flawless, cold, unchanging. Eyes closed she slipped into the deepest sleep she would ever know.

The slightest of breezes stirred the quatrefoil flowers, painted grey by the moonlight. Their sweet perfume lulled her mind as it’s final living thoughts dissolved into the jet blackness of oblivion.


The path through the woods was not the place a sensible, good, respectable girl should be at night. Not on her own at least. But sensible is boring and respectable is a veneer.

Good? Now there’s a word whose interpretation depends on your point of view.

Clear skies display the stars as someone once said, “Like quicksilver cast across a blue-black velvet firmament by God”. She preferred of a god, or to be more accurate a goddess.

Her purple velvet cloak was tied loosely around her, the warm night not really warranting the heavy garment. The hood, more suited to winter hung down her back. Her feet clomped on the worn stone slabs of the path. Atop the hill the house ahead beckoned with yellow lights from its leaded windows, and the sound of cheery voices and music.

Clara could not hear them. Her iPod was turned up too loud. Sisters of Mercy assailed her ears.

He followed her at a discrete distance. Even without “Vision Thing” pounding her brain she would not have heard his feather-light footfalls.

She removed the earphones and stuffed them into the pocket of her cloak.

“Clara”, a voice whispered in her ear.

She turned, startled, ventricles momentarily frozen. Eyes wide she scanned the empty path behind her. Breaths came fast and shallow. But there was nothing there. She smiled and chastised herself for her jitters.

She turned back toward the house. Into his arms.

The world around them froze, trapped in a crystalline moment of time. A scream left her lips and echoed back from the walls of the diamond prison that enveloped them both. Her brain felt shattered by the impact of the sound of her terror as it traversed the neurons over and over.

His hands held her shoulders and lifted her until her jade eyes were level with his icy blue-white irises. Then as hormones raced and every corpuscle in her arteries became charged with energy, she began to feel light headed. Her head was heavy, too heavy to support, falling backwards, exposing her neck.

He leant forward, canines glinting in the starlight. Almost delicate in their incision they slid through her epidermis, dermis, tunica adventitia finally piercing the tunica intima.

Her blood flowed out into his waiting maw, tongue lapping, drinking her down. Her life too, consumed by his hunger. Then he drank from the deepest well of all, her mortal soul.

She felt the ice-white incision, then the rush as her body surrendered to his voracious appetite. Her heart thundered like a diabolic trip hammer, a metallic ringing in her ears, beating out time. Counting down the seconds as her life slipped away.

Her cheeks flushed briefly with excitement, she pushed her neck into his mouth. The deeper his teeth sliced into her carotid artery, the hotter she felt. The colour left her face as there was no longer blood enough to fill the capillaries. The excitement had moved downward, across her chest, a rolling golden glow of anticipation sliding across her breasts. Her nipples tingled and rubbed against her blouse.

Down it went, towards another ripple of pleasure that had started as a tremor in her feet.

The eventual nexus became clear. Her eyes rolled and her mouth gaped as she anticipated the collision of the two raging breakers in the depths of her sex.

She moaned, so close now. An eternity passed as the wave fronts annihilated each other and in so doing combined into a stellar orgasm, spreading outwards now across her body. Stars were born, grew old and died in that release. But only seconds had passed.

He laid her limp form in the garden on the marble-topped table, turned and became one with the night.


Her cheek slowly became accustomed to the cold of the marble. Or was it that as the life left her body the tabletop was more akin to her flesh, almost flawless, cold, unchanging. Eyes closed she slipped into the deepest sleep she would ever know.

The slightest of breezes stirred the quatrefoil flowers, painted grey by the moonlight. Their sweet perfume lulled her mind as it’s final living thoughts dissolved into the jet blackness of oblivion.

Her eyes snapped open. Nostrils flared, extracting each scent particle from the breeze. She smiled as the aroma of one man took her attention.

Sliding off the table she drew the bouquet of the night scented stock around her like a second cloak and walked toward the house.

She had two insatiable hungers now, and only one was for blood.

Toilet Tissue Balls

Toilet paper. It looks kind of innocent, doesn’t it? We have a roll on display in every room of the house. Not because I find it aesthetically pleasing or because we can’t afford the standard household nick nacks. But, because it is a valuable Sex Aid. At this point you are all thinking I have gone fruit loops, aren’t you?

Just think about it. How inconspicuous a roll of toilet paper is, your parents and friends would never guess why it is sitting on your coffee table. 😀 We also have a roll in the kitchen on the worktop, in the hall table drawer, on the office desk, by the bed on the bedside table and of course lots in the bathroom. Not one person asks why we have them scattered about the place.

Don’t let on to our parents but they are used for mopping up after-sex fluids. To be more precise and less eloquent, for bunging up my fanny and wiping Alex’s dripping cock. LOL The last thing you need when you’ve just finished fucking is to have to get up and search for toilet paper with cum dripping all over the place.

So, we keep ours to hand for just that very task. All rolls are strategically placed to be at hand wherever we fuck. Now, you understand why toilet roll is an important sex aid, without it there would be strange stains on carpets all over the world.

After Alex has pumped me full of his cum I need to bung up with at least 6 sheets of toilet tissue to hold back the dam. This will buy me enough time to get to the bathroom to get cleaned up. The timing of bung removal must be under 5 minutes, otherwise you have problems down there.

If left on any longer the tissue tends to adhere to all you little nooks and crannies. And fuck! if it gets stuck and dries on to you clit don’t try taking it off without moistening it first. I only made that mistake once…

Here am I giving you all advice on the swift removal of the fanny bung but more often than not we end up in an embrace which takes me well over the limit. Much to Alex’s peril. Yes Alex. He is the one who will be finding small tissue balls inside my flaps for the rest of the evening. He assures me that giving cunnilingus is not good when your tongue is rolling small pieces of tissue around. 😀

Incidentally, if any of you know of a tissue that doesn’t tend to stick in as quickly as Charmin can you let me know in the comments. I must admit I am feeling a tendency towards using Andrex Moist Toilet Tissue but I have reservations about how they may taint my pussy. I’m not wanting to make Alex ill when he licks me afterwards. Does anyone know if these moist wipes are tongue friendly? Hehehe.

I don’t fancy the idea of taking him to hospital with poisoning and having to explain what he ingested, and how. Note to self: Next time I’m shopping I need to check the active ingredients of moist wipes.

It’s amazing what you can find under toilet tissue on the internet. I found a site where you can design your own toilet tissue. My guess is that the most frequently used image will either be the boss or an ex partner. Brown could be a popular colour choice too. LOL Go take a look here.

I also found this too. Now this is taking the whole thing a little too far. It is now possible using a wireless connection to have the latest news printed out on to your toilet roll, so you can read before you wipe! And if you don’t allow the ink to dry before use, your partner could catch up on the headlines at home 😀

Many thanks to Ceeci who gave me the idea for this post this one inspired me

Blood Ties

This is my second attempt at Haiku, ever. I did a bit of research on Haiku before I started and scared the pants off myself. The complexities of Japanese Haiku (written in Japanese) are a little too much for a beginner like me, so I took the “if it’s not written in Japanese you can choose your own rules” approach. I chose just the 5-7-5 rule 🙂

So I crave your indulgence.



Pale frosted skin
Needle sharp white intruders
Sudden gasp, tensing

Tear’s well overflows
Essence ebbs expunging soul
Regret forgotten

Liberated bride
Hungers now as did her groom
Seeks to satiate

Bound in soulnessness
Never dyeing, no more alive
Hunger deepest red

Partners eternal
Chained in blackest damnation
Compelled by hot lust

Helios reviled
Monarchs of inky blackness
Feared dark deities

Forbidden lovers
Secret objects of desire
Are my depravity

The naughty little picture attached to this post is by Victoria Francés. You can find lots of her work here.

Even Better Than The Real Thing

Parts of what follows are true, parts are pure fiction, what might have been perhaps. Either way the names have been omitted to protect the guilty. The name of the nightclub has also been omitted for obvious reasons too.

What’s better than a six-form disco? A sixth-form disco when you left the year before. You’re out in the real world, well higher education, man of the world, enigmatic sophisticated, randy as a sex starved dog.

I should remember the music but cider had dulled my senses to the point where I wasn’t even aware of the inevitable vengeful hangover I would wake with in the morning.

We had been friends at school, she was two years younger than me, well 18 months as I was at the lower end of the year, age-wise. We had been friends, nothing more. She was wearing a white blouse open to reveal a black bra, black leather skirt, fishnets and pixie boots. Her face was painted, not made up. Too much make up.

If I saw her now I would say as much. You know “Hey Suze, look at that girl, doesn’t she know that less is more?”

But this was then, my reaction was, well predictable, trouser-stretchingly predictable. Thank Wranglers for strong zippers.

Her hair was naturally curly and mid brown, she never coloured it. Her eyes were still that friendly grey I remembered. But in the year since my last sixth-form disco, they’d developed a come-hither quality that stunned me into awe-struck silence.

“Lager and black.” She yelled as she leaned in towards me to make herself heard over the music.

“Seeing as how you asked.” She grinned.

I hadn’t but I bought her a glass anyway. “You’re too young.” I pointed out.

“You’re confusing me with someone you used to know. A good little girl”

And she had been a good girl. Not sickly sweet, but conscientious in her studies, kept out of trouble. The sort you’d feel comfortable taking to see your parents but wouldn’t want your friends to meet, too perfect. Now the tables were turned, she was the one your friends would try to chat up behind your back and your mother would have told you, “She’s a bad sort, nothing but trouble.”

She moved towards me, looking up. “You look different, your hair’s longer.”

She had some need to talk. Little Miss “Butter Wouldn’t Melt” had turned into a hot young woman. And my hair was longer, granted, much longer. Student life 🙂

I could see down her blouse into a cleavage that I had genuinely never attempted to sneak a peak of before. It looked awfully inviting. I looked away, the good girl thing was still haunting me. Then I realised, she knew. In the 12 months since I saw her last she had metamorphosed. And she knew what power she had.

The once sweet face turned to mine and indicated with its eyes that its owner would like to sit in a booth. Me and my half drunk pint of west country nectar followed her to the dark and slightly quieter booth. We could talk more easily and my cock would be straining less at the denim of my jeans.

The words spoken were irrelevant. Yes we caught up on things but that wasn’t the point. We manoeuvred around each other verbally. Attached? No I wasn’t. Her, yes, kind of. She didn’t look attached, or if she was, she looked like she might be looking to move on. Music yeah, we liked the same thing, always had. We kept getting closer, so we could hear each other speak, or that’s what I think we told ourselves. Until she was virtually on my lap.

“You look, well, wow!” I felt bold enough to say it now, shit I can be so backward about coming forward sometimes.

It was what she’d been waiting for. She leant in so I could feel the heat from her cheek, millimetres from mine “Thank you.”. I turned my head towards her, the peck she was about to place on my cheek landed awkwardly on my lips. He mouth opened slightly, she kissed me again. No tongues, just a soft sensuous kiss.

My hand slid around her waist, over the studded belt it found there and onto the soft leather covered rump below.

Another kiss, then another, this time my tongue invaded her mouth, tasting the blackcurrant and lager.

She slid onto my lap, one hand now on my shoulder to steady herself, the other sliding between my legs rubbing the bulge she found. My free hand spent time massaging her breasts through her clothing, the angle precluding any deeper exploration.

I don’t know how long we spent like this, but by the time we came up for air my leg was moist with precum and her cheeks were flushed.

She reached to the table for her glass, as did I. I swiftly downed most of the remnants of the pint, she drank the whole half in one go. “Don’t look so disgusted!” she scolded, smiling. “Come with me.”

I was led by the hand away from the throng and down a black painted corridor. “That sign said Staff Only'” I pointed out. “And?”.

Her destination was the female staff toilets, better than the public ones in innumerable ways, primarily that the floor wasn’t wet and they didn’t smell of beer and urine. There were two stalls, empty and a hand basin.

She unbuttoned her blouse. Slowly. Her breasts were a revelation. She had always been a friend to me, never an object of desire. She was firm, full-chested, wrapped in a lacy bra that served to emphasise her femininity. Standing hands, on hips, head cocked to one side she said “Show me what you’ve got.”. She was staring at my crotch.

I was frozen to the spot.

“Come on, that’s what you wanted to hear isn’t it?”

It was, so I showed her, feeling a little stupid with my trousers around my knees, my cock waving in front of me. She liked what she saw, apparently. Then again she’d made a thorough assessment of my package while we were getting acquainted earlier. She wiggled out of her panties and tossed them into the hand basin.

My mind did summersaults. Panties off, fishnets on, therefore stocking, not tights. She pulled me the two steps to the hand basin, causing me to adopt a lame penguin style of walk.

She hitched up her skirt and bent over the basin, grabbing the taps. They were hold-ups, no suspenders, I wasn’t complaining.

Her neat black bush stuck out from between her legs as she pushed her ass towards me. The aroma from her pudenda and the soaking wet panties in the hand basin assaulted my nostrils and hence deep into my primitive brain.

It was no virginal snatch, but then I didn’t expect that. That would have belonged to the girl I’d know at school, not the smouldering young woman bent over the wash basin.

“Aaaaah.” She released the syllable that said more than a volume of words could ever do. An appreciative ejaculation loaded with need and desire.

We ooed and aahed our lust while my cock plunged in and out of her. My hand grasped her waist sometimes as much pulling her hard onto my cock as I was thrusting with my hips. My fingers left marks in her waist as I angled her hips this way and that.

The view of her face, half visible in the mirror above the basin, and me framed, pumping away behind her would have sold for a king’s ransom on the web. Real passion, spontaneous, powerful and when the moment came we were on the ragged edge of reality. Alcohol in our veins, the deep bass of the club thumping through the soles of our feet and ringing in our ears.

We straightened ourselves up and she pushed her wet panties in to my side pocket saying “you can keep these for later”. We then left the room with expert timing. Halfway down the corridor a bouncer told us we were “In a fucking staff area”.

We both had a little more to drink and exchanged numbers. Then the night got more blurry and I only remember me and the lads playing last man standing. I didn’t win.

Then it was morning. I had somehow walked/been carried back to my bedroom in the house I was sharing. Pale yellow sun leaked into the room through gaps in the badly hung lime and sage green curtains casting the roughly patched plasterwork on the ceiling into deep relief. There was a moment of joyful remembrance for the night before, a song thrush let lose with a few notes.

Then the four horsemen of the Hangover Apocalypse began riding around my bedroom and trampling on my head. Their horses had put on a bit of weight too. And Dr Marten’s boots.

Early Morning Sex Burglar

After leaving school with my A levels I took up a couple of courses at college. I somehow wasn’t ready to go in to the big wide world and get a job and become responsible. I’m so grateful to my parents that they indulged me in this and didn’t force me to take up a job to pay my way in the household.

This meant that my teenage years were full of parties and fun, Oh, and study of course. 😉 College was great and the majority of my fellow course mates were easy to get along with. One girl there became a very close friend and we still see each other to this day.

I also met the guy I had the longest relationship with in my teenage years. You know how it is when you are young, moving from one relationship to another. Don’t get me wrong I was never the “one night stand” type of girl. The shortest time I spent with one guy was 3 months, so not quite in to the realms of slag. Pie and Asterisk will know what I mean by that. LOL

For our non Briitish readers the expression “slag” was used to describe a female who would go all the way. You know what I mean now, don’t you? Ok…fuck you or give you a blow job on the first date. I’m sure that is some people’s ideal female but not the reputation I wanted. 😀

During these carefree years I met a guy, lets call him Chris for the sake of argument. He was about 6′ 3″ with short brown hair and dark melting chocolate eyes, come to bed eyes is the best way to describe them. He was a slim built guy, which belied the fact that he was as strong ass an ox.

Chris was a couple of years older than me, a man of the world. He had a profession and best of all his own car. Men with cars at that age are like gold dust, unless you were looking for a much older guy, they always seemed to have cars but I didn’t know one.

He was still living at home with his parents too, saving and hoping to get his foot on the property ladder one day. Until that time he lived with his parents and his younger brother. They lived in a quiet suburb about 4 miles away from my home in a bungalow.

His parents were very easy going and fairly liberal minded, this meant In emergencies I could stay over night in his room as long as one of us slept on the camp bed. Emergencies being very rare, I think I only every stayed overnight a couple of times. I’m damned if I can remember what excuse (valid reason) we gave (engineered) to bring that about. LOL

No, I used to retire to my own room in my parents house of an evening after creeping up the stairs in the early hours, avoiding the steps which creaked along the way. This is a feat in itself when you have been out drinking all night.

I would be out for the count but a couple of times a week woke up early, not because I was a light sleeper but I would set my alarm clock for 4am. Can you guess why. I didn’t have a job with an early start, or classes which started early in the morning.

I’ll let you in to a secret my parents weren’t even aware of. I would get ready and dressed then make my way to the bus stop for the first bus of the morning. I don’t fish either, so you can discount that one. 😀

My journey of 5 stops would take me about 10 minutes at that time in the morning. I would hop off and then walk up the road and down a lane to arrive at my destination. The quiet suburban street where Chris lived.

His bedroom was at the far end of the property next to his brothers. The window to his bedroom faced out on to the driveway and carport at the side. It was quite high and could not be seen directly in to because of this.

Because of the difference in height between me and the window I needed something to stand on. I would bring the bin round to the side of the house and place it directly under Chris’ window. By prior arrangement he would leave the window open just a crack.

I climbed up on to the top of the bin and opened the window. Chris was sound asleep and completely oblivious to my entry. I jumped down on to the carpeted floor and pulled the window closed behind me.

In the darkness of the room I got undressed and then pulled back the covers and slipped between them next to Chris. He stirred slightly and put his arm around me in a sleepy daze. His bed had a really bad creak so most of the time my ministrations would begin with me taking his cock in to my mouth and working my tongue around the end until he started to harden. It didn’t take long before he would be hard enough to penetrate me.

We had to fuck outside the bed, usually with me on all fours so as not to wake his parents or brother. I’m sure they never bought a new bed in an attempt to stop us fucking in his room. LOL

Both of us would fuck and enjoy each other for the next couple of hours before his parents woke. Spending the last minutes of our time together embracing in bed before climbing out and getting dressed, then slipping out briefly to re-position the bin while his mum clattered about in the kitchen, so they would be none the wiser. His mum would knock on his bedroom door and bring in a cup of tea and she always said the same thing, “Oh, hello Suze I didn’t hear you arrive”. We would giggle about this as she shut the door behind her.

On this particular morning I dropped a huge bollock. I forgot to move the bin back to it’s normal spot at the front of the house. I only remembered when the sound of a bin being moved just under the window was audible.

Chris and I looked at each other. “Shit, I forgot to put it back!”, I exclaimed. “Don’t worry they will never guess”, Chris reassured me. There was a tap, tap on the door before it opened and in stepped Chris’ mum with another cup of tea, for me. “I just found the bin round the side of the house, how did it get there?”, asked his mum quizzically. I’m sure my face was painted with guilt at this point. “I don’t know mum. Maybe some kids did it as a joke”, he replied.

“I suppose so, kids these days do the most stupid things”, she said as she left his room. When the door was closed once again, we rolled about with laughter on his bed. It taught me a lesson, I never forgot again.

After drinking my tea Chris got ready in the bathroom and then he took me home. I would walk in to a silent house as my parents were still in bed at that hour. When they awoke and came down there was I sat in the kitchen drinking a cup of tea looking as if I had been home all evening. To this day they have no idea what I used to get up to. Good job I suppose. LOL

Luce D’Argento

On Wednesday night we had a wonderful full moon. The sky was clear save for a few high feathery clouds. The moonlight around midnight was so bright you could read by it.

So I got my camera out and took a few pictures from the guest bedroom window. Unfortunately the wind was rather gusty so the trees were too animated to capture in the low light. Because of the angle the double-glazed windows refracted the moon into a double image. They’re quite arty, but not very clear. I would have taken them from outside using the tripod but the massive oak trees in the hedgerow at the bottom of the garden are so dense that they obscured the view of the moon. So the bedroom was the only option. Ho hum.

Anyway, full moons do have a strange effect on me. I like the moon, it’s always held a fascination for me. Long time readers may have noticed. Which probably explains the dream I had…

I was in the garden naked, save for a pair of Lycra shorts. The air was warm and fragranced with summer grass. It was just after sunset, a red-orange glow still played across the clouds on the horizon to my right. The hills in the west were black silhouette’s against this fiery backdrop.

The wooden fence at the foot of the garden was gone, replaced by a wall of undergrowth about one and a half meters high. Beyond was a forest of oak, beech and lime. It was one of those dream moments where you know that you’re dreaming, but you don’t care. There is no forest at the bottom of our garden, just the tall oaks, a country lane, then arable fields.

I walked towards the vegetation and pushed my way through it. Feeling the bramble thorns pull at my skin, feeling the roots and fallen leaves beneath my feet. For a moment I felt a resistance, like I was pressing against an invisible film stretched in front of me. I pushed harder and broke through it, or rather it passed through me. As it did so it seemed to strip something away from me, it cleansed me, of what I was not sure, but it felt like a cold breeze had blown through me. Or perhaps I had taken a plunge into Lake Vostock, the dark, icy, pristine water washing the real world from my soul.

It was deepest night, the glow in the west suddenly extinguished. I was alone in the forest surrounded by the tall trees, clear white moonlight piercing the canopy here and there. I did not look back, the house would not be there, I knew that.

About one hundred meters ahead was a clearing, picked out by the moonlight on the leafy carpet. Obscured by the intervening trees it was presented to me in a series of vignettes. There was something curled up in the centre of the clearing, bathing in the luce d’argento.

Its mane was pale, its shape indistinct and as variable in form as the colour of oil on water. Looking at it too intently seemed to cause it to change as if the weight of the gaze from my eyes were imbued with mutative energy.

I was on the edge of the clearing now, blinded by the seemingly increasing brightness of the light in the clearing. Two steps in I stopped. The figure rose to its feet, white mane cascading down its back. It was a woman, some fifteen centimetres shorter than myself in a translucent white and grey dress. About my age, or so it appeared, and yet with long, straight, white hair.

Her head was slightly bowed. I moved forward, step by step, needing to see her at close quarters, my curiosity overwhelming my growing trepidation.

As I reached arms distance from her, she looked up. Her skin was pale as if bleached by the moonlight, yet it was not insipid, rather it glowed with energy. I stopped and stared into her eyes, orange-yellow corneas stared back at me. Fear froze me to the spot.

For a moment my veins ran with icy water.

Then she spoke, “Come with me, it’s almost time.” Her voice was clear and rich, not the lilting elfish trill that her appearance might have suggested. My blood thawed and flowed again. She took my hand and led me towards a path that seemed to open before us between the trees. My arteries were filled with a gushing torrent.

The rushing in my ears increased as we quickened from a walk to a slow run, then to a full pelt, hell for leather dash between the trees.

I looked across at her. Her hair was dancing behind her head, bosom bouncing as she ran. Her feet made only the lightest of contact with the ground. As were mine I realised.

I turn forward again, only to feel a stinging blue pain as a twig on a low branch grazed my cheek. I jerked my head to the side, caught my foot on a tree root and tumbled forward, rolling twice before I was off again on all fours. Running faster than ever, ears pricked and alert. Nose sniffing the wind that rushed past my muzzle.

My pads skittered across the soft moss and leaf floor of the deepest forest until we reached the lake. It was still, like a millpond. La Luna’s full face perfectly reflected from its surface.

She trotted towards me nuzzling my neck with her head, thick coat rubbing against mine. She nipped me, I snarled. We rolled on the grass at the lakeshore, mouthing but not biting, me asserting my dominance until she was cowed, prostate below me, naked now, white hair arrayed around her head, those strange eyes looking back into mine.

I was proud and erect, pinning her down with my hands and legs. Erect phallus pressed against her stomach, a hot rod of literal and figurative masculinity pulsing on her abdomen. She bared her teeth, almost a smile but transforming mid-motion into a snarl, canines slightly too long for a human mouth.

She kicked and rolled under me, I fell to one side. She crawled across the grass on all fours her pale-skinned round ass framing the moist pussy hair that was visible between her legs. I grabbed an ankle and dragged her back. She laughed as I pinned her down from behind.

She raised her buttocks, offering easier access to her needy loins. I pulled her to all fours and slide by cock between her legs. Not inside her yet but rubbing on her clitoris through the wiry meadow of her mons. Her buttocks were pressed against my waist, her legs clamped together while I slid in and out.

Then out, out, back and higher before the plunge into her. Long and slow, too long. It feels like I’m falling into her, mile after mile. No penetration has ever felt like this, inward, inward, further and deeper. Until eventually I reach the hilt and she groans.
My hands move from her waist to her shoulder. I push her deeper onto my cock, as if that were possible, and grind into her.

I lean forward and around her to rub her clitoris, gathering some of the nectar from there. Then I leant forward, and let her taste herself on my fingers. Her warm tongue savoured the delicacy, her teeth not letting my fingers go, even when they had been licked clean.

I was near now, and so was she. No multiple orgasm, marathon fuck. No positional catalogue of athletic prowess.

Doggy style, in the purest form
Snarling biting, gnashing teeth
Faster, harder fucking deep
She cums gripping joyous spasms
I cum thrusting animal, wild
Teeth draw blood from my finger
My nails bite her skin

And we howl
Our climax speeding across the water breaking the face of the moon into a thousand shards.

Danger! 1471

Note: In the UK 1471 returns the number of the last caller to your landline

Riiiing … Riiiiing


A hiss, a scraping sound.

“Hello, who is this?” Impatient.

A zip being undone. Clunk.

“Is this a crank call?” Petulant.

A distant, male, voice “You want it don’t you? Take them off.”

“What the f ..”

Distant muffled “Oh yeah slowly.”


A gasp, female this time. “Ooh stop teasing, put it in.”

“Aaah!” then a deep grunt, male, muffled.

“Look this is fucking sick, I’m hanging up.” But I don’t.

“Mmm, slower I want to feel you slide in and out.”

“Do you get off on this?” Intrigued.


“Really?” Amazed.

“Yes, yes, yes.”

“Oh, I see. Hello, I can hear you .” Shouting, amused.

Male now guttural, ejaculatory uttereneces “Argh, uuurggh!”.

“I’m going now …” I hang up.

A voice, received pronunciation, says “Telephone number 0, 7, … called, today, at, 18, 16, hours”

NB: For those of you who were wondering, no, this is just a bit of fun. The idea came from a conversation I had with a friend the other day. And no, I’m not telling you what else we talked about 😉

Hot Lips

I have a confession to make, following my post about greying pubes the other day I had to do a little self exploration. With hand mirror in hand I climbed on to the bed, removed my thong and positioned the mirror between my legs. It had been a while since I last viewed my pussy from that angle.

I’m obviously well acquainted with my mons but rarely find it necessary to view my labia in all their glory. That’s Alex’s terrain, as he grooms Miss Kitty (Ana’s expression) for me on a regular basis. Well, he spends the most time between my legs so he gets to do the gardening. LOL

Fortunately, no grey hairs to report. Phew! But something which did catch my eye was my labia minora. They had a healthy pink colouration with a touch of mocha at the tips but not too dark. No, it wasn’t the colour, it was the left lip which caught my eye. It was longer than the right. OMG, I’m asymmetrical. Shock horror! It is about 0.5cm longer than the other side.

This means that when my labia majora are together my left lip sticks out a little. As Alex has described it to me in the past, it looks like I am sticking out my tongue. 😛 I think it looks kind of cute. But it made me think, does anyone else out there have one lip slightly bigger than the other?

On went the PC. I discovered that the females of certain Khoisan tribes of South Africa have long labia minora. These inner lips have been known to hang down as much as 4″ below the vulva when stood upright. In Africa large labia minora is considered beautiful and some women stretch them to enhance their looks.

In Western culture the mood is different and tends towards the more compact. Corrective surgery known as Labiaplasty is quite commonly sought by women who suffer as a result of having oversized labia minora. They can cause discomfort when engaging in cycling, horse riding, walking and exercising and the wearing of jeans or tight trousers, due to the chaffing which occurs. In some cases they can inhibit sexual intercourse.

More commonly labiaplasty is used within the porn industry to beautify the vaginal area by undertaking a lip reduction. It is believed that trimmed symmetrical lips are necessary accompaniments to their perfectly sculptured faces and silicone implants. Although the average male prefers just the opposite, claiming that he likes to be able to suck on a nice pair of pussy lips.

Speaking of nice lips, I came across this site on my travels. It offers a variety of large labia orientated information and some beautiful imagery. The sites creator had this to say about the site and I quote:

“this site is a celebration of this new era in the history of female sexual self-awareness. It marks the end of the labia shame and the beginning of an age where you as a woman can also be proud to be “endowed”.

I spent quite some time appreciatively taking in the atmosphere over here, and all I can say is Yum! 😉

So ladies I think the moral of this story is, embrace you lips. There is someone out there ready to give you a good tongue lashing. I found one, this guy even placed an add on Craig’s List to find a lady with large labia minora. Here is his add if you want to contact him.

Do you have a Large Labia?

I’m not sure how to say this without sounding like a freak, especially since you’re reading this on an online personals site. But, here’s the deal. I’m a young good-looking guy who has always been really turned on by the idea of going down on a girl/lady/woman with a large labia. Having something so soft and warm fill my mouth seems like heaven. I’m very respectful and good with my tongue and fingers. I know that for some reason a big loose vagina has a stigma and women might not be proud of such a thing, but if you have one and would like to meet up, perhaps you’ll see I’m just a regular funny guy who wants to make his fantasy come true.

Any ladies out there prepared to help him out?

Tags: labia,large labia,large labia fetish,big labia fetish,labia fetish,labiaplasty,Khoisan

Splitting Hairs

(Or hares 🙂 )

Aghhh! Ok, it’s not the usual way to start a post but I have just checked out my boobs and…I hate to admit it, I found a couple of small dark hairs around my nipple. Where the hell did they come from? Does the nipple fairy come out in the night and plant dark hairs in your areola?

Last time I examined my breasts closely I saw nothing, not one dark hair between them and now two! I bet you know just what I did next. Yes, I did. I got the tweezers out and plucked the buggers out. Now, no more dark hairs. I showed them to Alex and he just laughed. Typical, men are supposed to have hairy chest’s, not ladies. The others included, “It will make your hair curl” that was used to make you eat the crusts on bread and “eat your carrots they will help you see in the dark”. As if!

It could be all the good food I ate as a kid. Did your parents tell you stuff just to make you eat up your dinner. Mine did. I used to get, “eat that all up and it will put hairs on your chest”. It’s like WTF, why should I, a girl, want hairs on my chest?

Oh, I just remembered an old boyfriend of mine. He lived with his parents who split up not long after we met. His father was found to be sleeping with another woman instead of working his nightshift. Nice work if you can get it. LOL

I would go round for my tea. It was all very British and quite formal sat at the dinning table to eat the meat and two veg dinner. We would then retire to the living room and chat. His father from what I remember was quite a jovial character with the wit of a salesman. Not sure if that is a good thing but he was very approachable. So was his mother for that matter, although not the brightest woman I have ever met.

My boyfriend and I sat on the sofa and his parents sat in the two chairs. We made polite conversation, I can’t quite recall what we were talking about. During the conversation I became aware of my bf’s mother looking down her blouse. Trying hard to be polite, I continued to talk to my bf’s father.

Out of the corner of my eye I observed her placing her hand inside her shirt fondling her left breast. I didn’t dare look over in her direction, instead I opted to nudge my bf. She then began to pluck at her breast with her fingers. “Mother, what are you doing”, he asked her. “I’m plucking the hairs from my nipple”, she replied as if it were perfectly normal to do it in company.

I tried to hold back the laughter but failed miserably. There were tears in my eyes I was laughing so much. It was probably in part due to my embarrassment at her behaviour but I was practically rolling around on the sofa with laughter. Meanwhile his mother who seemed quite unaffected at being discovered, continued to pluck away.

This was the first and last time that I ever saw anyone do this in public. I wonder if she still does it? Maybe it’s her party piece. LOL

Neoprene Me

“Now who would have thought that a trip to the local supermarket would have started me off on a new kink…

We did the usual boring shopping trip. Pre planned complete with list of goods to buy. I usually ensure that I know exactly what I am going for, it saves both time and money. I’m sure a lot of you will agree, It is also one of the most boring household chores next to cleaning.

To make the whole process more interesting Alex and I spot the looker. By that I don’t necessarily mean the most attractive person shopping that day but someone who we both feel an attraction to. Lucky me, I get to look at both sides of the species. 🙂

During the weeks we have been playing this game I have spotted more females than males. Some of whom I would not have said no to…if you know what I mean. 😉 I did actually, just the once, have my glance returned with a smile but nothing more than that. Bugger! She was a sweet looking brunette with green eyes, slightly celtic looking.

This trip was fairly uneventful except for the mousy haired girl Alex was drooling over at the deli counter. I had to tell him several times, “no we don’t need any cooked meats”! LOL There was just something missing, I didn’t find her attractive. I don’t know why.

Which leads me to my next question. Have you ever found yourself attracted to someone and you couldn’t quite understand why? Or found that something you had prevsiously overlook either through lack of interest or because it didn’t work for you, was now making your juices flow?

Alex and I were stood in the queue waiting to load the conveyor belt with goods, when I spotted someone. Ordinarily this guy would have not turned my head. But now I found myself craning my neck trying to get a better view. He approached us and joined the queue next to ours. What luck, I could now get a better look of him.

He was a tall guy, I guess about 6’5″ with broad shoulders and a golden tan. He was wearing a khaki tank and camouflarge shorts and wait for it…

…black neoprene leggings with foot styrups and flip flops. I know this sounds like a strange combination but it worked! He had a very strong athletic looking frame, with broad calves which made the leggings look GOOD!

I could only see this guy from the rear and I liked what I saw up to that point. Me moved forward and he began to load the conveyor. As he turned his head to checkout my queue I caught a full frontal view.

He was quite handsome, no he was bloody good looking. Brown eyes which could melt any woman’s clothes off and a cute face. I turned back to Alex as I began to realise that he had been packing the bags whilst I had been staring lustfully at this guy. Alex returned a knowing smile.

The rest of my packing was not up to the usual standard, I was putting any old items together instead of being selective. As I did so, stealing glances of this guys legs. Boy did he look good in that neoprene. It clung to every sinew of his lower legs and I just wanted to run my fingers over him.

This fabric must not be confused with lycra, it’s a million miles away from it. It looks more masculine and tactile, rigid and spongy at the same time. Oooh err! I have never had the pleasure of touching someone in a wet suit but I can imagine how it feels. But if anyone is offering I would love to give you a rub.

When we had unpacked I settled down at the PC. Can you guess what I just had to look up. I wasn’t disappointed there are some great sportswear shops out there. I may have to take up diving, skiing or surfing. Just look at what I found.

Now you know what I’m talking about don’t you. 🙂

Tags: neoprene,fetish,wetsuit,neoprene fetish

Evolution Part 4

“How many this month?” demanded Penelope.

“Eight, possibly nine, one of them could just be a normal missing person.” The words tumbled out of the Home Secretary’s mouth as if expressing the statistic faster would lessen the wrath of the President. It didn’t.

Penelope’s voice was low and controlled, always a bad sign. “Damn it Clare, what are the security services doing. That’s as many as in the whole of last year. I assume you’re going to tell me you have information that might lead to the recovery of the citizens and the elimination of these …” she paused as if the word stuck in her throat ” … men.”

“We believe we know where they are.”

Penelope raised an eyebrow. The Home Secretary picked up a remote control from the cabinet table and pressed a button. The lights dimmed and a presentation began.

The President lost interest almost immediately and missed most of the five minute briefing on the tactics to be used when cleansing the tunnels of the men. She slouched under the table her hand strayed to her thigh. She could smell her wetness from her tryst with Sarah and was sure that most of the room could too. She lifted her skirt a little higher, just enough to allow her hand access to her waiting pussy.

Her fingers toyed with her still swollen lips. She was at the head of the table, furthest away from the screen. The cabinet were turned toward the screen. Should she indulge herself? Or would she be heard or seen? Safer to just toy with her labia, but Penelope had not become President by playing safe.

She traced the outline of her outer lips with her expertly manicured fingernails, gently teasing. The temptation to explore deeper was only resisted for a few fleeting moments though. Inward she delved, travelling the intimate folds she knew so well. The pathways to pleasure that she had come to know as a girl, before her first and only man.

The geography of her pussy was comfortingly familiar, but never lost its allure when she needed release. It was joy to have another’s fingers, tongue, lips, teeth caress and devour it, but she alone knew that territory better than anyone else. She had felt it change over the years, mature, develop. It never failed to please her, this garden of sensual delights that she tended so diligently. At this moment it felt fiery hot with the assurance of a glowing blossom of release.

Two fingers slid into the wet furrow, back and forth rubbing her clitoris, then down towards her opening. Slowly up and down, teasing herself, testing how far she could go without emitting a sound. She bit her lip, threw her head back, the familiar rich smell of leather from the high-backed red-upholstered chair filling her nostrils.

She plunged inside, hooking her fingers round her pubis. In and out, slowly and with as much care as her mounting arousal would allow. Her hand was wet with her very essence …

Penelope became aware that the home secretary was reaching the end of her presentation. Damn! She was so close. She rearranged her self and returned to a dignified posture in her chair as the cabinet turned back towards her.

Undetected. Save for the fact that her right hand glistened with her juices and the desk blotter was drawing those juices into five tiny dark damp patches where her fingers rested on it.

“When do you recommend we begin the recovery operation?” asked Penelope.

“Tomorrow morning 03:00”


Pvt. 1743892 Hepworth lay on a thin mattress on a battered steel framed bed staring up at the peeling paint on the ceiling. It was probably once white, or cream, but had taken on a nicotine brown hue, hinting at damp and years of neglect. The olive-green walls of the holding cell were showing their age too, in places the passage of bodies across them had worn away the paint to the concrete beneath.

She heard footsteps in the corridor and scrambled out of bed, straightening her uniform and bringing herself to attention in the middle of the cell as a key slid through the escutcheon and into the lock of the grey steel door.

Two red-bereted military police officers flanked the doorway, puffing out their ample chests. Unbidden Hepworth marched out of the cell and down the corridor towards the RSM’s office, her bootless feet clad only in woollen socks almost silent on the hard. The senior of the redcaps tapped twice on the obscured glass section of the office door.


The door was opened for Hepworth, she marched inside and heard the door being closed softly behind her. She snapped to attention. She was alone with her Regimental Sar’nt Major.

Judith eyed Hepworth with sadistic pleasure over the charge sheet she was reading. It was filled out by hand, and covered in the customary plethora of official stamps.

“Hepworth …”

“Sar’nt!” Hepworth stuck her chest out further than normal.

“At ease, private. Hepworth, how exactly did you come to lose twelve rounds of ammunition?”

“River crossing sergeant. Dropped my rifle, when I recovered it the magazine had become detached.”

“Hmm”, pondered Judith. “What shall we do with you?” She leaned back in her chair, pen tapping on her teeth. “I ought to give you back to the MPs for a week you know.”

Hepworth gulped.

Judith stood and picked up her silver topped swagger stick from the desk. She slowly walked behind Hepworth, who stared forward, hardly daring to breath.

Standing behind her Judith laid the bulbous silver boss of the stick on the skin of Hepworth’s neck. Hepworth flinched. Judith leaned in so her lips were millimetres from Hepworth’s ear and whispered. “You’re afraid of me aren’t you Hepworth.” It was a statement, not a question.

Hepworth didn’t know what to say. She felt cold sweet rise on her back.

“Ana” continued Judith. “I think I should teach you a lesson you’ll not forget.”

Ana Hepworth’s heart began to thud in her chest like a medicine ball in an oil drum. Her ears rang with its thunderous cacophony.

“Take two steps forward.” Ana was now standing immediately in front of Judith’s desk.

“Take off your belt and give it to me.” Ana fumbled with her webbing belt and held it to one side, brown eyes wide and fixed on the regimental shield behind Judith’s desk. Judith’s boots trod the linoleum floor behind Ana. Back and forth, she was playing with the young private, watching her become increasingly nervous.

“Raise your arms above your head, together, elbows bent.” The moment they were raised, Judith slipped the loop she had made with Ana’s belt over her wrists and tightened it. “Keep them there.” Judith reached round from behind Ana and unfastened her trousers. They fell to the ground, Judith’s underwear followed.

Moments passed, Ana waited to feel the heavy kiss of the swagger stick on her buttocks. The air around the base of her skull crackled with blue sparks of anticipation. Her glutes were taut and firm. Judith eyed them appreciatively.

“Lean forward into the desk.” Ana complied, almost losing her balance. Her buttocks were now presented provocatively, her face, turned to one side, resting on the tooled leather of the desk.

Judith walked around her blind side, grabbed the dangling end of the belt and tied it to the desk drawer.

Returning to Ana’s perfect rear she ordered, “Legs apart.” Ana stepped out of her trousers and spread her legs. “Further”. Ana was now prone on the desk, effectively immobile.

Judith raised her hand, it landed flat on Ana’s buttock, sending a searing shockwave through her. Judith watched as the red and white outline of her hand developed. She switched sides and planted another slap mirroring the first. Then she waited, some times for seconds sometimes minutes, switching from side to side.

Ana never knew when the next blow would fall, she stayed almost silent, only whimpering occasionally. She was dancing on the atom-wide knife edge between fear and excitement. She noticed that she had become wet, very wet, and that if she angled her hips just so she could press her mons into the carved edge of the desk. Less than a dozen stinging kisses were delivered by Judith’s hand but the delicious suspense she contrived was driving them both wild.

Then she felt it, the cold metal of the swagger stick resting on her labia. Judith held it there, moving it gently, coating the end with Ana’s wetness.

Ana knew what she wanted and tried to push backward onto the stick. Judith moved backward, denying her for now, but her lust was rising too. She wanted to see the girl ride this metal phallus.

She raised the stick to her nostrils and drew in the sweet aroma of Ana’s lust. Judith’s impatience took over. She slowly slid the silver headed dildo in and out of Ana’s moist cavern. Deeper with each stroke. Ana bit her lip, not wanting to antagonise Judith, unsure if she should let out a very appreciate groan or stay silent. She chose silence and bit her lip until it bled to quell the need to vocalise her passion.

Ana let herself fall into the maelstrom of excitement and through into orgasm. Judith smiled lasciviously as the wetness around her swagger stick increased further and Ana’s body bucked and contorted on the desk. Unable to control her convulsive orgasm Ana released herself to it and rode its crest until it broke on a distant shore. For a moment she was transported and the office around her melted into a blue ocean of calm water.

She returned to reality to see Judith standing beside the desk looking down at her. Judith brought he silver head of the swagger stick to her mouth and circled it with her tongue.

Is It A Beaver Or A Badger?

Today if you haven’t already guessed I want to venture in to the pubic region. I’m just such a naughty girl and you can spank me for it later. 😉 Whilst taking a shower and foaming up my well trimmed (thanks Alex) bush, it occurred to me that one day my little pussy is going to turn grey. I know, shock horror!

Now will this happen slowly over time or will I wake one morning and wonder what happened to my pubes they look more like a badger than a beaver. LOL Or will I be bothered at all, after all I have spent lots of money and time on hair removing products. Ouch! And now they are grey they are almost invisible.

Would I be able to get away with a quick trim and pretending the ones on my inner thigh are really my fur trimmed panties. 🙂 Will they start to thin out because that would be a blessing, less for Alex to get caught in his teeth. They certainly wouldn’t be missed. LOL

A few years ago I used to know a woman who plucked the grey ones out of her box as they grew in. She even kept a pair of tweezers on the back of the toilet cistern for this purpose. She would sit on the toilet and when she spotted one out would come the tweezers. That sounds just a wee bit too painful to me.

One way to deal with it is I suppose to remove it completely or if you are a little more adventurous you could dye it. Don’t laugh. It’s not advised but if you are careful it is possible and I have read the results can be good. I suppose the main rule to apply is, select the correct colour for the job. If you are a brunette don’t go out and buy black hair colour, you aren’t Elvis and very few individuals have naturally black hair.

If like me, you don’t want to grow old gracefully (that’s for men. Only kidding. :D) I picked up these tips on the internet for successful pubes dying.

  • Choose a colour one shade darker than the hair on your head, pubic hair is slightly darker.
  • Always carry out a sensitivity test on a small patch of skin prior to using the hair colourant.
  • Cover sensitive areas with petroleum jelly to protect them from irritation and dyeing. After all you don’t want to dye your cock, a stripy one can look a little odd but could attract some attention. 😀

The first time you colour your pubes 10-20 mins should be sufficient development time, thereafter leave on for 20-30 mins.

It may be a good idea to pack your pussy lips with greased cotton balls to avoid seepage.

Or if all that seem far too much trouble, you can always invest in a merkin. What, you don’t know what one of those is. It’s a pubic wig, don’t laugh it’s true. This is one of the pubic wigs which you can purchase for £150 including glue and fitting instructions. Glue, ouch! Available from Merkin World

They have several designs for you to choose from or alternatively they will make you a personalised merkin made from your very own design. Maybe I could invest in one for the future with AlexSuze on it…

Tags: merkin,merkins,pubic wig,pubic wigs,grey pubes,grey pubic hair

Evolution – Part 3

Richard eased Mary onto her back. She tried to guide his hand downwards, towards her yearning sex, but he resisted. With one hand he stroked her hair, the other arm still held her, protectively.

Mary needed both sided of this man, the carnal and the protective. Richard understood that at this point it was impossible to tell which she needed the most. Her life was in the process of being turned upside down and yet her need for him, no her need for any man, seemed destined to prevail over the confusion she must be feeling.

So for a moment he hesitated, denying himself the tempting fruit laid before him. A woman, almost virginal, thirsting for him. To quench her sexual thirst was what they both wanted, but was it the right thing to do? Like Phineus seated at his table, his conscience threatened to snatch this succulent meal away from him.

The look of need on her face consigned the Harpies to the darkest corners of his consciousness.

He slowly unbuttoned her blouse, sliding his hand under her breast and into the small of her back. His fingers traced the line of her vertebra up to the top of her scapulas and down again. Mary felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise, she shivered, her head rolling back, a sigh escaping from her lips.

Her hand slid under his T-Shirt, exploring the strange terrain of a male form. So long since she had slept with a man, she thought to herself. Except that is in her dreams. This was like sleeping with a third sex, another sub-species of human. He was so totally different to her first and yet the bulge that threatened to rip open the seams in his jeans told her he was so very much the same.

They rolled apart as if prompted by an unspoken cue to allow one to help the other out of their clothes. Her blouse, his T-shirt, her skirt, his jeans, his boxers, her briefs. They alternated one garment at a time until they stood before each other naked.

The neatly trimmed hair of Mary’s pussy glistened with her juices. Richard’s iron-hard cock oozed a stream of pre-cum. Mary eyed it avariciously, she had heard that men had once made their women do what she now yearned to do. To take their man’s penis in their mouths. It was the subject of much playground talk, especially as the girls approached their ascension into the Sisters of Lemnos. She had always acted as disgusted by the thought of it as all the other girl’s, it was the done thing. But she had always, secretly wondered what it would be like.

She dropped to her knees, her lips quivering touched his glans. A nervous tongue ventured out from between them drawing a drop of nectar back into the warm cavern of her mouth. The taste was like nothing she had imagined. His cock disappeared as deep into her mouth as she could take it, her tongue collecting the precious issue. Mary sucked and lapped at Richard until she was breathless. As indeed was he, breathless and aroused, almost to the point of orgasm.

Richard pushed her to the floor, urgently needing to enter her. She felt his desire in the firmness of his grip on her shoulders, the way he grabbed both her ankles and spread her legs wide until his arms were almost at full stretch. The rough concrete bit into her back through the thin blanket she lay on. His face was almost invisible, his form silhouetted by the bright array of fluorescent tubes above them as he bore down on her.

She felt his cock nuzzle the entrance to her snatch. Perhaps because her lips were so engorged with blood closing her entrance, or perhaps because of inexperience on both their parts he skidded across her lips and clitoris. The surprise abrasion of her bud made her gasp with delight, but she needed to be filled.

He drew back and tried again, this time finding her opening then pressing inward. His eyes widened as he pressed deeper, mouth forming an “O”. She watched him, enjoying his obvious arousal, adding his pleasure to her own, willing him to fuck her until she came.

Richard pulled Mary’s legs together so they rubbed on his ears. His thighs met hers with each sure, strong stroke. He pushed forward bending Mary almost double, increasing his penetration and pinning her down, his arms either side of her.

She welcomed the discomfort, the constriction, the weight of him on top of her. She felt an orgasm unlike any woman had given her building inside her. She was almost there, almost. Then she felt him cumming, and so did she, the pulsing twitching grinding orgasm that no woman could have ever imitated. Richard released a sub-human groan and pinned her to the floor with a final thrust. His cock was clamped hard by her shattering climax, the climax that she had dreamt of since her first.


Penelope disembarked the Presidential train and smiled politely at the Vice President waiting on the platform. The President’s short skirt showed off her perfect legs beautifully. As a cool gust of wind whistled down the station concourse it cooled her exposed pussy still wet from her encounter with Sarah.

Penelope smiled.

Evolution Part 2

Part 1 of this story can be read here.

Miss Clifford’s eyelids fluttered open. Her retinas were seared by the bright fluorescent light filling the room around her. She shut her eyes again. She became aware of a sharp pain across her temples, distant at first, but becoming more acute as she returned to full consciousness.

A shadow passed across her closed eyelids. She risked a peek and found herself looking into the face of a man. Her eyes were now wide with horror. She lay on a concrete floor, her hands and feet were bound with strips of fabric.

What was he going to do to her? Attack her? Rape her?

He did the one thing that she expected least of him. He spoke.

“Good evening … “, he raised her ID card and read from it, ” … Miss Mary Clifford. Very pleased to meet you.” Then he smiled, a warm friendly smile. “I’m Richard …”

This was too much for Mary, her vision clouded and she slipped back into unconsciousness. The last thing she heard before the blackness took her was Richard speaking to an unseen assistant, “Oh for heaven’s sake Tim, she’s a bloody fainter.”


Penelope’s presidential train sped towards London, carrying her and her retinue. It was four in the morning and she was trying to set herself up for what was going to be a fraught day with coffee and a full English breakfast. Mel and Jen sat across from her, holding hands.

Her mood was lifted by the discovery that Mel had recruited a new waitress for the train. She was in her mid thirties by the look of her, just over five feet tall with chestnut brown hair. The light blue blouse and navy skirt that all the waitresses on the train wore suited her particularly well. As she bent over to place Penelope’s tray in front of her the outline of one of her suspenders became visible on her hip through the skirt’s fabric.

Penelope’s eye followed her around the carriage as she laid out three breakfasts. Placing the toast rack in front of Penelope the waitress’s blouse opened slightly to reveal a powder blue bra cupping a delicious pair of breasts.

“Well done Mel.” Said Penelope after the waitress had left the carriage. “I’ll thank you later.”

The President stood and with ill-disguised haste followed the waitress. “Her name’s Sarah!”, called Mel before turning to Jen and sliding her hand up Jen’s skirt.

Two cars later, Penelope saw Sarah’s back as she headed into the kitchen compartment with the empty tray. She stopped and waited for Sarah to reappear. “Sarah”, she called sounding professionally nonchalant.

“Yes, Madame President”, replied Sarah, performing a verbal courtesy. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh, just perfect, Sarah, absolutely perfect.” Penelope’s eyes alighted on Sarah’s perfect bosom. “Have you a moment?”

“Of course Madame Presi…”

“Penelope, please.” Said Penelope opening the door to the linen storage compartment. “Would you be so kind as to get me a pillow, I need to cat nap before we reach London.”

Sarah entered the compartment followed by Penelope. She reached up to the top locker to extract one of the pillows stored in it.

Penelope’s hands slid around her from behind and cupped her breasts. Sarah startled, gasped. “You have beautiful breasts.” Whispered Penelope in Sarah’s ear. Sarah felt the President’s hot breath on her cheek and teeth gently bite the helix of her ear.

Sarah shuddered with excitement when she felt Penelope’s lips kiss her neck. “Take off your blouse.”, it was not the command of a head of state but a demand from a lover to-be. Sarah’s hands dropped and hastily unbuttoned her blouse. She turned to face Penelope.

Penelope slid the garment from Sarah’s shoulders and slid her bra straps down Sarah’s arms. Sarah’s deliciously ripe breasts were topped with invitingly erect nipples. Penelope leant forward and took one in her mouth, rolling it round with her tongue before sucking the firm swollen tip in and squeezing it with her teeth.

Penelope fell to her knees. One hand slid round to grasp Sarah’s buttock, the other traced it’s way up the inside of Sarah’s stocking clad leg to rub the dampening satin panties at the apex of her thighs.

Sarah moaned, alive with the thrill of the moment. The door to the corridor was open, discovery was almost inevitable. The President, the most powerful woman in the country was sucking at her nipple like a slut and massaging her mound through wet silk. Sarah’s clitoris was alive to every movement of Penelope’s hand, tingling, on fire.

Penelope was indulging her favourite hobby, abusing her position for sexual favours. Hell, she deserved it didn’t she? And with the day she had ahead a little stress relief would ensure the country had a more relaxed President, better able to make dispassionate decisions. Her underwear was soaked with the thrill of caressing this little beauty that Mel had found for her. She’d need to change before she addressed the emergency committee, Jen should have packed some. Or maybe she would just go without …

Penelope’s devilish daydreaming was interrupted by the realisation that Sarah was cumming. The crotch of her panties was almost dripping wet, her body quaked from the expertly applied thumb on her clitoris. Sarah moaned a shuddering fit of an orgasm and slid down the linen lockers to the floor.

Penelope kissed her with soft, full lips, then got up to leave. “Make sure you’re on duty when I get back. You have a favour to return.”


Mary’s back felt like it had fused into a solid lump of knotted muscles. The cold of the concrete floor had seeped into her despite the blanket that Tim and Richard had wrapped her in. Her hands and feet were now free of their cloth bonds.

Tim, who had been watching Mary for two hours while the effects of the tranquilliser fully wore off, shouted “Rich, she’s awake”. Mary lay still, despite the pain in her back.

A few minutes later Richard appeared. “Tea?” he said proffering a chipped white mug.

Mary gingerly manoeuvred herself to a sitting position. “Thank you” she ventured.

“You’re welcome”, beamed Richard.

“But you’re, you’re, well men!” exclaimed Mary.

“And we haven’t attacked you, raped you, eaten you alive. What else are they teaching the kids up there these days?” said Richard. “Mary, I can call you Mary can’t I? Good. Mary the one and only contact you’ve had with a man is when you joined the Sisters of Lemnos, right?”

She nodded, clutching her mug of tea for comfort.

“So the man you encountered was feral, uneducated and probably smelt quite bad too. On top of that you’ve spent your whole life being indoctrinated with The Great Rebekah’s teachings too. So men are, to put it bluntly, evil.”

Mary was staring a Richard now. She had just noticed he didn’t have a beard and that his grey eyes were kind and seemed to twinkle when he looked at her. Then there was that slight bulge in his trousers …

“Newsflash Mary. Not all men are like that.” Richard nodded to Tim, who left the room closing the door. Richard then sat, cross-legged on the floor in front of Mary.

Mary flinched when he touched her gently on the arm. But relaxed when his deep soft voice began to lull her. He smelt of Palmolive soap she noticed.

“Shall I give you a short history lesson?” asked Richard. “Oh!”. Mary had placed her hand on his knee. “Now that I didn’t expect.”

“What did you expect?” asked Mary.

“The women we take either cower, get indignant, or scream. It’s usually weeks before they start to adjust to their new lives.”

“We’d heard rumours, you know, up there.” She gesticulated towards the ceiling. “About men living in the old tunnels, everyone thinks you’re just escapees from the reserves. But you can speak and you’re, well for want of a better word huwoman.”

Richard chuckled, “The word is human.”

His chuckling stopped as Mary’s hand grasped his cock through his jeans. “I want you to do it to me. Like my first man did.”

Mary was at first disappointed when he reached out and tenderly stroked her cheek with his hand. She wanted to be taken roughly by a man-animal as she had been when she was 18.

Mary had dreamt about it on countless occasion since that night. He had circled round behind her during the hunt and forced her to the ground. She could have cried out, the wardens would have been there and subdued him, but that was not what she wanted. She lay there while the man had taken her virginity, loving every moment, surrendering her body to the beast. Despite his wildness the man had been gentle with her afterwards, spooning with her his penis softening inside her, his strong arms around her, his musk in her nostrils.

There was no malice in his actions, just instinct. Her defloration had not been scene of subjugation or an exercise of his power over her, it had been an expression of pure instinct on his part.

They had both drifted off to sleep together on the carpet of leaves that cover the forest floor. She had felt awful when the ranger had arrived, woken them and chased off the man with a cattle prod.

As Richard moved forward and wrapped his arms around her in a brotherly embrace she realised that this was a different kind of man to the one she had known and the others she had learned about. What she realised was that she needed a man and this one smelled better than the last one she had encountered.

Her lips turned upward to meet his and found his and found the kiss returned with a strength that sent a rush of hormones coursing through her body. Their tongues collided and Mary knew her second would be far better than her first.