Monthly Archives: October 2009

Girls In Sexy Lingerie

Red Club DressI’ve lost track of whether it’s politically correct to say so but I like girls in sexy lingerie. I get the feeling that a few years ago it would have been frowned upon by certain groups of women for being demeaning to their sisters in the struggle against male domination and lecherousness.

However I genuinely believe the world has come full circle and now women can take charge of their own destiny and sexuality. Sexy lingerie is no longer seen as a symbol of men dictating to women what they should wear to be attractive, quite the opposite. It is now women who are choosing underwear that is both provocative and underlines the power of their sexuality.

That’s part of the change that has happened when it comes to buying lingerie as far as women are concerned. Women are buying lingerie for themselves, either as separates – when they spot a pair of knickers that makes them feel naughty, or lingerie sets that appeal to them they are thinking about how it makes them feel and the power it will exert over us men, not thinking if we will like it in the first instance.

Let’s face it though, everyone wants to be wanted, male or female so at some point during your purchase of a piece on lingerie you are going to start considering how it will look to your partner and how you will look in it.

Quality sexy lingerie is available from many outlets and is practical and durable, in contrast to the lacy and poorly made items that were once sold. It is as common for women to wear seductive lingerie day to day as it is for a special occasion or for a night of passion. It’s not that they feel they might want to rip off their clothes at the slightest provocation and jump on some fit guy’s bones, it’s because it makes them feel good.

Now if they want to jump on my bones unexpectedly during the day … you’ll not find me putting up a struggle, LOL.

One place where women have always worn their best and sexiest clothing is when they go out at night, from dance halls to night clubs sexy underwear or as it has now become, clubwear, is made for those women on the prowl. And we guys love to be hunted by a self-assured woman in gorgeous underwear.

Finding the right sizes in the styles you want is a bit of a lottery when it comes to shopping in the high street unfortunately. No shop, especially those who stock the range and specialised nature of sexy lingerie that women demand these days can carry every combination of size, style and colour to suite every woman. That’s where buying lingerie online comes into its own. With next day delivery and the ability to cover a larger range than is possible in a physical shop you can take advantage of the benefits of online shopping more easily than ever and save money at the same time.

This store has a lot of sexy nightwear to choose from. However the section that caught my eye (maybe it is the Halloween season) was the adult costumes. I’m a sucker for a women in a naughty costume, yes I’m a man of very simple tastes and a sexy French maid gets me every time.

Fucking Someone Elses Girl

I’ve never thought of myself as a thrill-seeker. I’ve never gravitated towards dangerous sports or deliberately sought out risky situations. At least I used to think that.

Thinking back now I believe I have identified four occasions where I deliberately put myself in risky situations. The common theme is that they all involved women. Two of those were where the respective girl’s father’s didn’t approve, in both instances not because of my reputation – sadly I didn’t have one LOL – but for other less valid reasons.

The other two cases were because the girls I went after were already involved. There may have been more but I don’t remember them. What I do remember was that around the same time as my pursuit of the girl I’m going to write about another girl was absolutely throwing herself at me and I really wasn’t interested. More fool me, because she was a very nice girl. Perhaps I just wasn’t attracted to nice girls.

And that is why I’ve titled this post “Fucking His Girlfriend”. One final thing, I’ve just remembered a third occasion where I went after someone else’s girlfriend … Ooh I’m a bad boy.

It was late summer, early autumn. We were both in the upper sixth and her name was Mandy. Well it is for the purposes of this account. I went to school in a large village. The comprehensive school I attended still felt like a grammar school despite the influx of new and idealistic teachers. It had a large catchment so you tended to mix with girls from villages that you’d never meet otherwise, from villages miles away.

Mandy and I were out after school. We’d been rehearsing for a school production and were walking home together in a round-about way. We enjoyed each other’s company but as friends. I thought that was all she wanted, though I had different ideas. Not surprising, teenage boy, bright, bubbly, friendly girl with a lose perm and nice tits. There’s only one place my mind headed every time I thought about her …

Because I thought she wasn’t interested and knew she was already involved I kept things at a platonic level. Except I hadn’t. It was probably a combination of the lingering looks I kept giving her the pregnant pauses that seemed to become increasingly apparent in our conversations as things were left unsaid and the occasional joking sexual remarks I made that made it plain to her I was horny as hell for her.

It happened when we were sitting on the dry stone wall behind the church. She caught me staring at her and for once I didn’t pretend I hadn’t been. I kept looking at her grey eyes. She put her hand on top of mine and leant forward, eyes shut, lips expectant. It was very, very innocent.

I hesitated. This wasn’t supposed to happen, she was already with someone, she had never been interested in me. Yes I admit it I was naïve she had been thinking about me for a long time but not likely to deliberately two-time her boyfriend. Quite how long she had thought about me or how much she had wanted me I never found out because despite of what happened next we never talked about it. And until this post the only person I ever told about it was Suze.

The kiss told me all I needed to know about her feelings. We slid off the wall and hidden from view got involved in a long and grope-filled clinch. She didn’t mind my wandering hands, in fact she seemed to welcome them. Maybe it was the waiting that made both of us abandon caution.

Before I knew it she was struggling to sit up and removed her bra, which she did in that magic, without talking her sweater off sort of way that men find so amazing. She slid it out of the left arm of her grey pullover and dropped it on the ground. She lay back down beside me where I resumed my fondling of her breast, unhindered.

Her nipples where hard, almost as hard as my cock. She held it through the black denim of my jeans, gently rubbing, her nails scrapping against the fabric.

Her fingers started to scrabble at the button on my waistband. I helped her out, it was after all the gentlemanly thing to do. Then, in a very un-ladylike fashion she yanked at my trousers and underwear until they were round my ankles.

“Please screw me.” She asked. I smiled, not at the thought of the totally unexpected and much longed-for shag, but the fact she referred to it as screwing. She always did refer to sex as screwing, not sex, or shagging, or fucking. Screwing.

I helped her peel back her tight blue jeans and pink panties. She removed them both completely. Then she straddled me. She rubbed herself along the length of my cock, not to arouse me but in an effort to guide me into her pussy. I was incredibly aroused, but inexperience on both our parts meant the angle was wrong and she had to reach down and guide me inside her.

Mandy bounced up and down for a few minutes, enjoying my hands cupping and squeezing her breasts under her sweater. We both wanted to feel me fucking her, that was obvious, glorious though it was with her riding my cock, curly hair catching the late afternoon sunshine. We both needed to feel me fucking her.

We rolled over, managing to keep my cock inside her, just. The screwing began in earnest. Until I started to think about this I had forgotten how innocent it was. Almost devoid of technique but full of enthusiasm I pumped away, encouraged by the appreciative moans and squeals she emitted. I remember her hair spread behind her head on the grass, eyes closed, mouth open.

I felt her pussy tighten on me and simultaneously become suddenly wet. Her moans got louder, had I not been approaching orgasm myself I would have probably worried about someone hearing us. But I was cumming and did so with a sense of such immense satisfaction that I was probably grinning from ear to ear as I rolled onto the grass beside her.

About a week later I was stopped in the street by three guys, all around my age. They blocked my way on the pavement and made it plain they had something to tell me. I can’t remember the words they used but the meaning was “Stay away from Mandy. Or else!”. She had obviously hadn’t told her boyfriend exactly what had happened, but must have mentioned me a little too often. I brushed them off with a “Yeah whatever” type of attitude, which seemed to disarm the situation more than perhaps a flat denial of any wrong-doing would have done.

Looking back it could have gone a lot worse, or maybe a lot better. I wonder what she’s doing now?

Hypno Sex

reverse RinguWe had some spam comments last night that started:

“Dear Friend,

If you’ve ever wanted people to immediately obey your commands without them even realizing what you’re doing …then this will be the most important message you ever read.”

It went on to say:

“This method is so powerful, so unique and so under-the-radar that some downright criminal people are using it to rob banks and supermarkets without the cashiers realizing they are handing over the money to them. They don’t even have any memory of doing it!”

Then claimed:

“This book teaches you to use the covert hypnosis in a way that people would never come to know that you are indeed using them …


Get just about anyone to say “Yes”
Have children & teens obey your commands
Keep your lover(s) eternally loyal.”

Is it just me or is the mere suggestion that such a thing is possible rather creepy. There are people who can hypnotise some other people. They are very skilled and usually pretty knowledgeable with a reasonable set of morals that would prevent them using such techniques for anything immoral.

More fool anyone who followed the link to the book sales site as I’m quite sure this in itself is a scam. Offering people the key to eternal happiness, wealth or in this case anything they want through the ability to control the actions of others is bound to draw in some idiots – but only those who don’t recognise this as a snake oil sale.

The bit that worries me is imagining what kind of person wants to be able to dictate to their children and loved ones how they should act, and be able to make “anyone” say “Yes” to their every suggestion. Ewww!

Hellish Threesome

Hurld headlong flaming from th’ Ethereal Skie
With hideous ruine and combustion down
To bottomless perdition, there to dwell
In Adamantine Chains and penal Fire,
Paradise Lost, John Milton, 1667

When Peter and Kate eventually entered the kitchen, the other couples were already picking at the food as they carried it through to the dining room.

Emily was talking to Mark, next to the sink. She stopped short on seeing Kate, frozen by her stare. Mark raised a hand to her shoulder and said something, just too quite to hear. Emily drew close to Mark and laid her head on his shoulder, but did not take her eyes off Kate. Another few words from Mark and she began to help Charlotte transport the food.

Peter adopted his role as host, serving drinks. Seeing that Emily was distressed for some reason he crossed to Mark. They exchanged a few earnest words then both broke into smiles. Kate couldn’t quite hear what was said. “The horny bitch …”, “but you where down here?”, ” … you should see the scratches on her thigh, it must have been some dream.”

Kate found herself smiling, but not knowing why.

By ten to midnight the food had been transferred from the kitchen to the adjacent dining room. Music was playing quietly and the three couples huddled round the open fire in the huge hearth for warmth. A chill had entered the house, the cold become intense as midnight approached. Alcohol helped to keep out the cold but wasn’t raising the spirits as it should have done.

“Time for ghost stories.”, declared Peter, “Any volunteers?”. He looked at the assembled friends in turn. Mark shrugged, “Don’t look at me”. “I don’t have an imagination”, said Luke, grinning. Emily averted her gaze and snuggled deeper into Mark’s arms.

“I’ll start”, it was Kate.

Rain began to fall again as Kate settled on a small stool in front of the fire. Her audience of five friends arranged on an assortment of pillows and bed sheets in a semicircle around her.

“You know why this house is called Yew Tree Manor don’t you?”

“Because someone planted a bloody great yew in the back garden, perhaps?”

“Not quite, the tree was old before the house was here. Not this house, the original house. That was over 800 years ago. Some people still call yews the “eternity trees” you know. They grow for millennia.

“Nobody knows his name, but the builder was a local lord, an important noble, well connected, powerful, avaricious.

“He even had his own private army. Small but effective, nothing more than a group of tame thugs by today’s standards. But useful at the time for extracting higher and higher rents from tenant farmers.

“Since when were you the local historian? Or is this all fantasy?”, Asked Charlotte.

“It’s all true. He wasn’t always so wealthy though. Originally a charcoal burner in the forest, he cleared the land on this hilltop with his bare hands while plying his humble trade. You’d have thought the trees would have grown back but they never did. Funny that.” Kate smiled.

“One autumn evening he came back from the village and found a figure stooped over the stump of an old yew which he’d hewn and burnt only a few days earlier. Why did you cut it down?’, asked the figure. What business is it of yours?’, replied the woodsman. I planted it’. Rubbish, that was five hundred years old judging by the rings’.

“The figure stood up and threw back the hood of its cape. The hideous visage which confronted the woodsman froze the blood in his veins. This woman, if indeed she was a woman looked five, ten twenty centuries old. And yet her crystal blue eyes drew him towards her. His feet raised and fell of their own accord taking him into her, outstretched arms. You took my tree, now pay for it’, she screamed as her gnarled hands wrapped around his throat and took him for her own.

“They lay together that night, conceiving a daughter.”

“‘Lay together’, you’ve been reading romantic books again!”, smirked Luke. The icy stare Kate gave him wiped the smile from his face and made cold beads of sweat erupt from his neck.

“These things should not be forgotten!”, barked Kate.

“The woodsman and his new bride grew in power from that day. Seen by all as a beautiful young woman nobody suspected that his bride was neither mortal or benign. The yew tree sprouted anew and the old hall was built next to it.

“Until one day when the local abbot called to collect alms for the poor of the village. As he approached the hall he heard shouting, an argument between the Lord and his Lady. The daughter burst from the hall crying, and ran to the abbot’s arms.

“As he approached the door the abbot saw the Lord cowering before a dreadful apparition. He saw, unmasked, the Lady, the demon that had taken possession of the woodsman.

“The abbot ran to the village, gathered a mob and returned to the manner. The doors were barred and the windows blocked. The manor was burnt to the ground with the Lord and Lady screaming inside.

“So that’s alright then.”, said Peter, “I do like a happy ending.”

“They had a daughter. And this very night I remembered who I was. I remembered my mother’s screams!”, said Kate, her crystal blue eyes flaring as a lightening bolt struck the yew tree outside.

The shock from the lightening blew open a window with a roar. Emily screamed. The lights went out, leaving the room illuminated by the huge log fire.

Kate stood and unfurled her wings, her dress fell to the floor, she stood before them in the firelight. Breasts pert, nipples hard, pussy silvery wet. She pointed at Luke, then Mark. “You, and you, come here.”

Unable to refuse they took their places before Kate. Without a word of command they undressed, throwing their clothes aside. Kate pounced on Luke’s already proud member, licking and sucking. Despite himself, still terrified, Luke found himself moaning with pleasure.

“Fuck me damn you!”, commanded Kate, flashing a murderous gaze at Mark.

Luke fell to his knees, Kate’s mouth still wrapped around his cock. What was that licking at his member? Two tongues, or was it one split like a serpent? Luke knelt behind her, and slid himself into her greedy pussy. He was gripped by her, drawn in. As he thrust in and out, thrusting harder than he ever would have with Charlotte, he felt Kate’s pussy grip him. He could not have pulled out even if he had wanted to. And he didn’t want to.

Watched by their partners the carnal beast they created, bucked, groaned and fucked in the firelight. The partners could not move, transfixed by fear and drawn to the spectacle by the shear sexual power Kate had over her two men. They were her men, she possessed them, and they wanted to be possessed by this powerful sexual demon.

Kate clawed at Mark’s buttocks with her talons as Luke slammed his pelvis into her. Lightening grew more frequent and intense. Each flash freezing the sexual beast with three backs for an instant, in a macabre blue-white vignette.

Mark and Luke screamed as they came, howling like animals, crying out like demons from the depths of hell. Mark felt himself drained as his cock jetted cum into Kate’s mouth. Not only of his seed, but almost of life itself. Luke sensed his soul being torn from him and a grey veil fall over the world around him. Luke slumped back , white and barely breathing. Mark followed a few seconds later as Kate unhooked her talons from the flesh of his buttocks

Still on all fours Kate’s forked tongue licked the cum from her lips. She stood and looked at the huddle trio, Peter, Charlotte and Emily. “Now you three.” And she laughed, a cruel joyless laugh.

But the spell had been broken. Peter grabbed Charlotte and Emily, dragging them through the hall to the door.

Still Kate laughed.

The key would not turn in the lock.

“No!”, yelled Kate.

Peter heard the sound of Kate’s wings beating as she launched herself after them. Peter tried again and the lock turned. He managed to slam the door shut just as Kate reached the doorway. Turning the key from the outside he locked her in.

“Will that keep her in?” asked Charlotte?. “How the Fuck should I know?”, replied a white faced Peter.

As the three of them ran down the drive towards the village, they heard a scream behind them from the pits of Hades. “Mark!”, cried Emily. “I think we need a mob.” said Peter.

Horny Halloween Girls

A savage place! As holy and enchanted
As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By a woman wailing for her demon lover!
Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Kubla Khan, 1798-99

Peter opened the front door to be greeted by a comic tableaux. Four of his friends, dressed as if they had just stepped out of a certain Chateaux on lake Lucerne at the turn of the 19th century. Unfortunately they had stepped out into one of the intense but sporadic showers of rain that were lashing Yew Tree Manor. Rather soggy, they carried their luggage into the hall.

“The bloody car broke down just outside the garden wall”, explained Mark, “The weather I expect, though when you pay that much for a bloody car …”. “We’re here now”, interrupted Mark’s fiancé, Emily, “Let’s get dried off and get a drink.”. The suggestion of alcohol immediately raised the mood of the bedraggled couples, so Peter led them to the kitchen to open a few bottles of wine.

Equipped with bottles and glasses, as well as their luggage, the newly arrived couples retired to their respective bedrooms. “Where’s Kate?”, asked Luke, “Charlotte wanted to talk to her about arrangements for Christmas. You are still stopping with us, aren’t you?”.

“I think so”, replied Peter, “Kate’s asleep, I’ll wake her up and ask her. See you downstairs in half an hour.”

And indeed Kate was asleep. After their frantic screw over the kitchen sink she had retired to the bedroom. Peter had been concerned, her skin was cold and clammy as he helped her up the stairs to their room. She had lain back on the four poster bed and smiled at him. Not a loving smile, more a benevolent one, a “You served me very well”, type of smile. Peter had been quite disconcerted at the time, but once the moment had passed and she had fallen to sleep he wasn’t so sure. “It was just a smile”, he told himself.

Peter quietly let himself into the bedroom and lay next to Kate. He lay on his side watching her chest rise and fall. The urge to slide his hand up her leg and stroke her inner thigh above her stockings was difficult to resist, but he did. She needed her sleep.

Within a few minutes his eyes had closed, lids heavy, drained from the earlier sweat exertion. He began to breathe deeply and steadily, a contented post-coital slumber.

Kate’s eyes snapped open. She slid off the bed as smoothly and as silently as a snake. Gliding across the carpet and out the door without a sound, she left Peter to his dreams.

Mark and Luke’s voices drifted up from the kitchen below, they had spent just a few minutes straightening their outfits, so as not to miss any serious drinking time. The dark fairy saw a door ajar at the end of the landing. She cocked her head slightly, unblinking eyes studying the sliver of light emanating from the room intently for movement.

She was at the door now, and let herself in, as silent as a malicious whisper.

Emily was on the bed, on her side facing the door. Her eyes were closed. She wore red bra and briefs, nothing more. The dress, carefully chosen, now rather damp, was hung to dry from the curtain rail above the radiator in the window.

Kate walked round the foot of the bed and lay behind Emily. Their bodies were not yet touching but Kate’s hot breath played on the back of Emily’s neck. Emily stirred, “Mmmh, Mark!”. “Yes”, replied the succubus.

Kate slipped her hand around Emily’s waist and slowly drew her middle finger across Emily’s skin from the navel to her cleavage. “Do we have time?”, asked Emily. “Yes. We have all the time we need”, Kate assured her. Emily reached to the front of her bra and undid the clasp, letting her dark-nippled C-cup breasts to spill out.

Kate caressed each one in turn, squeezing the nipples, moulding crushing the mounds in her hand. She dug her purple painted talons into the tender flesh. “Mark!”, exclaimed Emily, surprised, but wanting more. Emily’s juices began to flow, excited by her insistent lover.

Emily turned over and looked into “Mark’s” eyes. “I want you”, she said, blissfully unaware that her desires were of no consequence.

Kate plunged her tongue into Emily’s mouth and her hand into Emily’s panties. Kate’s fingers slid down the moist slit and found the opening she sought. First one, then two, then three fingers penetrated Emily. One made her sigh, two elicited a gasp. Three made her cry out grinding more heavily into Kate’s hand and pressing her exposed tits into Kate’s dress.

Kate’s fingers massaged Emily’s G-spot, juices began to flow down Kate’s arm. Emily’s cries of ecstasy were muffled by the passionate and insistent mouth pressed against hers, her tongue seemingly bound tight by one, or was it two tongues in her mouth.

Kate’s wings began to beat gently, lifting the couple from the bed. Mouths tight together, Kate’s arm around her prey’s back and the other hand buried in the prey’s mound. Emily writhed as Kate massaged her pussy with the strength of one possessed and the knowledge of a woman who had explored her own body many times. When she came, juices dripping from her pussy, down her thighs. Kate held her close. Emily dug her fingers into Kate’s buttocks through the velvet of her dress. Kate left deep indentations with her claw-like nails in the bare flesh of Emily’s back. Only then did Kate’s wings beat slower and lower her to the bed.

Kate drew her hand out of Emily’s panties and across her inner thigh, leaving four red tracks …

Peter woke to the sound of Mark and Luke hammering on the door. “Are you two going to stay in there all night?”.

He roused Kate, and they made their way downstairs.

Halloween Harlot

Like one that on a lonesome road
Doth walk in fear and dread,
And having once turned round walks on,
And turns no more his head;
Because he knows, a frightful fiend
Doth close behind him tread.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, 1797-98

The house stood at the very top of a hill surrounded by trees, but visible from all sides. The trees, now leafless as autumn drew on and winter approached, seemed reluctant to grown near its ancient stones. The few that ventured close to its ivy covered garden walls were dark, stunted, twisted, unidentifiable specimens.

The garden wall was of red brick, ten feet tall and only perhaps a century old, yet in the dismal twilight it looked as old as the four hundred year old manor it surrounded. No, as old as the eight hundred year old foundations on which the manor stood.

As Kate’s taxi approached the house up the winding private track which served as access to the house she regarded the property with some satisfaction. “A perfect place to spend Halloween”, she congratulated herself. The house disappeared from view as the car rounded the final turn in the road. As the house reappeared, rain began to fall in huge drops, splattering against the windshield of the car. “Bastard weather!”, commented the driver. Then, “Sorry Miss”. “Miss!”, did he think he was driving an Edwardian Debutant to her “Coming Out” ball in a hansom cab? Kate smiled to herself, “Horrible isn’t it”.

The taxi crunched to a halt next to the porch at the front of the manor. Kate grabbed her shoulder bag and stood, sheltered from the rain under the porch, while the driver lugged her two suitcases from the taxi to the door. She tipped him, far too generously, and had to raise a hand to her face to cover her smile. He actually raised his hand to his head as if to doff a nonexistent cap!

Reaching into her shoulder bag Kate retrieved an iron key and slid it into the oak door. Shit, it wouldn’t turn, she wiggled the key in the lock and tried again. This time, with some effort, it turned with a screech of metal on metal. Kate turned on her torch and tried to remember where the light switch was. Flicking the Bakelite knob illuminated the huge hall in yellow light from four aged light fittings high above her. One at a time she dragged in the cases from outside then shut and locked the door.

Two hours later she was showered, changed and eating a piece of celery in the kitchen, waiting for the first guests to arrive. Old though the place was her choice of venue had the benefits of modern plumbing. The wiring on the other hand did not inspire confidence. Every gust of wind from the intensifying storm outside made the lights flicker and fade.

The party was a select affair, three couples, all friends. Catering was a cold buffet and an oven full of nibbles to heat up for later. All prepared by a café in the village and laid out on the kitchen table when she arrived.

There was a knock at the kitchen door, Kate nearly choked on her celery. Cursing Peter for not using the front door she got up and made for the kitchen door, which led to the rear garden. It was secured by two iron bolts of great antiquity that required a real effort to open.

Pulling the door inwards Kate was surprised to find nobody there. She was about to close the door, thinking Peter had walked around to the front of the house, when she saw a figure silhouetted next to the yew tree in the centre of the kitchen garden. It struck her at that moment – the only tree in the garden.

“Peter. Get in here it’s freezing.”. The figure raised its hand and seemed to beckon Kate. “You must be joking!”, Kate shouted, “You know how much this outfit cost.”

He should know, he’d bought it for her. It could best be described as bondage fairy crossed with Morticia Addams. Predominantly black velvet with a purple satin panel in the front. Her firm breasts exposed almost to the nipple. Laced at the back and tight into the waist. Below the waist, short and more black velvet, cut up each thigh almost to the waist. At its longest not quite reaching her knees. Fishnet stocking and leather ankle boots with scandalously high heals. And, she had a pair of black wings, studded wristbands and collar to complete the look.

The figure beckoned again. “Oh, hell, alright …”. Kate picked up an empty metal tray from the table and raised it above her head. Against her better judgement she walked unsteadily across the wet stone slabs of the path towards the sentinel tree and it’s dark companion.

As she approached the tree seemed to grow in stature, a dark black mass against inky blue clouds. The figure moved toward the tree becoming indistinct as it did so, eventually merging with the great yew’s blackness.

Kate stopped. The din from the rain hitting the metal tray the only sound. Where had he gone? Her breath began to quicken, making her full bosom heave. What was going on. She felt the warmth leave her body, icy tendrils of foreboding slid over her pale skin.

She herd, no felt, someone breath a word almost silently in her ear. Kate turned dropping the tray as she did so. She was confronted by … nothing. Just the welcoming glow of the light from the kitchen. Glancing nervously over her shoulder she walked briskly towards the kitchen door only a few feet away, cursing herself for imagining things. Her chest, now wet from the rain, began to rise and fall more rapidly as the kitchen door seemed to recede with every step she took.

Then she felt it. A hand on her shoulder, rough, firm, holding her back. She raised her arm to shrug the hand away. She was now trying to run towards the door. Something held her leg and she stumbled, falling hard onto the stone path. She cried out, screaming at the unseen assailant to let go of her leg.

She tried to raise her face from the cold, wet stone but was held there by a great weight. She tried to scream for help but the words seemed to disappear as they left her lips, muffled in a stifling grey blanket.

Now helpless she felt fingers, stroking her exposed flesh. Rough skin tracing the curve of her calves through her stockings, her thighs and up under her dress. “No!”, she wanted to cry but the words just fell from her lips and evaporated in the greyness surrounding her. Tears welled up in her eyes as the rough hands approached their goal.

Then as she resigned herself to the imminent violation she felt a warm familiar hand on her shoulder. A soft voice in her ear, “Kate. Kate darling”. She sat up at the kitchen table with a start. Peter jumped back, alarmed at the speed of her awakening.

“Are you OK?”, he asked. “I must have dozed off.”, Kate replied. She stood up and stepped towards him. Her arms slid around his waist and her body pressed him against the Belfast sink in front of the kitchen window, “I had a terrible dream.”. She felt safe, protected and loved in his arms, with her head on his shoulder.

He began to grow hard against her. “I want you.”, she whispered in his ear. He raised his hand to her chin, pushing it up so her blue eyes met his. Her raven hair fell away from her face. “We’ll have to be quick, they’ll be here soon …”.

“No.”, Kate snapped, “Here now.”. Peter was shocked but also wildly turned on by this passionate little fairy commanding him to fuck her. She was unbuttoning his trousers and ripping down his briefs before he had chance to object. Not that he was likely to.

Kate grabbed Peter’s cock and said, “You know what I want.”. She turned on her heals, hitched up her skirt and bent over the sink. Peter needed no second bidding and pulled her tiny purple panties to one side. He slid straight into her with the first thrust and felt himself gripped by her in a way he’d never felt before. Her pussy grasping his cock demanding it’s attention, demanding to be fucked.

Peter felt himself bigger and harder than he had ever felt before, powerful and single minded. With only one purpose, to fill Kate with his seed. He steadily and assuredly brought her to orgasm, once, twice, three times. Her fairy wings wavy in front of him Peter came, and came and came. As he did so he growled, gasped, maybe even cried out, he was so consumed by his orgasm that he couldn’t be sure. What he did know was that Kate writhed and bucked underneath him, slowly but with a strength that he didn’t know she possessed. Her body demanded his cum and drew it from him, hungry for every last drop of him. Her hands grasped the sink taps, knuckles white. And she screamed, loud and shrill.

Then it was over, the spell broken. That’s what it had felt like a spell. Peter staggered back and lent on the kitchen table while he regained his senses. Kate’s breathing began to return to normal. As she stood up something caught her eye in the garden as moonlight broke through the rain clouds and reflected off its shiny surface.

Her blood ran cold as she recognised the metal tray.

Letting Her Squeeze It – Part 2

In my dimly lit room, surrounded by my collection of super-cool and super-tatty clothing and a stack of vinyl LPS we lay down on my single bed, still fully clothed. The coffees I had made in the shared kitchen on our way in sat cold and forgotten on my bedside cabinet while we explore the possibilities of prolonged groping until we both felt the need to expose more skin.

We both sat up and removed our T-shirts. My chest was a little less impressive than hers, my body has never been quite as muscular as I would have liked, but she seemed to approve. I wasn’t complaining either, pert B-cup breasts in a smooth cupped black bra.

She unhooked herself and tossed the bra across to the chair next to the door, smiling impishly. Both or us now naked from the waist up I wasted no time in investigating her enticing breasts. The nibbling and sucking I gave her stiff, pink nipples eliciting moans and a grinding of her pelvis against me.

I couldn’t wait any longer, my cock was painfully hard in my jeans and wet with precum. I began to fumble with her jeans.

“No.” She said.

“What?”

“I don’t, not on a first date.” She sounded disappointed. Not as disappointed as I was, but dejected enough to ensure I didn’t feel I had been led on.

“Do you mind if I sleep here tonight?” She asked. “It’s too late to get home.”

I looked at my battered alarm clock. The fluorescent hands showed it to be almost five in the morning. Time flies when your having fun.

“Of course you can stay.”

I found her a clean T-shirt to wear, it was too big for her small frame and made me even hornier, especially when she slid off her jeans and I watched her pad off to the bathroom in a pair or white cotton socks.

Jess slid under the covers with me. We spooned my hand reaching round and resting on her breast, my cock eventually succumbing and becoming flaccid before we drifted off to sleep.

~~~

I was awoken by the sounds of a tray being placed at the side of the bed. Light crept in through the cracks in the badly hung curtains allowing me to make out Jess, still looking sexy in my Motorhead T-shirt sitting next to me on the bed.

“Last night was nice.”

“Nice?” I was a little hurt.

“Yes, most guys would have got pissed off and told me to leave.”

“I’m not most guys.”

Her hand slipped under the covers and came to rest on my crotch. I was already hard, having woken with a healthy dose of morning wood. She slipped back the sheets and pulled down my briefs.

Her fingers curled round my shaft and slowly stroked it. I watched her studying my foreskin hide and reveal the tip of my cock.

“What was all that about first dates?”

“I’m calling this date number two.” She grinned.

I lay on my back, enjoying the unexpected hand job. My eyes closed, laying on my back I began to wonder if I was about to wake up and find I was having a wet dream and had shot my load up Jess’s back.

Her hand disappeared. When I opened my eyes she was standing at the side of my bed, removing her panties. I caught a flash of pubic hair as she straddled me. Her hands reached down and guided my cock into her. She was wet and warm, obviously as much in need of a fuck as I was.

She bounced up and down, quite slowly and ever so sexily. Her pussy gripped my cock, the sensation enhanced by the slow rolling of her pelvis and grinding of her mons into my pubis.

My hands rested on her thighs, my hips bucking, wanting to thrust but not wanting to spoil the experience of Jess fucking me. Fucking me wearing my Motorhead T-shirt. Now that was making me horny. What is it about girls wearing your clothes … ?

Jess leant forward and steadied herself by placing her hands either side of my chest. Her hair fell forward and covered my face. She rocked up and down, obviously bringing herself off on my throbbing penis. She gasped and I felt her wetness increase. I couldn’t hold back, didn’t want to hold back. I dug my heels into the bed and oblivious to the creaks and squeaks of the ancient bedframe I thrust into her pussy. Cumming felt like the rush of the wind in your hair when you stick your head out of a car window at 70 mph. Try it you’ll know what I mean.

She collapsed in the sort of sweaty, satisfied heap that only come after a really good shag and we drifted off to sleep with my still inside her and two more cups of coffee going cold on the tray beside the bed.

Letting Her Squeeze It – Part 1

Shake up at the disco
And I think I’ve got a pull
I ask her lots of questions
And she hangs on to the wall
I kiss her for the first time
And then I take her home
I’m invited in for coffee
And I give the dog a bone
She likes to go to discos
But she’s never on her own
I said Ill see you later
And I give her some old chat
But it’s not like that on the TV
When its cool for cats
Its cool for cats
Squeeze, Cool For Cats

I washed away the taste of the smoke from my mouth with a swig of bitter, but my eye’s were still stinging from the DJ’s attempt at Halloween atmosphere. Difford and Tilbrook wafted out into the side street and beckoned me back in to risk rejection from the tight-jeaned leather-jacketted girl with the long permed hair who I’d noticed over an hour ago.

I reached into my jacket pocket for the soft packet of Gallois. I extracted a slightly bent cigarette and straightened it by gently stroking it’s length between three fingers, careful not to rip the paper as it was one of only three left in the packet. I placed it in my mouth and fished out a box of Swan matches. The bright flair and sulphurous bite of the ignition speared my retinas and nostrils moments before the nicotine and asphalt grade tar hit my mouth and rolled down the back of my throat.

The carefully trained receptors in my brain lit up like the warning lights at Three Mile Island and made me feel like a hero. They gave me the determination to seek her out when I went back inside and make a move on her. The cigarette crackled with each deep breath I inhaled through the shredded nicotiana leaves, the sickly smell of the smoke generator replaced by the smell of French bars and an all too brief visit to Paris.

After drawing my last lungful of deadly particulates I flicked the butt into the gutter where its glowing cherry fizzed into darkness and turned towards the fire door. I pulled it open to find her silhouetted in the red light from the dance floor.

“I wondered where you’d gone.” She said, “Got a light?”

I fumbled with the matches and offered her a flame in cupped hands. She drew on her menthol vine, illuminating her face with a golden glow. She exhaled, wreathing me in smoke. “What’s your name?” She asked.

“Alex”

“Alex … Alexander?” She giggled.

“Hmmm? What’s funny?” I asked.

“Nothing, a bit posh isn’t it?”

“Do I sound posh?” I enquired.

“No. I’m Jess.”

Small talk ensued. Music, clothes, TV, films, music again. At 19 your conversation can be a little limited. There was an attraction there that we both wanted to explore. I took a step closer to her, she didn’t back away. I slid my arm around her back, and she moved toward me. I bent down to kiss her and her face turned upward offering pouting lips.

They tasted of cherry lip balm.

Her ass felt soft through the denim of her jeans. She pressed into me, the fullness of her chest making itself known against me. Her tongue was at first hesitant when mine challenged it, then with growing enthusiasm contended with mine first in her own mouth then in mine.

Her hair smelled of patchouli oil and smoke, her mouth tasted of larger and black, and her lips where the softest, vivacious, yielding skin I’d ever felt against my own.

We parted mouths after several minutes.

“Want a dance?” I ventured.

“Not really …” The look in her eyes said she had something else in mind.

“How about a coffee at mine?” My voice was a little shaky, I didn’t want her to say no. “I live about half a mile away.”

“That would be nice.” Her smile was warm, the tone of her voice told me the invitation was what she’d been waiting for.

~~~

We held hands for the 800 yards back to my digs. I enjoyed the sensation of her hand in mine and the second-hand smoke that she exhaled.

The house I had was shared, four bedrooms, one bathroom, one living room, one kitchen. I had the upper rear bedroom, which was handy for the loo in the middle of the night. A lighter sleeper would have objected to my housemates late night bathroom antics, but especially after a few beers I have always slept the sleep of the dead.

Sex Mad About Baseball

Phillies body paintAll sports have their devotees. It makes those of us not so single-minded in our pursuit of a particular team or individual a bit bemused by the lengths that some of us go to when it comes to watching one match or another.

Case in point, this story.

Susan Finkelstein must be the most enthusiastic Phillies fan, if the charge sheet is to be believed. How many women would (allegedly) offer sex for baseball tickets?

An no matter how much of a fan her husband was, surely he would be a little pissed to know his wife had been riding another guy to get him is front row seats. Or maybe he’s the biggest Phillies fan LOL.

Real Naked Women

Curvy Girl

This article and research falls into the category of “No shit Sherlock”

There’s a place for every body shape but the Lilly Cole moon faced stick insect is not something that attracts the vast majority of men. Slim is nice curvy is better and there are some out here that love a fulsome chick.

So long as they are healthy women should aspire to the size that makes them happy. And if men have a problem with that they know what they can do.

You know, that sounds really politically correct but It’s exactly what I believe. The feeling that women should have their body image dictated by someone else really bugs me. I have my own preferences, but women are people not objects to be moulded into a form that I feel is “ideal”.

Go figure.

Skull Fucking Wednesday

Gob JobI’m the kind of girl that you really can’t pigeon hole. I’m not in to hotwifing or cuckolding but I can be a kinky bitch when in the mood. I would like to think that is exactly why Alex and I have been together so long, the variety, passion and non pretentious relationship we have. We don’t aspire to be anything other than a loving sexual partner to each other. 😉

I’m a person of whim. If it feels good and I want to do it, I go with it. After all isn’t that the best way to indulge in sex, not strained or pretentious, just natural and instinctive?

Well, this evening. Or if you are reading it on Thursday, last night. I felt in the mood to be in control and before Alex had chance to suggest anything I took total control. I asked him to put some of our new porn in the DVD drive (multi tasking because we need to review it lol) and pushed him back on to the mattress when he returned to the bed.

He knows me well by now and that I like him to totally submit to me. Don’t bother trying to play with my tits or kiss me, I want to do things to you that will make your toes curl and a smile play on your face.

His cock was semi hard when I took a firm grip of him with my left hand, not my normal choice but I was leaning towards him on my right arm. He responded well to me capturing his cock, I could fell his cells becoming turgid and responsive to my touch. A feeling I like, one which makes me feel in control. I can make him hard…

Within minute he was pulsing in my hand as I started to pull back his foreskin and slowly work his cock. I felt the tension drain from his body as he surrendere to me. The Domme in me sometimes takes over and I want to bite deep in to his turgid flesh or drag my nails over him but sensibility takes over and I know he doesn’t want that, least not now.

I lower my head over him and take the very tip in to my mouth, letting him feel the warmth of my mouth. He sighs. In contrast I’m now blowing cool air over his bulging tip and he moans. He adjusts his body shuffling slightly and I go down on him.

Too eager he grounds in the back of my throat, I cough and lift off him slightly until composure is regained. I’m feeling naughty and enclose my teeth around his crown and slowly but carefully graze the tip of his cock and he love it, yes he loves it.

Then something posses me and I lower my head enclosing lips around his cock, bracing him firmly and press my tongue directly under his sensitive frenulum. He twitches under me and then without warning starts to fuck my mouth.

His hips rise and fall in rapid succession as he fucks my mouth. Hand embrace my head and secure my position as he fucks and fuck and…

A dribble of saliva escapes the right corner of my mouth and runs uninhibited down my chin and neck, to where I don’t care, he is fucking me and I want him to. I want to feel him explode inside my mouth.

He momentarily withdraws from my warm moist orifice and I take the opportunity to regain my breath. Then he’s there, holding down my ears against my skull and pounding in to me. I feel dirty, used but empowered. I can stop him at any time but I don’t want to. Let me taste your bitter sweet seed as it pumps in to my open throat.

Resistance is futile and I start to fuck him, bobbing my head up and down on his hard cock, I’m going with the flow. My pussy is swollen and throbbing now. My hand slips between my legs and my fingers deftly find their way to my engorged clit. I start to rub and he starts to come in to my mouth.

He makes me cough with the first round of cum, which is quickly followed by another and another I hurriedly swallow to capture his warm issue. I’m coming now, the moment being so intense that I just couldn’t hold it back.

Alex pulls free of my throat and leans in to kiss me. He accepts my tongue, coated in his come and moans as he tastes himself on me…

Pussy Power

Glow in the dark underwearHow good would it be to see your partner in the dark. Well not see them as such but what they are wearing. You could have hours of fun chasing each other.

I’m not talking here about using night vision goggles, although that would be one way to play in the dark. Lol

What I’m referring too is a new range of lacy underwear invented by those clever Aussies. Designer Jan Hawley had created this range of underwear known as the Boudoir collection because it’s only for the bedroom.

Simply hold a light near the underwear for two minutes and you can light up the room. I want some of these. 😉

You can check out her site here.

Naked Breast Stroke

Suze Silver BraI love swimming have done since I was little and visited the swimming baths at least once a week with my friends for some water sport. Ooohps! I should perhaps rephrase that. Lol

And more recently I have revisited the idea of regular swimming as exercise with Alex. We kept it up for quite some time as regular exercise to get us up off our asses which we sat on all day. But one bought of cold and you know how it is, you feel ill and under the weather and before you know it your routine and exercise goes out of the window.

I’m still determined to get back on track. I may be more inclined if there were more events like this one being held on the weekend of 6-8th of November at Rugby in Warwickshire. It’s the International Naturist Federations swimming gala.

I’ve always fancied swimming naked in a pool in the hot sun in some exotic climb. I suppose that Rugby in the UK is a far cry from the Maldives for example but I’m sure it will be an enjoyable event.

If you interested in getting involved because they are still looking for competitors, visit the site here.

Boobs, Bigger Than Ever

I have no idea why but my boobs seem to be getting too big for my bras. The first time it came to my attention was Tuesday when I put a white fitted t-shirt on to wear for work with a pair of grey trousers. When I checked myself out in the mirror I noticed that my cleavage was bubbling distinctly over the top of my bra cups.

At first is occurred to me to dismiss it as my bra shrinking due to washing but I don’t wash them hot and certainly don’t air them in the dryer. So it can only come down to one thing they have increased in size.

I’m currently a C therefore I’m heading for a D and a little fearful I must admit. Traditionally larger cup sized bras have looked like something a professional shot putter would wear for support. With reinforced cups and scaffolding. Lol I know that styles have changed over the years and I’m probably being a bit silly and after all I should be grateful having come from humble 32AA beginnings.

You just can’t please some people can you. 🙂

Also today I noticed that I’m not the only one. Horny had the same problem, in fact I think hers was spilling over the top more than mine. Whereas Busty’s were just huge! No change there then.

Could they be putting something in the water at work? If so I could do with bottling it, I would make a fortune.

Late thought…If the roll of tummy over the top of jeans (particularly low waisters) is known as “muffin top”, then what is this condition called? Any ideas.

Sexual Vices

Girl On A ChairI’ve said this before but swinger site alt.com has nothing on the innocent looking social networking sites out there. On the outside they are all warm and friendly, non-sexual and polite but seething beneath is a hot torrent of lust and sexual services.

There you are openly chatting with your friends about this and that and behind the scenes you are being sent proposition emails. 😉 If I had been a hotwife or cuckolded girl I would have had no problems copping off with someone by now.

Thing is I love to play online but that is as far as it goes. I’m not saying that I’m not open to the possibility of bringing a “third” in to our relationship, far from it. I’m a bi girl at heart and the possibilities are endless for me but it has to be the right person. I don’t just give it away to anyone, if you know what I mean. Lol

Strange but all the propositions have been from men, now let me see what have I been offered…

Pictures of his dick, like I’ve never seen one before. In exchange for pics of me.
To have dinner with no strings attached
Cyber sex using a webcam
Phone sex, got several mobile numbers
Asked to be a “third”
Asked to drive and meet up half way between our homes

I think that just about covers most of the propositions I have been lucky to receive, I’ll keep you posted.

Fucking Arseholes

Chocolate StarfishI do not like telemarketing companies, which is why our house number is registered with the Telephone Preference Service. I you live in the UK this a registry of telephone numbers that do not wish to receive unsolicited telephone calls. There is a mailing preference service to stop junk letters hitting your mat.

We’re registered with both.

However there’s one firm that seems not to have noticed and they are really getting on my tits. Now I’m not naming them but we once had insurance with the firm, cancelled it and have told them not to contact us on numerous occasions.

I just spoke to their call centre and spoke to the most surly and disinterested woman.

Oh, they are in so much shit if they continue to call and mail us!

Rant over … almost.

FUCKING ARSEHOLES!

Did You Just Say Dogging?

Naked ManAlex and I took a trip out to meet a couple of customers today and popped in to a large adult store on our way. We frequent our local store to keep abreast of the stock they have and see if there is anything that we would like to test.

But today was about business and we got the chance to have a very good chat with the manager of the store for market research purposes. It’s good to know what the general public are buying and the trends in taste.

The store was one of the most varied in terms of supplies and clientele, selling everything to every sexual persuasion you could think of. It was a veritable sexual cornucopia.

I was particularly interested in the viewing habits of the cliental and it seems that there are quite a few hot topics and DVD houses which sell well. Alex and I at one point were discussing this with a guy (I’m not making this up) wearing a beige mac busying himself with the DVD’s.

The conversation moved on and I asked “Is dogging still popular?”, our host didn’t bat an eyelid at this question being an open and honest sexual being. However the guy in the raincoat dropped a couple of DVD’s on to the floor just as I made my enquiry.

Naughty of me I know but I had to smile and try to regain my posture for the reply to my question. For some reason despite making his presence known the guy insisted on standing around listening to our conversation whilst thumbing through DVD’s. Then when we went downstairs he followed us. Lol

Maybe he enjoyed what he considered to be a bit of dirty talk I’m not sure. Lol We had a good day and I hope it will reap its rewards.

You will be the first to know. 🙂

Nasty Forbidden Fucks

Humanity is fascinated by the forbidden. Sometimes attracted, sometimes repulsed, but always fascinated by anything that is out of reach, or denied to an individual or culture. Whether the question is “Why can’t I … ?” or “Why would I want to … ?” the fascination is still as strong.

In the area of sexuality taboos have always been used as a means of control. Some are sensible, based on good logical reasoning, take for instance the prohibition of incest in pretty much every culture that has ever existed. Avoiding close family members procreating produces a genetically more diverse population, less susceptible to disease, less prone to genetic abnormalities.

Manipulation of the genetic diversity and restriction of the gene pool has always been the province of dubious ideology. Take the common practice of close family procreation in the ancient Egyptian royal family, or the eugenics and attempted racial “purifications” of the last century. Both the product of extreme and misguided thinking, flawed science and despotic regimes.

And yet I receive spam email containing the promise of pictures of oedipal couplings, or discover stories on websites about “kissing cousins”. Why? Well some people must find it a turn-on. Unless the writer of the story is writing simply to titillate and attract a specific section of the readers on the web, the author themselves must find the subject stimulating in some way.

I’ll just say here that I’ve never seen such a story on an adult blog. They occasionally appear on sites holding “collections” of work, both free-to-view and pay sites.

If these were explorations of the psyche of the protagonists and the interplay between them, society and their family circumstances then I could see a reason for their creation and consumption, but as they are invariably written to arouse they have no discernable appeal.

This isn’t a post about the rights and wrongs of a particular narrow genre of writing though. It’s more about the concept of the attraction of that which we cannot have. Does someone else’s partner seem more attractive, just because they are with someone else? Does the though of introducing something into your sex play seem more exciting because it’s generally thought to be unconventional, or even elicit. I’d venture that it does.

Porn in general is more widely accepted for what it is, titillation, stimulation, material to awaken the sexual beast within. However when does the consumption of porn become acceptable to society at large? It varies from country to country but 18 years of age (as in the UK) is not untypical as the legally defined age where porn becomes available to the individual. OK, so let’s ignore the fact that you can have sex at 16 but not watch a sexually explicit movie until you’re 18.

What actually kicked this post off (now he gets to the point I hear you cry) is a recent news item about the high proportion of teenagers (predominantly boys) looking at online porn. Some of those being “addicted” to it. This doesn’t surprise me, though the figures quoted seemed a little hyperbolic.

What fired me up was an audio clip I heard on the radio. In it a boy said “If I didn’t have a job I’d spend all day [looking at porn on the Internet] … I enjoy it … It’s educational.”

No it bloody isn’t!

I never thought I’d be the one to say it but viewing porn on the Internet especially on commercial sites exposes you to one facet of the gloriously varied universe that is sexuality. I suppose it’s like much of the “information” that we gather from the net, of dubious provenance.

It got me wondering just how widespread that sort of thinking is; i.e. that sex is a series of airbrushed stills where all women enjoy being viewed by men and often penetrated in every orifice, simultaneously. Will we end up with a generation dehumanised by images of sex and a narrow view of what sex is?

If you read a blog you will hopefully learn something, about the author, about relationships, about sex. But even on the best written blogs that can only ever be part of the picture and only in relation to the author(s) of that blog. There’s a real world out there full of people with feelings that do not translate into what one commenter writing on this blog about certain types of pornography referred to as “suck and fuck” stories.

So if you are a teenager and have taken the time to read this piece please take away one thing. Read widely, drink deep from the well of knowledge that is the Internet, but use your intelligence and maintain a healthy scepticism. And above all, get a real life, a real partner, and when you’re really ready for it some real (safe) sex.

Sex On Twitter

Secretary LegsTwitter is a complete phenomenon.

In the beginnings there were chat rooms and message boards.

Then there was MySpace, then FaceBook, now Twitter.

Each generation of social networking site increased the accessibility, ease of use and therefore popularity and reach of online communities. Somewhere in there was Blogging, continuing serenely on as these social networks developed. This has been great for the development of news gathering by the population, communication with friends and the creation of new marketing channels for businesses.

Like all new media the sex biz has started to use social networking including Twitter, and so have horny individuals. So if you want to find sex online then you can tweet but the stoccatto nature of the sub 200 character messages always makes me think that sex talk on Twitter is the virtual equivalent of the withdrawal method of contraception.

So do you guys Twitter and what for?

Big Breasted Private Show Girl

Big BoobsRead this story and you could come away with one of two impressions.

Either this girl has been subjected to an offensive and inappropriate piece of behaviour by an employee of a well known company or she’s lying through her teeth and the newspaper have published the story anyway.

It shows just how difficult it is for a consumer of the media to divine which is the truth and which pieces of information are lies.

If it were not for the fact that the company say that they have not received a complaint about this alleged note I would suggest that “Matthew” was an alias used by a lecherous employee to mask their identity. That and the fact that the customer says they were offered vouchers, yet refused them leaves a bit of a hole in this story.

Badly reported, disingenuous company or contrived story sold to a newspaper? Even The Sun didn’t summarise the content of the piece in a closing paragraph, preferring to let the reader make up their own mind.

Hmmm.