Cargill Women's Prison: the one place you wouldn't send your worst enemy. This is the closest to hell I ever want to be, but here I am, all because I'd listened to my boyfriend when he said, "All you have to do is sit in the car, baby, and wait for me. I won't be long. I love you." Well, here I am, waiting, and serving out my sentence of 5-10 years for acces...
A huge hug and sloppy kisses to those of you who have e-mailed me about this novel over the past few months. You guys are the best xx For Z, my forever. I sought Not with my eyes But the tips of my fingers The familiar slope of your breast Down, down Down to the little warm nook That I'd be blessed to call home * You watch me Eyes hazy...
If you're under eighteen, or are turned off by two beautiful women in hot sexual contact, stop reading here. Otherwise, enjoy! And let me know if you enjoyed the story, and want to see more by emailing. This story is dedicated to meu amor from afar, Raquel, in Brazil. I thank her for the inspiration for this tale of sudden girl-girl lust. May our hands rea...
Here is the final part of The American Reporter. Helga has discovered that Helmut has been spying on her under orders from SiPo because her father wasn't anti-Jewish enough for their liking. A plan is hatched to get her out of Egypt and into America after she lets two men from the American embassy copy the contents of her husband's safe. I apologise for tak...
This is the second part of Acceptance of Denial which continues on from the events in the first instalment. I suggest you seek the first part out if you haven't previously read it, to gain a full understanding of the plot and characters. Despite the apparent controversy of the first instalment and thanks to the positive feedback from many readers, I decided...
Author's note: I wasn't expecting to get the response I did for the first chapter of this. I have no idea how long this story will be and I thank you for your patience and feedback! This work is not intended to offend or insult anyone. I have written it in my own 'voice' and there are some elements that are mildly autobiographical. That said, any names or r...
When the pressure's on I can never seem to come up with any ideas. This is the thought tip-toeing through my mind as I leave the last Creative Writing lesson of term. The assignment's due first week back meaning I've only got three weeks. What am I going to write about? Just time for a quick cigarette outside the main entrance - cold wind whipping against my...
Long before she let herself through the front door it was obvious to Tabitha that Sunbeam was home. From several doors down the suburban street she could hear the sound of seventies heavy metal and, accompanying the record, Sunbeam's own guitar playing that was roughly, but not exactly, in tune. It was a wonder the neighbours didn't complain more than they d...
My name is Fiorenza. It's Italian and it means flower. Momma loves flowers. Every summer, daisies bloom in the field behind our home. When I was little, I'd run through the field pretending I was in one of those laundry detergent commercials on TV. You know, in a flowing dress with daisies all around? I'd pick a bunch for Momma and she'd smile and say, "Renz...
Prologue Emily has finished off her cam show for the night, and was just saying goodbye to her viewers when she got a private message request from one of her regulars. She accepted, expecting to schedule a private or fetish show. 'Hi Debbie. Did you enjoy the show? ;)' she typed. 'As always,' Debbie typed back. She was one of the few women who regularly...