Mrs Reilly's Victorian-era house was considered one of the finest in Brewer: made of Kasota, the premier building stone of Minnesota, it featured colonial revival lines with an off-centre tower and Tudor arches. The attendance at the widow's afternoon tea was big, fully 30 or so ladies, all divorced or widowed Moms. And all so very well-dressed, in their w...
(In the 1950s it was Coopers Jockey Y Fronts that were the fashion statement in male underwear. Goggle, and explore what I mean. They were high waisted. They did not sit on the man's hips but rode higher than the navel. A big Y shaped opening on the front was their hallmark. Elastic kept the legs tight- until they got old and worn and the elastic became infi...
This story follows Rodney's Nude Humiliation Cpt 14 and Days of the Raj. If you like CFNM I am sure it will appeal to you. ***** In the warming sun of a mid-Western summer, in a grove of Mrs Reilly's garden framed by trellises and rose shrubs, the well-dressed ladies milled about. It was one of the finest gardens in the mid-West and the ladies presented a...
On this summer Sunday Jack Cunningham stood in the kitchen in nothing more than sagging Y fronts. Julia, dressed in her church-going clothes, stood before him, snapping out orders. She was telling him to dust all the front parlour, sweep the hall, take the carpets out and beat them on the clothes line. Jack stood, sheepish, holding the failing elastic with...
Brewer's teenage boys were getting caught in the nude. More and more. It was happening again and again. They were being exposed stark naked, bare as boards, in their birthday suits...in front of stern disapproving mature ladies...or wickedly curious girls their own age. And they were getting to know the shivery, helpless, panicky feeling on being caught nu...
It was the living room of Mrs Reilly's house, high-ceilinged and richly decorated, a room all the ladies of Brewer longed to visit. The light poured in the tall bay windows, catching the swirl of the women's cigarette smoke. On the wall, in the shadows, one could just make out the oil painting of Venus hauling a nude Cupid over her knees- an 18 year old Cupi...
It was mid-1950s America. It was Mrs Reilly's house- one of the finest in Brewer, Minnesota- on a sunny afternoon. Under the chandelier, below the big oil canvas of naughty Cupid being spanked by Venus, in front of an audience of well-attired ladies smoking cigarettes and shrouded in their perfumes, and schoolgirls excited to be witness, the drama was now re...
St Paul boasted one all-female college: Myra Shrewsbury Teachers' College, its 1890s and Art Deco buildings clad in ivy and set in verdurous grounds. All its staff were women. Busts and portraits of its presidents- bespectacled and ferocious- glowered like female deities of vengeance, arranged in its vestibule, as if to frighten off any creature who dared to...
Stevie sat in the rear of Mrs Lanbourne's four door hardtop Sedan de Ville as it sped north on the interstate. The interior of the new 1956 Cadillac smelt antiseptic and nice. She had just bought it. Mrs Lanbourne was like that, this elegant lady with her long nose and lambent brown eyes: everything was the best. Stevie thought of her these days as his real...
George Appplewhite lay on his sheet, on his metal framed bed with its chipped cream paint. Outside the Gangetic plain offered up its steamy heat and its swill and ordure. The ceiling fan droned and creaked, stirring the sluggish air. This was his junior teacher's bedroom- hardly bigger than a closet- where he had slept since his arrival in India to teach at...