It was getting late, Ray and I were driving to Branson, Mo on I-44 for our first family reunion. My little sister and cousin had spent weeks maybe months planning the event, our first big family get-together away from home, in over thirty years, and we were all excited to see each other. Expecting a big turn-out, there were over sixty people that had been co...
Author's Note: Please read "Our Dirty Weekend" and "Our Mid Morning Tryst" to better enjoy this story. Also, please send your comments, feedback and votes. I hope my muse will send her feedback too. *** I am a senior executive working for a reputed multinational company. I am in my fifties. I am tall, well built and have a distinguished personality. I am...
(I have received many compliments about the story Library Love. I never really intended for it to be more than a one time story, I'm hardly finding enough time to continue the ongoing story The Cowboy Way. But since I have received many requests for another installment of Library Love I will give it to you. After all, you the readers are the most important a...
We travel by night to avoid enemy fighters: bomb-laden American P-47's, rocket-toting English Typhoons. Death angels. Twelve kilometers more. I can nearly smell Marie Colette's perfume sweat, bad breath, and sex through the road-dust clogging my straight, Teutonic nose. The long barrel jutting out ahead of our Panther G, a 75mm KwK 42 L/70 cannon, reminds...
My name is Abbey. This is a story about the day I moved to the big city. I had grown up in a small town, and had worked a job and fucked my boy friend after high school. After two years of working at the local Wal-Mart I got tired of it, and bored with my boyfriend. I got an art school in New York to accept me. All of my friends told me I could draw really...
CHAPTER 1 Two hours before dawn, two hours after the cops had broken up the party, Renata Mead opened her eyes and blinked furiously, looking around trying to identify where she was. She eyed the stacks of winter wood and groaned, accepting she was in a garden woodshed. Somebody was sprawled over her. Dead or alive? Gingerly she reached down and was horr...
This story is the third in a series. While it is hoped that this story can enjoyably be read alone, reading the previous stories will provide context and background. This story is a work of fiction. Any similarities to any real person or entity are entirely coincidental and unintended. ***** Drew's mother was hospitalized again just before graduation, so...
I awoke several hours later and slipped out of bed. I threw on my robe and slippers and went to the kitchen. A ham and cheese sandwich and a beer seemed in order, so I threw it together and carried them to the patio. I munched on the sandwich and looked at the lake. I didn't allow myself to think. I wasn't ready to confront what we had done. Two minutes la...
It was 1892 and I, David Shaw, then aged 19 answered an advertisement in a local newspaper for position of 'messenger boy' in a medium sized family firm serving local households in and around the Borough of Putney in south west London. The work would involve bicycling, delivering messages, small envelopes and collecting monies owed. The advertisement calle...
My cousin Carter shot me a devilish smirk when he opened the door to my bakery. That was his way of telling me he wasn't alone. He knew I had a crush on his new mechanic Bill, and he made a point of bringing him along every time he walked from his corner garage down to my corner to bum a cup of coffee and some sweets. "Hi, squirt," he teased as he perused t...