[Note: By Lifting Winds Forgot and The Ceremony of Innocence precede this tale. If you've not read these two this story will make no sense at all.] +++ Time, Like A River: The Voyage From Driftwood III Part I: They called for the harp – but our blood they shall spill Byron, By the Waters of Babylon – from The Hebrew Melodies ◊◊χ...
This story is part of an ongoing series. The chronological order of my stories is listed in WifeWatchman's biography. Feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas. This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are...
This story is part of an ongoing series. The chronological order of my stories is listed in WifeWatchman's biography. Feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas. This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are...
A brief preface: ~~~v~~~ This is the last installment of Leslie and Francis. All comments are welcome. Vote if you like. I know the temptation to skim can be almost irresistible, but try to really read it. ~~~v~~~ Seven days, it's been seven days since Leslie's 'accident'. Some accident; the asshole should never have gotten involved. I'd warned her; OK,...
... but in the light it's 'pokes, saloons, whores and a wife The western was always a staple of TV and movie fare when I was a kid with John Wayne riding tall and Matt Dillon tossing bad guys in the pokey and Miss Kitty pouring shots at a long bar saloon. 44 Colt long barrel revolvers were the fashion accessories of the day and if Matt was putting the talle...
Author's Note: This is a follow up to The Young Master series. You can start here if you aren't interested in Belle's misadventures as spoiled young man turned out by his own sissy slave and eventually enslaved by his step-father, but it does introduce a lot of characters you'll read about in this series. * I don't know how long I was under...days, weeks....
Proofed by Maggie Finson DECLARATION: This story is an original literary work. I wrote a story just to stretch my creative muscles. All characters, Sirens, and rapists in this work are fictional. Any resemblance to anyone living, dead, or born in the future, is purely coincidental. WARNINGS: Contains transgender themes, Sci-Fi, explicit sex, mild violence,...
8: Hot Lips In a ten room apartment just off Fifth Avenue on 65th Street, Mr. Phelps Phelps was leaning forward to touch his wife's chin with the fingers of his right hand. Mr. Phelps was standing and Mrs. Phelps was sitting just in front of him. Mr. Phelps wore a dark suit, a gray silk tie, a white handkerchief in the left breast pocket of his jacket. Mrs....
"Stephen, what's in this big wooden trunk," Sarah my soon to be ex-wife asked as we cleared out the loft of my soon to be ex family home. "I don't know, junk probably," I suggested. "It might be bone China, we agreed I had the China." she said greedily as she stood there and if I half closed my eyes I could pretend she looked sexy with her in her dungarees...
"Cherry-Pie; with extra napkins." I breathed luridly into the receiver of my wireless phone as I paced back and forth through my lonely, sparse, and untidy apartment. That was the code word for two prostitutes. I had to have an extra one this time. As long as you were content to never, ever be in the limelight, there were certain perks that came with workin...