After what felt like an eternity of waiting, the door of Michelle's bedroom creaked open just enough for my short brunette girlfriend to stick most of her head out while one small hand wrapped around the door. Her shoulder-length medium-brown hair fell forward as her piercing eyes peered right at me as she mustered up the nerve to step out, her mouth obscure...
Ann, my gorgeous, perfect wife of three and a half years, and I have enjoyed quite the sexual journey in the past year. Inviting other individuals into our most intimate activity was something neither one of us would have ever imagined when we said "I do," and we are convinced that 90 percent of couples would never be able to manage the attendant complicatio...
"Mmm yeah, baby, you like that don'tcha?" "Oh yes, harder, please!" I wasn't at all surprised to hear the lust and desire thick in my voice. I'd put it there, after all. I'd been trained too well and had too much practice to let my disgust leak out into my voice. John Stone – the seventh John Stone this week – was actually Lord Doland Carston. The Gaelin k...
My name is Harry A. Pitt. Of course, this is not the name I was given at birth, but my old name doesn't matter. Harry A. Pitt is 100% legal. It's even on my driver's license. I changed my name as a protest against man's enduring tyranny over his true better: woman. More specifically, a protest against just one of the many manifestations of this tyranny evid...
Jennifer sat in an overstuffed chair, staring at the faint cracks in the white leather. She settled her glasses on her nose out of nervous habit, awkwardly ignoring the other two girls in the room. Her arm stood out in stark contrast against the chair, her skin as dark as burnt mocha. The young woman stole a quick glance at the other two girls - Emily and M...
Chapter 2: Waiting Rain beat down on the tin roof above Devon Connors' head, save for a few spots where no roof existed. Thankfully, she'd been shoved into the only spot in the room that didn't have a hole in the ceiling, a dark corner behind the door. In all honesty, it was the first time she'd been thankful for that dry little corner. She'd envied the gir...
As she reached to grab her bags and walk out the door, she couldn't help but pause. She ran back to the bedroom to check the mirror one more time. She looked at herself critically. The dress seemed much too short. It clung just a bit too tightly around her belly. She tried to adjust it again. She felt the desperate urge to take it off, to change into the jea...
As my eyes start to close, I have one last thought, a prayer almost. I pray that when my eyes close again... I find peace. But not the peace of dreams. Please, if anyone is listening... no more dreams. And then my eyes flutter shut. -- "Hey, Dad?" "Dad, wake up." "Dad... DAD... we're there." I open my eyes wearily. I was dreaming and...what was I drea...
MARY SMITH. HANGED FOR MURDER. 31st. OCTOBER 1873 "I don't like this!" "Oh yeah," he sighed impatiently, "What's wrong with it." "It's dark," she continued to complain. "Of course it's fucking dark; it's ten thirty at night at the end of October," he replied irritably, "What do expect...blazing fucking sunshine!" "Please don't swear at me Andy," she sco...
It was as if she had time-warped herself to Atlanta. The only part of the five hour drive she could even remember was listening to her favorite Bryan Adams CD and playing “Let’s Make a Night to Remember” over and over—imagining that the words of the song foreshadowed what tonight would bring. I love the way you move tonight, Beads of sweat dripping down y...