Dear LIT Readers, however many you are, I decided to try my hand at a longer story with an ongoing line of events. Since I’m an artist living in a small New England town with many remnants of its failed industrial heritage in evidence, it seemed like an apt setting for a longer story. The invention of “The Art Factory”, a large industrial complex converted...
I was stretched out, precariously balanced, one foot on the ladder and the other stretched to a foot hold in the hedge. I saw her walking towards me and watched as she climbed the ladder. I was sure her dressing gown was a few sizes too small. One hand held her dressing gown together at the top while the other tried not to spill the glass of cordial she he...
Tuesday's child is full of grace. Daria spun gracefully, her arms arched over her head with one leg bent and toe pointed at her knee before jumping forward and joining Alan in a long line of leaps across the stage. Coming together they pressed their hands together with one leg trailing behind them, walked in a circle and then pulled away before she stepped...
An sadomasochistic, erotic story that will awaken any woman's sexual passions where a girl he knows into a kind of erotic torture chamber- Part- 3 During the ten minutes grace that I mentally allowed Leah in which to recover from the violence of her struggles, I quietly studied her as she stood helpless, almost supporting herself by resting her weight on he...
Ms. Josephs first appeared in the 3 part story "I call her L" which detailed the fictitious adventure between Addictedtonylon and his editor. Ms. Josephs, and her new found desires are now a spin-off from those stories. This story was edited by LSEiland. ________________________________ It was late one day, just before my staff was ready to leave. The phon...
Every town needs a super-hero. Unfortunately the town of Sticksville had to make do with Alan Miller, a.k.a. Christian Crusader. It wasn't that Christian Crusader was a bad super-hero. He had all the requisite hero traits. He was strong; he was brave; he was athletic; he could fly. He was also blessed with the kind of fantastic good looks that made all the l...
He smiled across the crowded dance floor of the multi-colored rave, his waistcoat open to show the silk t—shirt above the tight jeans, a beacon of lust. She smiled back, the raven hair and dazzling green eyes radiating sex above the puckered pursed purple and bubblegum lips. Ivory skin kept ballooned with a corset tied in barbed wire, the fulsome roundness m...
I watched her, the woman with the trombone, who played with such panache and added gravitas to the mood of swing in the songs. She accompanied the gravel voiced singer who sang with passion but needed carriage to project himself. She seemed to know of her uncommon importance and with aplomb she played. Timing is everything and she knew she had it. One song a...
The package arrived during the children's snack time that afternoon. Jadyn didn't open it, thinking it was the replacement silver bullet she'd ordered weeks ago. Hardly the appropriate snack-time conversation piece. But she did eye the box. Wantonly, lustfully, hungrily. The anticipation of playing with her new toy played on her nerves. When she toppled her...
Stevenson Spade is the name. A tall, good-looking young black man living in Atlanta, Georgia. I'm a student at Morehouse College, the best damn school in the world, period. It's my father Frank Spade's alma mater. He attended the school and played football for them circa 1970. Shortly before I came into this mundane world. I'm on the men's baseball team. Thi...