Chapter 5: "Go on, open it." Shona passed the envelope to Mark. "It must be good news. Nobody uses snail mail any more except for special occasions." Mark and Shona were squashed together in Mark's single bed. Both sets of parents had gone away for the weekend, and the couple had taken advantage of their freedom with an all day sex session, finally falli...
When working at a legal brothel as a prostitute in Nevada, Garrett and I had six parties. It seemed that each party was better then the previous party. He was an excellent client, he obtained sexual services and ejaculations, he gave me nice tips. And our parties were longer then the 15 or 30 minute parties that many men prefer. I often had orgasms, he had e...
Ballet One I'd taken up classes when I was 5 years old. My beautiful mother, Natalya, was an émigré from Russia and had trained at the Bolshoi Ballet in Moscow. Then, on a tour in the 80's to Canada she had defected; not because she hated the Soviet system but because she met my father Andre, a Quebecer. He was a dancer too, but had decided to leave the pro...
When the weather is hot and sticky,That's no time for dunkin dickey. When the frost is on the pumpkin, That's the time for dickey dunkin. I have no idea who the originator of this limerick is. I do know that my Grandmother taught it to me around the time I was able to fully appreciate my first dirty joke. As I think back, she loved dirty jokes and could la...
"I lost my eye and my wife on the same day. I miss her more than I miss the eye." That's what I overhead at McDonalds. Slowly I turned around to see from whence came the voice. A man with a patch over one eye was walking away from a table with a young mother and two preschool aged kids. My guess is that one of the kids asked the man about the eye patch....
Disclaimer: This story is a complete work of fiction. It does not depict any actual person or events. There are elements of stalking, rape, and violence. If any of those elements disturb you, please navigate away from this page. I do not condone the acts in this story in any way. It was born from a dream that I couldn't get out of my head and bloomed into th...
Sketches in the Night I The Cop He left Homicide a little after midnight, turned east on 51st and headed towards the lake, for his apartment off South University. He rubbed his eyes, tried to wipe away the burn that had come with working thirty hours straight, then he yawned, pinched away a lacrimal tear as he pulled up to the red light at Cottage Grove. H...
(My thanks again go to Muddy for her editing. In fiction and for Mitch's benefit, this tribe exists. In fact this tribe bares no resemblance to any Native Indian tribe either in America or Canada.) If you look on any map you will never find Summer Canyon. Its name has been passed down from generation to generation, and even when map makers came they looked...
There is little to no sex in this story. If that is what you want I suggest you look at other stories. The people in this story are real and this is their story. More or less. I have taken some literary license and embellished some of the facts. Comments are requested and appreciated. Thanks and enjoy. * It's Saturday night at the bar and I am sitting here...
Note: This story is set in England, during the '80s, when mobile telephones were still on the horizon, TV programmes were recorded on Video Tape and problems of 'erectile dysfunction' were kept very, very quiet . It is a work of fiction. All the parties represented are of a suitable age, ie., over 18. Please be aware that no authors were harmed during the wr...