The night after the first therapy appointment Rebecca had a series of elaborate, erotic dreams. She woke up tingling, her cotton panties wet and fragrant with excitement, and fleeting images of her dreams flashing though her mind like glimpses of pictures seen through a kaleidoscope lens. She struggled to remember all the details, but some dreams had alr...
A woman I know, someone I first met online and then in person when she and her husband came to NYC, have something of a unique arrangement. Their marriage had been one of true love, which descended into an arrangement of sorts: He would run their business (which they both owned) and she took care of the kids and the home. Come to find out he had been steppin...
From Aldous the Call Boy Dear Shoeblossom, Knobby dances naked, huge Victor rat traps snapped on his nipples, as Lia and I take turns swinging at his swinging balls and trembling buttocks. I am using a car ariel I broke off of the neighbor's old Corvette, and it makes long red streaks on Knobby's buttocks, and Lia, giggling, is slashing him on his other si...
This is a continuation from "The King of Middlesex - Part 1". I'd like to think that this story can stand on its own but for full context, you may want to read that one first. Full warning, some or even most of the sexual activity depicted here is bisexual. I don't mean as in accidental same sex contact but gloriously normalized and celebratory. If that sort...
"How? Is it really possible?" Gina wondered in disbelief. A tiny niggle of a feeling at the back of her mind had started months ago. She had been refusing to allow it to come into the light. Despite this, the niggle had blossomed. It had started with a seedling of a friendship. That friendship had not only grown but blossomed. She had been trying hard to br...
Paraphilia Jones stared in massive approval at what to all appearances was an enormous reticulated python growing in the crotch of the passenger seated across from her in the morning express train. She could feel her own wetness as her juices spilled over the plastic seat. She ground her crotch against the rock-like wonders of modern polymer science. She lo...
Three years ago my nineteen year old white daughter drove along with me five hours north from our home in Southern Indiana to a city on the shoreline of Lake Michigan. Now I had always suspected that Bethany was sexually active since she was close to twenty, but I did not realize that her preferences included black men. I must preface this story with the fa...
"Herr Profesor Abercrombie!" The husky female voice didn't startle Ian Abercrombie. It only yanked his mind off the essays he slogged through. He glanced up. Marianne Witmerhaus' casual couture blocked his office door. She hadn't been a surprise, having alerted him weeks earlier of her visit. Ostensibly she traveled to attend "the tennis." Engage in some...
As usual, it may help to read the first chapter: The Secret Life of George Prufrock * It was a perfect autumn day when George Prufrock and his wife Janet attended Myra Lennon's outdoor potluck supper. As Janet chatted with her friends, George wandered across the flagstone patio and into the living room: a man ignored, virtually invisible. He was the sort t...
Perched in the doorway between deep sleep and wakefulness, I know that it is dawn. I can see light through my closed eyelids, and the rhythms of nocturnal sounds have stopped. The citizens of daylight—pets, people, sparrows, cattle, are all preparing for their appearance in the day, and do so in quietude. It is silent, building, awaiting activity. The chill...