For Cookie. It was cold the night we met. It was the end of March, but it seemed that winter, like a drunken houseguest, didn’t know when it had overstayed its welcome. Her eyes were a crisp blue, just as she’d said. Her hair was a pale blonde and ended at the small of her back. I thought it was very possible that if I put my hands on her waist and squeezed...
They had worked together for nearly two years, at first she regarded him simply as a co-worker, an older man, distinguished and hansom, but way out of her league. The first day they met, when he was in training a mistake was made by his trainer and even though she could have made an issue out of it, just talking to the man she knew that even though she was h...
If you like this one look for other stories about Claire and Harry posted under my former name, DrMemeory. *** Claire came up behind him in the morning and leaned her body into his as he stood at the sink washing the last few dishes from the night before. She rested her hands on his hips, then slid them slyly lower, under the hem of his nightshirt, to root...
I sat a small foot stool beside the kitchen bar just as the doorbell rang. I was trying to reach the appetizer bowls on the top shelf. I am rather short (only 5 feet tall) and it can be rather difficult to reach the higher cabinets sometimes. "Come on in, the door is open," I yelled across the room as I got a bowl out of the cabinet and set it on the counte...
It's one of my favorite things to know a woman has cum and her sweet honey is then trapped in her panties. I'll retell you one of my favorite panty stories, and probably the one that maintains my fetish to this day. Knowing the intimate smell of a woman is probably one of the most erotic concepts that my little brain can fathom. I don't want to wear them, I...
Chapter 25: Yellow pussy for breakfast - aged to perfection Melinda, my wife, showered, dressed and ate her breakfast without saying one stinking little word to me. I couldn't decipher anything from her face either. That's how Vietnamese women are. When they're not happy, they clam up instead of pouting or throwing a tantrum the way white women do. I though...
It was 8am, and as always, Sharon was awake. It didn't matter that it was Sunday morning and she didn't have to be anywhere until church at 11. She always woke up at the same time. And especially today. They had a houseguest. Brent was a young Marine who had been friends with her son when they were both in high school. Now Thomas was off in college, and Br...
The day had been long, but it wasn't finished yet. She was sitting there at her computer screen staring, not really knowing what she was looking at. She was tired and vulnerable, but she needed to get this done and get some sleep for she had another long day ahead of her. She sensed someone was in the room with her, but she knew it couldn't be so. Her hous...
I read a lot of stories that the author calls TRUE or BASED ON TRUE INCIDENTS. All the incidents in the story actually took place although the timeline may have been altered a bit for effect. Enjoy! Lily was an intern of mine. And, during the time we had worked together, my wife and I had become acquainted with her socially. She had an effervescent personal...
The Americans onomatopoetically call it a queef, while us Brits, charmingly refer to it as a fanny fart, this elusive and frequently embarrassing raspberry blown from the female genitalia is seldom heard by most of us men, and even more seldom discussed. But none the less, I would be willing to place any amount of monies on the fact that I am not the only ch...