*Disclaimer: Any persons engaging in sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age. * Chapter 1 The portly man put a smile on his face as the Farmers came out of the small building. He did not like the Farmers; John Farmer made less money than his wife, and it was quite obvious to all that his wife wore the pants in their family. The Bible clearly st...
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is part of my Neil and Debbie series. Deb and I write our stories together. Her memory is better than mine, and I put the words 'on paper'. This narrative has elements of our real life experiences, occasionally spiced with fantasy. You might be able to guess which is which. The hottest action is near the end of the story. All charact...
A few days after the long holiday weekend, Bill Mitchell stopped by the farm to visit his daughter Margie. It was a lovely, sunny, early summer day. When he arrived, Ryan was inside one of the ramshackle barns working on some equipment, and Margie was out in the field on a tractor. Her t-shirt was off, draped over the steering column for easy access. She pul...
Who Am I kidding here? I suck at picking up women. This was my second night of a four day trip away from my apartment in Spokane, Washington. If I were in Spokane, I would be content in siting in my living room and feeling sorry for myself. But hanging around in a motel room is just not the same as hanging around a living room in your home. At least at ho...
"Why did you insist we take this old car?" I take my eyes from road ahead and glance to the passenger seat. I can't see much of my wife's face in the green glow of the dash lamps, but what I can see, eyebrows low in a line matching her lips, is enough for me to guess her mood. Seema and I attended our youngest son's graduation from university this afternoo...
"But the Colorado Rocky Mountain High, I've seen it rainin' fire in the sky, The shadow from the starlight is softer than a lullaby, Rocky mountain high..." ...click... "Spent the last year, Rocky Mountain Way, Couldn't get much higher, Out to pasture, Think it's safe to say, Time to open fire, And we don't need the ladies, Crying 'cuz the stories' sad, 'C...
It was beautiful land. Whether the person seeing it was a local or a visitor, distant kin or lost tourist, whether they loved or hated the people, the small town sins and virtues, the space and the quiet, the winding and slender roads, whether they were born with good earth under their feet, or whether the humming electric heart of the city beat in their c...
Olivia had a bottle of Bud Light Lime in her hand as she danced through the party, stopping to talk to some of her friends, class mates, and people that she hadn't seen since they graduated. She had come to the party with her best friend Jeana but had lost her the minute they walked in the door. Olivia made her way to the kitchen to get another beer when she...
She'd always considered herself an anarchist, and she thought that ironic -- or she had, anyway -- once upon a time. Anne Rutherford left Grand Island, Nebraska for Cambridge, Mass, and in a way unlike any before her. Wide-eyed and sure of herself, academically accomplished and politically naïve, she made it into Harvard on a Wadsworth scholarship, determin...
Caitlin's log: Sunday, 10 a.m. I'm lying in bed with a terrible, nagging ache. You'd be forgiven for thinking I'd gone ten rounds with a Cabernet Sauvignon, but you'd be wrong. The ache was spiritual rather than physical, the apocalyptic realisation that for the third night running I'd lain awake for hour before falling asleep, contemplating all manner of th...