Walter Wimple, was a loser. He was born unlucky, and it only got worse as the years went by or so it seemed to him. He was small, thin hair, no muscles and no backbone. People walked all over Walter all the time. He especially had a terrible time each Valentine’s Day. It seemed like something terrible always happened. When he was four his dog died on Valent...
Chapter 2: Veronica "What brings you home, Ben?" my brother asked as he handed me the second beer. It had been opened. This was the part I had been dreading most. Where to begin? Should I start with the sad news that I was out of work, warn him that I had four credit card companies on my tail or should I appeal to his sympathy and tell him I had broken up...
The day seemed to drag on forever; the office just couldn't hold her interest today. Maria had called this morning and told Peggy that she needed to come to the meeting this evening because they were going to discuss her membership in the motorcycle club. Peggy was supposed to wear her sexiest outfit in order to better influence the membership. Peggy could...
(fictional story about fictional characters in the public domain) That damn little girl and her piano lessons," thought Natalie. She knew it wasn't rational to blame her, but Natalie had to blame someone. She couldn't blame her boss, Adrian Monk (the brilliant former detective and now consultant for the SFPD) because his phobias and neurosis' were beyond hi...
A message for those who like my stories, those who hate my stories, those who are indifferent and those who have yet to make up their minds. I have often stated that I really don't care what others think about my stories, that I write for my own enjoyment and then I offer to share. If you like my stories fine and if you don't, also fine since I have alread...
My name is Sandra Jay and I am a tall, blonde-haired and green-eyed Irishwoman living in the city of Brockton, Massachusetts. I live in an apartment with two tall and very sexy, voluptuous Black lesbians. Madeline Brown and Michelle Anderson. I am absolutely in thrall to them to the point of becoming their very willing love slave. It's not just a game to me...
This is a true story being written as it is actually happening. If you don't see future chapters, I didn't make the hoped-for weight loss. If you are hoping for or anticipating sex involving others this is not the story for you. It is about a married couple very much in love and completely satisfied with each other. In Chapter 1 you learned of my need to l...
Alan Meadows yawned and looked at the morning sky and rubbed his flat gut affectionately. The breakfast of mixed grains and skimmed milk following by one piece of buttered toast topped by a skimming of peanut butter (for taste) was better for his health than bacon, eggs and two pieces of fried bread. Oh yeah? "Yeah," he grunted from the deck of his boat...
They say the husband is always the last to know. I've thought about that statement quite a bit over the past several months, and I have decided that it's not quite accurate. Perhaps a more accurate statement would be that the husband is the last to accept. I was one of those husbands. I thought I had a good marriage. Of course, it hadn't turned out exactly...
(Just started this one. Hope this one gets the reader ready for the next one in the series.) * 1. Introduction: My wife and I had been together in matrimony for only three years when our new neighbors moved in next door. We mostly kept to ourselves as we considered ourselves too vanilla for most of the couples who considered us friendly. They indulged the...