Annie wants to go out. She doesn't tell me, of course. It's the long shower in the evening. It's the way she pulls her sleek black hair back into the same French twist. It's the stylish makeup and the little black cocktail dress that comes almost to her knees. It's the sheer, black silk stockings on her slender, perfect legs, and the Italian heels that scre...
"Son, you're being unreasonable." From across the room where he stood next to the small mahogany bar in his father's office, Damon Moore let out a bracing breath and began making himself a drink with steady, practiced ease. It was only about four in the afternoon, but the sun was nearly set so he splashed in half a finger more than his usual; it was going t...
zNote: This story evolves around a "shemale" so there is some bi-sexuality in the telling of this tale. If that's not your cup of tea, then please, don't bother reading it. Thank you. Amsterdam My wife and I had flown over from the states to visit with her parents who lived there. I had been there once before, for a quick brief visit so I knew a little of...
(This story is the result of a combined effort by three people. I had the true pleasure of working with Angie Everhart, aka Angie E, without whose help this would be a jumble of words and not a story, and with dianah the audio diva whose voice makes this story even better. Angie has also taken this concept and written her own version, which she will publish...
The chronological order of my stories is now listed in WifeWatchman's biography. Feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas. This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes...
Betsy Flanagan looked at the image in the mirror. The woman that stared back at her smiled. "Betsy, when you've got it, you've most definitely got it," she whispered to herself. Her five foot eight inch form was encased, at least partially, in black leather that hugged her curves like a second skin. The pants were a mesh weave below her crotch, showing plent...
The far away scent always reminds me of her. Cigarettes, coffee, maybe a little bit of perfume. Yep, my darling was a little rough around the edges. She wasn't your conventional blonde-haired Barbie- not that there's anything wrong with that, mind you, but there was just one Talia for me. The fact that we grew up together was also a big factor in our would-b...
I irritably flick the annoyingly thin pages of my magazine over for the twentieth time, hopelessly wishing I would find a riveting article that would last for half an hour. I had been staring out the window, lost in my own thoughts for a while, but then an old man sitting opposite me had said that ridiculous phrase – 'Cheer up, love, it's not the end of the...
The thick oversize first-class envelope didn't feel like junk mail, so Brandi took a second look on her way to the waste can. It had a return address at 550 East 50th Street, Level 45, New York, NY. That was uptown, East side, near 5th Avenue shopping and Grand Central, just a few blocks from Stuart's office in the uptown financial district. Brandi opened th...
I held my vodka-and-grapefruit juice in front of me, aware that I was closing myself off through body language, but unable to help myself. Perhaps when this drink is inside me, I thought, I can relax a bit more, but for the moment I held my glass like a shield in front of my 34D chest, which at the moment felt all too exposed by my low-cut dress. And it was...