The insane author, Jenny Jackson, sat on a bench near the corner of 39th and 7th Avenue in New York with a yellow legal pad across her knees. The swirling snowflakes of late December danced at her feet as she watched her character, the Private Eye, Harry Dick, across the street. Harry was dressed as a Santa Claus bell-ringer. Ding-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling... J...
I dedicate this story to Bostonfictionwriter, who helped me get off of drugs, gave me a place to stay, and found me a job that paid enough to keep me off the streets and out of the shelters. Most of the story you are about to read is true, just the names have been changed. There is no sex in this story, just emotion. * There's no better day than Earth Day...
Walking in the street of a dangerous neighborhood that you never thought you be in, you , Jessica Queen, wearing your snapback obey, your red and white shirt , your jeans with two holes on the knees, and your new nike shoes ( from the pictures)decided to find some sweet and sensual black fun for your 18 birthday. As you walk down the street of a well known s...
THE FINAL: Business woman Maggie de Lacey is taken hostage in a bank robbery and when her new husband rushes in and attempts to free her Ryan is shot through the chest, but survives. Marksmen kill one of the armed robbers holding Maggie and save Maggie again by immobilizing another robber attempting to shoot her with a shotgun. All this drama is being shown...
Two years ago, if you told me that I would be standing on a darkened street corner in stiletto pumps, fishnet stockings, a black miniskirt, a see-through mesh top, with a black bra and neon pink panties on, I would have laughed at the image. Of course, back then it would have looked ridiculous on me. But on my new 131 pound hairless body, the outrageously s...
Janet walked into the hotel room and immediately went to the window. "This will do nicely." She said to the desk clerk. He was relieved; he had already shown her three rooms. And he did not understand the appeal of this one. It had floor to ceiling windows, but the only view was straight into the windows of the hotel across the street. He told her he would...
Valerie Song woke up the way she always did: with her gigantic boner stealing all the blankets. The immense, twelve foot pillar of meat pressed up against the ceiling, trapping the hem of her quilt just out of reach unless she sat up. Her balls had expanded during the night as well. She hadn't had a wet dream that night so there was a full eight hours' wor...
Gina woke with a start at the sound of the alarm. Not the usual insistent beep of her alarm clock mind, rather the screaming wail of the fire alarm from the next building. Oh God, the third time this month! And at what, 5:30? No, as her bleary eyes adjusted to the display on the clock, 3:30 in the morning! That just took the biscuit. She'd had a long evening...
“Gene Pratt sure is a lucky guy, isn’t he?” Rodney said. His friend Mike replied, “Born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth.” The two were brokers at the New York firm of Cromwell, Bartleby, Stevens and Yates. On this late summer day in 1958 they were having lunch in the Financial District. The man they were talking about, Eugene W. Pratt, was on...
I've just read The Soulful Bard's intelligent and well-reasoned essay concerning Literotica's Loving Wives category. The essay, as I said, is well done, carefully crafted and informative. But I feel a need to add a bit to his essay, not to argue with anything Soulful Bard said, but to add a bit from my own perspective. Soulful's essay concerns itself with t...