Sex in Montpellier

“Readers, this story is a continuation of my previous story Uncle Dave: my favourite babysitter. Enjoy. I look forward to your feedback.”

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Travelling home on the train, deep in thought…

It’s coming up so quickly. My wedding day that is. In 2 weeks I’ll be walking down the aisle in my beautiful dress. All the arrangements are in place, now I’m just waiting for the day to arrive. My girlfriends and I had a great weekend away together getting pampered with massages, manicures, pedicures, you know, all that girlie stuff and then we danced the night away at nightclub and had fun in the casino. (continue reading…)

A quick review of part one. I am a CPA from a small college town in Pennsylvania who rented out rooms in my house to five college females. There was Amy, Erica, Samantha and the soccer girls Becky and Sue. In Part One, I had a wild unexpected encounter with Samantha (wheelchair bound) in her room while the other girls were out.

Classes started for the girls and things seemed to settle down a little. Since I work out of my house I took it upon myself to drive Samantha to her first class. She worked her schedule to take all her classes back to back so that she was gone most of the day. Being this was the fall sports season, Becky and Sue were also gone the whole day, with soccer practice, classes and required group study. This left Amy and Erica coming and going throughout the day. (continue reading…)

Bill stood in the doorway and admired Missy’s lithe body. There was not an ounce of fat on her and her nipples stood out solidly on top of her compact breasts. Spanning her labia with two fingers she pulled the outer lips apart and exposed the moist, bright pink inner lips covered with her sticky looking lubrication. Inserting her fingers she gathered some fluid before lifting them to her face where she sniffed them, smiled and then ran them over her lips like she was applying a coat of gloss.

(continue reading…)

“The following is a true story that happened not too long ago. Many men my age would love for something like this to happen to them. I will relate the story to the best of my memory.”

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I am an older guy in my early 60’s, still in good shape, salt and pepper gray hair, 6′ 0″, 200 lbs., and considered distinguished looking with rugged good looks. I have never had much of a problem attracting women, and have always dated younger women, usually 10 to 15 years younger. For some reason, I seem to relate to them a lot better than I do with women my age. (continue reading…)

I went in and called Judy Watson as soon as Lenny and Shirley left. The phone rang several times before she finally answered, sounding somewhat out of breath. Her ‘caller ID’ told her it was me calling and she answered, saying, “Recovered from last night, Lover? I have and it’s been so much fun, if you know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t know what that means, you’ll have to clue me in.” I heard her giggle.

“Why, lover, I’ve had last night on the brain all day and I’ve just had to…you know…take care of business a couple of times. My poor kitty has been so wet I’ve had to change my panties several times. I finally just left them off. Now, are you calling to say you’ll be over tonight?” (continue reading…)

When my mom told me that Mrs. Reid had called and had some chores for me to do, I was both excited and nervous. Excited, because Mrs. Reid usually rewarded my hard work with a long, slow handjob that would leave me coming in quarts. Nervous, because more and more of her “chores” were stunts devised to get me into embarrassing situations for her amusement.

She was bored, Mrs. Reid was. Her husband made tons of money but was away a lot on business, and since she didn’t work and had a wild streak in her Jackie Reid did things that the typical 50-year-old suburban housewife didn’t do. Like fool around with her 18-year-old neighbor. And have that neighbor, me, do stupid things to stir things up. (continue reading…)

I grew up with one really good friend all of my life. Billy had been my best pal since we were in first grade. In fact most people thought that we were brothers. He and his parents lived a few blocks over, and since my older sister seemed to have control over what was happening at my house, I spend a majority of my free time at his. It got to the point where I didn’t even have to knock to get in. Mrs. Blair would always leave the door that led into the downstairs rec room open for me. Mr. Blair really didn’t approve of this, being away on business as much as he was, but Mrs. Blair seemed to enjoy my comings and goings. She said once that it was nice to have a second son she didn’t have to really take care of. She always went out of her way to treat me as nice as she could. Sometimes, I thought she treated me better than her own son. Mrs. Blair would always give me a big hug when I came and when I left. To her, I was Joey, the second son she never had. Next to my mom, she was the most treasured woman in my life. (continue reading…)

As I lowered my denims and breeches, I felt the cool, dark air assault my previously unexposed area of the body. I felt anxious.

She was facing away from me, now, clad only in her blue, satin panties with their white, lace, trim. She had her right knee drawn up trying to remove her white, thigh-high stocking, using the nightstand to steady herself. Her body was composed of fair skin, a relatively flat abdomen, substantial, weighty breasts which undulated mightily while she performed even the most delicate of movements. Her sturdy hips providing the framework for her full backside which — although perfectly proportionate to her voluptuous body — would have been out of place on a younger, lesser woman. (continue reading…)

It had been a couple days since their big fight. Julie walked around the apartment in a daze, listening to the message Steve had left on the answering machine for the hundredth time. Her only solace came from the face that the fight had happened on the weekend. She didn’t feel like going to class. Hell, she didn’t feel like leaving the apartment - even though everything there seemed to remind her of Steve in some subtle way or another.

Julie had felt so alone the past couple days, bursting into tears every so often. Her usually bright green eyes were constantly red-rimmed and swollen. She still wore the same blouse and skirt she had put on the night he left. She still couldn’t believe what had happened. She had told him that she loved him and he broke her heart. He used her body and then plainly told her that he didn’t love her. She had showered in a feeble attempt to feel clean and dressed in a plain blouse and skirt she had never worn for him, unable to feel comfortable even in her pajamas. (continue reading…)

I wasn’t sure how I was going to break this to Jean. I didn’t see that there was much of a choice and the decision that had to be made was quite clear.

She came in to my office. She was always dressed so prim and proper. Today, she was wearing a short dark jacket over a knee length skirt, white blouse with a lace trim tightly buttoned to her neck.

‘Sit down, Jean.’

She sat. The way people sit tells you a lot about them. Jean sat quite formally, legs together, knees slightly to one side of the bodyline. Her hands, one clasped in the other, lay in her lap. She sat upright, her head turned just enough to keep her eyes focussed on me. (continue reading…)