Sex in Montpellier

Sitting alone on the couch he felt the thrill of anticipation, he took another slug of whiskey from his glass. “Steady on” he said to himself, “I mustn’t drink to much.” He knew only too well how alcohol reduced his ability without reducing his desire. He looked at the clock on the shelf 11:15 p.m., he knew what would be happening now, he had been there many times himself, the music, the rhythm, the atmosphere, the shoals of female prey and male predators, although sometimes, such as tonight, these roles were not so clear cut. (continue reading…)

In the evening at dinner John showed up. We ate together and as we finished up Shelly invited him to our room. I was a tiny bit surprised, but not against his being with us. I had figured that she would want to spend the time with just me.

We got to the room and John produced a bottle of wine. We got some glasses and then sat and talked for a bit. The wine went very fast. I looked at Shelly and John and realized that we were probably going to be in sexual overdrive again tonight.

After thinking about it for a bit I decided that more wine was needed. Saying so, I got up and put on my coat. Shelly came up to me with a questioning look. (continue reading…)

I’m an unknown, self-taught, small time tattooist; working out of my home; inking friends and kin; occasionally helping out other tattooist at biker rallies.

I started doing tattoos because my full time job sucks; I want to retire in five years; but still need something to pay the freight.

I was determined that it would be something I enjoyed.

My niece, in her late twenties, thought it would be cool to have a tattoo party. She had it all lined out and pitched it to me; she would invite all her friends, provide me a good space to work in; she would be the sacrificial lamb and could guarantee that I would be busy all night. I got to keep all money, and she would get the rep of throwing killer parties. (continue reading…)

“A fictional account of an affair between man and woman of different ages and how they fared. I want to thank Terry M. for her life and encouragement.”

*

I was standing near the baggage carousel waiting. Just waiting for a beautiful young girl I did not know. I ran the past year through my mind, the first e-mail I received from her, how she had responded to a story I had written in Literotica. How we had become friends over the anonymous airwaves and how we had reached this point. Terry. Terry. I kept repeating her name to myself maybe to reassure me that this was real, that she was really on that airplane. (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 next day we spent in Delft and when we arrived back at our hotel we went to Martin’s room ate some hash candy that we had bought the previous day and had a few glasses of Clynelish before going to a rijstafel restaurant. I was hungry, a little drunk and very stoned when we finally left for the restaurant. We had never had rijstafel before and when all the plates came I was overwhelmed with choices. Martin explained the various dishes to us and what was best to start with. I sampled everything, but when I came to Gado Gado I knew that it was my all time favorite Indonesian dish. Throughout the meal we kept downing cold Bintang beer and by the time we finished I could tell I was really looped! (continue reading…)

“Hello Suzanne. How was your day? Any second thoughts?”

His voice had the same quiet power that she remembered and recognised, and had the instant effect of quietening her temper. She closed her eyes for a second, counted to five quickly, and then replied.

“Hello Mr Leicester. I had an interesting day thank you, and no, I have not chickened out or had second thoughts. What can I do for you Sir?”

Graham laughed quietly at the other end of the line. “I was sure that you wouldn’t Suzanne, and Packard tells me that you were most cooperative with him earlier today. I hope that he was gentle with you.” (continue reading…)

It really doesn”t matter what School you”re in, large, small, city or country, there are some tasks that remain the same. Setting assignments, marking assignments, setting tests, marking tests, writing reports and - the thing I”d come to loathe most - the Parent/Teacher interviews! So, when I saw Parent/Teacher interviews listed as an item on the next staff meeting agenda, I groaned. For me it had always seemed a total waste of time, if your student was good, there was very little you could say to the parent that the grades hadn”t already said, if your student was bad you invariably found that the Parent”s didn”t see the child in the same light! Their child was the greatest thing since sliced bread, so any problems must be your fault, and you needed to work harder and teach better. Indeed, I had known many teachers in my last school that had been physically attacked by disgruntled parents. To say I was not looking forward to my first Parent/Teacher evening in my new School would have been an understatement! (continue reading…)

After our surreal meeting with my principal, a meeting where my mother had turned once again into a terrifying harpy, I longed for peace and tranquility. I would have been quite happy to drive home in silence, but no, of course not. Mom couldn’t leave well enough alone.

“That girl, Bridget, she’s very pretty.”

“Yes.”

“Really, she’s about the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

“Uh-huh.”

There was a bit of a pause, I stopped at a red light, and when the light turned green Mom said, “I can get her for you. I mean, I can arrange it so that she becomes your girlfriend. Totally devoted, obedient…” (continue reading…)

*Chapter 3: The Sequel*

Linda opened her eyes and looked at the clock again which read 1:15 A.M.

“Damn,” she thought, “An hour and 15 minutes.”

She had been laying in her bed, tossing and turning for an hour and 15 minutes and growing more frustrated by the minute. There was something inherently unfair here. She had been looking forward to hosting her friend Maggie and her daughter Ellen for the past week, and it had turned to pure ecstasy. Her friend had reawakened her long dormant sexuality, reacquainted her with sensations she thought she would never experience again. Carried away in the euphoria, Linda had been a willing accomplice in the scheme conjured up by Maggie’s daughter to manipulate Linda’s young tenant David into providing the raw sexual lust and energy her friend had so deeply desired. Vividly recalling David’s young, lean body powering his stiff cock into her friend’s sopping pussy, she had initially been ecstatic to see her friend’s desires so completely satiated. Now, alone again she was left with her own renewed sexual energy and no means to satisfy it save the vibrator her friend had given her which she was using more and more, and satisfying her less and less. (continue reading…)