Sprawling, earbuds-nestled, skin-writhing atop flesh-warmed leather. Leaving traces of moisture in my wake to decorate its welcoming caress. Podcast me baby. Whisper sweet entreaties into my receptive, wanting aural canyons. Sibilant s-es slithering seductive, singing sonatas to my supine form. Demanding d's directing digits to delirium. Digits lost amongst juice-slick folds as nailed tips bury themselves cuticle deep in...

"Because." "That's good enough. I don't have to explain myself." "I prefer you this way. You're more manageable. Better behaved. Less selfish and more attentive to my needs, my wants and my desires." "Your wants aren't important. My wants are your wants. Yours are just animalistic carnal hard-wiring and we're both far too sophisticated to be reduced to rutting beasts." If I wanted a neanderthal you'd be wearing a fur posi...

Malignant murmurs quiver in my eardrum, her hand squeezing tight about my throat. "Trick or treat, pumpkin?" Unintelligible sounds wheeze from my gag stretched lips to dribble incoherent down my saliva-soaked chin before splashing on sweat-sheened, heaving breasts. "Treat?" Vibrations ravage my cunt. Merciless, insistent, demanding as stretched and restrained I twirl atop the wand's relentless caress. Soup-minded as orgas...

"Stop squirming. Ankles wider. Better." "A base layer of crushed ice." "One part cranberry juice. One part orange juice." "One part yummy, yummy vodka and two parts peach schnapps." "I had to go and buy a bottle of peach schnapps. Now doesn't that make you feel special." "Glass cocktail stick to stir and then garnish with an orange slice and cocktail umbrella." "Now that does look appetising." "Ohhh, do stop humping nothi...

"This is cucurbita argyrosperma, commonly known as the silver-seed gourd". A Halloween talk on pumpkin varieties; who could refuse one of those? Especially when accompanied by such pungent halliatosis and body odours that death by mustard seed gas seems desirable. Finally, all my sacrifices seemed worthwhile. For you can keep your Dill's Atlantic Giant and your Galeaux d'Eysines when.... Hanging back from the group of hel...

Creamy globules decorate my thighs, clinging jelly-like to skin as they resist gravities urge to descend helter-skelter towards impeccably shod feet. Leaning across her sedentary form my tongue pries lips apart and dances in her dribbling cavity of desire. Furious public blushing ensues as she struggles, trapped betwixt propriety and lust. She tastes of cappuccino; fevered froth and the bitter pleasure of infidelity. And...

Out of season seaside hotel; crumbling masonry, fading glamour and audibly complaining bed springs. With looming deadlines we pull an all-nighter; writhing obstinately on starch stiff sheets. Her tongue slathering expertly through dewdrop glistening petals, fingers probing, juice-coated, into demanding, insatiable holes. Persistently driven to where sight becomes starburst. Breath, endless ragged gasps. The only sensation...

Conjoined since nursery. Primary, all entwined fingers, pigtails, and secretive notes. Secondary, the same options and snogging the same boys as adulthood beckoned. Nowadays they had matching phones, Apps, and accessories. 'Toys for life. Toys for living.' Dianne's finger hovered above the low-lit screen before bursting to life with a squiggle of movement. Instantaneously the vibe in her cunt exploded in a rhythmic dance...

Second cousin, twice removed. Tongue-tied and suffering at the proceeding's periphery. All gawky indifference, sharp elbows, and protruding collar bones. Decked out in bridesmaid's boutique; a vision of bows, flounces, and rustling apricot satin. Murmured words in her shell-like; entreaties to naughtiness as champagne bubbles tickle her nose and my fingers trickle across her back's exposed skin. Tiny crimson tramlines ind...

"Sex is about power." Unconvincingly she crosses her denier-clad legs, skirt ridden upwards to high thigh, glossed and manicured nail teasing at an imagined snag in the fine weave just above her knee. Her enfeebled, barely contained, lust lapping weakly against my skin. "Is that so?" One of us nibbles on a bottom lip, eyelashes fluttering unhelpfully, as a delicate flush of scarlet adds colour to blusher-decorated cheeks....

"Stop it." "Stop what, I'm not doing anything." "Yes you are. You're doing that clenching, curling, clinging thing you do when you're displeased. So, please, stop doing it." "Hurumph." "And sulking isn't going to help. We're going to be here awhile so why don't you try and enjoy yourself," "Un-fucking-likely. What do you mean 'awhile'? Isn't this going to be like all the other times; excruciating, embarrassing, and requir...

Hello sweeties. Now I've always made it a rule in life not to talk about myself. I'm very much of the opinion that celebrities should be ethereal gods and goddesses and that nobody wants to know about your genital warts or that time you upchucked a five-course meal all over Anthea Stephenson's feather-cut, blonde-highlighted, sad excuse for a hairdo at 'The Annual Lifestyle & Wellbeing Weeklies & Periodicals Writers Award...

Bulge swaggers into the bar His assets viewable from afar Huge swinging dick hanging free Slapping noisily about his knee Cojones that would grace a bull Fertile, virile and jissom full His mission to impregnate Any slut who'd be his date. Tits was feeling really dirty Horny, desperate, rather flirty Her bosom hoiked to impress Barely contained within her dress Perched she was atop her stool A slutty, whorish, wanton jewe...

Trolley pushing with Stella; squeaking wheels and crash, bang, wallops; her urchin brood running riot. No cash and very little credit. It's a buy one, secrete one operation, with the offspring-from-hell as diversionary tactics. Hubby is hung like a horse and not shy about stuffing her fuck-holes with man-meat and sperm cream. After four kids, she's well stretched out. Buy one, secrete one. Buy one, secrete one. She's got...

"Why?" His scowl expressive in its anger and frustration, as he gesticulates at the newly acquired 'Lelo Luxury Smart Wand Large Rechargeable Vibrator' that is tentatively exploring the smooth, swollen, flesh of my vulva. "I'm economising," I counter, as my puffy petals bloom beneath its touch revealing the slippery pink channel of my desire. "It's rechargeable, and..." Fluid vibrations flutter through my aroused nub shoo...