“Harder!” she urged. “Faster!” Felicia’s hands were on his buttocks, pulling him into her. Perspiration soaked his forehead as Ben tried his best to rise to his wife’s desires. It was never enough. “Harder! Faster!” Any faster and they’d have to call an ambulance. Besides, the speed at which he was going ensured that a premature conclusion was all but inevitable. With Felicia clawing at him, doing all she could to force h...

Two faces on the screen; the husband connected via a remote link, and his wife Pippa, propped up on my wife’s and my conjugal bed. “I need to be pumped full,” the woman whispered. “I really need to be pumped full of spunk.” She looked away from the camera, straight at me, where I stood with a raging erection. “Please fill me up with spunk. Please pump me full.” My wife let the camera roam, over Pippa’s gropeable breasts t...

“Look into the camera, doll, so your husband can see your eyes as you feast on my husband’s cock.” I watched the screen, seeing the man’s eyes widen at the sound of my wife’s voice and the close-up of his wife’s face, the flood of saliva that flowed from her mouth and swamped the bass of my cock as her throat protested at the way I held her down on me. Bold, lipsticked letters on Pippa’s forehead advertised, “HANDLE WITHO...

“What the fuck?” I’d never heard the man use an expletive before, so he must be taken aback. I glanced at the screen to see his shocked face, next to the square where I could see the view the camera was affording him; his wife Pippa on the far side of the badly maintained square of tarmac claiming to be a car park, completely naked save for a pair of red high heeled shoes. She wasn’t alone. Next to her was my wife, dresse...

I trained the camera on each of Pippa’s limbs one after the other, making sure her husband got a good view of her manacled wrists and ankles and the chains binding her to the bed. His voice was unsteady. “What’s… what’s going to happen to her?” I didn’t bother to answer, instead, I focused on the lipstick scrawl my wife had applied to the insides of Pippa’s thighs, “NEEDY FUCK HOLE” (arrows pointing to the spot). Moving t...

“Not long to wait, Cuck. I can hear them on the stairs.” I glanced at the screen, seeing the man swallow hard. He didn’t respond verbally, but that was nothing to me. Instead, I trained the camera on the doorway so that he would see what I saw as my wife showed his wife into the room. Relaxing in an armchair I watched as they came toward me; my wife dressed in glossy, black leggings and a blue tunic pinched tight across h...

“That one,” Annie said, pointing to a card in the middle of the fan-shaped spread on the table. “Are you sure?” Emily asked. “Quite sure.” What was the point in changing her mind when, face down, all the cards looked alike? “This is exciting!” Emily breathed, fake nails gripping the card Annie had indicated, turning it slowly, eyes widening as the image was revealed. “Oooo! The Fool!” “It reminds me of a court jester,” An...

She dances in the dark, at a rest area where the only amenities are tables with benches and a hut containing lavatories. Their holiday ending, the last act requires a big climax. Lights pierce the dark as a lorry illuminates her; the white dress unbuttoned far enough to allow her breasts to swing free, a thin silver chain round her neck, white stockings, and above all the shiny red knee boots with twelve-inch heels. She s...

She has her feet up and her legs parted. Her skirt’s up round her waist. Today she’s doing things properly, using a ribbed pink vibrator to administer pleasure to herself. As always, whenever he glances at her, he’s not looking at the spot where the toy teases out a trickle of moisture, but at the red lace-up ankle boots on the dash. She senses movement and hears the sound. “Where are you going?” He doesn’t answer, but pu...

This evening she’s in a little black latex number. That and her red shoes. They’re at a secluded rest area, drinking coffee from a flask at one of those picnic tables with benches as the odd car is heard passing beyond the thick mass of growth separating the rest area from the main road. They’re not alone. A man has just emerged from a lorry. He heads for the little hut, seeking relief, giving her a none too subtle look i...

She grips his shaft with nails a perfect match for her new red shoes. Yesterday they went shopping, spending over an hour in the shoe department of a bustling emporium, she trying on every pair of red shoes in her size, coming away with three pairs. Their bags are by the door. There’s nothing left for them to do except check out, but she wants to give him something a little special before they go. Her leather jacket is op...

She hurries toward him, away from the lavatory, in her yellow, short-sleeved dress. It comes down to half thigh, and is tight enough to embolden her conspicuous curves. It must be abundantly clear to any of the other people at the rest stop that she’s not wearing a bra. Her nipples are like peanuts and the sun’s rays penetrate the thin material with ease. In spite of all this, his eyes are directed at her red shoes. He do...

I’m Margot, and I’m a Sarxite. You don’t know what a Sarxite is? Well, the short version is that we’re the beings that have been written out of what you people feel obliged to call “Greek myth”. Except there’s nothing mythical about it, we’re real enough, even if you people have stopped believing in us. Wherever there’s conflict and strife, you’ll find Ares. And if you’ve ever wondered how you come to find yourself at a g...

“I imagine I’m not what you expected.” You can say that again. I had the uncomfortable feeling that whatever I said, the woman would see right through me in a flash. “I wasn’t sure what to expect.” But I’d had my suspicions. Rather unflattering suspicions at that. Revealing them would no doubt make me seem shallow or worse, as if I’d come prepared to throw stones in the glasshouse that was my own physical frame, which I h...

“I take it that your previous experience proved satisfactory, since you’re back.” The man on the other side of the desk leaned back, placing his hands behind his head. On my previous visit, a month ago, I’d felt him undressing me with his eyes. Now I felt that he was remembering; the way he’d squeezed my breasts and my buttocks, pressed himself against me so that there could be no doubt as to the nature of his demands. I...