Rick Lovett had no inkling, on arriving at Eastleigh Manor, of how comprehensively his marriage vows would be tested that night. How could he? His wife had accompanied him to the Christmas festivity, and even had she not been by his side, the moments he’d been tempted to stray since their wedding, some six years prior, numbered a paltry handful. Granted such itches tended to crave scratching in December. There was somethi...

The weather was decent for this time of year, with only a smattering of snow on the ground and the temperatures mild. Mary gazed out the window, sipping coffee while watching the little birds flit about the feeder and bounce around in the branches of the now leaf-less Cherry tree. Chickadees, wrens, and a few others hopped and bopped around, keeping her entertained with their cute antics. She let out a wistful sigh and wo...

A couple attends a Halloween party filled with drinks and debauchery. Sultry maidens and ghouls dance amongst the pumpkins and headstones. As midnight approaches, proper etiquette is cast aside and inhibitions fade. A “behind the scenes” meeting quickly escalates. He pins her against a wall as carnal instincts take over. Her lacy undergarments are cast aside as coitus is imminent. A brief, but torrid, encounter ensues. Im...

Call me Zoe. That’s my name this week, this month, in this city. I tend to change it to fit my mood, my current path, much like I change my hair. You could call me a nomad. I’ve lived on the East Coast, in the upper Midwest, northern New England, the Southwest, even the deep South. Well, spent time would be a better description. “Lived” connotes more permanence, more rootedness, than my life has seen since I ran away from...

The warm, wet liquid poured down my cheeks, tasting a bit salty. Despite my best efforts, I still couldn’t get Mike off my mind. “Fuck, I squirted all over your face,” Kat moaned. “I’m still cumming.” Another gusher of her hot, salty cum sprayed from her quivering hole, saturating me, my hair, and my face. Luckily, she didn’t get her sexual juices all over the video camera. “Say your lines!” I told her. “I see your future...

She calls beige… oatmeal, and our walls are beige. Maribel Deschamps preens herself, and I pretend not to notice. Her bangles, thin slivers of gold, silver and platinum, tinkle when she adjusts her flowing locks. I know when a woman makes an effort and maximises her potential. She has a lot of that, elegant and tall… attractive with high-born features made to lure men. Of course, my husband is here, and it is so transpare...

Make me wet in a public place like this, and then ignore me; I could learn to despise you. I am easily aroused, and the nonchalant passerby would think butter does not melt in my mouth. It is on ice in the picnic hamper for later and not just for the bread and cheese. My beloved convertible rumbles with subdued malevolence. The top is down, and the cognoscenti will know I cuckold my husband. Attired in a simple navy dress...