San Francisco, 1940. There was no question it was her. At first glance, I thought her to be no more than thirty-five, but the more I looked the more uncertain I was. One sure thing was that she was all woman. A woman who was glad to be female in every sense. This woman would never be seen in jeans or sweaters or flat heels. Only the most elegant outfits at all times would suffice. And the most feminine. She was just my ty...
Mikhail Ivanovych Artemenko, to most people, was Mischa, a carpenter who lived in Toronto with his extended family. However, in another life, Mischa had been held in a Soviet prison for ten years. His father had been a dissident in Ukraine who moved the family to America, but Mischa had found ways to piss off the KGB in several corners of the earth throughout his life. When he was in prison, he did horrible things to surv...
The Stalker (Part 2) – A Masturbatory Interlude I’m trying to walk away but it’s so difficult. I’m placing one foot in front of the other; toe to heel with perfect 6” gaps, my head is raised and my eyes fixed forward but my mind is entrapped by the soft eyed temptation that pants nosily behind my stiff back. I’ve become entangled by the cleverness of my own designs and the wantonness of my pussy. I step onwards; wal...
