House party Stories

I am the ghost of another woman’s life, an interloper, a study in contradictions. Anonymity comes for all of us. We reach a certain age and go unnoticed. This is my act of rebellion. My attire is stylish and not ostentatious; the contrast is stark with this dour iron chair. I wear my hair down, yet a wide-brimmed hat keeps my eyes in the shade. My discarded sunglasses lay beside my untouched coffee. Feminine in flowing co...

Everyone who had a uniform was wearing one. Those who didn't were wearing a salacious approximation of what someone might wear if they were an adventurer or pirate in order to look dangerous. Thankfully they hadn't needed to visit any of the closed shops to find their costumes; Ving had enough leather pants of her own. Everyone was armed with at least a pistol, aside from Vile and Tonna -- who were already far more danger...

She's waiting on the bed when I enter the room. "We have to be quick," she urges, laying back and parting her legs. I unzip, move on top of her, and push inside. We fuck enthusiastically, driven by lust and the chance of being caught, our mouths mashed together to prevent noises. I thrust and she huffs, arching her back and moving her hips. I look at the photos on the nightstand as we climax together. I remember their wed...