Sexual Partners


Meeting of minds

He padded into the room, paused and glanced at the people, who stared back at him with baleful looks. The room held three strangers; his mistress and a fourth, shadowy figure in an alcove that he couldn't quite make out. His olfactory senses informed him of the charged atmosphere. Mingled with the familiar aroma of sex and pheromones was apprehension, even a little fear. The perfumes worn by them did little to hide the musk of sweat and aroused glandular activity. His nose told him of these things, it never lied. Two women sat on the red leather settee. A blond haired woman, dressed in some sort of loose gown printed in gaudy colours sat nearest the door. She it was exuded the apprehension.

Moon Phases

Six months earlier. It was at a beach party that Jack was turned. Someone, an acquaintance, invited him and a few bottles, to the dunes on the South Kentish Sea front near Dungeness. As usual, he drank a bit too much, but he was sure afterwards, that his drink was spiked. Certainly, he had a metallic taste in his mouth the next morning and a monumental headache, the like he had never experienced before. He was also quite photosensitive to the point of almost being blinded by the sunlight. He was alone and all that remained of the previous night's party were a few dying embers in the fire, and a few beer bottles and cans scattered around.

My first time

"Ah, I remember it like it was yesterday". The old dog lowered his greying muzzle onto his forepaws, eyes unfocused and milky with cataracts. His ears hung like limp washing, a sigh escaped from relaxed jowls as he recalled the memories. What had been brick-red fur was now faded, but offered warmth and protection to the young pup, who listened and waited for his mentor to relate the tale. "We were a family pack in those days, an Alpha male and Female, a male who had seen about ten seasons, a female of about twelve seasons and an older female who had seen perhaps sixteen or so. We lived someplace else then, in a huge house out in the country with loads of land and trees.

Rambo

Oh! Fuck this, thought Rambo. Rain was hitting him like miniature scythes, bouncing off of his head and back, running into his eyes, dripping of his black and white coat, matting his fur into sodden strands that looked like a Rastafarian hair do. A cold wind kept blasting him from any directions it felt like and it was as much as he could do to keep from shivering to bits. The weather wasn't the worst of his problems though. The flock of belligerent, bastard sheep that were as pissed off with the rain and cold as Rambo was, just would not do anything he tried to lead them into. A limited vocabulary of understanding, after a fashion, can be established between a sheep dog and his charges.

Retribution

It took Jon nearly a year to arrange it, but now his careful planning and meticulous timing was coming into fruition. Having past the wrought iron gates and driven down the gravel drive with tufts of grass growing through it, the end game was now in full swing, like a run away juggernaut, it was unstoppable. He could picture when it all started, the re-run going through his minds eye as he drove towards destiny. It seemed that it had been one of those days; one of those occasional days, when anything and everything that could go wrong, would go very wrong. The car had stopped for some inexplicable reason, probably electrical.

Role play

Occasionally, just occasionally, role play in the bedroom takes on a whole new intensity and, instead of role playing; the person becomes the role and is taken to another dimension. Occasionally, what starts out as a fantasy, stitched into a session of sex, soon becomes a situation, where anything becomes possible. Where inhibitions are left behind and the participants are removed from the real world of stresses and strife to a place, totally overtaken by the acts of present and future, lust and promise of fulfillment. The following is one such event; where the players become the played and all plans become secondary to the unfolding events, where the scene is the lasting real part of a fiction.

Sal's lover

Sal's love. Brrrrb. Brrrrrb. Sal picked up the wall phone on the second ring and tucked it under her chin. "Hello." Her hands were covered in flour and a stray lock of hair got pushed back with her wrist. "I know what you did last summer." The heavily disguised voice announced through the earpiece. "Josh! Hi how are you? Where are you?" Her pleasure at hearing his voice was evident in the immediate flush to her cheeks and breathlessness he always caused. "Hi-ya Sal; I'm downtown and around for a few days; Just wondered if you fancied a meet sometime over the next day or two. I still know what you did last summer though." He laughed in his easy manner; oblivious of the effect he had on her.

A Street Party to Remember

My name is Louisa and i am a happily married woman who enjoys having the occasional affair and extra marital sex with my husband's full consent. I have a good figure for my age as i am over forty; i have pert 36B breasts, a lean 5 foot 7"figure, firm legs and bum. I work out regularly at the gym three times a week. My usual type of guy is young and fit, someone that is looking for a good time and no strings. I do limit myself to one or two sessions a month and enjoy relaying them to my husband whilst making love to him. It's been a while since i put pen to paper about my sex life, but i felt what happened the other day was worth writing about.

The lesson

God! But she was beautiful in those days. Not that Jenni is any less beautiful now, but she was unbelievably stunning back then. Since though, time and the bearing and rearing of children have taken their toll. Jenni still is a very good looking woman, a little thicker than she would like, but all in all, very pretty for a fifty something year old woman. Her beauty goes further than the depth of her skin. Jenni is one of those people who is just naturally lovely, without a mean bone in her and very few times has an unkind thought for anyone. Her integrity is beyond question, her faithfulness is unusual in the singular way it rules her life. It makes her popular and sought after as a friend.

The office

Before you read this, it isn't a stroke story as such. A story with sex in it yes, but not a quick fire wham bam. I thought it best to let you know. The players:Stella was a bitch, pure and simple, a statement of irrefutable fact. Somehow, in her twelve years working at the small Accountancy practice, she had charmed, or perhaps bullied the senior partner into making her the Office Manager. She was the archetype of the Office Manageress. Quite tall, at around six foot, as slender as a rake handle, with hair pulled savagely back into a bun at the back of her head that you would swear was pulling her face out of shape and taking out the wrinkles.