It's your day at the gym. A good workout might burn up all the stress and aggravations from a hectic week. You just want to escape from the routine and relax for a change. All your senses are numb and your mind is wandering, unable to focus. Wanting to feel sexy and desirable, you dress in a soft, clingy leotard and wear tiny shorts above your leggings. Enjoying the not so subtle effect you have on others brings a smile to your pretty face. You start out with stretching exercises and then aerobics, working on a burn and feeling fine. Light repetitions with barbells leads to the machines. Mirrors are everywhere and reflect your tight physique, cute little rear and perky nipples.
It was a very dark night, lit by the stars and occasional flashes of lightening on the horizon. The sound of the Gulf soothing as the waves hiss ashore, cresting and breaking, setting a rhythm for your footsteps. The gentle breeze is blowing softly through your hair. Your long flowing dress caressing your thighs as you walk, sandals in hand, to meet me. The seductive sway of your hips, your swollen lips and proud nipples showing through your blouse excite me. I catch the scent of your perfume. Sitting in the still warm sand, waiting, watching you near, I feel my pulse quicken. Thoughts of your passion stirs my loins and begins the hardening.
Your room is softly lit by dozens of flickering candles. Their flames cast ever-changing shadows against the walls. Open French doors to the balcony allow the gentle night breeze to stir the curtains and bring the fresh scent of confederate jasmine inside. The stars are shining and the silvery moon is full. Night sounds create a background of harmony and peacefulness. Half submerged in your Victorian bath, frothy bubbles overflowing, you sigh contentedly as you dream of my touch. Sprinkled rose petals outline your breasts and mingle with the scented oils you liberally added before you began.
His anger abating, he slows his fierce punishment. Pausing to look at what he has done, he hears her muffled sobs and feels her tears flowing freely as they drop from her reddened eyes. She is so vulnerable spread over his knees with her fiery red bottom offered for whatever punishment he deems. Welted, swollen, striped and bruised from his spanking, her skirt is still up over her hips. Her wet panties are near by. Her legs are quivering and her thighs are slightly spread. Reaching down, he gently pushes her legs farther apart and spends a moment looking at her lovingly. Feeling a stirring as his desire grows, he parts her punished cheeks to see her young nakedness.
You are lying there, peaceful and content after an incredible wave of passion. Your skin is flushed and glistening with perspiration. Your nipples are still hard and your breasts swollen. Creamy wetness is still flowing from your open sex as you lay there with your legs comfortably parted. The scent of your arousal and release lingers in the room. Candles soften your contented smile. I watch you as your tongue slowly licks your lips, remembering our mingled taste when you took me deep in your mouth afterwards. Our passion was an erotic mixture you savored and shared with me in your gentle kisses.
Let me start at the beginning and introduce myself! Hi, my name is Kate, and sex with my husband Mark has been pretty good. Considering that we have been married for a few years and one gets into a certain routine and things get a bit predictable. This does not mean that our sex got boring, as both of us made sure of that. We both love sex and we both like to experiment with each other. We have tried just about any position and in any orifice, possible. Sex toys, like different vibrators and dildos have been a part of our "Toy box" for a long time. It must have been about two years ago, when Mark mentioned a woman called "Ty" to me. I think he must have seen some pictures on the internet.
Lisa lay prone and sweating on the bed, legs splayed lewdly wet from perspiration. The heavy pant that issued from her mouth, the result of her lungs being crushed under the dead weight of her exhausted body, echoed in the large suite. Behind her stood Thomas, the man she barely knew but with whom these past few days she has spent in compromising position after position and doing things she had, until now, only read about. Yet she trusted this man not to kill her and leave her body beside the road a lifeless heap, much like she felt now. Now, after the second day here in this place they rented, were they truly able to let go.
Jennifer smiled, for the first time in several weeks a toothy grin opened up across her face. She had spent the last two weeks at Mark's house, thankful she had finally found a place to rest, an aerie to perch upon and rise above herself. The air up there was thin, but with every deep labored breath she managed to come to grips with the fact that she wanted to feel it, wanted to live. She wasn't the type to sink into depression, nor was she apt to indulge in drug or drink to fill the void. She just sat in it, rested behind the rocks of a cold grey hell, keeping the demons of betrayal at bay, but keeping them in her sights. She had become an impartial observer to her life as it was.
Hi. My name is Mona - I'm 28, single, and I own a house. Just got it 2 weeks ago, moved in 2 days ago, and really confronted what it would take to make the payments. When I first found out I was responsible for the payments, I asked friends to move in. Then my sister and brothers, but all declined. I broke down the other day and put an ad in the paper for roommates. I'm not concerned if they are male or female, just as long as they pay the rent and don't destroy the house. The ad had run two days when I got my first call, Dean. He said he is 23, in his last year of college and wants out of the dorms. I asked if an hour was okay and he said sure.
Samantha had only just started working at the small county bank a month earlier, but already she had proven a valuable asset. Her boss, Mr. Steadman, had hired her almost on the spot and ever since had treated her as if she were his daughter. He was an older man, well into his fifties, with the beginnings of a pot belly and gray hairs, but he was a man, after all, and Samantha didn't wonder too long about the reason for his affections. She was only 5'3, but most of her height was in her legs and she didn't waste them in jeans. Her short skirt followed the bank's dress code, but only just. Her breasts were small, but clung sexily to her light blue cotton sweater; she made sure of that.