May 31, 2007
FOREWORD
The following chapter is part of a single novel length story relating a journey of awakenings, discovery, and growth involving a small group of people. This story should read well alone, but…
By clicking on a blue Wm_Sexspear, you’ll be taken to my Profile; at the bottom of the page you’ll find a list of all the currently available chapters. THIS SHOULD MAKE IT EASY TO READ THEM ALL, IN SEQUENCE, WHICH IS HEARTILY SUGGESTED so the reader can follow the story line, character development, and catch the inside jokes.
Many of these chapters could go into many different categories. For example, in Chapter 1 there’s a small amount of male-male sex. A number of ladies have said it turns them on to picture two guys, just like the idea of girl-girl sex is arousing to many males. Yet Chapter 1’s purpose is to supply important background regarding the heterosexual development of 2 young men, so I’d hope a totally hetero or gay reader could both relate to and enjoy this chapter.
Fan mail, well-intenti
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May 31, 2007
A fat black old woman story: I should have known better.
Yes, I should have known better going into that dark, desolate alley by evening, just to take a shortcut home. It was stupid because the save way home was just a 10 minutes longer walk. But sometimes I don’t understand myself and do such stupid things like this. And this is the result, an fat black woman of 63, standing here with mixed emotions in that dark, desolate alley, her blouse unbuttoned, her large boobs hanging out of her big bra, her skirt around her ankles, her underpants torn and sperm of two horny young white men dripping out of her fat black pussy. And what’s more shaming was my behaviour in this. Let me tell you about it.
I have a good life. Being a widow for 14 years I managed, after my husband passed away, to pick up life again. For a few years I’m retired now and enjoyed the days because I’m busy enough with my hobbies. What’s disastrous for my weight is my cooking hobby; I’m fond of cooking and tried every recipe of the many c
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May 31, 2007
Misty lie in bed, her hand between her long legs with two of her fingers deep in her steaming pussy. She moved them in and out as fast as she could go. Her other hand toyed with her firm breasts and nipples. She needed to cum so bad every inch of her body was on fire. She had only been with one man in her young life and he didn’t know the first thing about pleasing a girl.
“Please, cum!” she moaned as her hand began to tire. She’d been fingering herself for close to an hour with no sign on an orgasm. “Oh please, cum, cum!” she moaned again bursting in tears and rolled on her side with her fingers still deep in her lonely pussy. “Why can’t I ever cum?” she asked herself looking at the alarm clock next to her bed. “Shit!” she yelled kicking off the satin sheet and headed to the shower.
Later that morning, Misty made her way to the campus job board hoping to find a better job than what she had. Being a waitress at the student center didn’t pay enough, she needed a better place to live and more clot
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May 31, 2007
MATH TEACHER, MRS. ROGERS
I was adopted by a loving couple and raised in a small town in Northeast Ohio. When I was 18 years old in high school, I developed a strong interest in math mainly because I had a very good teacher, Mrs. Pauline Rogers, who also was an attractive lady: about 5′2″ and 120 lb, blonde, firm boobs, and slim legs. When ever I was close to her, I tried to inhale her intoxicating perfume. I worked hard to please her, who I guessed was about 35 years old. In turn, she was glad to have one male student interested in learning math. There were rumors that Mr. Rogers, a basketball coach, was cheating on her. I dreamt of being her lover and jacked off at least once each night imagining every conceivable sex act with her.
When I was studying at the State University, I heard that Mrs. Rogers left the school district when her husband was transferred to Pennsylvania. After graduating in Computer Technology, I started working for a young IT company in Cleveland.
YOUNG BETH
My 20-year old girlf
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May 31, 2007
My parents are gone for the day. I am home from college for the summer and have not yet found a job, so I had decided to spend all day lounging around before I begin my job-hunting tomorrow.
I knew the men coming to fix our air conditioning were coming at 8am, but still, I am sleeping when I hear the doorbell chime downstairs. I fly out of bed, still in my tank top and boyshorts, snatching my black silk bathrobe and throwing it on as I rush to the door. I am not awake by any standard, and brush my tussled hair forcefully away from my face as I open the door.
I clear my throat and smile sheepishly as I open the door, tugging the slinky fabric across my breasts. I am greeted by an older gentleman; most likely well over fifty years of age, with a few signs of once-dark hair intermingled with the overall silver sheen. He has a freshly-trimmed goatee, also black and gray, complimenting a set of beautiful teeth that sparkle as he smiles at me. He pulls his shades off as I am opening the door, and I am startled b
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May 31, 2007
The room is filled with quiet warmth, dim light casting shadows on the walls. The music is soft, Frank Sinatra unless I’m mistaken. But I barely pay attention to the tune as we dance. Hand in hand we slowly circle. I fight to keep my hand from shaking as it rests lightly against your hip, held away from your skin only by the thin fabric of your pants. The skin of your hand is so soft against mine and I long to pull you to me, hold you close.
I’m conscious of the awkwardness of the moment. But dinner had been delicious, our conversation wonderful and inspiring. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that you saw me only as a child, that our age difference was something that concerned you. But I see you only as a beautiful woman, sexy and intelligent, and I can’t help but want you. And you took pity on me and agreed to dance.
I can’t take my eyes off of you as we slowly take a turn around our improvised dance floor. You catch my eyes and blush, as though you can see what I’m thinking. On a whim I spin y
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May 30, 2007
My name is Carlos; I’m 45 years old, born and raised in the San Fernando Valley. I’ve been married but divorced now and living alone with no kids. I want to tell my story. I’ve pretty much kept to myself since I got divorced. The old lady and me still get along but the love has gone. Guess that are why we split from each other. I have not had very much experience with women outside of my race though I have dated black ladies. I have never been with a white woman; I have never been with a blond. I own a small landscaping company that also doubles as a lawn care service. I like being outside in the sun. My skin is tanned a deep brown, I’m built ok but I’m no Arnold, I have a slight pouch, maybe from the beer I drink. I don’t think I’m that bad to look at though.
My crew and I were working one day on the West End of the valley at a new construction site when all of a sudden a blond lady walked out of the building. She was not a young girl; she must have been about thirty years old. Still a lot younger t
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May 30, 2007
(This is my first time writing erotic lit. Comments and suggestions would be much appreciated.)
Rick could hardly believe his luck. His entire life, he had been obsessed with the idea of being with an older woman. He fantasized constantly, admiring teachers, women on the street, and even a few of his friends’ mothers. Of course, none of these fantasies had ever amounted to anything. How was he supposed to come on to a teacher or even a friend’s mother? There was no chance. That was the case up until now.
Rick had made a stop at the convenience store earlier that day and began admiring the woman in front of him. She was very short, probably no taller than 5′2″. She was a little heavy, but had a tantalizing round ass and an adorable face. Her eyebrow and lip were pierced, adding to the allure. They had struck up a conversation, during which time Rick also noticed her tongue piercing. He found out her name was Dominique and she was twenty-seven (Rick was only 19 at the time). She had two kids, who happened
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May 30, 2007
After 30 years in the military I finally decided to retire. At 50 years of age I was still in superb physical condition and young at heart. I owned a home not too far from the military base I retired from. I had lived there for several years, and liked it, so just stuck around after retirement until I decided what I wanted to do next with my life.
Perhaps one of the reasons I stuck around rather than looking for employment elsewhere, was the horrible crush I had on one of the neighborhood girls. I had known Heather for years. Her family lived across the street from my house, and when she was a little kid, she used to always ride her bicycle back and forth in front of my house whenever I was out in the yard pulling weeds.
Every time she saw me she would yell out “hello Mr. White.” She would do that sometimes even from the window of their home when ever she saw me go out for a jog, or pull out of my drive way on my way to work. I’d always said hello back to her, and had had a couple of conversations wit
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May 30, 2007
It started out innocently enough. But then, doesn’t it always? It was Monday afternoon and I was in the back yard pulling weeds.
“Hey, Mrs. Carter.”
I turned in the direction of the voice and saw Bobby Campfield walking along the path that separated my yard from West Valley Park.
“Hi, Bobby,” I shot back. “How are you doing?”
Bobby came to a stop by my back gate and smiled. “I’m doing ok, I guess.”
“What do you mean, ‘I guess?’ Is something wrong?”
“Not really,” he responded, shrugging his shoulders.
Now I’m not usually one to stick my nose into other people’s business. In fact it’s usually just the opposite. But I’ve been friends with Bobby’s mother for more than half of my forty years, and I’ve known Bobby since the day he was born. It was obvious that something had him a little down. So I reached for the gate and pulled it open. “How about I get you a nice cold Coke and we can talk about it?”
He looked at me for a moment before smiling and chuckling. “You’re worse than my
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