June 30, 2007
*The Following Story is Completely Fictional*
My grand father passing away was one of the hardest days of my life. What happened the night before his funeral was one of the best . . .
I stepped outside of my Grandpa’s café to grab some fresh air. All the emotions since his passing were stating to catch up to me. As I walked around the corner, I saw her. Shauna was my “first” and we remained good friends ever since, even though I now live thousands of miles away.
She ran up to me and we embraced. That’s all it took for my emotional wall to break down and the tears started flowing non-stop. “I’m so sorry baby” was all she kept saying over & over. Now, I don’t know if it was my emotional state or not, but for the first and last time, I cheated on my wife.
As she hugged me, my mouth was positioned right at her neck. I lightly started to kiss her neck & her arms tightened around me. After what seemed like an eternity, we broke our embrace. She looked at me, took my hand, and led me back into the washr
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June 27, 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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June 27, 2007
I made my way from the campsite towards the shower facilities, guided by the solitary bulb which stood sentry over the small tinder block building. The laughter of my three somewhat inebriated buddies grew more faint as I made my way through the darkness of night.
Considering the late hour, I was very much relieved to find the showers unlocked. From past experience I knew many campgrounds would lock the shower buildings after midnight. My watch showed the time to be just before 1:00 a.m. With a satisfied sigh and a feeling of relief I pushed open the heavy outside door.
I was again filled with relief to find the shower facility both clean and empty. With only one shower on each side of the building, one for men and the other for women, I knew that at this late hour I would likely be able to enjoy a nice long, leisurely shower. Quickly I stepped into the stall and stripped, feeling the evening air cool upon my skin. I turned the faucet on, trying to get the temperature as high as possible without scalding my
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June 27, 2007
Here I was once again sequestered in my room, not allowed the association of humanity and of all times, on a beautiful late nineteen fifties New England summer evening.
All agony was because that brat of a sister of mine set me up again, who had just turned sixteen and that I was eighteen. But unfortunately for me she was mom and dad’s little sweetie whereas I tended to be a little rough around the edges. So obviously whenever a dispute arose her cute and sweet would always won out over my not so cute. That’s why, even at my age, it seemed I always was the one to be relegated to their room.
I realize today it is hard to fathom that someone of that age would have to suffer such childish punishments. But back in that day and age, when you were under mom and dad’s roof, regardless of age, you were also under their thumb until you left home.
We lived in west suburban Boston; an area that was jam-packed with double deck two family homes and so did my family, we lived in quite an average two family ourselve
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June 24, 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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June 23, 2007
© Prahaar 2006. All rights reserved.
Author’s note:
Please read ‘2927 Vadodara Express – Chapter 1′
Some of the sexually significant dialogue is in Gujarati or Hindi to preserve the original flavor. Every word has been translated into English.
Thank you for all the feedback, comments, requests, story ideas, encouragement and exhortations to write more. They have motivated me to continue writing. Keep ‘em coming.
I really do appreciate the time you take to give me your opinions. I love hearing from my readers, particularly women! The more mischievous the greater fun! Who knows where that might take us!
At the end of Chapter 1:
I had no idea that women did this. And the sight of a fully grown woman pleasuring herself four feet away from me, excited me beyond any previously known limits. I had been at the boiling point for the last several minutes and the dam was ready to burst. I tugged and rubbed my rampant cock as best I could over my trousers. I soon came in my underpants. For a few seconds,
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June 21, 2007
The following is fiction. It is not meant to portray any specific individuals. I hope it is taken as a tribute to true heroes. It is not in any way intended to trivialize the events of September 11, 2001.
* * * * *
He was exhausted, sweaty, gritty, and dirty. Despite his tremendous efforts for the last 48 hours, he felt guilty and helpless.
He should have been with his squad in the beginning. He had traded time to see his daughter on her birthday. She was 25 now, and they had made a kind of reconciliation after some turbulent years. He was home when he heard the news. His squad was there, he knew it. They needed all hands, and he went immediately.
Most of the damage had occurred by the time he arrived. It was mid-day and sunny in the rest of the world, but this area was in a cloudy twilight of smoke, dust, and fine ash. He couldn’t find his squad. He knew they had been called early. Where were they? He donned is gear and respirator and went to work as guided. He could not dwell on the carnage. He had to
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June 20, 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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June 20, 2007
A Box Lunch
I guess the premise of finding love over a box lunch is pretty far-fetched, especially if you consider our difference in ages. Certainly, the thought of a love between a sixty year old man and a nineteen year old woman, would be difficult to believe, but considering it all developed from a shared box lunch has to stagger the imagination. Of course, as all love must do, our affair ended tragically, but in spite of it all, we had our moments, Kieko and I had our moments.
It began over lunch, or more correctly, it began over my lunch. The distinction is important because I ate and she… she… well she performed. Not really performed, she basically sat motionless, but in doing so, she basically performed.
Let me explain if I can. I have lived alone for many years now, my wife left me for another man. There might have been a poetic justice in it all if she left me for a younger man, but he was older, much older than I, older and richer. Anyway, over the years, my friends had tried to fix me up wi
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June 19, 2007
Matt Simmons stood by Mrs. Hammond, holding her hand as her husband’s coffin was lowered into its rain filled resting-place. Matt held her sobbing body close as the rain poured down on the crying mourners. He had been killed in a horrible car accident only 3 days ago. Matt could feel Mrs. Hammond’s body shaking as he held her delicate, mature hand. Matt and Mrs. Hammond had always been very good friends and the last 3 days had brought them even closer.
Mr. Hammond had been a very respected college professor at the local college. His students loved him more than any other professors. He and Mrs. Hammond had been married for 30 years. She had depended on him for everything. He did the checkbook, paid the bills and any other things that needed tended to.
“What am I going to do, Matthew?” Mrs. Hammond sobbed on Matt’s strong shoulder. “He did everything for me.” She sobbed wrapping her arms around his back. She didn’t care what any of the other mourner’s thought she needed to hug a man.
Matt wiped a
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