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Welcome to our "smut" library. Here you will find various information articles and exciting stories dedicated to
voyeurism. We welcome erotic fiction from our visitors. Notice that we add points to authors for every story we publish.
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We visited Dublin at weekend; we were in New Year holiday, so we had to stick up on some presents as well as wanted to take some walk about the city. I took 2 tickets on a night train (I hate men snoring!) and one frosty nice winter evening we went on this pleasant journey. After a late dinner at the restaurant-car, enjoying the trip we returned back to our compartment, having got some Indian Tea in some old metal glass holders.
It was hot and stuffy in our car; my darling first took her blue sweater off, revealing her wonderful tits in a white bra to my admiring eyes. I thought that this bra must have been very lucky to caress this boobs for hundreds times while it had no tongue or eyes to enjoy it properly.
- Join me and help me doing this crossword! My darling asked: do something instead of just walking back and forth.
I cuddled up to her and began helping her with that job, the train pace let out measured rumbled of wheels. Though we were busy with puzzling that shit it could not stop me stroking my honey, my fingers searched every inch of her body, my tongue caressed her ear lap, deepening inside. My lips helped my tongue rub there all over… She said that she was so tense in her neck and shoulders, so I told her to turn her back to me, and started to give her a rubdown, very tenderly, outside the clothes. She soon began low moaning and commenting about my great hands. I told her if she’d lay down on the bed I could do her whole back.
I proceeded, her face down on the bed, to massage her still staying outside her clothes, but soon pushed up her bra and gently ran my fingers up and down her back. Her “ooohs” and “ahhs” gave me my cue, and I reached around her waist, unbuttoned her jeans, pulled them off and started to massage her legs, her top still on, she was still face down.
| | | It was a usual working day. I was sitting in my office and playing some on-line game. Suddenly a colleague of mine came up to me, saying she needed to print about twenty pages, but couldn’t find the paper neither in printer, nor in the copier, not anywhere else. She asked me to fetch some.
OK, I decided to be a real gentleman and help the lady. I went to the other story, I knew that in the boss’s office there was always some “just in case” paper. I came into the office, the secretary wasn’t there. It was very silent there, safe for certain sounds coming from the closed doors.
I half opened the door (which they forgot to close) and saw such an amazing picture – our boss was fucking Samantha. The funny thing here is that she hadn’t slept with him for two years! Guess, she fucked up somewhat seriously, and just had to work it out this way…
I saw it hurt her; the boss was ramming her hard, getting his dick inside her up to the balls. Poor thing, she tried to sort of sneak out of him, but he turned her around and continued drilling her even harder, holding her butt with his hands. I guess it was his third or fourth cumming in the row, so it wasn’t that easy to be fast, well, you know what I mean. As for Samantha, all she apparently wanted was to get off that fucking stem and be left along.
Seemed the boss was tired of her pussy. He set it free. Getting on his tiptoes, he began entering her virgin asshole. Samantha, realizing he was gonna tear it apart, began to creep away from him. She was violently punished for that. He entered her at full length. I saw tears in her eyes. These tears were obviously of no importance for boss. Looked, he was gonna cum at least five more times before having enough of her. He kept the puss-fucking tempo. The girl was sort of out of reality, she didn’t react anymore.
| | | Rob was lying, staring at the darkness. His sweat body didn’t move as if being afraid to interfere with the mixture of sounds that didn’t let him fall asleep that night. He was all ears, he was listening to every moan, every sigh and every squeak, to every sound of the whisper.
Rob knew what those sounds meant. A man and a woman were making love behind the thin wall. Rob’s hands moved down to his rocky hard dick, trembling with desire. The sounds were getting more and more distinct. The woman’s moaning could no longer muffle the man’s groaning. She was crying, now and then her cry turned into whining. The man apparently had accelerated the tempo, he was breathing more heavily. Soon the stream of sounds was flowing non-stop.
Rob’s hands were moving in accordance with that tempo too. He imagined the woman’s slender legs cupping her lover’s body. He imagined her hair, drops of perspiration on her high forehead, her bright long nails, sticking into the man’s back and shoulders. He imagined parted lips of her mouth, gulping for air. Rob realized he was on the verge of cumming. Seemed he could look through that thin wall, he felt like being a part of that room, of that sex. A warm fountain erupted in the darkness, Rob lost the sense of space for a moment. His semen was shining in the dim light. It was flowing down his hands on the hips. He was unable to move. All his senses left him but one – his hearing.
Sounds behind the wall became less clear, less loud. The couple was definitely tired. He couldn’t hear cries, or moaning. All he heard was silent purr of the woman – she was falling sleep. In a minute he was sleeping too.
| | | I needed to spend my time and go on vacation somewhere. There were lots of various interesting places around the world, lots of sites of our incredible earth to go, beautiful scenic spots all over. I loved Italy. I really enjoyed and was fond of that enigmatic ancient Mediterranean and Adriatic mystery and charm it inspired. I loved hot Italian chicks and I knew that in Rome, for example, I would find lots of pieces of interest and historical sightseeings. Coliseum, arches, ruins of forums and squares. But instead I preferred Sardinia. You know, Sardinia is a land of many hidden beauties. Away from the usual tourist hotspots lies a side of Sardinia that is usually missed by the average visitor to the island. Some of the world’s most ancient archaeological sites are present in Sardinia such as the various Nuraghe that can be found scattered across the island. A number of Grotto’s and other places of natural beauty are also visible across the island.
The hotels on the island of Sardinia have a special character. Nowhere else in Europe could I find so many exclusive vacation hotels that satisfy even the highest design demands and are built and run with a great love for detail. When I landed in Cagliary, a capital and main city of Sardinia, I hired a taxi and moved to Pula, a small sea town on the southern shore of the island. It took me more than an hour to get there. I was graced with remarkable view of coastal zone of Sardinia, very beautiful scenery of sea, green plains and rocky picturesque shores meeting warm waters of Gulf of Cagliary. On the place I checked in a hotel with a very vivid name Is Morus Relais! It was an unspoiled oasis of 7 hectare Natural Park that slopes down to the sea creating a wonderful background to the private beach. This hotel fits in harmoniously with the surrounding scenery with the typical geometry of Mediterranean architecture of the main structure, the 18 villas that spread out among the Laurels, Myrtles, Junipers and Pine trees.
| | | I was married 3 times. Now I’m single. If you are interested I can tell you the reason.
My first wife loved me much. And that was the main reason to marry me. But probably together with the love feeling she was sure that I belonged to her. She was sure that she was the only one woman who had rights for my fondling and sex.
She was pretty active in sex – she wanted it as often as possible and as long as it was possible too. She felt when I was unfaithful to her.
She was like from the anecdote:
A wife came back from the agricultural exhibition and was telling her husband “- there was a studhorse! It was awesome! At first one mare was brought to him. And it serviced the horse. Then the second one was brought to it. The Studhorse crunched a piece of sugar and serviced the second one. Then the studhorse was given one more piece of sugar. And after that it serviced the third horse and so on. Her husband listened to her, then fucked and fell asleep. At night he felt that someone thrust something inside his mouth. He opened his eyes and saw his wife pushing sugar into his mouth… - What are you doing? – Well, you are my studhorse! – You fool! The stud fucked different horses!”
Any way, I divorced my first wife. I was tiered to chase after the women in secret, to lie to the wife and so on…
The second wife was completely indifferent to sex! Moreover she kept off sex. She often persuaded me to sex the next night!
It was like in that anecdote! Do you know it? No? Well, listen, in this case:
The just married went to bed after the wedding party. And the young wife said: “- Honey, let’s do it tomorrow! I’m so tied. And it’s too late. I’m already sleeping…” the young husband sighed and agreed. The next night he made one more attempt and heard: “- Honey, I have a splitting head ache. I just can do anything!” And she turned her face to the wall. The next night young husband tried to excite her again. And here she asked: “- Are you a sex maniac?”
| | | It was when I was going to college. I lived in a hostel: it was a big free level building with several sections. Dozens of students from all over the world lived in this place: Indians, Latinos, guys from Saudi Arabia, Russian chicks, several guys from Europe etc. Actually, it was very international community, where everybody was rushing somewhere, where different speeches were heard almost in every corner. It should be noted that rules of habitation were strict and rigorous, and guys were not permitted to live in a girls’ rooms. Reasons varied but the main point was emphasized on evasion from pregnancy or sexual intercourse. However, administration personnel visits were brief and rare, so many students combined sex and study very successfully. My room mate appeared to be lustful and sex horny girl from Caracas, Venezuela. She had a boyfriend, a hot stud with well built body and strong muscles. And sure they had sex, every time they happened have a free minute. As they had sex very often she had to move to another room, adjacent to mine.
Loud moans were coming from the next room, as they did almost every night. And every time I was turned on by them so much that I would let my hands flick my soft wet pussy. I always imagined what was coming in the room next to me. Fantastic thoughts wandered through my mind. If only I could watch! It would make me feel and get very hot! I usually started with my fingers satisfying myself much, and always ended up pulling out my 9 inch dildo, and fucking my pussy hard. I would fuck my pussy like crazy having orgasm after orgasm. Each one was more intense than previous. After I came I would usually fall asleep dreaming about my room mate and her boyfriend fucking. Little did I know that my dream would soon come true….
Once, getting back late after workout from the gym I heard loud moans coming from the neighbor room. It was my room mate Maria, and her boyfriend Antonio. Sure, who else would it be? I made my way to Maria’s room. I wanted to ask them to reduce noise or be a bit quieter. The light in a hall way was off. As I approached her room I noticed the door was not locked. I opened it and sneaked in by stealth. I stopped at the door, closing it silently, and staring my eyes into the darkness. Soon my eyes would discern things out. I could see everything. Maria was kneeled on the floor deep throating her Antonio’s huge cock. It was dark inside, they didn’t see me. Luckily I was wearing a short tennis skirt. I sat on the floor with my legs spread out. I began to slip my fingers in my wet pussy. I let out a light moan. I took off my thong and removed them away. Ridding my skirt up I then spread my legs further apart. I stuck 3 fingers into my wet cunt. I was careful not to be heard. I didn’t want to get caught.
| | | In my youth, as a young college graduate, I was sent to a mountainous province to teach at a complementary school of adult learners aged 18 to 32.Naturally I had to behave properly, warding off sex scenes or sex topics in our conversations for fear of being spied on by my students. In fact’s themes hardly have a place in our Asian culture and literature, let alone voyeurism which is considered to be deviant, highly offensive and an immoral act. Tom peepers once being caught red-handed will be shamefully insulted, heavily beaten without judgment or subject to disciplinary measures and despised by all their schoolmates, colleagues or neighbours.
Yet the incident did happen strangely and safely to me during a medical check-up.I still remembered that day when my two colleagues and I went to the provincial hospital for a chest X-ray. When we arrived there, I saw a group of young girls waiting in the corridor. A nurse told me that they came from a junior high school specially reserved for highlands pupils of various ethnic minorities such as Tay, Nung, Dao, H’mong, etc. Guessing my surprise about their school age, she further explained that, as a privilege, these mountainous young girls were exempt from the age limit in their school, hence most of them had reached maturity in the age range 18-20 despite their short stature. Furthermore, they enjoyed free medical care offered by the public hospital. Not long after our arrival, the door of the examination room opened and the group of “schoolgirls” were led in. Only some fifteen minutes later, the door reopened and we were invited to the same room by another nurse, notwithstanding our bewilderment before such absence of privacy regulations.
| | | WANTED FOR ATTEMPTED MURDER (the actual AP headline)
Linda Burnett, 23, a resident of San Diego, was visiting her inlaws, and while there went to a nearby supermarket to pick up some groceries. Several people noticed her sitting in her car with the windows rolled up and with her eyes closed, with both hands behind the back of her head. One customer who had been at the store for a while became concerned and walked over to the car. | | | I guess I can’t blame my fetish on my parents like most people do. Mine started from an incident. I love watching people fuck. I like seeing a cock sliding into a shiny, wet hole that begs to cum, while I jack-off watching them. Mostly I go to hotels to do this. It’s easy in so many of them. I watch through the window while I stroke my thick, hard cock. It’s so exciting to watch someone get off.
At night while it’s dark and the lights are still on, I sneak up to the windows watching and waiting. I never wish to hurt anyone. I just like to watch people fuck. Most of the time I leave my calling card which is my cum left beneath the window.
The first time I became exposed to watching people getting each other off was while I took a walk one night. I was out of town on business staying at a hotel. It had been a beautiful night so I decided to walk down the isles of rooms for some fresh air. As I walked along I heard music coming from a nearby window. Quietly, I crept over to peek inside. A tall, auburn-haired woman danced in nothing but a black, satin teddy with white ruffles along the breast line. Her slender hips moved from side to side, then in a circle eight motion. Her full round breasts shook and the nipples stood tall. I wanted to bite on them myself. I looked over to the bed to see a man staring at her. He wore only a pair of boxers. How hard his cock had become for her. As mine had as well.
Turning back to the woman, I watched her turn her back to the man, a grin coming over her face. She danced moving her thighs here and there. Her feet pattering softly upon the floor. Her shapely buttocks swayed enticingly. She reached the shoulder straps to push them down exposing her pink, soft breasts before turning around with her hands over the lovely mounds. As her hips still moved to the rhythm which escaped the room, the rest of the teddy dropped to the floor. I nearly came right there.
I took my stiff cock from my pants to hold it firm in my hand as I stroked my rod slowly and continued to watch.
The man rose, so he could dance with the hot woman. I wanted to be him. I wanted to suck on the firm breasts and fuck her auburn-haired pussy. He pushed her back on the bed lifting her legs in the air. I saw the pink folds of her pussy. I had the most perfect view.
| | | "Laura!?"
The dark-haired woman standing in the knee-deep hole paused for a moment in her digging, and looked up at the new arrival.
"Oh. Hello, Tanya." She resumed digging. Slow, methodical.
Tanya stared with wide eyes.
"Laura... what... what... why are you doing that?"
"Because Johnny told me to." Laura's voice was calm and earnest.
"Johnny... John Davini?"
"Of course." Another large shovelful of grey dirt pattered down on the growing pile beside the hole. Overhead, equally grey clouds scudded silently across the late afternoon sky. Birds twittered in the trees. Tanya tried to wrap her mind around what was being said.
"He... told you to... strip down to your underwear... and dig a hole?"
A glance down at a dark-skinned, well-curved body. More dirt scattering.
"Yes."
"Laura... why... why... did you listen to him?"
Laura's eyes, pools of placid chocolate, looked up from amid long strands of dirty, disheveled hair. Her leather-gloved hands gripped the shovel. Her feet were booted as well, all of her appendages thus clashing wildly with the rest of her attire.
| | | Just as the song stopped pounding out of the speakers and rattling the last flakes of paint off of the walls, the front door to the club burst open with a flourish and blast of cold air, and in strode..
"Johnny!" All the men cheerfully shouted.
"Johnny!" All women squealed.
Johnny flashed a mega-watt grin, and tossed off a wave, his hair, his leather jacket, his mirrored sunglasses all black, all catching the light and flashing it back into the room. He moved in darkness and sparkles.
Three or four girls came scurrying over, their eyes lit up as much as Johnny's fashion accessories. They snuggled up to him, and he wrapped them in a collective squeeze.
"Candy! How's my girl? Bambi! Brenda!"
His sudden entourage trailing along with him, Johnny worked his way further into the crowd, shaking hands and grinning ever more widely, acres of teeth.
The short, dark, man lounging at the bar turned back to his drink, shaking his head appreciatively.
"That Johnny. What a guy."
| | | The message came as they always did, hand-delivered to Abigail’s cubicle at work by the gaunt gray-suited messenger, inscribed in black ink on thick creamy paper. It was just after lunch. She was able to finger the sealed square for a moment, enjoy the ridges and dips of its subtle texture under her fingertips before she had to carefully slit it open with her letter opener and read the contents. A single unsigned line, as always, the letters ornate and flowing.
Tonight 7:00 PM.
Her hands trembled only a little as she fished the shiny aluminum lighter and matching ashtray out of the back of her center desk drawer. The paper flared with quick, almost supernatural, brightness, and she held it until the last second, until there was nothing left but a tiny flaming corner which she dropped into the ashtray. The remnant burned as it slowly spiraled to earth, leaving almost no ash. She automatically sprayed a little air freshener from the waiting canister, then got back to work, typing rapidly at her keyboard, her skin twitching under her clothes.
________________________________________
Her day's work finally finished, she meticulously packed everything away in its proper niche and left her spartan cubicle (no pictures of husband or children, no clipped-out cartoons, no posters of puppy dogs for her...) Said her automatic good nights to her neighboring cubicle-dwellers: mousy little Emily, tall gangling Reinhold, vaguely handsome Alfred. Down the echoing hall to the bank of elevators. Down to the lobby, the insipid musak as always cheerfully blurbing from the speakers. Switching to the second elevator, down to the company’s underground garage, flashing her shimmering badge to get her car and herself out past the odious little troll who lurked in the booth beside the front gate.
| | | The tall white-haired man strolled out of the bedroom hallway, back into the large main room of the penthouse. Another party. It was proceeding quite nicely, with several loose-knit clumps of people standing around talking and laughing, some by the wide stone fireplace, others clustered around the currently-silent grand piano. The hired caterers circulated with trays piled high with fingerfood, a lifeflow of blood being smoothly pumped to the party’s extremities. And behind it all, the tinkling classical music discretely trickled from a variety of concealed speakers positioned around the various edges of the room.
The disheveled blonde woman clinging to the tall man’s arm laughed along with the rest of the crowd and then bent to whisper wetly in his ear, gently trying to pull him back down the hall, back into the bedroom. He merely smiled and whispered back to her, ending it by giving her a playful slap on her firm white butt which sent her scurrying cheerfully back to the other guests.
This task completed, he reached into the deep pocket of his velvet dressing gown with one long vein-covered hand and extracted a sleek black remote control, elaborate and covered with a multitude of buttons and tiny read-outs. He tapped it to life and made delicate adjustments, monitoring the social ebb and flow from under his bristling white eyebrows.
| | | “Mr. Espy?”
His head snapped up and the already-battered magazine at which he had been staring crumpled even further in his hairy hands. The curly-topped man who was suddenly looming over him smiled widely, displaying an enormous set of very white teeth spaciously arrayed beneath a large pair of sparking black sunglasses. This individual cocked his head and continued.
“Mr. Charles Espy?”
The seated man’s lips moved soundlessly for a moment. He tried to shake his head no, to deny everything and anything. To run away screaming.
“Yes.”
“Terrific!” The man’s enthusiasm seemed quite genuine. “Now, Chuck... say, you don’t mind if I call you Chuck, do you?”
“No.” Almost a whisper. Trickles of sweat started running down the back of his neck, each rivulet very cool and distinct despite the heat of the day.
“Great! Chuck, there’s someone who would very much like to have a moment or ten of your time. Would you mind terribly stepping... heh... outside?” The grinning man clicked his wrist and jabbed a gloved forefinger (black, of course) in the direction of the low wooden gate, which stood open to the parking lot of the motel.
| | | Something was wrong.
She looked at what she was doing. She had a glass in her hand. She was sitting in a secluded booth and she was talking to a man from Bloy named Miller. Bloy's people had recently extended some feelers in her direction, and they were now engaged in the usual ritual dance that occured in these circumstances. She had liked what was on the table, and been seriously considering taking the offered position, but now...
She got up and she walked away, absently discarding her crumbling glass as she did so.
This was the correct thing to do, but she knew that something was still wrong.
She looked at where she was. She was in a dimly-lit building with lots of corridors and hidden angles. She wound her way to the front door, and yanked it open.
There was a momentary flash of sunlight, and then she was in a room which was deep underground, evidently hacked out of the very bedrock. The battered wooden door she had stepped through slammed itself shut behind her. It was cool and damp here, with enormous ugly shapes carved deep into walls, and thick masses of purple- blooming plants growing everywhere. Water trickled soothingly from pool to pool. Sweet incense and flower pollen filled the air, making her head spin. This was pure. This was perfect.
But something was still wrong.
She looked at her hair, rolling up her eyes. It was pulled back in a tight bun, skewered in place with numerous pins. She yanked the dark-reddish mass free, let it spill around her shoulders, down her back. The pins went spinning away in a collection of tinkles. This was good.
And something was still wrong.
She looked down at what she was wearing. A business jacket, a skirt, black pumps. Various bits of jewelry. She took off the jewelry, the slender gold watch, one careful piece at a time and tossed them in one of the pools, one specific pool ringed with sculptures, tiny half-melted metal mannikins all waving their hands in the air. She was a very good shot. Plop plop plop. She kicked off her shoes, into the same pool. She tore at her remaining clothes. Rip rend and shred. In the end, she had left herself barefoot, wearing only a collection of rags which both clung to her curves and shifted loosely around her as she moved. It was perfect.
| | | The clouds were gray and low, and the late afternoon rain battered sketchily against the etched windows. Beyond the windows, beyond the overgrown garden and the shifting trees, the cemetery was dark and still, awaiting the arrival of night. An abandoned tent-awning from a funeral flapped in the breeze.
Inside the windows, the tall clock forever ticked, and the piled logs never grew smaller in the wide fireplace.
Nevertheless, things changed. The room’s door opened and Lorelei appeared in a single golden flicker, silent and bright-eyed, placing one careful foot in front of the other amidst the tangle of sleeping vipers on the carpet. The door swung shut behind her, and she reached into the feathers of her chest. When her hand re-emerged it was holding a black object which, like the giant cage which loomed beside the door, seemed to somehow swallow the light from the fire.
It was a long iron key, on the end of a silver chain which looped around her neck.
She turned to the cage and she slipped the key into the structure’s waiting lock, which gaped like a hungry mouth. The cage door creaked open with a theatrical squeal.
Lorelei entered the cage and for a second time a door swung shut behind her, its lock clicking loudly. The key disappeared back into her feathers, a conjuring trick performed by a magician. She carefully smoothed the feathers back into place with the palm of her hand.
The swing inside the cage was waiting for her, and she delicately hipped her way into position on the hard iron bar. She wafted gently back and forth for a time, studying the polished wooden beams of the ceiling, before she finally spoke, musing. Her voice was a glittering collection of things, beautiful and polished but very sharp.
| | | Miko woke up, and she felt her eyelids flip open. It was a moment before her vision came fully into focus, finally showing her the familiar view of the ceiling.
Things hadn’t gotten any better; if anything, they were worse.
It, whatever it was, had been slowly building for several days now, filling the air with that same stuffy heaviness that comes just before a terrible thunderstorm. Something was going to happen, and happen soon. The Clanfather had been out of the house even more than usual, doing whatever it was he did beyond the fence every day, and there had been much coming and going of others.
At least, this appeared to be the case from her rather limited vantage point.
She rose, absently pushed her long black hair out of the way and she knelt down again on the spotlessly polished wooden floor, her knees together, her back straight. A long centering breath. Then she slowly and meticulously rolled up her sleeping mat, pulling the strings and the knots very tight and pushing the resulting bundle up against the white plaster of the wall, a firm shove, using both hands. She studied her work for a moment, her hands resting on her thighs. The symbols stitched into the mat lay now in a neat row, rather resembling a row of blocks in a printing press, waiting to be inked. Everything square and properly aligned. Behind her, on two other sides of their quarters, B’Linda and Daisy were up and awake as well, making their own beds. It was clear that they felt it as well, the nameless taste in the air, for they were very silent, with none of the giggling and jokes that usually were tossed back and forth in the morning. They couldn’t be as neat as Miko in the end, but they tried, with sheets and blankets pulled and tucked very tight. Even the most psychotic and twitching of drill instructors would have been pleased.
| | | The car gave a sudden sputtering lurch, jerking Cina out of her fuming reverie. She forced herself to straighten up, shifting under the pull of the seat belt.
Now what?
As if in answer to her silent question, the vehicle gave one more gasp and died completely. The radio died, Johnny Reardon’s DJ patter turning into a squawk then dying altogether. The car rolled to a stop by the curb and silence descended.
She tried cranking the engine several times. Kachunk kachunk kachunk. Nothing.
She sat for a moment, still holding the steering wheel in a tight but cool grip.
Of course. The freaking perfect ending to a freaking perfect day.
She unclipped the seat belt, got of the car and slammed the door behind her.
She was surrounded by warehouses, all silent and dark and motionless. In the slanted red light of the setting sun, she could just read the weathered sign on the side of the nearest:
PLYMPTON ART SUPPLIES
232 E Ball Street.
| | | Life is change.
B’Linda Montgomery knew the truth of this better than just about anyone. At first blush, it might have looked ironic that the woman who’d taught B’Linda this was her grandmother. Grandmother. Who had been born in the same small house as her mother and grandmother. Who, except for a single weekend honeymoon up to the state capital, never once set foot over the county line in all her 87 years.
But back behind that small house, Grandmother kept her garden, kept it right up until that day she was found in bed, having passed over in her sleep. Grandmother kept her garden, and she kept it well, and a gardener she learns that things come and things go. The days get long and short, there are dry spells and there is rain, plants sprout, plants die and new plants sprout to take their place. B’Linda had learned all of these things, and a whole lot more, following the tiny old woman up and down the rows of vegetables and flowers, watching her work the soil with hands like a set of roots, deep brown and all twisted up, but still strong and forceful, moving the dirt aside, seeking the heart of things. For as long as she could remember, (and unlike some of the other girls, B’Linda still remembered things like most folks did...) she knew she was going to be a gardener. She might well have ended up living in that small house herself, but Daddy was an army man, in for the long haul, and so after Grandmother’s death Mother and the children set out with him, selling the family home and leaving it behind for good. They traveled far and wide in the following years, but in the end, they were Up North and Out West, about as far in both directions as you can go from where they started. Daddy finished out his career at Fort Yanderman, then retired with his arm full of stripes, a lot of hard memories and a firm desire that none of his children follow in his footsteps.
Which suited B’Linda just fine. She went to the U, got her degree in Horticulture, and after a few more years of shoveling twenty-three kinds of crap, she was able to open B’Linda’s Botanicals. She then suffered through the usual hassles and humiliations that come with being a black businesswoman, but in the end she gained a good reputation, and once again, there were changes. She met William and they had started Making Plans. The customers, the white customers, they started to come in greater and greater numbers.
And through it all, B’Linda carried two gifts from her grandmother. The bonsai tree and in her heart, a piece of Grandmother’s garden.
| | | “You can take off the blindfold now, Mr. Gould.”
Vince hesitated a moment before complying, but then forced his hands to performing the action, reaching around behind his head and pulling at the waiting knot, which crumbled away. The material of the blindfold seemed to slither around between his fingers, and he tossed it away with a shudder. He blinked as light hit his eyes. Yellowish. Artificial.
The world came into focus. He was sitting in a straight-backed wooden chair, in the middle of a large space. How large, he couldn’t be sure; the aforementioned lights hung from long cords in a cluster at the center of the room, and the edges of everything faded away into gloomy darkness.
He shifted his gaze. Sitting nearby was the large rectangular wooden crate into which he had packed his supplies, looking pretty much the same as when he had last seen it before being whisked away in the long black car. He pushed on, in the direction from which the voice had come and found its source. An unfamiliar woman, standing and watching him with her hands crossed in front of her waist. Attractive, fairly tall, dark-red hair pulled up into a tight professional bun. Oddly, the very first thought that popped into Vince’s head upon seeing her was ‘Her clothes don’t fit.’ It was odd because it wasn’t true: she was wearing a sharply-creased business jacket and slacks that suited her well and clearly had been custom-tailored. (Spending time with Clarice had taught him a little about clothes.) But still..
| | | My husband Bill and I had been swingers for about 4 years when we came across a couple who hosted their own 'adult weekend retreats.' We had met them in a swingers group on the internet. We talked online and exchanged emails for about 3 weeks before we decided to visit them. The normal folks we met swinging were only into soft swing and never anything adventurous such as S&M and Bondage. This was a big interest of ours and we wanted to experience it further with others. When we met Rob and Kim online, they seemed to be into the same rough sex, and slave humiliation and torture as we had fantasized about, only they actually pursued and acted on it.
Bill and I decided to try out this retreat and left early one Saturday morning. It was a 2 hour drive to Rob and Kim's. We found the address and were quite shocked at what we were going into. We pulled up to an iron gate that had a video camera and had to push a button to have the gate opened. We drove up a beautiful gravel road, which winded up to the house. This house was huge just like a mansion and surrounded by beautiful landscaping, being maintained by a gardener that had we passed up the drive. We stopped the car out front of the main entry and were greeted by a man and woman. The man was about 6'1 large frame and trim with graying dark hair. The woman was about 5'7 with long black hair and olive skin, she looked of Mediterranean descent.
We introduced ourselves as Bill and Cathy and they hugged us hello. They invited us into the house and we followed them straight through to a back patio, where there was a full brunch being set on the garden table by an older woman in a servants uniform. We sat down and talked with them about our trip and sipped some drinks. It was nice to finally see them in person after all the talking that we had done online. We understood this to be a trip to fulfill our fantasies for the weekend. Since Rob and Kim were very well off financially, they had plenty of room to host and support their fantasy interests. Rob and Kim were both dominant masocists as was Bill; I was the submissive one who likes to be treated roughly and told what to do. I had also just recently confessed to my husband and then to Rob and Kim my interest in sexual humiliation. So I was a bit nervous as what to expect for the weekend, but we were assured by Kim and Rob to put our fantasies in their hands.
| | | Well I can't believe that it's been almost a year and a half that my beautiful submissive has been serving me. She is everything and more a Master could want. Not only is she a gorgeous thin blonde with and incredible ass, but she is absolutely energetic in her obedience.
When we meet for play, she is wearing the sexiest little panty and bra sets which highlight her ass and breasts. Linda immediate kneels and tells me how much she missed me and she liberates by cock. I will let her suck me for a while as she removes my clothes. Other than my shirt, she is usually able to get them all off without taking her warm wet mouth off my cock. When we started this relationship, she sucked cock very well and had me close to coming once after a few minutes (not and easy task) where we were interrupted. With only slight instructions she is now the best cocksucker I could imagine! Her mouth sucks strong, her hands is wet and constantly stroking my shaft and the other hand is forcefully applying pressure to the area just behind my balls.
It is as this point, i will take out our collar and she asks me to put it on. As she folds my clothes the way she has been instructed, I will tell her what to do while I shower. This usually includes setting out the instruments and toys I plan to use and what position she should be in when I return. Initially I gave her three positions to remember and assume the second I tell her;
Position 1: On her knees, toes pointed back, sitting on her feet, knees far apart, hands palm up and resting on her thighs, sitting up straight, head down. If she has her panties off she is to spread her pussy lips apart.
| | | Spying On My Slut Neighbor
Quite by accident I found myself in an interesting situation. A friend and I were working on a short film for our film class. It was supposed to be a spoof on the whole Dr. Frankenstein thing. My house had this tower with windows on all sides. I guess it was kind of a star gazing room or what ever. We decided it would make a perfect place for our "Lab". We gathered items and to make our lab and waited for a stormy night. We did not have to wait long.
A huge lightning storm came through our town the next week and we were ready. We had all kinds of household chemicals in beakers and fake "Lab" items to make it all the more realistic. We were in the middle of a scene when I felt this strange tingling, and then I hear this huge explosion. The next thing I know my friend is shaking me and screaming my name. Come to find out the tower was struck by lightning while he was filming me. My friend was standing on the stairs and got thrown done the rest of the flight to the level below, but I was knocked out and across the small tower room breaking the table with our fake lab equipment on it. We both got checked out at the hospital and we were both fine. He went home with his parents who met us at the hospital, and I went home for bed.
I awoke the next morning with the worst headache I've ever had. I was getting ready for the day in the bathroom and was shaving in the mirror. On of the hairs or something must have tickled my nose because I had to sneeze, so I turned away from the mirror. I sneezed and turned back toward the mirror, freezing in my tracks. There was nothing in the mirror, just the wall behind me. Confused, I stepped backwards until the pajama pants I was wearing came into view walking on their own. I rubbed my eyes and then ran to the full-length mirror in my room where sure enough, the only thing in the reflection was my pajama pants. I was invisible!
| | | Jeremy and Steve sat at a bar late one evening. Steve's bachelor party was to be the following day. Jeremy was in the midst of a divorce. The two old friends sat sipping vodka and red bull. It was a Tuesday and the place was fairly empty. The bartender was busy flirting with the waitress at the other end of the bar.
"You'll be fine," Steve said.
"I dunno," Jeremy uttered, "it's been so long."
"Yeah, but you always meet beautiful women. Tina is gorgeous and Tracey was very pretty...who was that one you had with you last week?"
"Oh, yeah, she's sweet isn't she? I could really fall for her."
"You fall for all of them that's how you got yourself in this mess to begin with."
"Tracey was so hot though...uh! Why'd you bring them up now? Tina is getting ugly about child support. I can't discuss it - hey I lined up 4 strippers for tomorrow - one of each."
"One of each?"
"Black, White, Latin, Asian."
"3 for you one for me?"
"You really should try other varieties before you hunker down for eternity."
They laughed heartily.
| | | Lucy and her husband Bruce were enjoying dinner at a fine restaurant in New York City. The 22yr. old couple drove up here from their home in rural Virginia. The blond 5'2" blue-eyed beauty was fascinated with the big city; it was a far cry from her farm in Va. The couple loved their farm but it was good to get away for a week. The farm provided ample income and they thought it would be a good time to get away, before they had any children. They both wanted kids but planned to wait about another year, they had been married only eight months.
Lucy noticed an exotic beauty standing at the bar. The woman stood out from the crowd, she was tall, over 6'.Her skin was dark and she had long black hair past her shoulders and half way down her back, her eyes sparkled and her 42DD breast pointed upward. Lucy was mesmerized by the captivating creature, as was everyone in the room.
Lucy excused herself and went to the ladies room; when she exited the stall, Lucy was startled to see the sensual beauty looking in the mirror and admiring herself. "Hi!" Lucy said, while washing her hands, after she dried them the woman placed her hands on the shoulders of the young blond and spun her around and kissed her full on the lips, whirling her tongue in the frightened young wife's mouth.
Lucy felt tingles down her spine, and she felt the dampness form in her panties. She was on fire and couldn't understand it. She had never been with a female before, not even another man, only her husband. The dominating dark-haired beauty squeezed Lucy's 34C cup breast and ushered the blond wife by the arm inside the end stall. With her other hand she slid her fingers up Lucy's leg and inside her panties.
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