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Kate took a sip of coffee, the mug was almost empty, she could taste the grains of coffee that sunk to the bottom. Kate turned her head to look at her phone, it displayed a text from Gwen which read, "Sorry, had to visit my doctor and it took forever, on my way." Kate knew Gwen for years and this was nothing like her. First of all, Kate was never late, the girl was a living, breathing, atomic clock. Secondly, the doctor? She was as healthy as a mere as far as Kate knew. Kate signaled the waiter for another cup of coffee. Just as Kate's coffee arrived so did Gwen, the girl looked her regular self: jet black long, flowing hair, framing a pair of deep blue eyes and a delicate mouth. Kate loved, and even envied, Gwen's athletic body. The girl was fit, and her skin was a pale gold complexion to it. She always had a great fashion taste and this day was no different, her pink dress clang to her curves and supported her ample breasts, displaying the orbs for all to see. But one thing was di
This is me talking here. Once I get done typing out these words, everything is going straight to the internet. It’s late already. My husband and my two kids are all in bed asleep, while I’m down in the basement library typing this confession. I am a hotwife. I’ve got the tramp-stamp, Black Cock-slut outfits and customised ‘Queen of Spades’ jewellery to prove my word. As far back as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to be a freak of a hotwife. My husband knows it, too. He knew about it when we began dating, and after we got married. He’s supported me through this endeavour, and I will always love and cherish him for sticking by me. The road wasn’t easy. There were times I sat and questioned myself whether seriously if this was something I wanted to explore. If there was a chance for me to say no, I would have. But I’ve always considered myself a whore. A whore who loves Black men. Yes, I love strong, black men. They are the only ones capable of f
it was a great night out. i had had several pints and was feeling fueled up from the alcohol. it was still on the upward curve of the drunkenness: energetic and brimming with testosterone. my friend and i left the pub and we decided to head to the student residences to see if there were some folk who would be interesting to chat to and ultimately, in the back of our minds, scope out any girls. after a biting cold walk through a forested path we arrived at mackie hall. there seemed to be a small congregation outside smoking cigarettes and chatting. we joined the group and introduced ourselves. very soon we got involved in the conversation and were part of the merriment. an hour passed and it was not long until i could smell some weed and i saw a joint being passed around. i thought why not, so i took a hit and very soon i was on cloud nine. i dont know what took over me but suddenly i was filled with inspiration and started cracking jokes and the congregation had turned into an audience
Chapter 1 - A petrifying Prologue My name is Gina Gilson. It is my singular duty to decipher and record the sad, unlucky story of Ellen Hall. I am sorry to disappoint but there is no entertainment to be found in this chronicle. Her story is one containing many horrible turns and traumatic events, as such, I recommend you stop reading it now, spend your time finding a happier story to enjoy. Ellen Hall's calamitous endeavors do not begin at her birth, quite the opposite, she had a rather delightful childhood filled with loving, caring parents. They don't begin at the age of 15 when her parents passed away, leaving her their house, money and a hole in her heart that her girlfriend filled with time. No, after many years trying to pinpoint the beginning of our story I can tell you it all began many years ago. It was a sunny day when Ellen decided to spend it at the beach. Ellen was an eighteen-year-old woman at the point in time with a high lifestyle, she's an intelligent person, we
[[This story takes place in the continuity of the Resident Evil 3 Remake, diverging just after the train crash. Despite taking place in the R3make universe, Jill has her original tube top and miniskirt outfit. Also, this piece contains things like monster non-con, partial vore, getting stuck in the ground, tentacles (two at once) and egg implantation.]] “Fuck.” Jill groaned, collapsing face up onto the concrete walkway that ran along the edge of the subway tunnel, only a few yards from the burning remains of the train that she had just pulled herself from. “I think...I think today officially cannot get any worse.” For a few moments she just lay there, breathing heavily from the effort of dragging herself out of the wreckage. Her tube top strained uncomfortably over her breasts as her chest heaved...the hot, acrid breeze from the burning train wasn’t making it easy to catch her breath but she was just too exhausted to keep going right now. In the end, it was
10 Yoga Poses Posted on September 2, 2020 by Lola Down [We offer here a sneak peek at the article just released in Ethical Non-Monogamy Magazine, September 2020 Issue. Here is ENM’s editor’s introduction to the story: Hermann Humbert, writer for www.mysexlifewithlola.com and husband to beautiful hotwife Lola Down has been contributing stories about Lola’s exploits with us for months… this one may be the hottest one yet!!! You can read this story in its entirety right now in our September issue of ENM Magazine on Kindle, or we will publish it as a Patreon exclusive later this month. Illustrations by H.H.] Ten Yoga Poses Dear Reader, you may recall that Roy and Gary are the young, twenty-something brothers from across the street with whom Lo has become acquainted back before COVID-19 shuttered us all in. She seems to enjoy toying with them the way one might with two adorable puppies. One day, not long ago, as things began reopening, she amused herself by going
You’re sitting in a hotel room having a glass of wine when you hear a knock on your door. You get up from the chair and drop the blanket you had wrapped around you. Baffled because you’re not expecting anyone, you walk towards the door and look through the lookout to see who was knocking at your door at such an hour. You see me standing there with my back to the door, so you open the door. Before you could do or say anything to me, I had reached out my hands and had them firmly but gently on your cheeks and planting a deep passionate kiss on your warm sweet lips. Shocked, you do not know what to do at first then once the moment registers you wrap your arms around me. I begin to walk into the room and once we are in the room you kick the door closed never unlocking our lips. My hands move from your face to your waist as I begin to pull your shirt up to your arms. I step back breaking our embrace to pull your shirt up over your head. I wrap my arms around your torso and be
I have to hand in my reports today. A dreadful day as l also expect to receive my performance report. Ever since we have this new boss things have gotten so strict. And she's a woman too. Guess how many men feel great about being bossed around by a woman. She has a nice figure though. I remember having seen it a couple of times through her skirt suits, although I'm usually too terrified to even look her in the eyes when she shows up in my office. But alas, it's not like l have a say in this. I picked up my tea from the office kitchen and grabbed the documents to see her in her office. When l reached her door l inhaled deeply two times to get a hold of my nervousness. I knocked assertively and entered her bureau ready to present my numbers. She wasn't particularly interested and stared out the window. I cleared my throat and spoke up a little. To no avail. She didn't even turn around. I stopped talking and just dropped my files on her desk with a loud "thud". Not being fazed eve
It was 7:30 on a Friday night and Paul was still at the office. He had intended to leave by 5:00 today, but as happened all too often he was still working. His friend was expecting him at a party later tonight, with lots of girls -- Paul was in the middle of a dry-spell and his friends were trying to get him out of it -- but he wasn't in the mood to try and get laid. Paul went walking around his office floor, trying to clear his head a bit. He noticed a cubicle light on. He hadn't expected anyone else in his company to be at work still. He looked over. It was that girl. He didn't know her, had just seen her around the office and couldn't help but stare at her tits and ass everytime he saw her. Her clothing just seemed to always fit her body perfectly. He didn't even know her name, as he had never worked with her. He probably should know her name, he was the Vice-President of the company after all. He looked at the name tag above her desk; "Claire." He said it outloud, under his breath
Ever since our new semester started l loved Mr. Roberts' course on comparative European literature during the renaissance. But it wasn't only his extensive knowledge and charisma. I mean, who am l kidding. He looked fucking hot. l know this sounds very stereotypical, but l felt really attracted and by that l mean that my intellectual and physical appetite was whet by him. Speaking of wet, because that's exactly what happened to my lady parts whenever l thought of him. But l was not ready for what l was headed for. You should always be careful what you wish for, l learned that lesson the hard and rough way. On the day of the excursion to the museum I spent an extra fifteen minutes on doing my makeup. I was choosing what to wear and had to make a decision between two dresses - one green slip dress and one red wrap dress. I knew I looked good. I wanted to be sure. My heart skipped a beat when I saw Mr. Roberts waiting in his car downstairs. He had offered a ride to another student
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