I am sitting against a large tree reading a newspaper.
A nice looking 30-something guy walks toward me. I
move my right leg up, which pulls the material of my
cut-offs away from my left thigh. Instantly I feel
the heat from the sun directly on my slit. I watch
the guy as he gets close through a little hole I put
in the newspaper. He stops in front of me. His eyes
are looking between my legs. I look down to see how
much of it he is looking at. When I look back up, he
is running down the street, trying to flag down a police
car that is parked at the corner. I flee. My heart
is pounding in my chest.
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Mother Maggie a Cougar On the Prowl
Margot Covington was a wealthy widow in her late 40s. She was of Filipino-American decent, golden-brown skinned, and raven hair all packed into a slender, muscular frame of about 115 lbs and petite 5’1”. Her phenomenal but small figure was the result of intense, regular workouts which had become her daily coping mechanism following the death of her husband. Margot enjoyed working out, it made her feel powerful and she became a bit of a health fanatic. Her husband had been a crypto investor in the early days of the fledgling enterprise and amassed a sizeable fortune before his untimely death in motorcycle crash out in California.
After the death of her late husband, and her son Bryon moved to Vienna, Virginia to be closer to family and to ensure Bryson was in the best schools. She became depressed and threw all of her energy into fitness and education. She earned two Master’s degrees one Mechanical Engineering and another in Business Finance. Margot never dated, but instead focused on raising her son Bryson and staying busy. Margot didn’t swear off sex, but found between working out, managing her newly acquired assets, and raising her son she had little time for the distractions and complications romance would have brought into her life. Margot frequently had men hit on her and make sexual advances, but she was always careful to keep them at a distance for her son’s sake and to stave off any gold diggers in search of a quick payday. She had needs like any woman, but she chose to pleasure herself through masturbation, toys, literature, and eventually porn.
Sex with a brunette
Dissy was (and still is) a pretty brunette with gray eyes, an
appealing, healthy body and an irrepressible sense of fun. She had
just recently finished her dissertation and gotten her degree, and was
working part-time for a trade association while she evaluated her
career options. She was currently mulling over a sales position. Even
if that wasn’t what she had planned to do when she grew up, she was a
natural — everyone who knew her agreed to that.
Celebrity Trainers: Megan Fox
“How did I get myself in this situation?” wondered Michael Bay. AT 47 years of age he seemed to have it all. He had a loving wife. He had a very successful career as a film director. He was one of the biggest names in Hollywood. Yet Michael Bay had a big problem.
“The bitch is blackmailing me” he explained to the mysterious office worker who called himself Smith.
It was not the first infidelity Bay was guilty of. Young starlets who want to make a good impression on film makers are nothing new to the Hollywood scene. Bay was not the first director to have slept with a young actress, nor would he be the last. And a beauty like Megan Fox did not come around every day.
But this bitch was smart. She made a little film of her own, videotaping Bay coming on to her and then having sex with her. Now she held the tape as collateral, threatening to release it to his family and the rest of the world if Bay did not give in to her demands.
Over the years the price of her silence became bigger and bigger. The bigger it got, the harder it became to hide this expense from his family. At the rate it was going, his wife would find out about the affair without Megan saying a word.
“Well, Mr. Bay, we are more than willing to help. Our service is not cheap, but results are guaranteed. Our mutual friend, Mr. Pattison, will testify to that.
Obsessed with big boobs
I’ve always been fascinated with women’s breasts. A nice ass, long legs and pretty face can always get my motor running but nothing works better for me than a tight top with lots of cleavage. In fact it’s seeing them encased in a bra, camisole or low cut shirt that excites me more than just a naked set of big tits. I constantly wonder what my cock would feel like between each set I see. I wonder what they would feel like in my hands and I want to see my seed covering them. I’d rather cum on a woman’s tits than any other part of their body which I’m know frustrates my wife sometimes.
I have been with the same woman for a long time and my wife has what most people would consider average size breasts. She knows I love breasts and she has certainly caught me on more than one occasion staring at other woman’s tits. I’ve tried many times to cum on my wife while she is still wearing her shirt but she always protested against it claiming that she had just washed it. I always feel that our sex is planned and contrived. It always the same basic love making and she doesn’t want to try new or outside the lines of just lying on the bed like a plank of wood.
Fantasy, Anal and Erotica
I sat on the bed, and viewed the marvel before me, close enough to reach out and touch. A sweet oval face, framed by long blonde hair. Long blonde eyelashes too, around massive pale blue eyes, sparking with life and personality. A button nose. Thick, pink, kissable lips. Moving down, a slender neck, high collarbones, and oh, such breasts! Large – maybe the size of grapefruit – and perfectly shaped, hanging deliciously from a pale chest.
Further down, a smooth belly, tapered to a narrow waist, with the slightest wisps of the longest golden locks poking out to either side. Then wide, flared, feminine hips.
And just at the meeting of long, lithe, shapely legs, a proud, erect penis, mirroring mine a few feet away from it. Hanging just below the engorged member, the unmistakeable wrinkled skin of a scrotum, slightly distended by the testicles it contained.
I looked back up, from those male genitals, across the perfect feminine body, to those shining eyes. I saw the hope and fear at war there, the desperation, the entreaty. And I made my decision.
