Explicit-Novels

Cáel Defeats The Illuminati: Part 3

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Mon, 03 Aug 2026 13:02:00 +0000

Cáel Defeats The Illuminati: Part 3
Cáel’s second vacation with Aya and friends.

Book 3 in 18 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.

Loving your enemy is easy. You know precisely where the two of you stand

Just in case anyone cares, I do not hate China or the Chinese People. As a Global Power, the PRC is fair game as a great antagonist. Not only do they have, as of 2015, the world's largest economy, largest population and a truly global Diaspora, they also have a rather totalitarian governance system that enables them to devote scary levels of resources to any endeavor they set their minds to.

I usually paint all governments to be entities capable of great good (rarely achieved) and great evil (because it makes such enticing fiction). In my stories, it often falls to the people within those institutions to make judgment calls on what is the right thing to do. In my final analysis, there are no 'Evil' governments, just evil people who use the system to get what they want

(Right where we left off)

"Aya," I spoke to her when she'd finished up by giving Mu a strong dose of a pain killer, "Now go back to the galley and find the nice medic-lady there. She has a bottle filled with some of those kick-ass sedatives. Inject everyone else but me, you, Zhen here and Mu, Mu's had enough drugs for one day."

"Okay," she popped up. She turned fearlessly to face her former tormentors and jailors.

"I had them all swear an oath to Ishara to not kill, harm, or restrain you in any manner, so have fun hunting them down. You've got about thirty minutes."

"Is Dot with us right now?" she gave me a bone-tired smile. I nodded. "This is going to be fun," she shouted and off she went.

'I'll be by her side', Dot whispered to me. She rose forth from the seat within me and followed Aya out into Seven Pillars Hell. Technically, I believed it was the Diyu of the Fiendish Child. Those malicious bastards suffered every accident, misfortune, and nearly-impossible odds malfunction in the process of being subdued by a 9 year old Amazon.

Four of them died in the process of trying to kill her, when stopping her became obviously impossible. Two had their guns blow up when they tried to shoot her, dismembering their hands and wrists. One guy was strangled in his emergency oxygen supply mask. The last guy lunged forward, slipped on a cup and broke his neck when his head was caught in a folded armrest.

Twenty-eight nerve wracking minutes later.

"All done," she gave me an exhausted yet triumphant chirp. "Should I strap Mr. Mu into a chair? He's passed out."

"Zhen, buckle your brother into a chair and hurry back. I'll hold us steady until you get back."

Remember, I had only the use of my left hand. My right had to stay on the dagger to keep things powered up.

"Buckle-up after you've gotten Duan Mu secured, Aya. That's his proper name."

"I know that. I was trying to keep them irritated so they would act irrationally. You taught me that," Aya bathed me in her sinister ways and means.

Finally, it was down to me and Zhen.

"Do you think we will succeed, Cáel Wakko Ishara?"

"I'm giving it my best shot."

"The little girl was right," Zhen groaned. "She told us we'd regret not killing you in New York when we had the chance. I thought she was being an annoying spoiled brat. I was wrong." Pause. "I know you have no reason to answer me truthfully, but when we, the rest of us, die, could you make sure my brother's body is returned to my father so that he can join our ancestors in the family grave?"

"Why do you think I would lie to you now that we are alone?" That was a loaded question. I did the majority of my lying when I was alone with a woman.

"I, will you give me your Oath, in your Goddess's name?"

"Nope. My Goddess has pretty much been exhausted by your boys trying to break their vows to me and Aya. I'll tell you what I will do, "

"What?"

"Show me your tits and I'll promise to do my best."

"What? You want to see me naked?" she grew indignant. "No!" It was her being a vaginal virgin (I knew the type; good oral technique and bed play, but no 'go-uppy' the cunt, or ass) and me not being Han Chinese, therefore being a 'Stinky Barbarian'.

"Listen, I've never flown a commercial jet before and neither have you. Odds are we are both going to be dead in the next ten minutes. After all the hell you have put me through, can you at least give me some fucking inspiration. No one will ever know. Besides, imagining the perfect swell of your breast and the smooth tautness of your stomach, well, you are so damn perfect it is distracting!" I protested against the World's grand injustice (me not being Han and thus not worthy of seeing her goodies).

"Do you really think we are all about to die?" she studied me.

"I'm doing my best, but, yes, I believe we are," I stared deep into her dark brown orbs.

Cáel Defeats The Illuminati: Part 2
No Longer An Enemy.

Book 3 in 18 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.

"My Sister wished to know if you speak Mandarin," the brother translated for me.

"Hi, I'm Cáel," I greeted him. "Who are you guys?" He looked to one of the two goons holding on to me. I received a painful kidney punch. I discovered a whole new super-power. It hurt for about two seconds then nothing.

"I asked you a question," he repeated.

"No, I don't speak Mandarin," I lied so well it came across as a dour confession.

"Yet you know the secretive language of the Earth and Sky," he stated.

"Yes, I do. I have a thing for dead languages. Maybe in a few more years, I'll pick up your Mother Tongue as well," I bantered.

No punishment was immediately meted out, so I suspected no one close to me, besides him, spoke much if any English. Jian Bob (my new name for him) didn't relay my insult. I wasn't worth it. He went straight for the reason for our get-together.

"You are going to die, Mr. Nyilas. That is a given," J B began.

"We both know you have done enough damage to our cause to be worthy of elimination a hundred times over. I'm going to show you respect by not lying to you about your possible fate. What you can do is save your young companion. We understand you two are close," he appealed in a very polite manner. Aya snickered.

"Cáel, these people are mentally challenged," she giggled to me, "or hideously misinformed."

"I know, I know," I smiled down at Aya. "Still, they have gone through a great deal of effort to insult our intellect today, so let's humor them a little longer." Jian Bob issued several casual orders.

In short order, a third man had hold of me by the jaw with one hand while trying to hold my eyelids open with the other. One guard held her by the shoulders. A second held her right hand, extending her ring finger. A third man held a knife to her top knuckle. A forth stood close with a small blowtorch.

"She may be a small person, Mr. Nyilas, but she can still die by the Death of a Thousand cuts," he explained.

"I love you, Aya," I told her softly.

"I love you too, FehÃ©r mÃ©n," she succeeding in keeping most of the fear from her voice.

Neither one of us could stop this. Aya certainly didn't expect me to compromise the Host for her benefit. She was as much an Amazon as the first Epona.

"First, I wish to know what alerted you to the attack at the Summer Camp," Bob began the interrogation.

"We know you were responsible. We want to know what happened." I looked into his eyes and waited patiently. He nodded to the guard, who shoved my face toward Aya's extended finger until I was less than a foot away.

"Do it." The Order came in Mandarin.

The guard cut the top part of the digit off, one knuckle. I looked at the flesh and bone being cut away. In a clinical manner, I noted how sharp the blade was. I saw the blood shoot forth and heard Aya's little voice cry out in pain. I was pulled back and pointed at Jian Bob again.

"Do I need to repeat the question for you?" he said.

"No, I caught it the first time," I grimaced. "It tells me that you haven't the slightest idea who you are fucking with." Bob made a slight hand gesture and the blowtorch cauterized Aya's stump. Her little lungs belted out a terrible screech that wound down as her feet gave out and she hung limply in the guard's grip.

"Revive her." The blowtorch guy, clearly not his first day on the job, snapped some smelling salts under her noise. Aya revived, sobbing and in a great deal of pain.

"Cáel," she whimpered. "I have found my stillness. I'll be okay now." Her sobs subsided.

"Shall we try this again?" J B remained coolly polite, almost urbane.

"Nah," I joked, "we are both pretty good over here."

"Again." The Mandarin order came. Off went another digit of her ring finger. This time her scream was much more exuberant and forceful. We all know it hurt like Hell, but the world had turned.

"He's going to kill all of you," Aya snickered while she sobbed. "You are all going to die."

"Mu, what is the little girl saying?" she asked Jian Bob, real name Mu.

"She is stating her belief that Cáel will somehow kill us all," he and his sister shared the joke.

"Let us see what her tune is when they start in on her left hand," the woman smiled at her sibling.

Cáel Defeats The Illuminati: Part 1
A Walk In the Park and Aya’s Finest Hour.

Book 3 in 21 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.

Professional, conscript, or volunteer, they all have run away from battle.

A Note on terminology and the metaphor of Cael's World

The terms Weave of Fate and 'Weave ' are interchangeable. Weave expresses the intersection; the sieve that all the possible futures entered to create what we perceive as this 'now'. Fate is the keeper of the sieve. The Present is what is happening right now. It is that infinitesimal which we interpret as Reality.

The Legend is what happens when the present is pulled back through the weave and becomes the past. It is called the Legend because, as the former presents fade into the past, they blur; each becomes less precise and more open to interpretations. (It is as if you were looking at one thing through a prism; as you shift your stance, what you see appears to change.) Within the Legend exist mystic creatures, divinities, demons, spirits, all the Paradises and Hells.

The Endless Black Sands is the final resting place for all failed legends. It is the place where all is forgotten until even former realities break down into the Black Sands. That Alal found a way to cheat this doom and retrieved Shammuramat, was truly remarkable; even though Fate 'balanced accounts' with him by sending Ajax and his war band along that path as well.

If you wonder how that was a balancing, consider this:

The only people Alal cares for (in his own brutal fashion) are Shammy, now Sakura, and his only true offspring in 5,000 years, Cáel.

Fate sent Ajax.

With Ajax available to test Cáel, how could Alal resist the temptation to place one of the planet's greatest killer on a collision course with both of his loves in order to test Cáel?

The Veil is a function of the Weave that protects sentient perception from perceiving the Weave and disguises the otherness of creatures of legend, unless they willingly allow themselves to be seen, which they usually do only so they can 'physically' interact with the Present. Some sentient minds, through horrific trauma such as the Augurs' self- poisonings, through the quirks of Fate via Holy Men, Mad Prophets and Doomsayers such as Temujin, or through the touch of legends such as Ishara, can sense the fluctuations in the Veil and the things behind it. Cáel, in truth, has been shaped by all three vehicles (Ishara, the Augurs and Temujin's legend.)

Oblivion is what awaits Reality if the Weave ever fails beyond its ability to heal itself. This threat is what keeps the creatures of legend from constantly traversing the Weave. They have to weaken the Weave to do so or to use powers in Reality, the greater the distortion they create, the greater the weakening that occurs.

End Note

(Two days ago, with thirty days left)

"That was fantastic, Lady Yum-Yum," I sighed.

"What did you just call me?" she panted softly. We were naked in one of our Task Force bedrooms that was actually used for sleeping, and now sex. I was still pressed against her reposed body, despite our recent exertions. She was on her stomach, arms stretched down her sides.

She was sweaty and short of breath. She still had her wits about her and an awareness of our situation: victory sex, me still aroused and her fingernails scratching my thighs and buttocks. My equally sticky body was pressing down on her, even though I supported my weight with outstretched hands placed on either side of her shoulders.

"Lady Yum-Yum," I mumbled as I kissed the back of her head. "That was the first thing that sprang to mind when you introduced yourself." I could see her working that through her highly complex mind.

"When writing your memoirs, please remember to me refer to me that way," she began to flex her thighs and abdominal muscles, so that her ass was pumping against my hips.

"Only if this helps persuade you to give me a repeat performance."

"I'll consider,," she purred, then paused to catch her breathe. "You are in phenomenal shape, young man. Do any of your other lady-loves have pet names?"

"Nope," I grunted as I withdrew.

She had teased me with anal sex hints repeatedly, yet never delivered. She liked the game and the power she wielded. My body being on top of hers was only an illusion of a tactical advantage. She knew me pretty well already. I wasn't the kind of guy who would use physical strength to overwhelm her vulnerable position. This being so, a cerebral skirmish only excited her more.

We waged a war that was based on intakes of breath, the shimmying of muscles and the trembling of fatigued flesh. The prize for me was the winning. Lady Fathom Worthington-Burke played tricky-clever, but I was better. And at times like this, she admitted it. She gave me what I wanted. I rolled her.

Straight, face-to-face fucking. The Lady's pulsar gaze trapped my vision. She smiled, grudgingly at first, then more and more sensually as my glans returned to her g-spot that it had scouted out earlier. This was 'surrender by the Fathom method'. She gave me what I wanted, so I took what I wanted, and pleasured her at the same time.

"Mmm, you are a bad, bad boy," she lapsed into her trashy West-End Londoner accent. It was perfect and an erotic whiplash when added to her native, refined manner of speech. This wasn't a trick this time, it was a treat. It was a gift, reciprocated. The tactile sensation of her cervix becoming a soft, spongey chalice for my final penetrations was icing on an all-so-luscious cake.

I tendered her a tribute worthy of my first love, Dr. Kimberly Geisler. It was strange to find a woman like her. Outside of Kimberly, I had found only one other woman who graciously offered her ultimate pleasure paean to the hundreds of lovers who had become before. That other woman, it still floored me, was Buffy Du, no, Buffy Ishara, First of my House.

"Oh!" and several heartbeats later, "Cáel!" several hissed series of breathes and then, "Goddess! You are better than good!"

Two thoughts collided within me:

Minnesota Libido: Part 5.

Summer School Session.

Based on a post by TruthwithaTwist. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Miss Summers calls me in for a meeting.

My wife Sherri and I had been together for nearly a decade and half with one daughter, Jackie, who was in the summer between 6th and 7th grade. Sherri was the assistant principal at our daughter's small private school in an upscale area outside of the Twin Cities and had been working there for a few years. I had left the large corporation I had worked for and had branched out as a private consultant to give me more flexible time with my family.

When we were first together, Sherri was a tall, thin blonde with small perky tits, tight ass, and long lean legs. There was an old store, "bebe", that Sherri could have been the perfect model for at the time. Age and motherhood do change things and over the years, she had filled out in a good way. Her tits were now larger and fuller and were just as sensitive before which gave me more to grab, lick and touch. Sherri's long blonde hair was gone, she now had a close-cropped platinum cut that was in style. Her ass was larger, too, but her workout schedule had it toned and looking full and sitting high on her frame.

Similarly, I was in decent 'middle-aged' shape. A bit heavier around the middle with some gray creeping into the hair at my temples. Fortunately, a consistent schedule at the gym and moderate runs kept me on track.

Like many couples, our sex life started off red hot in the early years of our relationship. We had all sorts of adventures: from pantry-less car rides, to sex in front of my high-rise windows, to an occasional threesome with a female friend. But ALSO like many couples, that excitement waned over time. Family, jobs, stress, age, and routine cooled down our sex life for several years. We tried all the tricks - from 'writing down our fantasies' to 'scheduling date nights' with few positive results. The fact of the matter was that when you have a toddler or pre-teen constantly in the house, plus limited free time, plus roles in the local community, plus full-time jobs, opportunities for sexual adventures decrease.

Fortunately, by the time our daughter reached this age, we found ourselves starting to get some of our time and adventures back. Jackie's sleepovers with friends were more common and an opportunity for us to reconnect. We were more comfortable leaving her with family and friends for a weekend away which provided more opportunities for private fun and frolicking. Sherri had reintroduced lingerie and heels to her bedroom wardrobe, we shopped together online for a nice collection of lubes and toys we hid in a bedside drawer. We started watching adult movies together and Sherri even made passing remarks about 'when we used to invite a friend' to the bedroom.

It was a hot and humid July morning when I was sitting in my office working on an endless spreadsheet for a client. Our daughter, Jackie was spending the day swimming at a friend's house and needed to be picked up after dinner. I was staring out the window, half-wishing I could leave and sneak off for a round of golf but knowing that the day's humidity was out of control, and it would be miserable outside. We had already been getting warnings that late summer storms could roll through the area.

Sherri was also at work that day. While the school was closed and deserted for most of the summer, she would still have to go in for a few days at a time here and there for administrative tasks. I always felt bad for her because the school was an older building with virtually no air conditioning. Her office, which she shared with the principal and some admins, had a small window unit, but with the rest of the school closed and stagnant, the heat could get stifling.

Just as I resigned myself to sheet 17, tab 2d, my phone pinged with a text message.

Sherri: How's it going?

Jason: Good. You.

Sherri: Fine. Sorting through tuition stuff. You have lunch plans?

Jason: Nope. Want to grab something?

Sherri: Yes. Swing by here at noon?

Jason: Sounds good.

A few hours later, my phone's reminder went off and I went down to my car to drive over to the school. As soon as I opened the door to the outside world, the thick air hit me. The sun was blazing and heating the pavement in the parking lot reflecting it back on me as I crossed to my car. Opening the car door, a blast of heat me, somehow hotter than the air outside. I started the car, opened the windows, and cranked the AC hoping for some quick relief for the drive over.

I walked up to the door and pressed the buzzer. Even standing waiting for the door to open, I could feel the sweat starting to bead up on my neck and back. The door buzzed loudly, and I heard the lock click to let me in.

If the outdoor heat was bad, the inside of the school was even worse. The air was stagnant and heavy and since the building had been mostly closed for over a month there was a musty, almost suffocating smell to it. As I climbed the stairs to Sherri's office, I could see dust drifting through the rays of sunlight streaming through the windows.

I reached the door to Sherri's office, looking forward to the cool air that awaited me when I saw a note taped to the outside.

"Working upstairs. Come to room 401."

I cursed out loud, knowing that the 4th grade rooms were up yet another flight of stairs that I would have to climb in the miserable environment. After trudging up the stairs and walking down the hallway, I was admittedly more winded than I should have been with the sticky, stale air feeling like it was physically weighing me down.

There was also an oddly creepy vibe to the school. Normally, a school is full of activity and noise yet without the children, it was eerily quiet. The lights were off and there was only reflected sunlight from classroom windows illuminating the hallways. The building seemed to creak and groan in the summer heat as I finally reached the classroom at the end of the hallway.

The door was open, and I started to complain as I walked through.

"Could you have picked a room further away, Oh, I'm sorry, uh."

I stopped short because where I was expecting my wife in the room, there was someone else sitting at the teacher's desk. Her back was to me, but I could see she had long, black hair that was styled down to her shoulder blades. She was overdressed for the summer day with a black pinstripe jacket and matching skirt. I could see she had stocking-covered legs tucked under the desk with a pair of shiny black patent heels.

The woman swiveled in her chair to face me, and it took me a moment to realize I was staring at my wife. Her platinum hair was covered by the long, black wig with bangs covering her forehead. She had a pair of black glasses perched on her nose and ruby red lips with smoky eye makeup. Under her jacket, she wore a white blouse that was unbuttoned and plunging low on her chest. Although not hugely endowed, her tits had grown since our daughter was born and she was wearing a push-up bra to make them larger and fuller. Her skirt was shorter than it first appeared, ending well above her knees and her knees were demurely pinched together as she turned.

"Mr. Drake. I'm Ms. Summers. Thank you for coming in today. Please take a seat." she said gesturing to a smaller child-sized chair by the desk.

I tentatively followed her instructions and balanced in the red plastic chair while she continued, "As you know, your son, Benjamin has been struggling this year. I called this meeting to discuss his options moving forward."

Sherri was now facing me, with her stocking-clad legs crossed as she brought a pen to her ruby-red lips.

"I, um, I'm not sure what to say." I said still trying to catch up to what was happening. It had been a long time since we had done any role playing and even then, it was more, 'Sherri wears a sexy costume, and we have sex' sort of thing. The fact that we were in an empty school with letters, numbers, and kids' posters on a wall while my wife was the embodiment of a sexy schoolteacher? It wasn't just the stuffy heat that my head spinning.

"Well, you have a couple of options. We can hold him back by a year or, " she paused while she uncrossed and recrossed her legs, like Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct. Also like the movie, she showed that her stockings ended at her thighs, and she was uncovered under her skirt. I saw a flash of her bare pussy before it quickly disappeared. "Or, we can work out a separate arrangement."

"What do you suggest?" I asked as I felt my cock instantly swell inside my summer shorts.

"Well, Benjamin is a great kid, but he tends not to listen to my instructions. So, I wonder if that's coming from someone else , like you." Sherri lifted her hips off her seat and pulled her short skirt up higher. As she pulled it, she revealed the lacy tops of her stockings and an expanse of her toned and summer-tanned thighs. She was able to slither it up over her hips, revealing her bare, trimmed pussy.

She often varied the style of her pubic hair, at times keeping it fully shaved, other times letting her bush grow in. Because it was summer, she had it mostly shaved with a small, tightly trimmed landing strip (probably to accommodate her summer swimsuits.) While most of her body was covered in a light bronze summer tan, there was a pale 'v' of skin that started at her hips, went across her pelvis and down to her crotch.

I have always been attracted to a woman's tan lines, so it was a dual fantasy laid out in front of me. A sexy schoolteacher in stockings, showing me her exposed pussy with obvious tan lines caused my cock to swell even more. As she settled back into the seat, she shifted forward so her ass was at the edge of the chair and she spread her legs as wide as the chair would allow.

"So, Mr. Drake. Let's test your ability to follow directions. I need you to get over here, and lick my pussy until I cum. Is that clear?" To accentuate her instructions, she used her thumb and middle finger to spread her lips and flicked her clit with her index finger.

As I stood up, my shirt stuck to my back having sweated up against the hard plastic. I dropped to my knees in front of Sherri and for the first time, I felt the cool, industrial tile floor on my bare legs. I looped my arms under her thighs and gripped her quads. Her skin was wet and slippery with sweat, remnants of her tight skirt against it.

I licked up her inner thigh, following her tan lines, purposely avoiding her wet slit. I could taste the salty sweat on her as I moved my tongue up and over her pussy and back down the other leg. Her scent was musky, another indication of her arousal and the temperature. Heat was emanating from her womanhood, and I felt it as my face passed by. A low moan escaped her as she groaned, "I don't recall telling you tease me, Mr. Drake. Are you going to follow directions or not?"

She gripped the back of my head with her hands and pulled me into her. My tongue found her dripping opening and I licked up and down the length. Her fingers gripped my scalp as I pushed my tongue into her, licking up her flowing nectar. I took long, slow licks up her outer lip flicked over her clit, and moved back down the other side. I continued that pattern, causing her get wetter under my motions. Her labia seemed to swell and moisten with each passing stroke of my tongue while her clit grew and poked out from Its fleshy hood.

She crossed her legs behind my neck and the points of her heels started to subtly dig into my back, trying to pull me in closer. I changed my focus to using the tip of my tongue on her swollen button. Alternating between rapidly flicking and circling it, I heard a low hiss escape her gritted teeth.

"That's it, baby. Lick my pussy. Lick my clit. I'm getting close." Sherri's raised voice echoed off the walls of the empty classroom. Her legs felt heavy on my shoulders, her muscles tightening and her breaths coming faster and deeper. Using a tried-and-true technique, I pursed my lips, surrounded her clit, and formed a vacuum by sucking gently. Then, inspired by the decorations around me in the clammy classroom, I started to trace the letters of the alphabet on her clit.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." She repeated as she rolled her hips against my face. I was breathing heavily through my nose as I continued through the alphabet. I had just hit the letter "m" when she went over the edge.

I felt her entire body shudder and her legs locked into my back. Her hips were thrusting into my face as her fluids flowed into my mouth, her hands gripped my head, forcing me to continue to feast on her pussy. Sherri moaned and gyrated as she pushed her pussy into my face for a second orgasm in a matter of seconds.

"Yes! Yes! Fucking hell, yes, .I'm coming again!

With her legs locked around my neck and her hands pulling my head in, I felt like I would suffocate in her pussy. Fortunately, just as she rode out the wave of her climax, she pushed my head away. My head and face were covered in sweat from the heat of the room combined with having her legs keeping me trapped. I shifted slightly and felt long sweaty strips on my back where she had been resting her legs. When I finally looked up at my wife, her face was beet red, and sweat was pouring down her forehead. Her chest was dotted with beads of sweat and her white shirt was visibly damp against her skin.

"So, Miss Summers, did I pass?" I asked.

"Um, not a bad start. But that was just a pop quiz. There's still a test for you to pass."

Sherri slithered out of the chair and rolled it off to the side. She didn't bother to pull her skirt down, allowing me to stare at her exposed pussy and ass as she turned and sat on the teacher's desk. She kicked off her heels and slid her ass back, which allowed her to put her heels on the desk and spread her knees wide. Her pussy spread open before me, and I could see her lips were swollen and wet.

I lifted myself off the floor, quickly unbuckled my belt, and dropped my shorts and boxers to the floor. I stepped out of them and approached her with my rigid cock leading the way. Just as I was about to slide into her, a stocking foot pressed against my chest.

"Stop" she said. "Patience is a virtue, you know."

I watched as she leaned back on the desk and shifted slightly. Her stocking-covered feet wrapped around my cock and started rubbing up and down the length. Her feet were moist and sweaty as they stroked my cock. Ms. Summers jerked me off with her feet while simultaneously untucking and unbuttoning her shirt. I watched as she unclasped her push up bra in the front and let her tits fall free.

For the second time, I was treated to a view of the contrast of her tanned skin. While her chest was flushed and sweaty from the heat, it was also a darker bronze than her legs. That made the pale triangles on her tits stand out even more. Her pink nipples sat stiff on her tits and they jiggled slightly as she moved her feet around my cock.

Somehow, her glasses were still on her face, and she stared through them at me, never losing eye contact. With one hand, she started playing with one of her nipples, while the other moved toward her spread pussy. I tried to focus on the sensations of the damp nylons stroking my cock, but I was distracted when she plunged two of her fingers deep into her cunt.

"It's , uh, been a while, Mr. Drake. Let me make sure my pussy is ready to take that cock."

Her index and middle finger were buried in her cunt, and she was squeezing her tit. Her feet were no longer moving on my cock as she focused on her own body. Just as she seemed about to orgasm again, she pulled out her fingers with a low groan. Her feet fell away and back onto the desk as she tried to prop herself up on her elbows. Her tits fell down a bit and I saw her nipples were perky and swollen.

I stepped forward and gripped my cock to line up with her opening. Because of our positions, I watched as my cock split her lips and slid inside her. I pushed slowly, savoring the view of my shaft slowly sliding into her, as her lips parted to grant me entry. I finally stopped when flesh met flesh and my groin was pressed against her spread legs.

I pulled back slowly, allowing her juices to fully coat my cock before I repeated the action, a bit faster this time.

"Yes, that's it, I love the way you feel sliding in and out of me. Keep doing that."

Knowing that I was required to follow the teacher's directions, I kept up the pace, resisting every urge to slam harder into her. We continued like this for what seemed like forever. The sensations were amazing, but because I was still slowly thrusting, it allowed me to focus on not coming too quickly. I had my eyes glued to the way her pussy lips would slightly roll open and closed around my shaft as I pushed and pulled back forth.

After a few minutes, Sherri's elbows and arms seemed to give out and she slipped back onto the desk. Because the desk wasn't very wide, her head slipped over the far end, putting her in an awkward position. Seeing this, I grabbed her hips and pulled her toward me while I tried to step back. My timing was slightly off, and the result was I slammed my cock into her with more force than I intended. For a split second, I thought I had hurt her, but my worries were quickly calmed.

"Oh Shit! Yes! That's It! Fuck Me Hard!"

With my hands on her hips, she wrapped her legs around my waist as I picked up the pace and began to fuck her hard and fast. I felt her ass and thighs ripple with every thrust as the sound of our skin slapping against each other filled the classroom.

Because of the increased action, I suddenly had to make a stronger effort to keep from coming. I tore my eyes away from her pussy and saw that her glasses had fallen to the ground. Her face was covered in sweat and the wig looked to be both slipping off and sticking to her forehead at the same time. I watched her tits bounce with every thrust as her red lips parted, gasping and groaning.

The sheer eroticism was all a stark contrast to the area around us. As my wanton wife was spread open like a slut on the desktop, cartoon images and childish poster

Minnesota Libido: Part 4

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Thu, 30 Jul 2026 13:46:00 +0000

Minnesota Libido: Part 4.

Jason & Sherri are joined by a MILF friend after another Halloween Party.

Based on a post by TruthwithaTwist. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Without going into a ton of detail, the event was a great success. Everyone ate, drank, and bid in the auction. The Princesses all took a picture together, with the evil Maleficent in the middle of them all. The magician they hired was amazing and just cheeky enough to entertain the adult audience. Of course, with that many adults being out without their kids, we all took advantage of the bar. As the night started to end, we were all pretty tipsy, including Grace who was laughing and giggling with some of the other moms.

I checked out at the auction table and quickly found out that in my buzzed efforts to support the cause, I had purchased more than my share of prizes and baskets in the auction. I had to run to the lobby and ask one of the bellmen to bring a cart and transport it all up to the room for me. After close to 30 minutes, I stumbled (allegedly just in character) back into the ballroom to find that most of the guests were filtering out.

Sherri and Grace were sitting with some of the other parents as I sauntered over, taking a seat at the table.

"Avast wenches! Be there any room for Captain Jack Sparrow?"

"Only if he's going to get us all a round of drinks"

"Aye. My lady." I went to the bar where I got one last round and brought them on a tray back to the table. After handing them out we all toasted a successful night.

"Drink up, me hearties, Yo Ho!"

The group started to break up when Sherri leaned over to me, "I don't think Grace can drive."

"Is she that gone?" I asked.

"Yeah. She's been drinking quite a bit all night. What should we do?"

"Tell you what. Take her upstairs, since her stuff is up there, anyway. Let me talk to the desk and see if they have any rooms."

"Babe. I'm not sure she can afford one."

"Don't worry about it. With what I spent tonight, one hotel room won't break me." I stood up and headed to the lobby.

"Wait! What do you mean 'with what you spent'?'" she called after me.

15 minutes later, I was in the elevator feeling defeated. The hotel was completely sold out because of the events being hosted. I quickly realized that my night with an uber-sexy witch wasn't happening with a guest sleeping in our room.

When I entered our room, I saw the pile of baskets and packages stacked against the far wall. Somehow, in my inebriated state, I had collected quite the array of prizes. Sherri and Grace were looking through my treasures with amused looks on their faces.

"What in the hell did you buy?" Sherri asked. "And did we really need a kids' gardening basket?" Both women giggled as I joined them in looking though the pile of cellophane and tissue paper. As I opened one, my face lit up.

"Yo ho ho, and a bottle of rum!" I exclaimed as I pulled a bottle of expensive rum from one of the baskets. "Anyone want a nightcap?"

I poured us three glasses of the amber liquid over ice, then excused myself to the bathroom where I used some makeup remover to take off my fake beard and makeup. I removed the heavy accessories to my costume and went back out into the living room in just my baggy pirate pants and shirt.

Sherri and Grace had similarly removed some of their costumes. Sherri was sitting on the coach, still in the black and purple gown. Her boots were on the floor, and I could see her nylon-covered feet tucked under her. Grace was in a chair and had taken off her shoes, quiver and belt and was sitting with her big green dress tucked around her. I settled in next to Sherri on the couch and she leaned back to rest against me.

We all toasted and chatted about the event, the various people and all the gossip that came with an event like that. At some point, I refilled all our drinks and we continued to chat and relax. As expected, the conversation turned to Grace and her situation. She got emotional talking about what Andy had done and how much her son missed having his dad around. Sherri and I were very careful not to criticize nor comment and basically just listened. Whether it was the liquor or emotion or a combination of both, Grace eventually had a stream of tears streaking her cheeks as she talked about how lonely she was.

"I'm sorry." she whimpered. "I didn't mean to bring you guys down. I'll be right back." With that, she stood up, staggered a bit, and walked to the bathroom in the other part of the suite. Once the door closed, Sherri rolled slightly to her side so we could talk quietly.

"I feel so badly for her" she started. "Andy really fucked her over."

"No shit. I had No idea how much money he blew and how much he left her in the lurch." As I spoke, I looked down to see that when she shifted, Sherri's Maleficent gown had opened slightly up her extended leg. I could see the top of her black thigh highs and some of her exposed skin. I could see the curve of her thigh and her bare ass cheek peeking through the open slit of the dress.

Sherri must have felt me slightly harden at the sight of her because she slumped her head against my shoulder and half-whispered, "I'm so sorry babe. This isn't what I had planned for tonight. But she has nowhere else to go and I feel so sorry for her."

"I get it." I replied. "It definitely sucks, but maybe you can save this outfit for when my birthday rolls around." I shifted my hand slightly and ran my palm up and down her skin, opening her dress a little more.

Sherri nipped and nibbled at my neck, sensing my building arousal. "Up to you. I was going to go with sexy cheerleader for your birthday, but I can do evil witch instead." She then leaned up and planted a kiss on me. Just as she started to pull away, we heard a sound from the door.

"Shit! Shit! Shit! I'm such an idiot." Grace cried out. She had washed off her makeup, but her eyes were still red and puffy from crying. She was staring down at us and had a clear line of sight to my wife's exposed thigh and ass and her long nylon-covered leg. Our body positions gave away our actions and there was awkward silence for a few seconds before she continued.

"You guys had a whole romantic thing planned and I ruined it because I got drunk and can't drive! I'm so sorry." Tears were now running down her face again. "I'll get out of here and give you some privacy. I'm so sorry. Shit."

Sherri stood up and moved toward Grace, "Grace, honey, it's Okay. You're not going anywhere. You can't drive and Jason checked already, there are no other rooms."

"Fuck. It doesn't matter. I couldn't afford a room anyway. And if I go home, I'm sure my mother will give me lecture." A humorless laugh left her mouth. "Fucking perfect. 36 years old, separated, single mother, and somehow still going to get scolded by my mommy."

Sherri wrapped her up in her arms a bit tighter as she started to sob even more. "Bad enough I've fucked up my life, now I'm messing up yours. I'm so fucking cursed that even though I haven't had sex in close to a year, now I'm taking it away from others. I'm like a black hole of romance."

My wife continued to hug and stroke her friend's back in their embrace, "Honey, it's not your fault. Stop blaming yourself. You've been stronger than 90% of the women I know. Supporting yourself, digging out of debt, taking care of your son. You're an amazing, strong woman."

Grace's breath started to calm down as Sherri rubbed her back and started to stroke her long, red hair. I saw my wife glance over at me for a brief second before she continued with, "But not having sex? That's unacceptable. Turn around."

Grace pulled away with a confused look on her face, "What? Why?"

"Because the way I see it, you have two options. Lay out here and cry yourself to sleep on a pull-out sofa bed, or, " She turned her friend around and reached under her hair to the top of her zipper, "Let us show you just how attractive and sexy you are."

Now, to interrupt my own story, Sherri and I had been together for close to 15 years at that point in time. Over that time span, we had dabbled in a handful of threesomes. The first time was with her friend Linda after a party early in our relationship, another time was with a former female neighbor of mine. There was a professional escort in Las Vegas on my 30th birthday, a drunken fling with my ex, Tara, and finally a second romp with Linda when Sherri was pregnant a decade before. Until that moment in the hotel room, I thought those days were long gone. But as I watched Sherri slowly start to pull the zipper down, revealing Grace's nearly alabaster skin, my hopes and arousal were renewed.

"Sherri, I don't know. This isn't right." Grace was almost whispering as more of her ivory skin was revealed.

"Please. You and I both know how much you and Jay have flirted over the years. I know for a fact he thinks you're hot. And I also know that you would bang him in a heartbeat if you had the chance. So, I'm using my powers to grant your evil wish of having sex with my husband."

Sherri continued to unzip the dress to the base of Grace's spine before reaching back up and pushing the collar and sleeves down her body. I watched as the dress fell to her hips and I got my first look at Grace's small tits encased in a basic beige bra. Her waist was tiny, and I could see a pair of matching panties just showing above the deep green dress sitting at her hips.

"No. We can't. It's not right. You're married and a woman. I can't. It's like a sin or evil or bad or something."

Sherri then spun her back around by her shoulders, so the women were facing each other once again. Her red lips curled into a smile as she stared into the ginger's eyes. "Evil? Well, if it's evil, you can blame me, then. After all, I am the evil sorceress giving a princess to a pirate."

With those words, she pushed the dress down over Grace's full ass and let it puddle at her feet. Grace had on a pair of unappealing "granny panties" that matched her nondescript bra. Her body language showed her nervousness as she seemingly squirmed in shame.

"Sherri, I'm not sure. Should we?"

"That's enough! Jay, get your ass in the bedroom. And you, " SMACK, my wife gave her friend a slap on the ass, "will do as the evil queen commands."

I nearly leaped off the couch, stunned at what was happening but doing everything I could, not to fuck it up (especially mentioning to my wife that she was starting to mix up her evil Disney characters.) I went to the bathroom, quickly brushed my teeth and got a little blue pill out of my valise. I would sometimes use a "boost" when Sherri and I were away like this and thought this was the perfect situation to use one.

I went back into the bedroom to see my wife standing by the bed with Grace standing by her. "Unzip me, princess." She directed.

Our friend did as she was told and unzipped my wife's long black gown. The sound of the zipper seemed loud in the silence of the hotel room. Sherri shrugged the dress off her shoulders and arms to reveal a black push-up bra that showcased her tits. Grace continued to pull the tight garment down Sherri's body until she had to pull it over her hips. The lace of the garter belt appeared for the second time that night and the dress fell to the ground to show the strip of purple and long black stockings.

I was stunned looking at the difference between the two women as they stood so closely together. Sherri stood tall with her sorceress makeup and black lingerie standing out against her skin. Her legs looked long and sultry in the stockings and her shaved pussy was evident in her minuscule panties. Her chest was pushed up in her lacy bra and her lips shone with glossy red lipstick.

Grace, alternatively, was less confident. She seemed to be slumping, attempting to hide her exposed body. Her underwear was beige, nondescript and almost blended into her skin tone. Her hair was long and curly but was now partially covering her face. Sherri turned to face her friend, then gently and caringly brushed the loose hairs from her face.

"Honey, it's Okay. We don't have to do this. I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do. But, if anyone deserves a guilt-free night, it's you. And, " she added with a smirk, "You can always say I put an evil spell on you. After all, you were the one who said you were cursed. Isn't this how you break an evil witch's curse?"

I watched Grace absorb what my wife had said, before she looked up with a spark in her eye. "Fuck it. It's been a shit year. Literally can't get any worse. So, why the fuck not? If nothing else I'll know that for once, I'm having more fun than that dickhead Andy."

"That's the spirit" said Sherri, "Now, let's see what you have under there. Turn around." When her friend turned, Sherri unclasped the redhead's bra and let it slide off. Grace turned back around to show her small, bare tits, pert nipples and areola so pale and pink that they almost faded into her natural skin color. Without prompting, she reached down to her hips and slid her underwear down revealing a patch of red pubic hair that matched the flaming color on her head. Her bush was trimmed at the edges, but full and I found myself staring at my first view of a natural redhead. She saw me staring and moved to cover herself.

"I'm sorry , I haven't exactly worried about , down there. Nobody really gets to see lately."

"Oh, stop that crap." Sherri said, pushing her hands aside. "He's staring because he thinks it's hot. Right babe?"

"Definitely. Holy fuck, Grace. Your body is amazing. Andy's a moron. Just saying'."

I watched as my wife started to run her fingers through her friend's lush pubic hair while her other hand started to caress one of her tits. I heard Grace gasp when she felt fingers slide up and down her pussy lips as she shifted her hips to the sensations. Sherri's hand continued to stroke her friend and she used her other one to turn Grace's head toward her. She licked her friend's pale lips with her tongue before giving her a gentle kiss. She continued to stroke and gently kiss her until finally her tongue was met with Grace's. The two women kissed slowly and romantically, while Sherri's fingers continued their dance. Grace was slowly spreading her legs giving my wife better access to her pussy. Her free hand seemed to be moving up and down Sherri's body attempting to keep her balance. As her hand reached Sherri's lace covered tit, she worked it into the cup attempting to release it. Sherri pulled back for moment, reached behind her back, and unsnapped her bra, wriggling out and letting it fall to the floor. Her tits fell out with a bounce showing us that her nipples were erect with arousal. Grace grabbed and lifted her friend's tit feeling its heft and weight in her palm.

They pulled each other closer and I watched as their naked tits pressed against each other while they continued to kiss. Sherri worked her fingers back down to Grace's ginger pussy and began to strum along her slit. Grace gyrated her pelvis against the fluttering fingers that were flicking her clit. My cock swelled as the two friends kissed harder and deeper and Sherri's fingers pressed into her friend's pussy. It didn't take long before Grace's head rolled back and she was gasping for air. She gripped Sherri's wrist and held it in place against her pussy as an orgasm rolled over her. Her gasps and moans filled the quiet room as she bucked against the invading fingers.

When she finally stopped moving, I could see that her pale skin had flushed pink and beads of sweat had formed on her forehead. My wife pulled her fingers away and dipped one between her lips, licking Grace's juices off.

"Now, let me grant you your next wish, and get you into bed so you and Jay can have some fun."

As Grace gingerly climbed onto the bed, I stripped off my remaining clothes and settled my head on the pillows, while Sherri pulled down her panties and crawled in next to Grace. She was still clad in her black stockings and garter belt with her own pussy now exposed.

"He looks ready, but I'm thinking one of us should make sure. Do you want to get him even harder or should I?" my wife asked.

"You do it. I want to watch first."

Sherri smiled up at us both and turned her body on the bed so that her head was level with my crotch. I watched in awe as her red lips slid over the head of my cock. She kept only my head sealed between her lips as her tongue swirled around the sensitive skin. She pulled up and licked around rim again before taking me back in her mouth. She started to suck this time while she coated my cock with saliva. As my cock swelled and pulsed in my wife's mouth, I opened my eyes to see Grace's eyes glued to the scene while she stroked up and down Sherri's nylon covered legs.

Sherri opened her eyes and looked up at me with her mouth still full of my cock. I watched her give me a sensual wink and open her legs wider, inviting Grace to increase her motions. Her friend took the hint and shifted her body so that she could run her hands further up to Sherri's bare thighs. I watched as she moved her hands higher and just as she made contact my wife's shaved pussy, Sherri plunged her mouth down taking my entire cock into her mouth and throat. Her head bobbed up and down faster, sucking and licking me as her friend fingered her pussy. I felt my cock start to swell and I reached down to grip her short hair. Just when I thought I was going to explode, Sherri pulled off my cock with a wet "Pop".

"Hmm. I think you're ready, but I don't want you to come yet. I think Grace needs some of that, but not in her mouth." Sherri shifted again on the bed giving Grace and me room to get closer to each other. "What's your favorite po

Minnesota Libido: Part 3

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Wed, 29 Jul 2026 13:45:00 +0000

Minnesota Libido: Part 3.

Window sex shows in the snowy night.

Based on a post by TruthwithaTwist. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.

The light coming in from the city lights made the sky glow in an orange-yellow hue. The snow was falling harder now and the effect was mesmerizing. When the wind would blow, snow would spiral in front of the windows, then dissipate into a swirling cloud. We sat and watched the storm for about 10 minutes, with Sherri occasionally taking a sip of her drink, and sometimes rubbing her naked ass against me. I continued to fondle her tits and kiss the back of her neck as we watched the storm fill the sky. We'd just had some amazing blizzard sex after a Christmas party. Our drapes were wide open in the high-rise condo's living room. The Twin Cities skyline was reduced to a snowy white glow, but the other towers in the development were only 50 yards from us. About the width between sidelines of a football field. Most of the windows were glowing from Christmas trees all lit up. In the other living rooms Lamps added to the ambiance.

Out of nowhere, Sherri suddenly exclaimed, "We have naked people!"

"Where?"

"First building, 2 floors up, one, two, three, four windows from the left."

I propped myself up to get a better look and sure enough, a middle-aged woman was in her bedroom getting undressed. She looked like she had been at a similar event as we had been, as she was in the process of taking off a red cocktail dress and staring out her window with her lights on. This gave us a clear view of her bra-clad torso and eventually her matching red panties. She reached around and undid her bra, releasing her large tits from their containment. She was either oblivious or apathetic to the fact that she could be seen, because she stood in her window, staring out, while gently rubbing her tits.

"That's something you men will never understand. Just how amazing it feels to release your tits from a bra at the end of the day."

Before I could respond, we saw that something behind the other woman got her attention, as she suddenly turned away, giving us a view of her thong-covered ass. Further back in the room, we saw a bare-chested, silver-haired man take her into an embrace. As they passionately kissed, we could see that they were both exploring the other with their hands. After a few minutes, they broke their embrace and started walking toward the bed. Just as the woman bent over to remove her thong, the lights clicked off enveloping them in darkness.

"Well! Show's over!" I joked as I slumped back into the chair.

Sherri got a glint in her eye and said, "Maybe we can give a little show of our own if anyone else is out there."

She slid off the chair to her knees and reached up to start pulling off my boxers. I lifted my hips to let her slide them over my pelvis and down my legs.

"But first, let me get you ready." Sherri reached over for her glass and took a large sip of champagne. I saw her swish it around in her mouth and swallow, just as she took my entire length into her mouth.

The combination of the chilled champagne, tiny bubbles and the heat of her mouth was an incredible feeling. As she swirled her tongue around my shaft, I could steel feel the slight carbonation from the liquid giving a tingling effect all over my cock. Sherri worked her mouth up and down alternating between using her lips to suck on just the head, to taking me all the way to the entrance to her throat. As I watched her head bob up and down, I took some of her long blonde hair into my hands to increase her speed.

I could feel my arousal building and Sherri could too, because she pushed herself up and said, "Nope. You're not cumming yet. I have a better idea. Hand me that pillow from the couch."

I handed her one of the throw pillows and she put in on the 3 foot ledge that was against the base of the windows. She reached over and turned on the lamp on the end table by the chair. This meant that for the first time, anyone who looked our way would be able to see into our condo. Once the light was on, she leaned over onto the ledge , placing her forearms on the pillow. That left her bent over, with her heels planted and her ass stuck out behind her.

I came up behind her and gripped her hip with my left hand. I used my right hand to start rubbing my cock-head up against the entrance of her sopping wet pussy. As I did that, she began to push back against me, attempting to get me inside her. The mutual teasing went back and forth for only a minute or two, until I couldn't take it anymore.

With a grunt, I said, "I need to be inside you" and thrusted forward. After all the teasing, touching, licking and sucking, I didn't have the strength to ease myself into her. I entered her pussy in one big thrust. She was wet enough that she was able to take me in fully. I shifted so that I had both my hands on her hips, and with her heels still on we were lined up to give me perfect alignment with her. I started thrusting harder and was able to look up and see her reflection in our windows. Her small tits were bouncing with each thrust. Her long hair had fallen over her face obscuring my view, but I could hear her gasping and moaning with each thrust.

I could feel her wetness flowing down my cock and balls as we continued our thrusting. Her pussy was an amazing velvety glove that wrapped around me as moved in and out. I kept changing the tempo from rapidly pounding in and out to slowly pulling all the back to her entrance before slowly sliding back in. Because of our angle, I would occasionally brush against her g-spot, soliciting a larger moan from her. After a few minutes, I knew I wouldn't last much longer, so I slowed down for a moment. As I did that, I reached down and grabbed a fistful of Sherri's hair, pulling her head up to see our reflection in the window as well.

"Babe, you look so hot right now. Look at you, bent over, with your ass up in the air, your tits bouncing as I fuck you. Look. Tell me, do you like watching yourself getting fucked?"

Sherri was staring at our reflection in the darkened windows. "Yes, it's so hot. Fuck me, baby. Fuck me."

I renewed my grip on her hair and her hip and began thrusting harder into her. The sounds of me slapping up against her ass filled the room as we picked up our speed and force. At this point, I could feel the pressure building in my balls and knew I wasn't going to last much longer.

"Babe. I'm gonna cum. Where do you want it?"

"Cum inside me. Fill me up. Fill my pussy with your cum."

Hearing her tell me where she wanted me to cum sent me over the edge. I thrusted forward one final time and exploded into her pussy. We both panted and grunted as wave after wave of my cum filled her up. I could feel our combined juices leak out of her as we slowed our pace.

Sherri collapsed her arms and laid down on the pillow, panting and gasping for air. I was still inside her, working to get my own pulse rate down to normal. I was still holding on to her hips, losing some of my hardness, but not going completely soft. Every few seconds, Sherri would move or rotate her hips, keeping me stimulated inside her. I could feel our combined juices flowing out of her, and on to my crotch and pelvis. I knew I was getting to the point of getting hard again, but figured that her legs must be getting tired of standing and bracing her up.

Just as I started to pull out, I stopped when something caught my eye. "Babe. Someone's watching us."

Sherri lifted her head and tried to look through the windows and the storm toward the other buildings, "Where?"

"Across the way, down a few floors. There's a guy in the window and someone is jerking him off."

Sure enough, after searching for a few seconds, she was able to make out the figure of a man across the way. He had on a bathrobe that was open, showing that he was naked underneath. Although the shadows prevented us from seeing many details, it was obvious that there was a woman behind him who was jerking him off as he looked up toward us. The sight of the mystery couple combined with the excitement of being watched had me hardening again. As I started to move back inside her, Sherri spoke up.

"Wait, stop. We're not going to let him watch! That's just weird." She started to stand up, but I pushed her shoulders back down and began to slide in and out of her again.

"You were the one who turned the lights on. I'm officially calling your bluff." I started to move faster while straining to see our observers through the snow.

"Oh, that's so hot. I can't believe we're going to do this. But, please babe, my legs are dying. Let's switch things up a bit."

I pulled out and backed away, letting Sherri stand up. She arched her back and stretched, which I'm sure was an intentional bonus view for our audience.

"I've got it" said Sherri. "You sit on the window ledge. Perfect. Now, put your feet on the ottoman."

As I followed her directions, I had my back to the windows as Sherri finally kicked off her heels, then straddled me and lowered her dripping pussy back on to my cock. She was facing out and started narrating for me.

"Babe. They are definitely watching us. He has a set of binoculars and he's looking right as us. He's watching me ride you, baby."

As she spoke, I pulled her closer to me and took her left tit into my mouth. I took her small nipple and danced my tongue over it, feeling it stiffen. I switched over to her other tit and did the same. As I sucked and licked on her tits, Sherri began to ride me harder. Because of her angle, she was rubbing her clit right along my pubic bone and I could feel her starting to peak again.

"I can see her hand. She's stroking his cock right now. I think he's telling her what we're doing. Oh, she's gonna make him cum just from watching us."

Knowing they were watching, I decided to turn it up a notch. I took my hand and gave Sherri a solid smack on her ass.

"Fuck!" she screamed as an orgasm ripped through her. I smacked her other cheek as she bucked on me, rolling into another level of her orgasm. I could feel my own orgasm coming on quickly, as she started to gasp for air and slow her own motions.

In a quick movement, I pulled out of her pussy, picked her up, and laid her back onto the ottoman under her. I glanced over my shoulder to see our audience and began to jerk my own cock off. After only a few strokes, I let loose with a huge moan and exploded on to Sherri's prone form.

Cum shot from my cock and began to cover Sherri's tits and stomach in a flood of creamy fluid. As my body jerked, a few errant streams hit her chin and hair. I looked over my shoulder to see that the woman had dropped to her knees and had taken our observer into her mouth as he exploded into it.

I stepped away from the window, and clicked of the light, collapsing into the armchair where the night had started. Sherri crawled in next to me, still covered in my cum. She licked some off of her lips and took a sip of champagne.

She nuzzled into my neck and gave me kiss, "Happy Holidays, babe. I'd say we got the season off to a good start."

I reached down and rolled her stockings down her legs. Her head fell into the soft back of the chair and I grabbed a large blanket from the nearby sofa. I slid back into the chair with her, both of us covered in our juices. Sherri snuggled back into me, the alcohol and activities sending her off into a deep sleep. I tried to keep my eyes open, watching the storm, but soon e both dozed off, as the holiday snow continued to fall over the city.

Exchanging Valentine's Gifts

My pregnant wife & I have a special Valentines date

When my wife, Sherri and I got married, we knew we wanted to have kids quickly. I was 31 at the time and she was a few years older. So the window, as they say, was closing. We didn't expect her to get pregnant That quickly, though! Sherri announced the news in mid-October that she was expecting our first child.

The whole time we were dating and at our wedding, Sherri was a rail-thin blonde with hair halfway down her back. She had small b-cup tits, tiny waist, wider hips and ass, and long legs. Back in the early 2000, she was a perfect model for the women's clothing store "bebe". As her pregnancy progressed, she started to fill out more. Her tits got larger and fuller, her ass got bigger and her stomach began to grow. Because she was almost 5 months pregnant, she had a growing baby bump that she mostly hid with her clothes. Bulky sweaters and loose fitting dresses hadn't yet given way to full maternity-wear.

Still, she tended to hide herself from me as her body changed. When I did see her naked, I noticed even more differences. Her areolae were larger and darker than usual, almost absorbing her small nipples on her swollen tits. She had also been letting her pubic hair grow in more. Usually, Sherri kept herself closely trimmed but at that point, she had a thicker brown bush that was in a messy triangle.

The most unfortunate part of her early pregnancy? Morning sickness. Actually, to call it that is inaccurate. Sherri suffered from morning, afternoon, evening and night sickness. The poor woman was constantly nauseous with heartburn and after 4-5 months of pregnancy, it was starting to wear on her. She had less energy but was also losing her zest for life in general. Just the aspect of being constantly sick to her stomach made doing everything more difficult and less enjoyable for her.

As a result, we spent most of that winter at home, watching TV, renting movies, and playing games. Oh, and no sex. That one was a joint effort, however. Given her overall condition, she didn't have much interest in getting bounced around in bed. At the same time, I wasn't exactly pushing her. Truth be told, I was terrified. I was one of those guys that thought her having sex while she was pregnant would somehow hurt Sherri or our unborn child. No, I didn't think my cock would be poking the baby in the head , I should be so lucky to be that big, but I was just nervous about the whole idea of sex.

In mid-January as Valentine's Day approached, I asked Sherri what she wanted to do for the holiday.

"I'll be honest" she said, "The nausea has been better lately. Heartburn too. But I just don't feel like going out, is that Okay?"

"Whatever you want. But do you just want to make a reservation at the Lakeside Café around the corner? It's casual with great food, they know us there and if you start to feel sick, we're close to home."

Sherri's eyes started to tear up. "No. Can't we just stay in? I mean look at me. I have dark circles under my eyes, my hair seems to have these weird curls now" she was now progressing from tears to full crying and sobbing. "Less and less of my clothes fit, my skin is breaking out, I can't wear high heels because my feet hurt, I'm tired all the time and none of my clothes even fit me!"

I wrapped my arms around Sherri and let her cry into my shoulder. As she started to slowly calm down, I said, "You said your clothes don't fit twice." Sherri stifled a small chuckle as she sniffled on my shoulder.

"Shut up. Don't make me laugh. This sucks."

"Look Babe, if you don't want to do anything that night, it's fine. But you can't let all this build up! You're gonna make yourself sick." I pulled her away from me and looked her in the eye. "Let me look into some options and then we can decide. But if what you want to do is stay in, that's fine with me, too."

The next day, I went into my office on a mission. I asked my assistant, Grace, to follow me into my office. I "inherited" Grace from my predecessor and she was a veteran of the company. Grace was in her late-fifties and I was convinced she was more in charge than I was on any given day.

"What's up?" she asked.

"I need your help. Sherri is in a tough place right now. She was in tears for an hour last night."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing! I asked her what she wanted to do for Valentine's Day!"

"So, what upset her?"

"Everything. Valentine's Day, her hair, her feet, her skin. Literally everything."

"Yeah, you men will never understand, but pregnancy is miserable. I mean the kids are wonderful and motherhood is great; but everything else pretty much sucks. So, what are we doing?"

I gave Grace a sarcastic look, "I don't know. That's why I have you, to tell me what to do."

"Useless. You men are all the same. Fucking useless. Do you have any ideas?"

My latest blank stare seemed to frustrate Grace even more. If we hoped to progress at all, she knew she'd have to take control of all of this.

"Okay" she started. "Valentine's Day is on a Saturday this year. Is there a little restaurant close to you that she likes? Nothing too fancy?"

"There's the Lakeside Bistro. We know the owner and go there all the time."

"Great" she continued, "I need you to call him and get a reservation. But warn him that you may end up doing takeout at the last minute if Sherri wants to stay in."

"Got it" I said as she scribbled in her pad, never looking down, keeping eye contact with me.

"You're going to treat her to a whole day of pampering to make her feel like her old self for a day. Who's her best friend?"

"Linda"

"Call Linda. Tell her to block off that day to spend with Sherri." Grace was in full order-giving mode, now. "I'll find a salon to get her hair done, plus a facial and massage for her and her friend. I'll find the most upscale maternit

Minnesota Libido: Part 2

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Tue, 28 Jul 2026 13:43:00 +0000

Minnesota Libido: Part 2.

Snowbound Valentine's Night

Based on a post by TruthwithaTwist. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.

A snowstorm canceled our plans, so we got creative.

Sherri and I had been going together for just over year and were still having a great time together. We were in our late-20s, had good jobs, a large group of friends, and fun social lives. We had planned a romantic Valentine's night with an expensive dinner, wine, drinks and then back to my condo to 'celebrate' privately. Then, Mother Nature stepped in.

Living in the Midwest, mid-February storms weren't uncommon events and one decided to roll in that year. By the time the holiday was upon us, every newscast was warning of the size of the storm and the impacts it would have. Based on those reports we decided to pivot our plans for Valentine's Night. Instead of a dinner out, Sherri and I would cook a meal at her place and bunker down there. We figured that maybe the storm would even give us an extra-romantic feeling for the night; cozy and warm in her place, cut off from the world, with snow falling outside the windows.

On the 14th, I went into my office as planned and by early afternoon, we were getting the warnings to get on the road, otherwise we would face major delays and treacherous travel conditions. Heeding the advice, I packed myself into my old Ford Bronco, nicknamed "The Blue Beast", and started to make my way to Sherri's apartment which was closer to my office than my own place.

The reports weren't wrong, the storm rolled in quickly and with attitude. Despite my early departure, the roads were quickly slippery and tough to navigate. Visibility was near-zero and traffic slowed to a crawl. While the Beast and I crawled through our journey, I saw multiple cars sitting on the side of the road, disabled by the weather. Even with the heat blowing and wipers on full blast, my windshield was frosting over, reducing my own sight lines.

The trip to Sherri's, which normally would take about 30 minutes, took nearly two hours in the storm. I physically let loose a sigh of relief when I finally guided the Beast into a snowy parking spot behind her apartment building. I got out and immediately stepped into a deep pile of snow that had already gathered on the ground. I grabbed my bag and laptop while attempting to get the flowers and gifts I was bringing over. Quickly realizing that I was going to have to make two trips, I pulled my coat tighter against the wind and shuffled my way to the enclosed entry. After the second trip, I hit the button so Sherri could buzz me in.

Two trips up the stairs to her third-floor apartment later, I finally stumbled into her place. I was half-frozen from the storm and half sweaty from the efforts to get in from the parking lot. Sherri had been home for a bit longer and greeted me with a kiss at the door, helping me get all my bags inside. Back then, she was built like a model at 5'8" with long legs and a skinnier build. She had smaller tits that were just enough for a handful and thicker, athletic thighs and ass. Her long blond hair that normally flowed down to the middle of her back was tied back in a ponytail. She was wearing a pair of short, plaid pajama shorts and a sweatshirt with a heart emblazoned with the word PINK across her chest. Her feet were covered a pair of thick, fuzzy socks. Admittedly, it was not the romantic Valentine outfit I was hoping to be greeted by, but I didn't blame her for going for warm & comfortable. She still looked great in her comfy winter wear.

Following her lead, I got out of my work clothes and changed into a pair of gray sweats and t-shirt of my own. When I emerged from the bedroom, I saw that she had opened a bottle of red wine and poured us both a healthy glass. Sherri didn't own a TV but had music playing on the stereo. Her apartment was on the smaller side, with a small living room that also had a little table that seated four people. There was a small kitchen, plus a bathroom and the bedroom. We settled into the couch and took the first deep breath in what seemed like hours.

"So, the ride sucked huh?" she started.

"It was brutal. The roads were awful, and traffic was a mess. There were spin-outs everywhere."

"Well, at least you made it here safely." She lifted her glass toward mine. "Happy Valentine's Day." We clinked our glasses together and continued to chat about the storm, our jobs, and various mundane topics. As we chatted, the storm raged outside. Even through the solid walls of the apartment building we could hear the wind rattling against the building. The windows creaked and groaned as they frosted over with ice and snow. The sky darkened as dusk seemed to come earlier with the thick storm clouds blocking any natural sunlight.

Before long, the bottle of wine was empty, and we were both pleasantly buzzed and relaxed. Sherri had wormed her feet under my thigh and was reclining against the arm of the couch. I was running my hand up her long, smooth leg, stopping short of the bottom of her shorts before bringing it back down. She shifted slightly and I was able to see a pair of pink, lacy panties peeking out from the inside of her shorts. I felt my cock start to swell at the sight.

Sherri must have noticed because she broke the silence. "You know. It's too early to start dinner and your hand feels Really good right now."

"So, what are you proposing?" I asked with a smirk. She answered by pulling her feet out from under me and scrambling down the couch to me.

"Lift up" she ordered as she grabbed the sides of my sweats. I lifted my hips, allowing her to stretch my sweats and boxers down my hips to my thighs. My cock bounced out and stood erect, awaiting her next move. She swung her leg over to straddle me, then pulled her shorts and panties to the side, exposing her opening to me through the leg hole of her peejays. She reached down, gripped my shaft, and ran it along the length of her slit, covering its head with her flowing juices. Once she had me coated and slick, she lined me up with her pussy and dropped down on my shaft. Her warm tunnel enveloped me as she slid down my cock.

"Fuck" she moaned. "That feels good."

She sat with my cock buried inside her, rocking slightly as she got used to the feeling. I gripped her ass and felt her pussy squeeze me tighter. Slowly, she started to lift her hips up and down guiding herself on me. Her pussy was dripping, coating me with her juices and her musky scent filled the air as she started bouncing up and down on me. I shifted my hands and reached under her sweatshirt, finding her bare tits. I cupped them in my palms and ran my thumbs over her puckered nipples which got her to moan into my ear.

"I love your hands on my tits."

"No bra? No shirt? Seems like someone was prepared tonight." I gave her nipples a playful pinch.

"Nope" she said breathily. "I was just going for comfy. If I was planning this, I wouldn't have worn underwear."

"Either way, I like your choices." I loved the fact that even in the middle of a vigorous fuck, we were still able to banter playfully back and forth.

The couch was creaking under us as Sherri bounced up and down on me and I felt myself getting closer to the edge. I reached with one hand and grabbed her ponytail, pulling her head back and arching her back so her chest pushed forward. With my other hand, I pinched one of her nipples more forcefully which caused her entire body to shudder.

"Oh, fuck, yes! I'm gonna fucking come." Her body spasmed and her pussy gripped my cock. I felt goosebumps on her chest as she bucked on my cock, rattling the couch under us. With her pussy gripping me, my cock exploded a wave of cum deep into her tunnel.

"Babe, your pussy feels so good."

"Yes! Fill me up. Let me feel you!"

Shot after shot of cum filled her pussy as she continued to ride out her own orgasm. Slowly, we both calmed down and hugged, with her still impaled on my deflating cock. She gave me a kiss on the lips and started to lift off me. When she did, a flow of our combined juices slipped from her and dripped on my bare thigh.

"Uh" she groaned. "That's the downside of being spontaneous, I guess." She stood up and I could see a trail of cum leaking down her leg toward her knee. "Wait here. I'll grab you a towel, too."

She half-walked, half-waddled to the bathroom where she went in and after a few seconds, poked her head out and tossed me a hand towel. I used it to wipe off my thigh, cock and balls before standing up and cleaning up a bit more. Sherri was in the bathroom for a few minutes and then I saw a flash of her moving to her bedroom. When she emerged, she was still wearing the sweatshirt and fuzzy socks, but had changed from her plaid shorts into a pair of red, lacy boy short undies - this time without any Pajama bottoms to cover them up.

She gave a quick twirl to show me her ass cheeks covered by the stretchy fabric, "Still wearing red to stay in the spirit of Valentine's, babe!" She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. "Should we start some dinner?"

We spent the next hour working together to make our home-bound Valentines meal. I chopped lettuce and blended ingredients for a Caesar salad. Sherri sauteed some chicken and vegetables before popping them in the oven to cook. She made a box of rice pilaf while I opened a bottle of wine and set the table. During the entire process, I was constantly distracted by her bare tits bouncing under her sweatshirt and her lace-covered ass on display the whole time. She clearly knew the effect she was having on me and made sure to rub against me repeatedly in the enclosed kitchen space. We still had about 15 minutes left on the timer when the apartment plunged into darkness.

"Fuck" she said. "Power is out."

I looked into the kitchen from the table and could still see her bathed in a pale blue light. Fortunately, her oven and stove were gas, so our dinner continued to cook. I watched her fumble in a kitchen drawer until she found a small flashlight that she used to light up the room more.

"Well, this could suck." I said. "What do you need me to do?"

"Actually, we're not in bad shape." She replied. "Oven, stove and most importantly, heat, are all gas powered in the building. And since I was going for romance tonight, there are already candles everywhere. Why don't you light the ones on the table and coffee table to give us some light?"

I did as I was told, and when I went back to the kitchen, I saw it was lit up more than a few moments before. Sherri had placed the flashlight on the counter behind a vase full of water, creating a makeshift lantern.

"Where did you learn that?" I asked.

"Just one of my many little tricks, babe."

A few minutes later, we were sitting at the table, enjoying a home-cooked, candlelit dinner. Despite the curveballs of the day, it was a perfectly romantic Valentine's night meal. We toasted with our wine, ate our dinner, and chatted in the flickering candlelight. Outside, we could still hear the storm, but we suddenly didn't care. We were safe and warm, with food, drink, and each other. Losing power even allowed us to postpone the post-dinner cleanup as it wasn't worth loading everything into the powerless dishwasher. Instead, we piled everything into the sink, covered it in cold water and left it for the morning.

"I have strawberry shortcake for dessert, but we should decide if we want it now or not. I don't want to open and close the fridge too many times."

"I'm good waiting a bit" I replied. "Let's open presents now!"

We moved back to the couch and gave each other the gifts we had purchased. We laughed at the similarities in the gifts; cologne and perfume, gift cards to our favorite salon and barber, a box of cigars and a box of chocolates. We opened the chocolates and poured glasses of whiskey to sip in the semi-darkness. The worst part of the power-outage was that we had lost the music in the background and were sitting in silence.

"I'll be honest" she started. "I need to let dinner settle before we jump into bed."

"I'm cool with that." I replied. "We can't really read or anything though. Do you have any board games? We could play one for a bit."

"Oh! Wait here!" Sherri exclaimed. "I have a fun Valentiney idea!"

She grabbed the flashlight from the kitchen and went into her bedroom where I heard her rustling around. When she came out, she sat back on the couch and showed me a deck of cards.

"We're playing cards? Cool."

"Nope" she replied. "I got these at a bachelorette party a while back." She tore open the package and started to shuffle the deck. "These are 'True Confession' cards! They all have sexy or romantic questions that we can both answer."

She fanned out the cards on the cushion between us and we played rock, paper, scissors to see who would pick first. Sherri won, picked the first card, and read it aloud, "Do you prefer romantic sex or kinky sex?"

"Damn" I said. "This is starting off hotter than I thought."

"You have to answer first, baby. Those are the rules."

"I mean, if I have to pick one? I'd probably go kinky."

"Interesting. Care to share what you would consider kinky?"

"Those, my dear, aren't the rules! It asked, 'kinky or 'romantic'. I answered, now it's your turn."

"Fine. I would say romantic. I'm not against experimenting and playing around a bit, but overall, I still like romantic sex better." She sipped her drink and added, "But my house, my rules. From now on, we can ask a follow-up question that we both have to answer. So, what's a kinky sex idea you'd like to try?"

I thought for a moment, deciding on answer that was sexy, but wouldn't make her think I was a pervert, "I'd like to tie you up. Nothing crazy, just to the bed so I could sort of have my way with you."

"Um. I wouldn't be against that, what about the other way around? Would you let me tie you up?"

"Definitely. Turnabout is fair play, right? Do you have a romantic scenario?"

"Not really. Maybe just something like a big bed, in a suite on a tropical island. The idea of a warm breeze with the scent of flowers in the air would be a huge turn on. Coconut oil on our skin, windows open so we could hear the waves. That sort of thing."

"Works for me, especially with this storm brewing - that sounds great! My turn to pick a card." I picked the next card and read the text, "Have you ever had sex while under the influence of a drug other than alcohol?"

"Fuck me." Sherri uttered and took a sip of her drink.

"Uh oh. That's not a promising start."

"See, I haven't really shared much about my college days with you." She paused to gather her thoughts, "I was a bit wild. I grew up in a small town, and you know my family life wasn't the best. So, when I got out and was at college on my own, I went a bit wild."

I could hear the hesitancy in her voice and was worried the question was going to ruin the mood. "Okay. This is supposed to be fun. Do you want a new question?"

"Nope. I'm not really embarrassed, just wasn't ready for it. Here we go. Yes. I have done drugs and had sex. That was the question right? What about you?"

"My answer is also 'yes'. Follow-up question, 'which ones?'"

Sherri paused and took a breath, "Weed, mushrooms, LSD, ecstasy, cocaine a couple of times, and a bunch of prescription drugs. We had a few 'pill parties' back in the day where everyone would empty their cabinets and bring what they could find. I think that's it. Fuck, Jay, I hope that's not oversharing. It was a long time ago. Also, I never did anything with needles - that was way over the line even for me back then."

"My list is shorter." I jumped in to put her back at ease. "Weed, ecstasy and cocaine. Never liked weed, ecstasy was cool. Coke? Could have a been a problem, but I was able stop, before I couldn't. It was weirdly popular after college and then I did it one last time with my ex, Jess a few years ago."

"I'm actually surprised by that. You don't seem like the type, no offense."

"Yeah, I'm offended I don't seem like someone who does drugs" I laughed. "Tara had experimented a lot when she was younger. So, when we dated in grad school, she sort of convinced me to try some different things."

"Ah. The infamous power of the pussy corrupting innocent young men." Sherri reached down and picked up a new card, probably trying to change the subject as quickly as possible. She read, "What sexual position would you give up forever if you had to?"

I pondered the question, going through a variety of positions in my mind before answering, "Is 'standing' a position? Because if it is, I find it's always sort of awkward. It's tough to line everything up, there are balance and strength issues and it's never as good as the amount of effort it requires."

"I don't know. Is that a 'position' or a type of sex?"

"If it's not a position, then I'd go with facing each other. Like when you are both on your side in bed, the woman throws her leg over and I slide in from there. It's not terrible, but others are better. What about you?"

"Honestly? Reverse cowgirl. It doesn't feel as good as doggie and while I'm up there doing all the work, I'm just staring at the guys' feet. Then, I start thinking about him just staring at my ass, just does

Minnesota Libido: Part 1

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Mon, 27 Jul 2026 13:42:00 +0000

Minnesota Libido: Part 1

I cash in when my girlfriend loses a bet.

Based on a post by TruthwithaTwist. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.

I was first introduced to "What I Say Day" when my then-girlfriend, now-wife, Sherri and I had been dating for about a year. We met at work and were both in our late-20s. We were out to dinner one night and I commented on the wedding date of a mutual friend. Sherri said it was in mid-August while I vividly remembered it being in June.

"Wanna bet?" she asked.

"Sure" I replied. "What are we betting?"

"Whoever is right gets a 'What I Say Day' from the other person."

Confused, I asked, "What is a 'What I Say Day?'"

"Oh. It's something my family used to do to get out of chores or when we wanted to do something different on a weekend or were arguing about a movie. Basically, winner gets to dictate what the loser does for a day."

Confident I was correct on the dates, I reached across the table and we shook hands, "Deal."

A few weeks later, we were in my car, driving to visit Sherri's Aunt Marie who lived about 4 hours away. When we got there, I had the unequaled joy of loading up three SUV loads full of things from her attic and basement and brought them to the local church for their annual sale. We enjoyed a lovely early-bird meal at 4:30 before going back to Marie's house to watch TV and old movies for the night. That night, I got to sleep in a twin bed in a spare room down a creaky hall from my girlfriend.

Yeah, the wedding had been in mid-August.

Over the years, we brought back the "What I Say Day" bet a few times. Winning days consisted of everything from art museums to baseball games. Once, I got clever and told her my "What I Say Day" would consist of golfing with my pals while she had dinner ready when I got home, followed by a massage and blowjob to "relax my golf muscles". I still think my worst loss was when I had to go to an endless marathon of the Lord of the Rings movies that went all night long. By 3am, I was hoping some sort of troll or ogre would end my suffering.

But that loss was offset by my best win, that came thanks to the actress, Tia Carrere. For those who don't know her, she was an immensely popular Asian-American actress in the late 90's. She's probably best known for her roles in "Wayne's World" and "True Lies".

Sherri and I happened to be out one night and Tia Carrere was shown on TV at a local sporting event. When she looked up at the screen, Sherri asked me, "What James Bond movie was she in?"

"She wasn't ever a Bond girl" I replied.

"Yes she was" insisted Sherri, "she was a villain. I remember." I could hear the confident tone in Sherri's voice, but (to sorta-quote the Princess Bride) I knew something she didn't know. I was a colossal James Bond fan growing up. I knew all the movies in order, sure, but also more than that. I could name Bond Girls, villains, songs and artists with years they were released. I could even name the "Obligatory Sacrificial Lamb"- the ally or friend of Bond who dies; from every movie.

Knowing I had her, I simply extended my hand and said, "What I Say Day?". Sherri shook on it and sealed her fate.

"You're thinking of 'True Lies'" I started, "It's with Arnold Shwartzenegger and Jamie Lee Curtis. Tia Carrere played a bad guy who kidnaps Jamie Lee. But it wasn't a Bond movie." A quick internet search when we got home proved I was right and solidified my prize for a future date.

Some time passed and occasionally the bet would come up in conversation but I hadn't really had an effective use for it yet. We were living in the Northeast and toward the end of winter, we decided that we wanted to get away for a weekend. Sherri found a resort that offered private lodges and chalets by a lake and ski resort. We hadn't skied in years, but the thought of a large resort with a lodge, restaurant, fire pits, indoor/outdoor pools and hot tubs was definitely appealing. Plus, we would have the privacy of our own chalet with a fireplace, outdoor hot tub and kitchen if we just wanted to hang around. We booked a long weekend, arriving on Thursday evening and leaving Monday.

The drive up took about 3 hours and by the time we got there, it was dark out. We checked in at the main lodge around 7:30 where they gave us a little driving map to our chalet about a half-mile away. The map showed all the attractions and amenities of the resort; pools, slopes, lodges, trails, activities, restaurants and more. They even had a complimentary heated shuttle bus to take guests around. We decided to drop our bags in the chalet, then grab a shuttle to the pub that was on the premises.

We parked in front of a two-story shingled chalet that the map guided us to. We opened the door to see that we had a fun, rustic property for the weekend. The main floor had a full kitchen, breakfast area with a table and chairs, living room with couches, TV, gas fireplace and a half bathroom. There were sliding doors by the fireplace that led outside.

By the kitchen was a set of open stairs that went to a loft bedroom that looked over the main room. It had a king-sized bed that looked like it was made of logs and a huge bathroom with a tiled shower with multiple shower heads that was clearly built for two people to occupy at the same time. The entire second floor was surrounded by large windows which provided a view of the entire resort. We could see the lights of the other chalets, the main lodge in the distance and some of the lit trails for night skiing.

We walked back downstairs and opened up the sliding doors to see that we were on an over-sized deck that we assumed in Summer would have lounge chairs and tables for relaxing. While all these were stacked up at this time of year, there was a hot tub at the very edge of the deck, seemingly leaning over the hill the chalet was built on. The chalet seemed completely private, but when you walked over to the hot tub, you could see the lights of the other chalets around. In fact, the most prominent thing we could see through the darkness was the misty-blue glow of the hot tubs from other nearby chalets.

Sherri was ultra-organized and asked if she could have 15 minutes or so to unpack and freshen up. I took that time to put the beers, wine, and food we had brought with us into the fridge. When Sherri came down, she had freshened up her hair and makeup a bit. Sherri was built like a model at 5'8" with long legs and a slight build. She had smaller b-cup tits and a tight, athletic ass. Her long blond hair flowed down to the middle of her back and was pulled back into a ponytail. She was wearing a pair of tight skinny jeans and hiking boots with a small heel on them, the combination of which boosted her amazing ass up for perfect viewing. She had on a tight red turtleneck that highlighted her slim waist and tits.

I called for a shuttle to pick us up and a few minutes later, we were pulling on our big winter parkas to head to the pub. Sherri's was a more fashionable parka that came down to the top of her ass, since she wasn't planning on any major winter activities beyond drinking wine and watching snow fall. Mine was longer and heavier and I brought it just in case I wanted to go snowmobiling during our stay.

The pub was a quaint little place with good food and great drinks. Because it was our first night and we knew there was a shuttle, we ate a great meal and took full advantage of the drinks menu. By the time we left the pub and made our way to the shuttle, I was confident that it wasn't the ice that had us a little unsteady on our feet.

We got back to the chalet and climbed the stairs to the bedroom loft. Sherri told me to use the restroom first and then she would meet me in bed. After I was done and as I got undressed, I realized that with the room fully lit, people in the higher chalets or even some of the walkways could see directly into the loft. More concerning was the realization that we would be up at the crack of dawn when the morning sun started pouring in through the window-walls! Fortunately, I found a bank of switches on the wall, that as you turned them, they closed the various sets of blinds surrounding the inside of the chalet. I closed the blinds and settled into the bed to wait for Sherri.

A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened and Sherri stepped out. She looked amazing and obviously had gotten into the spirit of a "winter weekend getaway". She was wearing a pair of lacy black panties that were cut high up on her hips. On top though, she had on a Boston Bruins hockey jersey that she had cut, so it ended just at the bottom of her boobs. She was showing the perfect amount of under-boob and was flashing her nipples with every step she took. Her long legs were the highlight of the outfit, though. She was wearing a long pair of thigh-high white hockey socks with gold & black stripes around her thighs.

Sherri wasn't an athlete or even a big sports fan, but she looked like every fan's dream girl. The socks made it seem like her legs went on forever, and the cut jersey was showing off her tight stomach and abs. Watching her tits bounce under the shirt as she walked over and climbed on to the bed made me instantly hard.

As she straddled me on the bed, I couldn't help but reach up and start caressing her tits under the half-shirt, running my thumbs over her nipples and into her cleavage.

"So, I guess you like my outfit?"

"Babe" I replied, "You look incredible."

With Sherri, there was always a perfect point of alcohol consumption and I think she hit it that night. Too little, she remained her normal conservative self. Too much, she got tired. But when she had the perfect amount, her inhibitions would melt away and she would become a hellcat in bed. It was during these times that she would try new positions and often orgasm more easily. I think that the alcohol would allow her to stop being self-conscious; relax, and let her sexual instincts take over.

Sherri was rotating her hips on me, grinding her crotch against my cock through my boxers. I kept my attention on her tits, switching between gently rubbing and stroking them to an occasional pinch of her nipples. I could feel her nipples getting harder every time I went back to them and her gyrations were getting faster and harder against me.

I reached around and grabbed her ass, forcing her down against my crotch with a bit more friction and pressure.

"Oh fuck," she moaned, "I think I can come this way." She braced her hands on my shoulders and really began to grind her pussy on my crotch. She switched from a back-and-forth motion to more of a circular movement, grinding her panty-covered clit on the head of my cock. Her breath was getting shorter and faster and could feel some beads of sweat starting to form on her chest.

"Uh, uh, uh, I'm so close." She was moaning now. "Grab my tits. Pinch my nipples."

I switched my hands back to her tits. "Please, .oh, my, .I'm gonna come, That's it, I'm uh." Sherri's entire body started to shudder as she climaxed. She knocked my arms out of the way and collapsed on my chest as the aftershocks rippled through her. I could feel the wetness of her orgasm as it had soaked through her panties and my boxers. Sherri's head was resting on my shoulder as she worked to get her pulse rate back to normal.

After a few minutes, Sherri began to stir on top of me again. Grinding against my still-hard cock she said, "Feels like someone is ready for some relief, huh?"

Sherri rolled off of me and peeled off her top and panties revealing her mostly bare pussy with just a dark blonde landing strip. I could still see the moisture of her recent arousal and orgasm as she laid back on the bed and spread her sock-covered legs wide.

I slid between them and lined my erect cock up with her spread lips. As I slid into her, it was a mixture of sensations. She was still nice and lubricated from her orgasm so I thought I would have slid in easily. But that same orgasm had the walls of her pussy so aroused and inflamed that it felt tighter than it usually did. I adjusted my weight forward and pushed my cock further into her slick tunnel.

Sherri began moaning again, "Hmm, babe. You feel good. Go nice and slow for me. I'm still so tight." I took her cue and started slowing moving my hips back and forth, not rushing my pace. Sherri had her hands on my ass and was digging into my skin with her fingernails. A quick smack on my right ass cheek and I knew I she wanted me to pick up speed. Just as I started to build up some rhythm, Sherri shifted a bit and brought her legs up and put her ankles all the way up on to my shoulders. I was always impressed and excited by her flexibility and this move spread her pussy wide open for my thrusts.

"Fuck me, babe. Fuck that pussy." I could feel the pressure building up as I wanted to shoot inside her. The combination of her hands grabbing my ass, her dirty talking and the feeling of her socks on my shoulders became too much. With a loud moan, my entire body tensed and I felt my balls release a load of cum into Sherri's pussy. I continued thrusting until I felt the final shots cover her walls.

"Jay, .I need to move my legs." In my excitement, I forgot that Sherri's legs were still perched on my shoulders and her hips were being stretched. I gently grabbed one ankle and eased her leg off to the side. She was able to slide the other one off, allowing me to roll off of her.

"Wow" she said. "That was awesome." Sherri was running her fingers through our combined juices flowing out of her. "I'm exhausted. I'm going to clean up and get some sleep." After cleaning ourselves up, we got back into bed and fell into a deep sleep for the night.

The next morning, we slept in thanks to the blinds working the way they were designed to. I was up first and used the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash up a bit. I knew Sherri would get up soon and we hadn't decided on a plan for the day, when an idea hit me.

I crawled back into bed and Sherri started stirring a bit. Her back was to me, so I wrapped my arms around her and spooned against her naked body. She could feel my morning wood pressing against her ass and started to push back against me. Once again, my free hand found her tits and I started gently twirling around her nipple.

"Hmm, Jay, stop it. I'm still exhausted from last night and my head is pounding." Not listening, I let my hand roam down toward her pussy before she grabbed me by my wrist.

"Uh. I'll be right back." Sherri rolled out of bed and went into the bathroom. I could hear her brushing her teeth, washing up, peeing and the familiar shake of a bottle of Advil. A few minutes later, she emerged from the door and started walking naked back to the bed.

"Stop there for a second" I said.

She listened and looked at me with a curious look on her face. "What's up?"

With a smirk emerging on my face I said, "I'm calling in my 'What I Say Day' starting , now."

"What are you talking about?"

"Tia Carrere. True Lies. Not a Bond Girl. You owe me one day of whatever I say!"

Sherri knew the bet and the rules so she slumped a bit and said, "Fine. It's your day. So what are we doing? Snowmobiling? Hiking? Freezing our asses off somehow?"

"Nope." I replied, "As a matter of fact, we will barely leave the Chalet. But I have one rule."

"What is that?"

"You have to stay naked all day."

"What?"

"My day, my rules. No clothes for you all day." The look on Sherri's face was a mix of confusion, anger and defeat.

"What about food? You want me to go to the restaurant naked?"

"Nope. We can eat in here today. We'll do the restaurant tomorrow night."

Knowing she was beat, Sherri reluctantly gave in. "Fine. I'll stay naked. But I'm going to remember this the next time I win." With a smile she then added, "But since we're both naked right now, we might as well make use of the time, right?"

"Absolutely!" I said as she started walking toward the bed. "But first, ". I then reached over and hit the switches for the blinds letting the sun pour into the room.

As Sherri's eyes adjusted to the streaming light, she screamed, "Jay! No! People can see in the room and I'm naked!"

"That's the idea. There's a good chance some of our neighbors are going to get a view better than the mountain and lake today!"

"Holy shit. I can't believe you are turned on by me showing myself off to strangers all day."

"Babe" I said, "It's not like you're going to be parading down main street in the nude. You just may be giving a few glimpses to any peeping toms who get lucky today! And since it's my day, I know the perfect way to start it."

I peeled back the covers showing my erect cock. I started to gently stroke it, bringing it to its full length.

"I think that's enough debate for now. It's my day, so why not put that mouth to use?" Sherri climbed back on to the bed and replaced my hand with her own and started stroking me. She leaned down and used her tongue to start licking up and down my shaft.

"You really are a sick fuck, you know that?" she said just before she plunged her mouth down the length of my cock. She started licking and sucking building up speed and moisture as she did. Using her hand, she fondled my balls while she continued her expert blowjob. Her long blonde hair had fallen around her head and was tickling my hips and thighs every time she would move her head down.

As I looked down at Sherri's head bobbing up and down, with her ass up in the air, I felt myself get even more aroused at the thought of who could be watching through the open windows. Sherri must have sensed the slight change because she increased her suction and used her tongue to lick the head of my cock. I couldn't last and shot a full load into her mouth and throat. As I continued to pulse out some weakening streams of cum, Sherri pulled off my cock and aimed my cock at her chest. The final spurts of milky fluid left ragged streams on her tits and torso. As the final drops came out, she backed off, licked her lips and gave my cock a gentle kiss.

"Well, now I definitely have to go shower. If I have to be naked in this place all day, you better go down and turn on that fireplace to warm it up for me and I'm sure not doing it with your dried cum all over me."

While Sherri went to shower, I threw on my shorts and t-shirt and went downstairs. I started some coffee and turned on the fireplace to start warming the chalet a bit. I also took the opportunity to take a look at the deck and patio in the light. The patio actually had a large heater that could be turned on from the inside, which warmed up the entire area to the hot tub.

I went back to the kitchen and opened up the container of muffins we had brought with us, throwing two of them in the toaster oven. When I heard the shower shut off, followed by Sherri's hair dryer, I started to pour the coffee and put muffins on some plates. I heard Sherri's feet coming down the stairs and looked up to see her naked body descending. Her skin was still flushed from the shower and I could see the combined effects of the heat and moisture on her body. Her small pink nipples were tight and puckered having come from the hot shower to the cooler room. Her shoulders were still red and flushed and I could see her long legs shining from the moisturizer she usually used. I would never get tired of looking at her tight, athletic ass as it rippled and bounced with every step she took.

Sherri came over to the kitchen, grabbed her muffin and coffee and went over to the sofa in the living room.

"So, I'm just supposed to sit around naked all day?"

"Sorry, babe, that was the bet."

"But you get to wear clothes? That doesn't seem fair."

I shrugged a bit, wondering if she was right, but thinking to myself that her naked body was a much better sight than mine walking around naked all day.

Lady Lovecome’s Diary: Part 7

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Sun, 26 Jul 2026 21:17:00 +0000

Lady Lovecome’s Diary: Part 7.

Captured on video.

Based on a post by A Big Cat. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.

He rummaged in his discarded trousers and pulled out a familiar, leather-bound notebook. My diary! "Perhaps you might read this for me?"

Gabrielle could hardly speak for pouting. She opened the pages, her flush deepened. "Fuck;” She flipped through. Giggled. "Fuck, my friend is dirty;”

I flushed too. Squirming inside at the thought of my secrets being laid bare. Then I remembered, I wrote it to torture my father anyway, and he'd even shared it with his rent boy. I was always reading it out to Bill too. So why not let Gabrielle read it too? She was in half of it anyway.

Bill mumbled the same sentiments to Gabrielle, who I am certain, was looking for mentions of herself.

Perhaps she found something then because she went quiet. Her eyes widened at a page, then peered, then welled up.

I had nothing to fear, I'd only ever expressed adoration for Gabrielle. Which is what made this betrayal sting so. "Oh, how I adore that girl," she whispered, then swung her hips and winced at the sensation, presumably something to do with her underwear. "Too sexy. My poor panties. Monsieur, I must remove them."

"I'd rather you didn't, Miss."

She tutted, reached up her, my!, dress, and wriggled her knickers down. She grabbed one of Bill's great paws and stuffed the little white garment into his fist. "See what you do to me?"

Bill cleared his throat, shook the knickers out, then neatly folded them and put them on the bench. He wiped his hand on his bare buttock.

Gabrielle snorted. "I will read for you, then, to get you hard;” she cupped his balls lightly and he flinched. She stamped her foot, quivering her unfettered bottom under the dress. "Bill you must let me touch you or how are we to make the cast?"

She explained how she'd need to wrap plaster-soaked strips around his phallus, smoothing out bubbles as she went. Bill cleared his throat again and nodded. "But no more," he said.

Gabrielle picked up my diary and read the section about, "Three Bells for Belle.” Remember, the time Bill spread me on a chesterfield and licked me while I read the story to him? Or tried to. No doubt Gabrielle was hoping to put the notion in his head to repeat that performance on her.

But it certainly had an effect. My words bounced him almost immediately erect. Her sweet, husky little voice and her thick French accent didn't do any harm either.

He wasn't as bustingly hard as the dildo they made, but it seemed enough to spring Gabrielle to action. She grabbed a jar, scooped out some ointment and made to apply it to Bill's bucking meat. He twisted away. "What's this?"

"It is to protect your sensitive skin. I work quickly, and use a special plaster, but it can still burn a little." She reached for his cock again. He swiped the cream off her fingers and covered his erection, working vigorously to keep himself hard. I had to cross my legs. I salivated at both ends! Diary, I adore Bill's cock, what can I do? It's like an addiction.

Gabrielle knelt before him again, this time reaching under the bench and lifting a dripping white strip of fabric. She dangled it over his erection and flopped one end on the base of his shaft. She wrapped it round. "Is not too cold?" she said breathily, working carefully, pressing the strip to his skin and smoothing it dead flat as she worked. Her tongue was caught between her teeth.

"It's fine," he said.

She cast a gaze up at him and dimpled a smile. "You like me doing this, hmm?"

He didn't answer. I think he'd closed his eyes.

She wrapped him from base to tip, and he started sagging. Was that the weight of the plaster or was he losing his erection?

"Perhaps you might read again for me, Miss Gabrielle?" I grinned when he said this. Even my friend at her flirty best couldn't keep him hard. My words were more arousing to this man than a woman like Gabrielle lovingly stroking his cock.

She growled, perhaps thinking the same. "No, I cannot read and work. You read your lady porn yourself."

Bill opened my notebook and, as if by magic, nudged rigid again.

Gabrielle whistled. "That worked. Which bit are you reading?"

Bill took a breath, as if computing whether it was Okay to answer, then reported in his basey whisper: "Lady Bathsheba described how, alone once in her room, she squatted over a hand mirror, pretending it was my face. She ah; she dripped on it. Rather a lot."

Gabrielle laughed throatily, "You really like eating her, non?"

"Very much."

She wrapped another band around his erection, smoothed it. Hummed. "I thought you liked to taste her, when the three of us, we had sex together. You liked this too? Us three together?"

"I liked that Lady Bathsheba liked it."

"I think for a fact you liked it too. You came many times."

Bill didn't answer.

"Read me a bit, monsieur. From the three-of-us part. Let's see how indifferent you are."

Bill flipped pages and read about our first three-way together, on the terrace in the sun. I was crouched on his mouth while Gabrielle dropped her skirt over my head so I could lick her.

He stopped reading after I'd described our orgasms, and she rolled her hand for him to continue. When he got to the part where she sat naked on his face while I watched, her wrapping fingers trembled.

"You have a world-class tongue, Bill." She spoke to his cock, working her winding way round it. "And what happened after this? After I came on your mouth? While Bash watched and sucked you?"

"You know what happened."

"Read it to me."

I didn't like how rigid he looked now. It seemed he was enjoying this strange once-removed sex with her. He turned the page and read my description of us riding both ends of him, Bill fucking her while he licked me. It was safe enough, I suppose, I mean we had actually done that, and very much enjoyed it, but it felt wrong, like they were getting off on each other all over again, but this time without me. Was this it then? What got him so quiveringly hard?

But no. He softened.

Gabrielle cursed. "No, no, no. Don't go limp now, what is wrong with you?"

"I'm sorry. It just feels wrong. Even just talking about; it. With you."

"Fucker! You know you are lucky, being here now with me! Men fight over me! One travelled the world for one hour with me! Another, when I was naked for him, he was so intimidated by my beauty he couldn't harden, yet so excited he came anyway!"

"You are exquisite Miss Gabrielle, that's not the point."

"Don't patronize me."

"I do. desire you. How could I not? After all we've done together. With Lady Bathsheba."

"So, prove it! Prove it in stiff flesh for me."

"It's not so simple, Miss. My fear of hurting Lady Bathsheba is just greater than my desire for you. Even though she's not here."

"My God. You are desperately in love with her, aren't you?"

Bill didn't say a word. He cleared his throat, then cleared it again and took a shaky breath. Pages turned and he read another passage about me sixty-nining him in the conservatory, His dick hardened.

Gabrielle finished her wrap and smoothed it all over one more time with both hands and a lascivious giggle. She washed up, shouting over her shoulder, "Now you must stay hard just for a few minutes."

She took the book off him and sat in an armchair to read my words in her sultry accent. She told my stories with her knees together and raised, her feet propped on the seat, and twisted at the ankle to display her glistening, puckered sex. Perhaps this way she could believe he was aroused by her, while I was sure it was my words exciting him. His eyes seemed closed. Mostly. Mine weren't. They drilled into Gabrielle's sweet cunt, watching her drip between her bottom cheeks. I imagined scooping that lovely stuff on my tongue, swathing it over her clit. I don't know how Bill resisted. He is far stronger than I.

After a few minutes, she gently took the mold off him, and I presumed they were done. So did he. He grabbed his shorts and stepped into them.

"No darling, wait! One more for luck." Gabrielle grabbed an airtight container. "I need to make a safety mold. Those plaster ones, they never work. So I always use alginate too. It is quicker, just ninety seconds, and much more detailed. Works every time."

"So why;” Bill sighed hard. "Why bother with the plaster?"

Gabrielle pouted a shrug. "It is sexy." She shook the canister, biting her lip at his erection. "It is even harder down there now, anyway, non? Shame to waste it. Bon. I mix warm water with powder in here, you put your meat in, and take it out, et voila!"

She put the canister on the floor, stirring the sludge inside it briskly. "Okay, you do a press-up over this, lower your cock into it, like into a woman, then absolutely do not move until I say you can, you can do this? Quick, go, go."

Bill dropped onto his hands, and lowered himself into the tube of gunk.

Gabrielle squeaked. "Bon! Do not move! I read for you!

My cheekster friend of course had it all mapped out. Bill's braced position put his head right in front of her armchair. With a fluidity that suggested she'd practiced this, she jumped into her chair, shuffled her bottom to the edge of the seat, flopped back and looped her legs over the chair arms. Her mound was so close to my man's head she could probably feel his breath. Her lips slowly petaled open under him and he turned his head from the explicit spread. She grasped him back in place. "No! Still! Be still!"

Chuckling, and kicking excitedly, she picked up my diary. She read from a part where she'd sat on Bill's cock, reverse cowboy I believe they call it, and I knelt between their legs, licking them both. While she read, she toyed with her flushed folds. Bill strained, eyes shut, but with his ears no doubt full of her sloppy sounds and panting. His muscles tensed in the prolonged push-up, his naked ass quivered.

"Miss Gabrielle, two minutes has passed, I; "

"Shush!" Gabrielle got to the part where she and I finally sucked Bill off, fighting over his eruption. Bill groaned. Gabrielle squirmed and shoved my notebook between her legs, rubbing her clit hard with it, coming on my pages, on my handwriting, cackling like a witch.

She was still crimson and sliding my diary around her cunt, when Bill stood from his task and dressed.

"Thank you Miss Gabrielle," he said, shoveling his still hard cock into his boxers. "Lady Bathsheba will be delighted."

"Can't you see how I drip for you?" Gabrielle fanned her sex with my notebook, and slid two fingers into her podgy cunt as if scratching an itch. "It is a shame to waste it. And a shame to waste your hardness too I think."

"It won't go to waste." He put out his hand for my diary.

"Fuck me, Bill." Gabrielle tossed my diary, pulled her feet apart and back, and spread her lips. "Please."

"No, Miss." He collected my notebook and left the frame.

She made a sharp squealing kind of growl and flapped her feet. The door shut behind him.

Gabrielle swore and clamped her thighs over her hands, then smacked her puffy mound as if telling it off, and came back to the screen.

"So, you lucky bitch. I guess you'll get the joy of that cock this afternoon. I'd like to say it was my doing but, it was all you." She sucked her fingers, sighed. "Sweetie, be careful though. He properly loves you, and this cannot be. You have duties. You know this. Today, if he fucked me, that was the desirable outcome, oui? Because then he was just a good fun fuck, or lick, and maybe you could have been together even if you were married, just for the fabulous sex, and no one would be hurt. Like you and me? But now;” She grimaced. "Be careful, sexy lady. This is not the husband you need." The screen went black.

Diary I only got this video after I'd slotted the pages describing my shameless orgy under Bill's door.

And, shit, he loves me.

I think we might have said this to each other, or I probably had, but only in the heat of the moment, not in a way that counted. I mean we say we want to eat each other too, all the time, but we never actually go cannibal. This was this serious kind of love. The kind that quietly, inextricably binds.

And I'd blown it, throwing my supposed sexual freedom in his face. Worse, I'd probably broken the heart of the person I cared about most in the world.

But maybe that was a good thing. We could not be together, not just because so much was expected of me, but for Bill's own safety. Father had threatened to kill him if he swayed me from my familial duties. Perhaps we needed to finish this. Rip off the band aid. Perhaps I should let him go.

Diary, the dawn is rising. I'll go to him now.

So as I walked across the dewy grass in naught but my bathrobe that chilly morning, heading for the gatehouse Bill lived in, I had a grownup plan. I would apologize for rubbing his nose in my shit with that diary entry, but then lay it on the line. We were getting too close. I cared too much. He should leave.

But the morning sun was spilling gold all over the place, and as I found the open window I always used to sneak into his bedroom, the gold piped in there too. It gilded my beautiful man asleep in his bed, naked on his covers, on his back, his cock half-hard and nodding and squirming in dreams of its own.

I'd intended to use the front door for once, like a responsible adult, but found myself mesmerized by his rod and climbing in through his window again. I leaned over Bill's sweet cock and told myself, one last time. Then it was warm against my lips, then warm against my tongue, and then warm in my mouth. It wasn't until it was clenching against my palette that I checked Bill's other end, to find pale green eyes sparkling down at me.

"Morning, Madam," he said.

He seemed happy. Had he not read the diary yet? That was something, but it didn't change what I needed to do. I shrugged off my bathrobe and climbed into bed with him. Not beside him, but wedging between his legs so I could keep sucking.

I didn't say a word, just gazed at my gorgeous man and sucked and rubbed. One last time.

He made a ragged, growling sigh. "Careful, Madam. I'll come."

I rolled my eyes at him, as if to say, "Isn't that the point?" and rubbed him faster. He stroked my hair. His eyes filled mine so I had to shut them, for fear they'd leak. I clogged the lump in my throat with his hard end. His legs shook beside me.

"Madam," he blurted. I drew harder on him. He shuddered violently, as if still trying to hold back.

"Hmm!" I said. "Hmm!"

He shoved up at my face and shot his hot, salty-sweet love into my mouth. Another day I might have guzzled him, but today I took it slow as I could. I let his frantic pumps flood my tongue, coat me, and overflow. I swirled him round and round, like wine, groaning like a connoisseur, and took deliberately small gulps, to relish each oysterish slide down my throat. I sucked and squeezed until I could get no more from his tip and even then I sucked on, halting his softening as long as I could. I wanted more, another release from him, and could probably get it, we'd managed before, but no, I'd promised myself that was the last.

So I let him go, kissed his happy cock goodbye, then each drained ball, and crawled up his body, licking spillage from my lips. As ever, this made him blush, but smirk. He was far too polite to say how he loved me doing this dirty thing, and that made it even sexier doing it for him. I wanted to kiss him, and he leant up to me to do so, but we knew we didn't do that. It felt too good in the same dangerous way fucking would be too good. Instead I stood astride his face and let my dangling juices glisten in the sunrise as I dripped for him. Let him see how much I loved his cum. How much I loved him.

He stroked my legs. "I thought you'd be exhausted after your orgy." He grinned and smacked my bum. So he had read it. I wondered if he didn't believe me. Perhaps he thought it was a story. I answered by opening my labia, and wriggling.

"It's Okay," he said, his gaze lost in my sex. "I can see why you did it. I should've explained how we made your dildo. Did Gabrielle send you the video?" A long, sticky drip landed on his lips. He licked it off. "And you clearly did it to get to me. Which proves you like me. So that's something, even if it did hurt at first." He chortled at another long drip dangling over him. It landed, he licked, hummed. "All those adoring fans. I'm so lucky." He regarded me like I shone. "Bash. I; "

I crouched on his mouth and shut him up.

Bash. He called me Bash.

I came too quickly. I came too quickly and so hard I couldn't bear his magical mouth on my flaming, jangling clit any longer. I wanted it to last longer.

I wanted it all to last much longer.

I flopped off his face onto his chest and shuddered in his arms. I took a breath to say the words: "You should go." But he tipped my chin to him, and kissed me. We tasted of each other. I felt like I was tumbling into him. "Stop," I said.

"I love you," he said. "Marry; "

"Stop."

"No." He turned us over, lying above me. He rocked his hips at mine. He was rigid again, just from licking me. How could I dump a man who worshipped me so much? I leaked a tear, I couldn't hold it back. It rolled down the side of my head and he kissed it away. Something perfectly blunt and hard nudged between my cunt lips. He paused. His fat cock at my opening was a promise: this man would risk his life to be with me. Suddenly my grownup plan seemed weak and hollow.

"Marry me," he said.

I couldn't do it. I couldn't say no. But I couldn't say yes either. I curled my hips up at him, and brought him a little deeper. A little closer. This wasn't a need to be fucked. I could have that anytime. This was a need for much more than that, it was a need to be with him, and that would cost me dear. To be with Bill I'd have to give up my inheritance, my title; all the life I was born to. And worse of all, Father would seek murderous revenge.

But Bill slid deeper still. He'd made his decision. He waited for me, half inside me, half out. Our skins coalesced where they touched, aching to become one thing. Our breaths locked step. Our hearts too. I wrapped my arms about his neck, and my legs about his hips;

Fuck it all.

"Yes." I pulled him in. "Yes!"

My last entry starts in heaven;

Dear Diary, do you know what a story arc is?

It means the path a story takes from beginning to end; hopefully ending in a different place than where it started. Ideally, the opposite of where it started. Since I learned that, I never trust anything that starts happy.

And Bill and I started this part of our story in actual heaven. By heaven I mean shacked up in a Mayfair townhouse loaned to us by Gabrielle (her hubbie was a tech-trillionaire, remember) under the certain, not unpleasant, condition that we were her "fuck bunnies" and had to please her whenever she came to visit.

We were hiding from my father, who'd told the world's press that Bill had coerced me into running away with him because Vogue declared I was "The Most Desirable Woman In The World" and he wanted me for himself.

Remember, Bill and I had agreed to marry, even though that would mean me giving up my title, as Father would never permit me to marry our gardener. Also, and worse, the old bastard promised to have Bill killed if he stopped me elevating the blood line by marrying royalty. He didn't put that in the press. Meanwhile Gabrielle was loving the subterfuge and had sent decoys of us into the world. Square-jawed, muscle-bound slap-heads and black bobbed, pillowy-lipped sex kittens popped up in Paris, Milan, New

Lady Lovecome’s Diary: Part 6

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Sat, 25 Jul 2026 21:15:00 +0000

Lady Lovecome’s Diary: Part 6.

Garden Fantasies Abound.

Based on a post by A Big Cat. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.

Was it better that Bill pretended he was fucking me, or did that just make the betrayal sweeter for him, and more bitter for me; underlining what I couldn't have? And the pain of watching, fuck. It was mouth-watering. Delectable. The kind of throb one can't help but pick at and tease.

And still Gabrielle stared. A smile spread across her lips. Then her eyelids drooped and she ground to a halt. She gasped. "Yes!"

I filled my void with my own sad fingers, clamped my mouth shut and pretended Gabrielle's cries of ecstasy were my own, even though I couldn't come.

Bill ploughed on, grunting with each deep dig as Gabrielle quaked on his cock. Were those grunts the effort of shoving, or of holding back his orgasm?

I wanted him to come in her, to fill her like this morning, to overflowing, but the thought also emptied me.

Enough.

I found myself standing beside them, one hand on Gabrielle's wobbling buttock, the other on Bill's driving hips, trying to prize them apart.

They were so lost in each other they didn't seem to care I'd discovered them. I think they even thought I was trying to get a better look. Gabrielle raised a leg, digging her toes into the shaggy tree bark, tilting her hips toward me. Her cunt looked impossibly stretched around Bill's thick, glistening rod. Judging by her dopey smile and blissed out gaze this caused me more pain than her.

Bill took my hand. "I'm coming, Madam."

Had he gone mad? Was he my torturer now, too? I wriggled my hand free of him. "You are not!"

"B-but Madam." He looked like he might weep.

"Bill, please."

He slid out, and staggered back, clasping his cock like an unexploded rocket; so hard, his cockhead bulged like a beef heart from his fist.

"Oh Oui!" Gabrielle flipped round and dropped to her knees in front of him. "Explode for me."

"No, Bill!"

Bill twitched a few times as if in pain. Then took a deep breath and let himself go.

Gabrielle cursed and lunged at his cock, but I yanked her hair. She spun and cat-hissed.

Only then did Bill seem to notice my wet cheeks. He reached out to me. "Oh, Madam." His erection, aroused by Gabrielle, not me, seemed alien and dangerous. I stepped away from him. His cock flagged.

"I thought this is what you wanted?" He reached for me again. I flinched.

"Why would you ever think that?"

Bill blinked at Gabrielle, expecting her to answer, I suppose. But she avoided his eye, shaking her head and wrapping a towel around herself.

Bill picked up another towel. "Gabrielle said you wanted; you know;” He held it open to me. "To watch."

My body was on autopilot while my head spun somersaults. I shrugged off my damp clothes and stepped into Bill's cottony embrace. Gabrielle's eyes danced over my nudity. Her foot twisted at the ankle and she bit her lip. Did she ever get enough?

"I never said I wanted to watch you fuck." I lolled against him, still avoiding his troublesome half-mast cock. His hands were comforting and enlivening at the same time.

"And yet, here you are? Peeping?" Gabrielle tilted her head, regarding us like her private show.

"Well, yes. This time," I said. "I caught you. But not earlier, when you fucked on the kitchen table. That wasn't for my benefit."

Bill's rubbing faltered. "You weren't watching that?" He turned dark eyes on Gabrielle. "You said she was watching us."

Gabrielle shrugged coquettishly. "Oops."

His hands wrapped around my front and fluffed at my tits. "I would never have indulged her, Madam, if I; "

"I know, Bill." I nestled my ass against his cock. Hard again, this time from me. I raised a finger to my torturer, to tell her to go, when Bill's fluffing moved to my worked-up pussy lips and suddenly I didn't care what she did.

She dropped to her knees, I thought to get a better view of us, but she was; begging? "I am so sorry, Bash. Bill." She lowered her head, spoke quietly to her knees. "It is just; sex with you, with the two of you, it is like a drug for me. I have never felt so; " She searched for the word. Gave up. She looked up. "You two, together, you are like the perfect sex animal. As soon as I have you I want you again. Bill, this morning when I lied to you, I was lying to myself. From guilt. I wanted my delicious Bash there, to enjoy us enjoying each other. I imagined her aroused by watching you fuck me, and wanted you to imagine it too. Is this wrong?" She addressed Bill's hands between my legs, crawling toward them as if hypnotized. She looked like she was stalking us.

"And when you lied to me just now?" He spoke quietly, into my neck, hardly even addressing her. He tossed the towel and let his bare hands play with my bare tits instead, teasing my nipples to bullets with rough palms. My knees wobbled. My thigh tops chilled in a breeze.

Not a breeze. Gabrielle's sigh as she knelt at our feet. "I didn't lie. I knew she would watch us. She finds it too horny. Regardez." With feline speed, she lapped up the arousal treadling down my thigh, and jumped to her feet, pushing her mouth to Bill's.

"Umm!" He flustered, then calmed. "Hmm;”

She stepped away. He swallowed, then chuckled and kissed under my earlobe.

"Merde. See! Look at you! How wet you are for him. And how your taste hardens him. How can I resist this?" She unwrapped the towel. "I'm only human."

Bill's cock nudged at my bottom. He pulled back, probed his bulging cockhead under my ass, between my thighs. "I'm going to fuck you now, Madam."

I melted. My cunny actually clasped with salivating longing. But I crossed my feet and locked my knees, and wished I didn't have such a big gap between my thighs. (Gabrielle keeps telling me that big bottoms and a wide thigh gap drive men crazy, but I keep reminding her: I'm not a man.) "Bill, it's not safe."

"I don't care." His fingertips brushed my clit hood, opened my lips. "I'd rather risk being shot in the head than upset you again."

"Fuck-sake." Gabrielle sent her hands between opened knees.

I was so wet, his cock slid effortlessly under my ass, between my inner thigs. We both caught a breath. "I won't let you endanger yourself." I rode his thick meat like a broomstick, arching until my clit rubbed on his perfect wood.

"Please, Madam." He angled his lunges, trying to slip into me.

"No, Bill." I moved away, still enjoying his hot hardness sliding on my clit.

Gabrielle peered as his end protruded a good fist's length from between my thighs. "Fuck."

"You." I snapped. "Be my cunt."

She immediately opened her mouth over his end as it poked from my thighs, licking my clit on his backstrokes and humming at everything that entered her gob.

Bill's hips shook.

I whimpered as he worked my clit with a gorgeously indirect power. My empty, squeezing hole drooled over our join, and Gabrielle received us both on her eager (guilty?) tongue, fellating her perfect sex animal.

We swore; all of us I think; and Bill's torso stiffened against my back. I reached behind his arse and pulled him harder to me. He wrapped arms about me and hefted until my toes left the floor. I gyrated on him, flexed my thighs, possessed with odd image of sliding down an infinite, lubed banister. Gabrielle added her unique slobbery gobble, her fingers flapping between her spread knees.

It occurred to me dizzily to push her away before she was covered in cum, not to protect her from it but because she'd love it and that stuff was still mine. But it was too late. Bill and I always come together, and as my orgasm fountained and his cock tensed, he muttered, "M-Madam;” And rapture drowned me.

I grasped Gabrielle's shoulders. She strained to keep her mouth in place, the pad of her tongue under his end. His cock bucked at my clit, pressed so hard it felt like he was part of me and I was coming like a man. A white rope from shot from between my legs, all over Gabrielle's top lip and tongue. Then another and another. My orgasm hit me like a slippery juggernaut, ramming into my back. Or was that Bill? My cunt exploded with him, bursting me with bliss, then showering Gabrielle in bliss made liquid. With silent intent, she lapped and sucked as if to steal our pleasure, but her silky licks only drew more out and stole our breath instead. Bill thrust behind me like a jet pack for my own sex. I felt turbo charged, doubled-up.

"Oh oui," Gabrielle said hollowly, her tongue shockingly white. "Oui."

Bill lowered me back to the ground, and I stamped my foot. "Bitch!"

Gabrielle shone huge eyes up at me, smirking as she made a show of rolling my man's semen about her cheating gob. She even stood up so I could see better! I kicked her shin. She sniggered.

What was she playing at? "I told you, his; "

She pressed her messy lips to mine, then her tongue. Just as she did for him, she did for me, passing on my love's; love. Bill's blood warm, oystery flavor filled my mouth, slickly stirred by my best friend's adoring kiss. An orgasmic aftershock sent a wave of tingles across my skin and I whimpered and kissed her back greedily. Bill "oofed" behind me, like he'd been punched, but then I suppose he was treated to quite a sight: us wanton harlots kissing his cum between us!

Gabrielle sighed, eking out her kiss, cupping my cheeks and seeking Bill in my mouth to pass him back to me again. I didn't mind, each pervy slurp twisted my insides, but then I became aware of her slinking in my arms. As if she was dancing. And Bill, even though he'd come, was still rock hard between my legs, and pushing. I thought this was because of our hardcore heavy petting, but his arms, which had been wrapped about me, encompassed us both now to clutch Gabrielle's bottom. Meanwhile, Gabrielle pulled at his ass behind me, squishing me tight between them.

I swallowed our salty kiss, and my lover's essence slid down to my belly along with a lascivious trickle of realization. Bill was fucking us both.

Well, our clits anyway, sliding along mine to nudge his end to Gabrielle's as she rolled her hips to meet him. This made me laugh, or maybe it was more aftershocks making me giddy, but again my chest (and cunt) puffed in pride that my Bill was endowed enough to please us both like this.

With my back pressed to Bill's front, it was easy to imagine being Gabrielle's perfect sex beast. We kissed her with two mouths, squeezed her arse with four hands. I brushed stiff-nippled, pillowy tits to hers, while Bill teased her clit with steel that I oiled; a key if you like, inserted and winding us all up again!

Diary, it had been the best and worst of days, but now that I was trapped in this hard-soft love-lust sandwich, my world was complete; conjoined with my lovely man to give my best friend the sex of her life. And better than that, he joined her to please me, and then she and I to please him! I had gone through the bitter side of sharing a lover, and this side was all treacle.

Bill's relentless rod on our pussies was like a baton orchestrating our kissing and stroking. All echoes and contrasts. Silky-chinned kisses were followed by bristles. Great leathery paws followed by small, gentle claws. Gabrielle's ass rolled under my needy kneading, squeezed firmer by Bill covering my hands with his before following in the wake of my caresses up her sinuous back, then over her tits.

Bill stood beside us, clearly still enjoying our kissing, judging by the ever-ready cock he slid between our bellies. He stroked us from neck to bottom, which though performed calmly, left a glittering wake of horniness behind each caress.

I can never get enough of Gabrielle's kiss (sorry Bill). It's so yielding, yet exquisitely needy like a pussy that loves you back. It's doubly sexy when she tastes of Bill, so he can at least take comfort from that! And of course a kiss is always enlivened when your man curls his hand under your bum to squish your cunny. And your lover's cunny too.

We all but twerked on his deft fingers, sniggering into our kiss, catching our breaths as he slid thumbs into us while working our clits like little triggers. We tugged on his meat and bit his pecs but Gabrielle needed more, swiveling to face him, squeezing his bulges and turning her perfect kiss on him. Her back snaked along my front, and the contrast of her sleekness against his caveman bulk will haunt my erotic dreams forever. I stroked her tits, cupping them to Bill's kisses, while he slipped open her labia to my finger-tips and, as I dropped little bites over her back and bottom to kneel between their legs, he spread her wide to my tongue.

She curled a leg around his waist and her pussy nudged at his cock and my mouth like; well like the indecisive, hungry cat it was. Her juices looped from thigh to slavering hole, and she squirmed to get his end lodged inside. I teased her with his taut bulb, nudging it at her opening until she tried to impale herself on it, then pulling him out and sucking him instead. Fun for all. I especially enjoyed Bill and Gabrielle's curses. They could fuck, but at my pleasure. Not theirs.

Rain rattled the glass above us and flares of sunlight cast trickling shadows over our skin, I was lost in a dream from which I never wanted to wake. A dream of yielding, florid hollows and straining lumps. My sex thrummed, delighted by delighting the people I desired most. I licked and sucked and rubbed and teased, relishing that resonant throb of my own bits. It was so dreamy I wasn't at all surprised when Gabrielle's feet left the floor and she floated into the air.

If I was light as a beach ball to Bill, my petite friend seemed hardly a balloon. While I was enjoying my cock and clitty delight, Bill had bent down, taken a good grip on my girl's hips and stood, inverting her so he could, of course, eat her like an ice cream. He did it so casually and with such fluidity she didn't even scream, just gave over utterly to his strength like she was flipped up to man's mouth all time. I suppose Gabrielle's billionaire husband was all about the harnesses and toys and swing sets, she was no stranger to acrobatics.

So she joined me at Bill's cock, upside down, her legs a waving, wide Y to his mouth. Another rush of pride overwhelmed me and I sucked on him with renewed vigor. My friend's cheek pressed to mine, her hair covering us both, as if to discretely veil our adoration of his phallus.

She supped on my man, as comfortable as if she was reclined on a chaise. Bill thighs quivered like a race-horse every time our mouths slid along his shaft. He rumbled into Gabrielle's cunt so forcefully it croaked from her mouth and suddenly I wanted to be the one getting those cute noises from her.

Yesterday's Bathsheba, even the Bathsheba of an hour ago, would never leave Gabrielle's mouth alone with Bill's cock in this state. But since he'd offered to fuck me whatever the consequences, this Bathsheba was more confident. She was adored by this man. Not even a coppertop Audrey Hepburn with the oral skills of a thousand-dollar whore would steal his heart, even if she stole his cum. So I left my dangerous friend to do her worst, so I could do my worst to her.

I hopped up to share Bill's ice cream. He held her writhing little body steady and we ate her marshmallowy spread entirely for our own pleasure, taking turns to suck the fleshy cherry of her clit hood or swirling it between us like the third tongue in a particularly dirty three-way snog.

Bill's tongue grew uncoordinated and I sensed that when Gabrielle wasn't muttering French curses at our licking, she was giving as good as she got. Bill would come again soon. Sure enough, he tremored and had to brace himself. Gabrielle gave a little yelp on his meat. As impressive as my lovers were, I worried about them coming in this position. I dropped back to my knees. Despite her little elfin mouth she'd taken his entire length into her throat. I'd never managed that even with my massive gob. I waited for her to unimpale herself while tea-bagging his lovely great testicles. They clenched in my mouth. He blabbered, "C-careful ladies."

Gabrielle, our Ferrari, naturally took this as a sign to change up a gear. Bill staggered. She stopped deepthroating only to wank him vigorously onto her curled out tongue, her eyes shut, panting, "Oui; oui;” I quickly nuzzled her off his cock.

Bill swore, relieved I think, as I persuaded Gabrielle to kiss me instead of sucking him. Luckily, like Bill, she finds it impossible to ignore my plumpy great lips. I was sat beneath her, leant back on my hands. Once I had her attention, I made sure she could see my knees flop apart and my hips rock needily up at her

"Oh baby, sorry;” She wriggled, slapping Bill's thighs until he lowered her as obediently and gently as an elephant. She slid her body down mine to get her face between my thighs. Bill positioned her astride my face, glinting mischievously, and kissed me and I wanted to blub.

Then a hungry electric eel attacked my cunt. Gabrielle, with her characteristic sexual restraint, ground her mound on my mouth and her mouth on my mound.

Above me, kneeling astride my head and poised at Gabrielle's rear, Bill watched our sixty-nine. Seeing us through his desirous eyes doubled the thrill, especially as he ran a hand along his length. His masculine fist held his cock like an axe, a sight that flopped me even wider to Gabrielle's feeding frenzy.

I dug my fingers into his ass, dragged him closer to us, but tipped my face to him before he impaled my friend. He needed no persuading, sliding into my ready mouth. While every muscle on his body strained with the holding back his urge to come, I used every muscle of mine to draw it from him. When I tasted his precum I unsuckered from him, squeezed him hard until his spasms subsided, then slid the end of his cock into Gabrielle.

He plunged and she cried out. I lapped his balls and her clit simultaneously, slooping Gabrielle from his slimy shaft on each back stroke. Gabrielle panted between my legs, unable to focus on her licking, giving me a much needed moment to calm as I watched, in gory close-up, Bill fuck her from behind.

When he dug deep and pulled her hips to him fast as fist, I yanked him out of her and sucked her off him again. Meanwhile my clit melted into Gabrielle's warm hums, along with my entire lower half, tingling waves rolling into and out of the hot cave of her mouth. She slid two fingers into me and I bleated on Bill's pulsing cock

I quickly stuffed him back inside her to distract her from popping me. He pumped while I sucked her clit, and I opened my mouth for him again. Again I licked her off him, his cock on my pallet merging with my cunt on Gabrielle's, until my tongue felt like a monstrous clitoris, my mouth and sex like one plunderable, pleasure bringing orifice.

I controlled his meat, where it went and how deep and how fast, into her, into me, into her until even that fused into one and I couldn't tell if he was fucking her cunt or my mouth. Both sensations plugged a shivery electric bliss into my body, packing it in, brimming me over with it.

Meanwhile Gabrielle became the joggling, licking tip of Bill's cock on my cunt and I became the licking, sucking tip of her tongue on his ramming cock and balls. A single monstrous climax thundered around our three bodies, gathering pleasure from our licking and fucking and moaning, from the press and slap of flesh.

Gabrielle's squeals grew insane, like a chipmunk smothered by my pussy. No, that was me, into her. Bill pistoned our runaway train full steam off a cliff.

"Oui!"

He exploded deep into Gabrielle, ripping through her, out of her mouth, into me. The floor quaked. I screamed. Liquid heat splattered my lips and tongue. I pressed into it, to the source, lapped wildly at everything I could find. Everything flashed too bright. I screwed shut my eyes;

When I opened them again I was licking Bill's cum from Gabrielle's clitoris while he shuddered inside her, and she shuddered on me.

He withdrew and I took him in, sucking the last of his climax while Gabrielle lay

Lady Lovecome’s Diary: Part 5

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Fri, 24 Jul 2026 21:14:00 +0000

Lady Lovecome’s Diary: Part 5.

My quest for the ultimate head goes deliciously wrong.

Based on a post by A Big Cat. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.

"Why won't you fuck me? Am I so hideous?"

"You're the most beautiful flower I've ever seen, Madam." He kept hold of my hand and watched my other work. A breeze flicked a curl across his tanned and wrinkled brow while he brushed his thumb pad over my knuckles. God. Was he actually considering it? "But if you get pregnant, your father said he'd have me killed and disown you. If you're happy with that risk, I'll fuck you."

"Lick me, then."

He stroked my thigh through my skirt, from hip to knee. I opened my legs, ready for the fresh air on my hot folds should he pull my skirt up. He didn't.

"No," he said to his hand.

"Why not?"

He growled and flopped onto his back. "Because in this mood, you'll want me to fuck you after I lick you. You always do."

I hopped to my feet. "Eat me till you come then, like you always do!" I stood over his face and jiggled, but our playfulness had soured. It felt more like an argument.

He scowled up my skirt, and pressed his lips tight.

Diary, forgive me, because I know it's not what he wanted, but I sat on him. Not even sat; I squatted on him, hard. And ground my hips.

It felt very wrong, but I was in a very wrong mood. And anyway the man is six four and all muscle, all he had to do was sit up suddenly and I'd be flung into the woods. For example, once we were enjoying a languorous 69 on the floor in his gate lodge (I'd pounced on him!) when Father buzzed to be let in.

Bill wrapped an arm around me, stood, wandered over to the buzzer and let father in, all without taking his mouth from my bits.

He could stop me if he wanted, so I went ahead and wiped my slimy cunt on his shut, bristly mouth.

So much for the ultimate oral.

Then, dear Diary, fate stepped in to save us. Or rather Gabrielle did. My petite, Parisian best friend-cum-lover (and cum-lover!) padded barefoot across my terrace, swinging her hips. A coppertop Audrey Hepburn, her wild red hair was trapped under a neat white sunhat and her neat body wrapped in loose white muslin. She smiled as if to say, "Yes it's really me."

"Bonjour! I thought I was early but you have started without me, non?"

"Hmm!" Bill contorted under me.

"Oh stop!" I bore down harder and grabbed his hair. "It's a fucking surprise for you, dolt."

Gabrielle stooped, kissed both my cheeks, then regarded our struggles. "Are you wrestling? This is quite a beast you have trapped." She addressed my skirt. "Bonjour, monsieur!"

"Um." I think that was an actual pussy-smothered hello.

"This is Gabrielle, Bill. Remember? She taught me all I know."

Gabrielle laughed brightly. "All that is worth knowing of a man, anyway. I hope you have enjoyed it, Bill." His name came out "Beel" in her lovely accent.

Bill's nasal sigh warmed my cunt. Sat on his head, I could almost feel his brain recalling every Gabrielle-inspired sucking I'd ever given him. He'd never been swallowed before he met me, and I'd never swallowed before I met her. Then a strange thing happened. And a rather unique sensation. His anger softened under my rude splay. He relaxed, and his mouth opened. His tongue slipped along my groove.

I caught my breath, and bit my lip.

Gabrielle stepped back and regarded us. I felt like I saw us in her smoldering gaze: Bill laid out fully dressed in his serge groundsman's trousers and oxford shirt. (Bill works in an old-fashioned uniform that even includes braces. Father insists. So do I, come to think of it.) I was crouched over his head, my long dress tenting over my knees and covering our join. Underneath, invisible to her, Bill's muscular tongue slurped me like a dirty secret. I shivered.

"Merde. So discrete, yet so explicit." She strolled around us like we were an exhibit. "You said you wanted the best oral sex ever, but I don't know if I want to lick you or sketch you."

Bill sucked on my clit. I gripped my knees and tried to hold off the tide swelling in my midriff.

Gabrielle paused by Bill's trousers, struggling with his arousal at licking me. "Darling, this man is in love with you." This choked me up. She was right. How could I be such a spoilt brat to him? Bill was devoted. If I demanded it, really demanded it, he would fuck me, and fuck the consequences.

She finished her voyeuristic tour and, after a long kiss to my lips so our tongues could greet each other, she stood to present her hips to my face. Reaching up her skirt, she wriggled off her panties, then lifted her hem to reveal her vibrant red tuft framing the bare pink petals of her sex. I lunged. "Oui;” She dropped her skirt over my head. "Let us all be discrete yet explicit!"

It had been months since I last ate a woman. I didn't realize how much I missed the yielding flesh of a pussy against my lips. Especially Gabrielle's. I pressed a polite(!) kiss to the old friend at the epicenter of my old friend, then kissed more firmly under her fur, into the smooth, delicate folds beneath. I was rewarded with a wet kiss in return and a tremble in her hips. I lightly nibbled her prominent clit hood and she stroked my head. Meanwhile, my own clit was drawn into a warm, fleshy whirlpool; a sucking pull that somehow filled my insides to overflowing.

In my muslin cave, steeped in Gabrielle's Chanel and musk, the tip of my tongue sought her salty slickness and teased it over her bud. Licking someone of your own sex has an entangled autoeroticism about it, so my licks echoed on my own clit and made me feel attacked by two tongues. I flickered at her lightly, then couldn't resist pressing my mouth over her whole vulva. She cupped my head, widened her legs and nudged her hips at me. I squeezed her bottom, pulling her to my rhythm, to the rhythm of my rocking, to the rhythm of Bill's licking.

Gabrielle's thighs wobbled and she gasped. I think it was as much this as the insistent flip of Bill's tongue that tipped me over, not to mention her breathy muttering: "Oui. Oui."

I moaned into her cunt. Bill moaned into mine. Gabrielle arched onto tiptoes. "Oui!"

I snorted, she always sounds like a child on a swing when she comes.

I tried to control my quivering tongue while shuddering on my man's exquisite mouth. Waves of invisible lava gushed from my cunt, over my belly and tits, coursed up my neck and cheeks, poured into Gabrielle's cunt and out of her mouth, swearing for the both of us.

Bill took my entire weight in his palms, or I think I might've collapsed. He poised me over his mouth, thumbs holding me open, lapping, drinking. Gabrielle shoved at my mouth, even as I yanked her to my face and ate her like a sexy fruit.

Bill gently kissed me down. Gabrielle lifted her skirt and glowed at me, her hair a burning halo in the sun. (We never saw her hat again. I'd blasted it into space I think.) My lower face was chilled with her wetness and she held my cheeks to dance her tongue around my lips and chin. "Merci." she croaked between tasting flicks and kisses. "Merci."

Bill toyed with me, licking me to oversensitive spasms, and then lifting me off his face. He loves to watch my hole pulse in aftershocks. He can bounce me up and down for so long I feel like a beach ball.

"Your man is still hungry, oui?"

I jerk again, his tongue jolting like a taser. "A; always."

"Oh, I am like this too. Can I try him?" She doesn't wait for an answer. "You like la cuisine française, monsieur?"

Bill was midway through a loving kiss to my clit. He lifted me off his mouth. "Very much, Miss Gabrielle."

Very much?

Even though I'd planned to share Bill today, the actual words, aimed at and an actual other woman, skipped my heartbeat. I faltered climbing off him.

"Quickly, sweetie." Gabrielle gently pushed my shoulders. "I am a Ferrari and you have twisted my key."

I stood, she knelt, and all Bill would've seen was my sloppy great orchid replaced with Gabrielle's elegant, dewy rose. So far, neither had even seen each other's faces. She straddled him. A grin spread across her face. "Merde."

Bill hummed into her. Her. Not me.

As if reading my mind, Gabrielle kissed my hands. "Merci, darling. For sharing your man. Take off your clothes."

She swept her dress off over her head and tossed it, then spun me round as I pulled mine off too. She kissed and bit my bottom, growling, "Oui!" as she rubbed her face on it like an adoring cat. I don't know why Bill and she go so silly over my big bubble bum.

Her cool hands slid over my ribs, scraping her fingernails lightly over my tits. I watched her over my shoulder. Her nudity was prim and smooth and pale on the ruddy leather of Bill's face. His heroic chin was thrust enthusiastically between her creamy thighs, his tongue lapping quickly as Gabrielle lightly bounced on him.

Damn. How could something that hurt so much, look so sexy?

I couldn't watch and turned away, giving myself over to Gabrielle's exploring hands and lips. Even as I enjoyed the bristle-less, silky smoothness of a woman's face in my intimate places, I tried to put the jealousy from my mind. But below my despondent head, Bill's cock strained at his trousers. This is one of my favorite sights, when I've aroused him, but now it struggled for freedom because he was licking another woman. It wanted to get to Gabrielle, not me. The pain seemed to tug between my legs.

"Let me see it." Gabrielle was watching his trousers too. "Show me."

I bent over to unfasten his buttons and braces. This curled my cunt toward her. "Trop belle," she whispered, opening me up. "Trop; hmm" A kiss to my clit, then a slim impalement, a finger, gently probing. It felt like she was looking for my heartache in there. After my yearning for cock all morning this intrusion threatened to unhinge my legs. My hole stretched scrumptiously. Two fingers? I dipped my hips on her digging digits, and she curled them just where I liked them.

I took a settling breath, and yanked Bill's trousers and boxers over his hips. His great cock unfurled in the lemon tree's dabbled shade and bounced even harder, clamoring, "Me! Me! Me!"

Gabrielle laughed huskily. "Lucky cow!"

I turned to agree, to remind her who "Beel" belonged to, but her eyes were closed. She clawed her bare tit, the fingers of her other hand stiffened in my cunt.

Bill's cock bucked, laced in veins. His hips rutted the air and his thighs shook. No. Would he come licking this woman? I thought only my orgasm had the power to bedazzle him to eruption.

Then a part of me wanted him to spurt for her while I watched, the same part that relished this self-inflicted unfaithfulness. But his cock jumped lustily before me, and I could never resist my Sweet William. I squeezed his balls, and pulled his warm staff. He was as familiar and exciting in my palm as my own sex. Gabrielle cursed, her cheek pressed to my hip, hugging it, fingers digging between my legs. I pulled Bill in time with her finger-fucking.

Bill's cock dribbled pre-cum and I bent double to take his end into my mouth. (A life of ballet lessons has its uses) This is how I claimed him. She might come on his mouth, but he'd come in mine.

"Oh God, oui." Gabrielle peered at me sucking him. This seemed to hit the spot. Or maybe it was Bill. "Oh God I'm coming," she blurted. "Merde, merde, merde, I'm; " She hugged me tight, rammed her fingers deep into me and squeaked.

If I'm sucking Bill when I come he always comes too. It's adorable, that overexcitement in pleasing me, even if it means our sex is sometimes over in seconds. (Only sometimes though. I can usually keep him hard, for all the use it is.) I presumed Gabrielle's orgasm would do as well as mine, so braced for his lovely flood. But he'd stopped trembling. He seemed to have reigned himself in and silently, carefully licked my friend as she twitched on his mouth, his cock savory with pre-cum but nothing more. At first I was proud of him, but that was quickly followed by worry. Who was he trying to impress?

Gabrielle cackled and kissed my bottom and cunt as if they were her own and she was calming them down. I dragged her face to mine. Who can resist kissing a post-orgasmic woman?

She kissed me back, but then reached for his dick. Her immaculately manicured hand looked polite and tiny on his club. "Will you not fuck him?"

I shook my head. "We don't; "

"May I?"

Our silence crackled.

She spoke to his cock, sliding her hand up and down it. "I know you are worried about babies, monsieur, but I'm on the pill, so it is impossible, and anyway I like babies and I'm no royal so no one will kill you."

I waited for Bill's protest but he seemed lost in thought, petting Gabrielle's labia. He was awkwardly trying to find the right words to reject her. I melted for him, and was about to suggest we suck him off together, when he reached into my chest and tore my heart out.

"Okay," he said.

All the blood dropped from my body and left me a husk. Gabrielle squeaked, hopped off his face, and darted around me to stand astride his cock.

He sat up and kissed my bottom like a favored pet. His thumb slid along my groove. I wanted to scream, but my throat had clasped shut. In a delirious synaesthesia, his thumb's push at my opening was his cockhead as it slid into my friend. I wanted this to stop. I wanted more.

He seemed a tight fit in her, she eased slowly down his length in a series of little dips, then finally settled with him lodged deep. Her eyelids drooped. He dug his thumb deep into me. I clenched at it.

"Nice to meet you, Beel." Gabrielle smirked and put out her hand, a formality at odds with grinding wetly on his cock. "You are very handsome, and I like your cock."

Bill withdrew from my cunt to shake her hand. "Thank you Miss Gabrielle. And you are very pretty; um. All over."

Gabrielle flushed, pulled his thumb to her mouth and sucked me from him. I bounced between heaven and hell. He called me beautiful and her pretty. Was "beautiful" better than "pretty"? You'd call a horse beautiful, or a vase. Pretty meant desirable too, didn't it? She gave his thumb a blowjob, the thumb that should be pleasing me, while she waggled her hips waspishly on him. His breath hitched. She released his thumb, which immediately sought out its drooly equivalent between my legs.

Perhaps it was the echo of his thumb inside me, or my closeness to Gabrielle, or just the strength of my longing for his cock, but I could feel him wedged inside me, pressed to every singing cell of my cunny. If I couldn't fuck him, then surely this was the next best thing? I needed to grow up. Jealousy in a three-way was not a good look, especially in front of someone as stylish as Gabrielle.

I kicked him. "You don't come in her."

"No, Madam."

"Your cum is mine."

"Yes, Madam."

I prodded Gabrielle. "His cum is mine."

"Oui, M-Madame!" Gabrielle picked up her pace, and pulled my hips toward her. She pressed kisses to my belly. "You are a good friend." She dipped to my mound. Bill's kisses dropped under me too and suddenly tongues assaulted me front and rear.

Gabrielle fucked my man, a sinuous wave of bliss that rolled from her hips all the way to her tongue, where it slid over my clit, into my hole, joined Bill's tongue which then curled cheekily around my anus, before sweeping back though his body to whiplash his cock into her cunt and set her off again.

Both worked at me as if their fucking was the engine for pleasuring me and nothing more, and this, my mounting pleasure, was all that pleasured them. Gabrielle, knees at her shoulders, bounced on his lap as she ate me. I raised a foot on the edge of the tree planter, to open wider to them. She wrapped arms around my standing leg and around Bill's neck as their cheeks pressed beneath me. He hugged her to me and to him, their faces pressed to my bottom and cunt. Their tongues wriggled over my most private, delicate places and I felt poised on the tip of intrusive, wet flames.

I'd come hard on Bill just moments before but under the onslaught of this, the best licking of my life, I found myself puffing to another high. Everyone should be so adored once in their life! I wanted it to never end, but my leg grew tired and Gabrielle's tongue erratic as Bill pumped harder. I pushed back against him, pulling away from Gabrielle, until he was on his back and was I perched once more on his mouth, this time facing my beautiful best friend while she frogged on his rearing hips.

Bill's breath huffed hotly between my thighs, and his familiar licking was almost calming after my intense double-head. Gabrielle's little tits bounced enticingly and I buried my face in them, then suckered myself to her gaping mouth. We hugged and kissed and let our tongues play while Bill worked hard between our legs. His fucking made her pant in my mouth. His tongue made me pant into hers.

I reached down between her legs and tickled her clit. Her movements grew jerky. Bill went up a gear. He rammed abandoned laughter from Gabrielle and sucked my clit into him, motor-mouthing his tongue on it. I hugged Gabrielle tight and pressed my mouth to her while Bill tossed her insanely in my arms. His tongue frothed me over and I felt like a shaken champagne bottle.

I popped. Gabrielle squealed in my mouth. We spasmed on Bill like two ends of a live wire rammed together. Her cries became mine and our thrusts on Bill became thrusts into each other, as if he was just a massive, new sex organ coupling us. He disappeared. Rutting and grinding, I tumbled into her, she tumbled into me and together we tumbled into the sun.

Our cries dissolved into giddy chuckling, and we landed soft as dropped blossom back down to earth.

I leapt off Bill, his tongue too much, but kept kissing my delicious girl as she breathed out her climax. I pecked along her jaw and neck and tits.

Bill smiled triumphantly, sheened in sweat and my arousal. He stroked my leg, and this felt reassuring and bonding, even as Gabrielle ground on my man's cock.

"He is still very, very hard." Gabrielle stroked my other leg and blinked up at me and for a moment I lost myself in her oceanic, thankful eyes.

"Of course." I felt like a proud teacher. I knelt by Bill to unbuttoned his shirt and show off his torso too.

"Délicieux."

"Oui," I answered, forgetting who was who. I kissed his nipple, squeezed the packs of muscle on his chest. He tossed away his shirt. I think he even flexed. Sweet. Gabrielle's face appeared by mine, half covered by serpentine tresses as she leant on all fours over him. She was still plugged by his indefatigable hard on.

"Merde." She bit a pec. "His cock feels so, so good. You sure you don't want him in you?"

I thumbed a bead of sweat from Bill's forehead. His pale eyes filled the world for a moment. "More than anything," I whispered into his ear.

He leant to mine. "I'm pretending she's you."

We tittered into each other's necks.

"Merde, I am being fucked, yet I am the odd one out?" She slapped Bill's abs. "Giddyap!"

Now I knew what he was thinking, I stepped away like a naughty ghost taking a break from her body for a moment and watched Bill fuck Gabrielle/me. Us.

His hips rammed his cock in and out of her; our; fully stretched hole. I yanked off his trousers and boots and lay between his thighs, watching his easeful, well-oiled piston. When he slowed, Gabrielle took over, gloving and re-gloving herself on him. I imagined that cunny lighting up with every downward stroke and sucking on every upward stroke. A collar of juices formed around the base of his staff, and dripped over his balls. I nuzzled and licked them, covering my cheeks and lips in the essence of their sex. Don't ask me why, m

Lady Lovecome’s Diary: Part 4

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Thu, 23 Jul 2026 21:13:00 +0000

Lady Lovecome’s Diary: Part 4.

Cavorting with artists.

Based on a post by A Big Cat. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.

By Lady Bathsheba Ottoline Lovecome.

I glugged my wine and declined a refill from the waiter forever hovering at my elbow. I gave him my glass. My head was spinning already. From wine or this woman, I couldn't tell.

She blinked at me as if performing a calculation. "Your bush, it is black like your hair?"

"I'm waxed."

"Merde!" She flapped me away.

"Well, not all over; I mean;” I wished I hadn't necked that wine. "Oh fuck it." This is the thing about being a Lady. Everything you do is fine. You're never crude, or drunk, just eccentric. For example, only a Lady could, right there and then, in that room of doting spaniels, tug the front of her skirt up, and the front of her knickers down.

The girl's left cheek dimpled, biting back her smile. Bless him, the waiter turned his back to us and did his best to shield us to the rest of the room. In the glass frame of a dark photograph my reflection; figure-hugging dress, tied back hair, knickers down, prim and dirty; was better than the photograph.

The sulky artist nodded at my display, contemplating it and ignoring; probably relishing; the dropped jaws around us. "Je suis Gabrielle," she said eventually.

"Bash," I said. "Enchantée."

A rickety goods lift trundled me up into a dark, cavernous warehouse the size of a small airport. Gabrielle's Studio. She clattered the lift-gates open for me, her face deadly serious, but gone was the sulky Parisian. She was dressed in paint-spattered overalls and workboats, both oversized, with her wild hair tied back. She was dressed for work. Or worse, to turn me off. My stomach sank. I was ready to continue our fun, dressed in my predatory Chanel and heels. I'd even toyed with going commando but changed my mind at the last minute, as removing panties for someone is always as exciting as being secretly naked. Having said that, such was my state of mind in the car on the way over; imagining what Gabrielle might have planned for me once I'd removed said knickers; that I'd quite ruined them.

She shook my hand and nodded, like a miniature bow. "Come see your wild, wild woods, Miss Riding Hood."

In the middle of the timber and brick expanse, lit by a barrage of lights and reflectors, was a stage-set of a black and twisted forest springing from a snowy hillock. Centre stage was a stuffed wolf so huge it came to my knees even reclined on the floor. Waiting, draped across the poor creature, was a crimson, velvet cape.

Gabrielle snatched a sketch from her workbench and presented it. "This is what I need." She only spoke French to me now. The trust and respect implicit in this, not to mention the breathy musicality of her voice in her native tongue, quite undid all her efforts to play down her beauty.

The sketch showed a woman; Beatrice Dalle, clearly; sitting on the wolf's back, smoldering. She was naked but for the iconic cloak, her knees spread into a wide M, her vulva petaled and pink between.

I snorted. "Gabrielle, have you even read Little Red Hood?"

"This is not Little Red. This is the girl grown into a woman, like we all must, into the feline, vampiric queen of our own wild woods. We must rule over canine masculinity, non? And she is displaying the secret core of her power, the power after which she is named. This is not clear?"

Now I understood why she'd asked about my minge. She wasn't (just) trying to be outrageous. The whole set was one massive, stylized pudenda. The tortuous wood was dark, pubic hair, the snowy hillock was the skin of a mound and I guess Red Riding Hood, I, was supposed to be the cunty centerpiece.

The lurid reality of what I'd agreed to hit me, and my heart hammered so hard the page shook with my pulse. Yesterday, when I revealed myself to Gabrielle, I was in control. Now I was here at her pleasure. This was exciting in its way, but her focus on her work, and not on me, made me feel a sleazy imposter. I was only here to get cheeky. I'm a vain and horny creature and will do anything for someone who finds me sexy. But I'm also spoilt aristocracy. I won't be used.

But fuck it. I had nothing else to do.

I gulped, handed the drawing back to her, and kicked off my shoes.

At last, Gabrielle's cheek dimpled with the secret smile that so beguiled me yesterday. "I like you, Lady Bash," she whispered.

She stepped behind me to unzip my dress, but I sensed she was stalking, taking me in as I stripped. I hoped so anyway. This was more like I imagined. I wriggled off my Chanel, then my panties, and pirouetted. "Okay?"

Gabrielle blinked, swallowed.

Nudity, under the right conditions, is the scariest battledress in a woman's wardrobe. Gabrielle was jittery as she wrapped me in the cape. She pulled the big hood over my head and tied a single fastening at the neck. Velvet inside and out, the thigh-length cloak felt divine, like a big hand stroking my back and bum. It left me feeling even more naked.

"Tres bien." Gabrielle picked up a camera, gestured to the stuffed wolf. "I will take photographs and sketches so you are not here for days watching me paint, Okay?"

Suddenly hit by stage fright, I sat primly on the wolf's back. It was a giant, big as couch, and its bones might have been replaced by welded steel, but it still felt like it could spring back to life any second.

I draped my cloak just like the sketch, labially flaring to half-reveal my boobs but exposing me from the waist down. Then I took a breath. And opened my legs.

A long, quiet moment.

Gabrielle was a black ghost behind the dazzling lights. After all my sodden fantasies in the car I couldn't decide if I felt sexy or not now. I'd had more foreplay from a gynecologist.

"Wider," Gabriele clipped.

I spread my knees as wide as I could, legs poised on the balls of my feet. Gabrielle cleared her throat. A click. More silence. She hated me. I hated me. My arse was too big. My cunt was too small, too wizened. A toilet part, bared for all to see. I wanted to close my legs. I felt like I was being punished for being dirty yesterday.

Gabrielle stepped into the light, scowling. "You are too beautiful, it is in the way. I sense you here"; she tapped her temple; "but not here." She grabbed her crotch. "You understand?"

"Umm." My feet and knees, tensed in their porno pose, trembled. How could I get out of this?

"Okay." She put down her camera. "Come, let's relax. Have some fun, non? Loosen up." She unzipped her overalls and they flumped to her feet like an empty sack. She was, of course, naked beneath. Her body was sleek and neat with pert little tits and bottom. Cow. Her mound sported a tuft of vivid red hair and beneath her lips were puffy and florid. Maybe I'd stay a little longer.

She stepped out of her clothes and boots together, and picked her camera up again. "Come. Come. Dance, frolic. Whatever you like! Arouse me! Now I am naked too, so you will be able to tell, non?"

I stood, shook out the stiffness in my legs, then my arms. My tits wobbled at the velvet, stiffening my nipples. Gabrielle lit up. She stepped close, clicking her camera, biting her lip. The bit lip did it for me. I stretched out a few warm-up moves from years of ballet lessons. I pointed my toes and lifted each leg, dead straight into the air, holding, repeating. Gabrielle gasped, paced about me, clicking a flurry, and the magnetism of her naked presence raised my hairs toward her in a Mexican wave. She crouched under my raised leg, and muttered, "Your clitoris is so big and fat"; snap-snap-snap; "it makes me horny and at the same time jealous!" My hips warmed. This was much more like it.

Feeling cheeky now, I placed my palms flat on the floor and bent double, relishing the cloak's hem creeping up over my bum. Gabrielle moaned and I wanted to cheer. I placed my feet further apart, then bent at the knee, up and down, creating a tell-tale chill between my legs. Gabrielle's "Oh," and much clicking at my rear view, sent a jolt of naughtiness through me.

I threw a leg over the wolf's back. It's fur was surprisingly soft on my bits. I wound my hips, enjoying the silky squeeze to my clit. My cheeks blazed. Gabrielle growled, this seemed to be a good thing. "There is my Red Riding hood, non?" Her lens was all over my face, and up and down my torso writhing on the back of the beast. My clit tingled like the purr of an insistent phone call.

I slid off my furry saddle and settled against the creature's side, squatting like a fertility goddess, my arms spread along its back. This wasn't a pose. It was a cry for help!

Gabrielle stood in front of me, at arm's distance, silhouetted sharply by the lights. Between her thigh tops the distinct curl of her puckered lips sported a glittering diamond of arousal. Both my mouths wanted to eat her. And be eaten. I shot her a glance that I hoped screamed, "Feed me, bitch."

She stamped her foot. "Oh Oui." She clicked, hopped about, clicked again. I wriggled, trying to mesmerize her, draw her toward me.

I sat on the wolf's back again. This time so I might raise my throbbing clit to a more irresistible height for licking. I placed my right foot on the creature's head, scrunching my toes into the fur between its ears. I splayed; for my wet admirer, not her lens. Fucking feed me.

"Oui!" She squealed. "Don't move! Merde. Merde. There is my predator."

At least she ate me with her camera, working in a feeding frenzy, getting closer and closer until she was knelt between my thighs. All my torrid horniness from the car flooded back. And out. Gabrielle slapped her knee. "Ha! Now we have the slavering beast! You are dripping! Merci. Merci, beautiful lady."

There's an illicit, primal thrill in dripping in front of a stranger. It brought a kind of shameful, debauched freedom. An exquisite vulnerability. Gabrielle, sat cross legged below me, made no secret of her arousal either. Her slipped-apart lips glistened in the light bouncing from my skin.

Gabrielle put the camera down, peering at my cunt, then my costume. "Lovely lady, I need your inner petals to match the shape of your cloak. May I touch you?"

I grunted.

Gabrielle couldn't bite that smile back. Delicately, with her tongue curled out in concentration, she took my inner lips and parted them. She lightly tugged one lip into a different shape. I pulsed inside. She must've clocked my inner clasp, because she sighed a hot breath over me. She picked up her camera, then, almost as an afterthought, dipped her head to peck a feather light kiss to my clit. She sat back, sucking a drip of me from her bottom lip. Then raised her blasted lens.

"More," I flapped my knees.

"Hmm?" Click.

"Bitch, do me or I'll knock you down and sit on your face."

"Promises." Click. Click.

"Now!" I growled.

Gabrielle chuckled, dropped her camera and, finally, pressed her pretty, naughty lips to my cunt.

She started slowly, as if relishing a moment she'd spent some time considering, but after a couple of croaky hums she was lapping and sucking my clit hood like she hadn't eaten in days.

I scrunched her thick, red hair, and enjoyed the ride of her smooth cheeks and her busily intruding tongue and that irrepressible enthusiasm. Adoration, even. In a dozen speeding heartbeats, my rush coursed from the tips of every hair on my body, it balled in my core like a fizzing Catherine wheel until I whimpered, then blasted into Gabrielle's mouth. Perhaps I was delirious, perhaps it was the set and the costume and the stuffed wolf, but I felt like I was devouring her, not the other way round. I spread my lips wide, into a gaping maw, arched, and howled into her wild, wild wood.

So that's how I met my Gabby. And yes, I returned the favor that day. She stood over me, her foot up on the wolf's back, clawing her bottom, while I nuzzled her slobbery folds and she yelped like a vixen. So I guess I was a less selfish predator back then.

Anyway, Diary Bill, I've veered off on a horny tangent, as usual. This isn't actually the point of my story. I just wanted to set the scene for my relationship with Gabrielle. Call it an amuse-bouche. Well it amused our bouches anyway. And hopefully it underlines that there were no sexual secrets between Gabrielle and me. So now I can get to my point.

After that stimulating morning, Gabrielle and I didn't indulge in each other again, agreeing the moment was too nice and we wanted to preserve it as it was. We've been good, so far. But now I think about it, perhaps I should invite her to the manor house, Bill, would you like that? I'd do her again with you. Maybe we could make a better memory.

The next time I met Gabrielle, maybe three months later, she was married, successful, and very, very wealthy. She had the best of everything. Including her husband. Alex was a six-foot-six blonde billionaire, and sleek as a sports car. He was a fantastically successful big tech investor, boasting in his sexy French accent. "I walk into a room and people, they just throw money at me."

In her messages, Gabrielle would boast how sex with him was always extraordinary. By which she meant out of the ordinary. He was into everything that involved expensive drugs and equipment and unlikely positions. When she arrived for a drink with me, she winced as she sat down.

"Good night?" I said.

"Extra ordinary." She sighed.

We were in the woodiest, quietest bar of my women's-only club. I picked her up on her sigh. "You make extraordinary sound disappointing."

Gabrielle shrugged. Pouted. Goodness, that woman could pout. "Well, sometimes, I'd just like to make love you know? I'd love to feel desired. Sometimes it is like I'm just some super hi-fi fembot for him. And he has one of those too. He made me have a threesome with it!"

"But you said you never met a man who made you come so hard."

"Oui, but it's mechanical. I want to be devoured by someone who adores me. Like you ate me, lovely lady. I want to come on the face of someone while they weep for joy! I want to be fucked in five seconds because they love me so much they immediately come, but then they can't stop and keep fucking and coming and fucking and coming!"

A loud tut came from an old dowager three tables away. She shook her head. We sniggered.

I squeezed Gabrielle's hand. "Ah, the problems of the rich and beautiful."

"Oui." She smiled, but sadly, and totally missing my sarcasm. "But how will we ever have children?"

I didn't get that, and it must've shown on my face because Gabrielle explained, as ever, loudly. "Well how do I get pregnant when he only ever comes in my mouth or my ass!"

The old dowager steamed off so abruptly she knocked her chair over. I got Gabrielle to elaborate.

It seems the problem was of her own making. When they first got together she was so obsessed with her elegant catch that she went along with his whole entitled thing: "Only the best for us, Gabrielle, only the unusual, the unique. Only life's delicacies." This meant that, in their first flushes, she'd suck him off at the wheel of his Ferrari, at the opera, under the table in Michelin-starred restaurants, anywhere he liked, and always to completion. Diary, she even pretended to come when she swallowed. And such was her conviction that, a few times, she really did come! Just from the jet of him into her mouth! Jesus, no wonder he married her.

But I was all ears, practically taking notes, making the most of Gabrielle's lascivious descriptions of what she did to her husband. In detail. She squirmed in her seat as she described running her tongue in a figure of eight around his balls, and sucking them while she wanked him to make a "human fountain." She clasped her hands between her knees when she told me about his "frenulum"; the skin holding his foreskin to his tip. He adored her lapping his so much, especially when her tongue was slippery with his cum, that it kept him hard for ages. Using our wine bottle, she'd even showed me how she'd incorporated it into her blowjobs, twisting her head and slurping her tongue under his end while she sucked. Our waiter enjoyed that.

In fact, the way Gabrielle described sucking Alex got me so worked up I had to visit the ladies. But it wasn't just the compelling detail of his hard meat in her mouth, or her erotic show, that shut me in a cubicle with my knickers round my knees. What got my fingers digging, was how Gabrielle described her husband's cum.

I have to say, I tried to avoid semen, and thought I always would, until I heard Gabrielle talk. I was twenty and had sucked my share of dicks, but had never swallowed and only tasted the odd splash of cum by accident. Meanwhile, Gabrielle described how simply swallowing was not good enough for them anymore. She liked the sensation of "his hot, heavy first splash" so much she'd contrive it so she was always licking or kissing him at the moment of orgasm. "My lips drip with him, sweetie, while I messily guzzle the rest, and I watch his eyes locked to my dirty mouth!"

She made it sound joyful, like a treat. Not the slimy stuff itself; though it's no worse than girls' when I think about it; but what ejaculation represented. How desired it made her feel, how powerful she felt drawing it from her man and how, when she licked him clean, or sucked him dry, it bonded them tighter. There was no one earth who'd enjoy doing this for him, other than the one who loved him. Or so she thought at the time. She didn't know about his mistress then. Not the robot one.

But anyway, it put a dirty little demon in me. And now I can't wait to find that man who's cum I want to "messily guzzle." It's not the semen, it's the man. I fantasize about it. I think it might be you, Bill. I've thought about it a few times, licking your big spigot while you ruin my make-up (I'd like to see this in a mirror) Or your hot stuff pumping thick in my mouth. I imagine what it might feel like sliding down my throat. Gabrielle says it's like oysters. I adore oysters. But the thing that got me squeaking in that woman's club bathroom, and just as a few minutes ago in my bed, is what my fantasy man's reaction might be, watching me relish his release; the most sexily intimate of all sexily intimate things. The love in his eyes as I consume him.

But when I returned to Gabrielle after my little release she carried on. It seemed Alex had grown tired of even Gabrielle's excellent head. So then came the anal, which she said she quite enjoyed, but nowhere near as much as she pretended. She didn't come with him, and started feeling more like an empty vessel than a loving partner. She got a vibrator (no manbots yet) and used it on herself so she could come at all because he wasn't interested in visiting her, claiming: "All orgasms are selfish, Gabrielle. Taken, not given." He loved her vibrator, of course, and so started the descent into increasingly more elaborate contraptions between them.

I was glad I'd had my fiddle when I did, because that quite turned me off.

So the message of this part of my tale, Bill, is that I know I seemed angry when you denied me, but I was being selfish. I blame my hungry cunt and your fat sausage. I don't mind if you don't want to fuck. I'd love to of course, but there is as much love, maybe more love, in exploring other ways to please each other.

But one more thing about fucking before I go.

After that afternoon, Gabrielle disappeared for a couple of years. When she popped into my life again, recently, she had a startlingly beautiful toddler and a baby.

She was a different woman. She'd put on a few pounds but looked good for it. Of course. She wasted no time in telling me her story.

She took long walks across the heath near their city home, and one misty, particularly magical morning, a silhouette resolved from the distance: a runner, a large, dark-haired man. Something about the way he moved, fluid as a thoroughbred, did funny things to her abdomen. He was clearly a tosser though, being one of those muscle-bound narcissists who thinks they're sexy running w

Lady Lovecome’s Diary: Part 3

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Wed, 22 Jul 2026 21:11:00 +0000

Lady Lovecome’s Diary: Part 3.

The King and Belle enter the forest of fantasies.

Based on a post by A Big Cat. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.

Silently, Belle and the King sauntered away from the castle toward the woods, their footsteps guided only by an instinct for privacy. Belle was glad she'd dressed lightly in one of the wardrobe's many slip dresses; a shoulder-fastening grey silk number; because the spring afternoon was hot, and the king's leonine presence even hotter.

She squeezed his hard bicep. "Well you've granted me my wish, have you considered yours, Your Majesty?"

The king smirked. "I've considered little else. But now you have the keys to the kingdom, I fear you'll deny me again."

"Sir, if I deny you, it's only to whet your appetite. I always keep my; no." Belle stopped walking, feigning irritation. "I won't have you doubting me." She looked about. They were still well within sight of the castle, and the windows busy with passing staff.

Oh let them see. Let them know her efforts.

She reached up her skirt, hooked thumbs in the lacy waist of her panties and wriggled them down. She stepped out of them, presenting him the cream silk just as he had the keys. "A token of my commitment to your wish."

He nodded, took the garment, and put it in his pocket. "Let me show you a secret place."

The air under her skirt felt wild and deliciously rude. As they carried on walking, he put his arm around her and rested his hand lightly on her bottom. She felt conscious of every unfettered wobble against his fingers.

The walked for some time deep into the cool dim of the pine-carpeted forest. Then a single cherry tree seemed to pop out of nowhere, heavy with blossom and lit stark white against the black and green by a single shaft of sunlight.

"This is the Love Tree. My forebears planted it. They say five generations of kings were conceived in its shade. Even I." The king patted the trunk. "Come. Feel."

Belle stroked the satiny bark stretched taut over the trunk. It made her think of the king's erection. The light in his eye suggested he knew this.

"My wish is simple." He rummaged in his pocket, pulled out her underwear. "I want you to hold onto the Love Tree. No matter what happens."

She slid her hands up and down it. "Like this?"

He snorted, walking around her, putting the tree between them. "I fear you may still deny me my wish." He looped the underwear over her hands, and with a quick flourish tied them in a knot. She might've resisted but chose not to. The silk felt excitingly out of place on her wrists and being restrained, at the king's mercy, made her stomach flip.

He sauntered behind her, raised her skirt, and there was nothing she could do about it. Her knee wobbled. The breeze fanned the skin of her exposed rear, while his eyes seemed to heat it. She'd only appeared naked for him in the dark. This would be his first clear sight of her. A long moment passed and she fought the urge to cross her legs.

"You have a damn fine rump." He stroked her, slapped her lightly. Then again. He squeezed her as if testing fruit.

"Thah-thank you, sir."

He rumbled, pressed his front to her back. His trousers sported a bludgeon.

The king chortled. "Since I didn't call you with our bell today, because we meet at your convenience, I decided I should, instead, ring you, Belle. Three times."

"This sounds more my wish than yours, sir." She wriggled her bottom at his lump. "What of your pleasure?"

"This afternoon, your pleasure is mine." He reached his hand up the front of her skirt, and gripped her lightly between the legs. She felt cupped in a warm, leather saddle. His squeezed her like a sponge. "Christ almighty, woman, are you always wet?"

"Only in your presence, sir. And your queen's." She wound her hips at the thick digits skating around her sex. He lacked his wife's accuracy but the blunt manliness of his grip compensated for grace. She melted over him. Her eyes drooped.

He pressed lips to her ear. "Look at me."

She cast her best glassy stare over her shoulder.

He cursed, shoved his hips at her bottom. "Damn those eyes."

The man seemed on a hair trigger, how would he "ring" her even once without exploding in his trousers, let alone three times? She prepared to fake some orgasms. It was very important he feel rewarded today.

Then he set his jaw, coiled his free arm around her waist, and got organized. Gone was his male fumbling, now he did what his wife must've taught him. He worked her clit with his palm and thumb while a finger explored deep inside. She'd had cocks smaller than his middle digit, and was glad for his grip on her waist as his fingers unhooked her joints. She was weightless as a doll, draped over his arm.

A fever came over her, a wave of dizziness from the cool, pine breeze, his pale grey eyes, from his woody scent and his woody limbs, from the invisible plunge and wriggle between her legs. She dug her hips at his digging and his bulge. Her eyelids were iron shutters, too heavy to hold open. When she turned imploring glances up at him, his outline fizzled. A smile tugged the corner of his lips. A fireball flared in her hips. She was too hot. Her cunt was on fire and she couldn't cover it or fan it.

All she could do was burst.

Her cry scattered crows from the trees. She grunted and ground on the king's deft, insistent fingers, her weight entirely, easily, held in his one arm while he drew more and more pleasure from her like a magician tugging trick scarves from his hat.

Dimly she became aware of her feet dangling. She found this hilarious. She laughed as he put her down and removed his hand. She settled into his solid, but tender embrace.

He offered her his fingers. "One, my lady."

She sucked her familiar taste from him. He licked his fingers with her, causing illicit, electric clashes of their tongues, and a pull to their lips. She inhaled his sigh, and he inhaled hers; the ghosts of forbidden kisses floating from mouth to mouth. Her lips nibbled at his. He pulled back.

His breath billowed hot on her neck and she was glad she'd tied her hair up this morning. He unfastened the bows on her shoulders and her dress slipped to her feet. He removed it, stepped away, and outside his embrace, her vulnerability was complete. Every millimeter of her body was exposed to the sun and air and the king's scrutiny.

He hung her dress on a branch like a battle banner, and prowled about her naked form. His features were implacable, eyes slits. She was familiar with the serious, almost cruel, expressions of aroused men. Their eyes darkened and retreated as they ate the sight of her. Usually she relished the supremacy she felt, teasing their hunger with intimate glimpses, and she'd felt all-powerful in the moonlight the night before, but here in the stark sun and the cool breeze, tied to a tree in front of a king, her confidence waned.

A life of one meal a day had left her limbs thinner than the queen's creamy form. Next to Charlotte's kittenish curves, Belle was a gazelle. When the king unabashedly took in her tight little tits, it was as if he compared them to Charlotte's bouncing abundancy. The queen's ribs didn't protrude, and Belle's belly was used to emptiness and flat as a board, not sensually soft. Then his wandering eye snagged at the pubic hair atop her pronounced mound and Belle wanted to hide. He tilted his head and stared at it. She kept her curls neat, and lips bare, but now Belle worried he preferred his waxed-bald queen. The king cleared his throat, mesmerized by her lower half, and suddenly her wet thighs were shameful. She rested one foot on the other, drew her knees tight and curled her hips back to tuck her sex away. She slid her hands down the tree trunk to settle in front of her and fought the urge to slip from the shackles' silky hold and cover herself properly.

He bit the inside of his cheek. Was he enjoying intimidating her? This would not do.

Fortified by irritation, she regarded him back, coolly, from his smirk to his ridiculously tented trousers. She bit her lip and pictured his erection bursting free of its cage, plundering her salivating mouth and hole. Her dirty thoughts were so vivid she must have projected them. He shifted awkwardly.

"See what you do to me, woman?" He approached the tree until his bulge rested against her wrists. "I've known many, many lovers. None make me this hard." She fanned her hands to cup him. Jesus, he was like a length of scaffold. She squeezed. His eyes widened and he jerked back.

Belle shrugged. "No more gawping, your majesty. Ring me again." She smiled. "With that hammer;”

He puffed out a long, growly breath, folded his arms.

"Please." Swallowing all her inhibitions, she willed one leg to wrap around the satiny-rough bark. She rocked her hips at the tree trunk like some kind of wood nymph pole dancer. It felt quite nice, but not as nice as her faked sigh made it seem.

The king blinked slowly. She could almost hear him screaming inside, "Calm!"

He strolled behind her, but his torment made her brave. She had nothing to hide. She stood proud under his inspection, sensing now that her lithe nakedness, her blushed skin, her tight nipples and dripping sex made him dizzy with lust. This man worshipped her, and she could burst him without even touching him, without even looking at him. She joggled her bottom. He groaned. She chuckled even though her skin tingled, every hair on end, straining for the touch that was sure to come.

His kiss hit her neck like a soft explosion.

However it was his whisper, "Perfection!" that threatened to undo her on the spot. Everyone should have this said to them once or twice, preferably while naked and tied to a tree.

He kissed along the dip of her spine and she found herself gripping the trunk for support. His mouth moved down her body and she placed her feet wider. She was wet to her knees and didn't even know that was possible. Far from shame, now this brought expectancy, and then even more liquid.

The king's shadow knelt behind her. She stood on tip-toes, tipped up her hips, displaying her need.

"My God," he burst. He gripped her bottom, pulled it to his face.

He nibbled and kissed her ass. She bent lower, to show him where that mouth was needed, but he avoided her buzzing clit. Annoyingly, he seemed most fascinated with her juices, slipping his fingers up and down the tracks on her legs. She guessed Charlotte was never this aroused by him. Perhaps none of his concubines were. This suited her plan well, so she indulged him, and tried to sigh off the jangling little alarm bell between her legs. However, when he ran a rough tongue up her inner thigh, she groaned.

"Steady, woman." His voice was all grin. "You cleaned me, remember? A gentleman always returns a favor."

She sagged against the tree, wedged her shoulder to it, and opened her legs as wide as she could. This elicited a boulder snigger, then a bristly chin shoved between her thighs to press his lips to her vulva.

Damn the silk shackles. She wanted to spread to him, see to her itchy spot herself. The man was in no hurry. He played with her lips, stroking, kissing, holding back his tongue, nipping at her labia and clit hood. She bent over deeper, and he nuzzled under, hunching his massive form to fit beneath her. She felt her cunt lips slip open around his tongue as he probed and tasted, but only his bottom lip grazed her clit, leaving it to hum for now.

"P-please, your majesty." Goodness, she sounded like a bleating lamb. "Eat me."

Another tectonic chortle. The heat of his mouth disappeared, and he opened her lips like a book. Studied her. Unfortunately, it seemed she was a riveting read. He opened and closed her, rubbed her labia together, it seemed to persuade more juice from her judging by his occasional hot snorts of approval.

She wriggled her hips and cursed, her tied wrists around the tree's roots. Perhaps the king deliberately mistook her body language, because instead of giving her what she wanted, he parted her bottom cheeks. A slippery fairy danced circles around her anus. She yelped, wriggled a hand loose from her shackles to cover herself, then paused. The dirty, wet tickle seemed to unhook something in her. Some last tension or inhibition, released. She melted, groaned, and gave over to him, to her body, completely.

As if someone had finally found the right key for the right lock, at long last her clit was bathed in warmth. He lapped at her without his wife's skill, but with a firm, steady rhythm. She bent double, folded to maneuver her clit into his mouth, but he was still too big to fit between her thighs. He turned over to sit, leaning back on his hands between her feet. She could see him now. He sparkled up at her, eating like she was a juice-laden monster cherry he'd plucked from the tree, his cheeks and chin a mess, lapping and sucking her clit with his single-speed incessant lick. She wound on his face, as if eating him, not vice versa.

She enjoyed this notion of consuming him. She bore down, crouching lower, until he was completely on his back and she was indecently spread on him, queening his face.

That was better. Now she could control where his tireless tongue stimulated. She shut her eyes and relaxed, squatting on his warm mouth, possessed with the image of some silky sea creature slipping about her hyper-sensitive nooks and crannies.

He groaned first.

She sighed off her swelling bliss and opened her eyes to find his shut below her, lost in his own animal pleasure. He groaned again, louder. It thrummed her like a violin. She looked over her shoulder to check his trousers, which looked comically like a woodland creature had got in there. She wished she could release it. As if reading her mind, he unzipped his fly and hauled his hard meat into the fresh air.

His excitement doubled hers. A gorgeous tension flared in her core, sucked bigger and wider by the king's hungry mouth. His cock rocked, dripped, and his hips thrust at the air. He rumbled under her. Would he spurt there and then, just like that, just from licking her?

The image tore through her: his lovely spunk shooting all over his elegant, laundered shirt, splattering hot up her back, uncontrollable in his desire for her. Her hips spasmed and she was glad of the tree to hang onto. He sucked her clit, tugging it deeper into wet heat, and even the king's big, dumb tongue worked with a fluidity nothing else could match. It felt like a flickering, wet flame. She juddered again, then suddenly that's all she was, a bloom of fire, pedaling inside out and inside out and inside out again. A vixen screeched somewhere deep in the woods, or perhaps that was her, primally splayed and shaking on the king's mouth, on his deep, bone shaking, hums of pleasure.

She wiped herself around his slimy chin, puffing tremoring breaths, then stubbed out the last of her orgasm, splodging his face while they giggled.

He winked. "Two, my lady."

There was only one thing she needed now. She heaved to her feet, slid her tied-up tree hug along the trunk, and tipped up her bottom. "Fuck me, your majesty."

He wiped his wrist across his face, but lay where he was, between her feet, his cock dancing and his brow wrinkled. "Belle; "

"You promised me three orgasms. Fuck me."

"No. You will come sucking me."

"I'll come with you in me, but this end." She jiggled. "And you won't come until I say."

"Woman! I am your king; "

"You are a beautiful cock. Fuck me." She stamped her foot. "Now."

He rolled to his feet. His shadow loomed over her, departed, returned. He grumbled. Something like a hot lemon wedged against her slot, rested there. She pushed back against it, lodged the tip at her entrance. It didn't retreat. She eased onto it with a lascivious shock at how much she needed to stretch, and keep stretching, to accommodate him.

Once she had a grip on his hard bell, she smiled over her shoulder. "I'll tap you three times, then you can come." She took more of him in, glad she was wet and loose from her last two orgasms; he filled her so completely it forced her breath out.

The king stood to attention, neither pushing nor pulling away, and Belle understood. Let the betrayal be hers. She rocked back at him until she was stuffed to the brink and, mercifully, his hips met her bottom. They moaned together. So this was how a man was supposed to feel. She felt more worn than penetrated, stretched over him like a perfectly fitting dress. She writhed, relishing every cell of her softness gloved to every cell of his hardness. The king cursed and could stay still no longer. He gripped her hips and slid out, and for a sinking moment she thought he would leave, but he plunged back in, forcing a squeak from her. Then again, and again and she braced and each powerful thrust pumped more joy into her. His perfect dick lit her up brighter with each stroke, fizzing along her skin to her fingertips and toes, then back again to be doubled up by the next thrust.

She turned to him, grinned through tousled hair, but could hardly form a smile for panting. His face was stoic. Serious. She grunted, shuddered to a halt. He moved her hips for her, his power and control jamming hard and deep but never too deep. And even though she was too full of him, she still cried out, "Yes, yes, yes;” He pumped her lungs, her heart, to bursting and then crammed more joy in, and more and it doubled and redoubled and she yelped, thrust back greedily, a feeding frenzy, even though it was too much, too delicious, and she was tight as a drum and still more came and more and more;

She lifted onto her toes, squealed.

And burst into a billion tiny stars.

But her juggernaut king drove on, rammed her off her feet, shoved gasp after gasp from her. He tossed her from her own skin, like there was no room for her ghost now. Too much. Too good. Too;

Oblivion.

She roused bouncing, cackling, every joint slack, every muscle warm and floppy as the king rammed her up and down on his cock. His movements grew spasmodic. His hips slapped her bottom and for a delirious, dreamy blink she wanted him to come in her, but her instinct intervened. She slipped her hands from her shackles, and slipped off his cock. He carried on shoving, unable to stop. She swiveled, dropped to her knees, stuffed his slippery meat into her mouth.

He stiffened, gnashed his teeth. Placed his hands on her head.

A wickedness tickled her. She unsuckered from him. "No. Wait."

He snarled, screwed his eyes shut.

"Wait;” She said as if to a dog. While his perineum fluttered like a bird's heart, and he made strangled noises, she calmly licked her drooling juices from his balls, running a flat, cleaning tongue up his quivering rod. She sniggered, lapped under his bulb, fluttered her eyelashes. "What do you say?"

He juddered. His fists clenched, every muscle, every vein on his body flexed to bursting point. "Please. My Lady. Please."

She tipped her mouth over his end, and slapped his arse three times.

Then braced for the gorgeous flood of power.

The queen returned to a new kingdom. When her Rolls Royce rolled through the streets, people gathered to throw petals over her, a band played, and children sang songs.

Queen Charlotte stepped from the car and into her king's arms looking visibly shaken. The new palace staff formed a circle about them and cheered.

He explained Belle's discovery. Madam Couteau's keys revealed many secret rooms, including storerooms crammed with produce, filing cabinets crammed with orders and a safe crammed with gold. Madam Couteau and her cohort had been increasing the taxes behind their backs. If the taxes were paid, Couteau paid the monarchs what they expected and pocketed the difference. When the taxes increasingly couldn't be paid, Couteau took the villagers' produce and sold it on to the kingdom's old buyers.

By royal decree (Though the queen guessed it was more likely Belle's decree) the stockpiled produce and stolen profits were divided amongst the townspeople, who were re-united with thei

Lady Lovecome’s Diary: Part 2

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Tue, 21 Jul 2026 21:10:00 +0000

Lady Lovecome’s Diary: Part 2.

Ring the bell three times for Belle.

Based on a post by A Big Cat. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.

In discrete service to the royal court; My name is Lady Bathsheba, Ottoline, Lovecome; and this is my diary.

These are not the depressive scratchings of some puffball princess. I'm no dowager driven loopy by indolent indulgence. These are the erotic thoughts, experiences and stories of someone in their prime; but housebound by a self-serving patriarchy. A patriarchy who's trapped his fully adult daughter in his manor house; rather than set her free at university with her friends; while she waits, financially dependent, for a suitable suitor.

Her patriarchy is no doubt, and I hope, reading these pages. I hope you enjoy them, Father. I've been much inspired by your library's top-shelf antiquaries;

Dear Diary; (dear Father!) I'm also much inspired by my only companion in Lovecome manor, our gardener, Bill. He's my age, yet a fully independent individual making his own way in the world. Free.

I made this point to him on our first meeting.

"Free am I?" His voice is deep and honeyed. "Financial necessity isn't the same as freedom, Madam."

"You simply must call me Bash." I fear I stamped my foot when I declared this. "While we're inmates together we will address each other as equals."

"Very good, Bash." He doffed his cap!

Bill is square-jawed, twice my height and built like a tree. I hope to discover if he's treelike all over before the end of the day. (Specifically is it a log or a twig in his trousers? My investigations so far; quick glances and a delicious slide-by in the kitchen where my bum brushed his front; suggest log. Sigh.) It's a sunny morning now and I scribe this on my flimsily-dressed lap where I sit on a flowery white chair on the lawn. Bill is almost at my feet, preparing a flower bed with much shoveling and grunting. Sweat stains his straining shirt. I curl my toes in the grass. Do you think he will deduce from my bare feet that I'm naked under my dress? I will give him a flash of ass soon, and surprise him. Though he already seems; bothered.

His cheeks are slapped crimson and his pale blue eyes flit glances over my ankles. Each furtive look feels like a lick, hungry to get up my skirt. It squeezes me hotly in my hips and; let me wriggle; yes; has made me shamefully gooey down there. When I cross and re-cross my legs, the top of my thighs slip.

I wonder what he'd think if he could read these words?

Why wonder?

Tee hee.

I read you to him, Diary, and now he's smiling stiffly while smoke curls from his ears. I'm going to read every dirty thought I write to this man from now on. I told him this too. He doffed his cap again; a subservient gesture undone by a drilling stare at my hips, as if calling upon some kind of x-ray vision. Poor man, I won't show him what he wants to see until much later. Though I very much like the thought of him picturing my bits.

I know exactly what I want to tell him today. A story of someone I met in Switzerland, the head of my finishing school, a beautiful woman called Belle. I've been playing and replaying her experiences since I woke, and even though she's made me come already, she's left me needy. As you can probably tell.

Belle was an unusual head for a finishing school, being from a very humble background. We were mostly taught to be ladies by actual ladies, including duchesses and countesses. I struck up a friendship with her, perhaps because we looked similar, even if she was older and a more petite, refined version of me: Snow White to my Betty Blue.

She set up the school using her savings, and contacts, from working as a Lady's maid for the queen of a minor European state in the nineteen-sixties. Her country might have been tiny, but it was rich, or at least until King John took the reins along with his wife Queen Charlotte. They raised taxes and milked the locals dry. (Bill is tugging out a stump. How I'd love to milk him dry. Preferably with the tender grip of the milk-hungry place between my legs; I digress.)

Three Bells for Belle

By Lady Lovecome

Belle was from one of those families reduced to poverty. The idle royals taxed so them heavily that often all their crops would be confiscated in lieu of what was owed. The country's produce was internationally famous for its unparalleled quality. It used to grace royal tables all over the world. Now only one royal table enjoyed the fruits of their labor, and what wasn't eaten simply disappeared. It was left to rot for all anyone knew. Many gave up farming all together, for what they didn't have, couldn't be taken.

However poor they were, when the royal housekeeper; A sour-faced, walking whip called Madam Couteau; came looking for new palace servants, people hid. It wasn't a job anyone wanted. She was famously cruel, and people were forced to work eighteen hour shifts for food and lodging (if a straw mattress in a basement dorm counted as lodging). Also, she only chose the prettiest, to feed the king and queen's lascivious appetites. And if an unmarried girl became pregnant with an illegitimate heir, this could mean exile or imprisonment or worse.

Belle hated Madam Couteau, and in a misplaced fit of defiance she refused to hide one morning when the woman came looking for fresh meat. It was a stupid thing to do, but looking back on it, Belle wondered if she knew even then that if she could get to those in charge, somehow, then she could do something about her family's; even her country's; desperate state.

Madam Couteau gasped when she caught Belle's enormous, insolent eye. A sharp smile twitched her cheek. She snapped her fingers, and suddenly Belle was gripped by two guards. As her parents wailed, Belle was marched away from her home.

But Belle was naïve to think she would get anywhere near the king and queen. She was made a pot girl, in charge of collecting and emptying the staff's chamber pots. The castle's plumbing was for royalty, and Madam Couteau's cohorts, alone.

It was a pissy, shitty job, yet every day Belle kept herself clean and ordered, just in case she might get a chance to elevate her position in the household. She didn't expect this opportunity to come from Madam Couteau. One cold dawn, while Belle poured pot after pot of steaming filth into the castle's drain, Madam Couteau popped up like the stench made solid. Dressed in stiff, black satin, she wore the gargantuan bunch of castle keys at her waist, permanently dangling at her front like a metal mirkin.

"It is Her Majesty's birthday tomorrow," she clipped. "You are my gift to her. When you hear the servant bell ring three times, present yourself."

"Yes, Madame."

"This is not a promotion."

"No, Madame. What will I; "

"Just; be clean."

The staff dorm sported a wall of a hundred spring-loaded bells, each marked with a room. Pulling a chord in any of the royal chambers would alert the relevant servant. A bell should only ever ring once. More rings meant the royals had been kept waiting and a beating from Madam Couteau would surely follow, administered with a flail of the monstrous palace keys to the girls' ass cheeks.

However, most nights, and some mornings, a bell would ring multiple times in quick succession, any number from two to six. At Belle's end of the dorm, a cluster of six suspiciously pretty women would jolt at a multiple bell, then one would press her lips and hurry from the dorm to answer the call.

Belle could guess where these beauties were going. The king's appetites were infamous. The queen's too, though there was never a man called to her rooms. Belle didn't know if she was relieved or not that she was gifted to the queen and not the king. She'd never been with a woman, but it was an occasional fantasy for her, and at least there'd be no risk of pregnancy.

Belle spent half the night scrubbing herself and preparing her outfit. The maid's uniforms were desperately impractical: sleeveless, but high-collared, tight bodiced but flaring into short, pleated skirts. Instead of tights they wore black woolen over-knee socks that did more to accentuate their bare thighs than keep them warm. Even their ankle boots were patent leather kitten heels.

When the other girls were called they rarely dressed, just pulled on a bathrobe, or wrapped themselves in a towel. Belle would be different. It was no surprise that the king and queen designed the maid uniform themselves, so Belle would look as good as she could for them.

It wasn't yet dawn when three bells jolted Belle from her short sleep. She rubbed her eyes and peered at the servant's board. She'd missed which bell had rung.

"Queen's bedchamber," whispered the copper-haired girl in the next bed, her brow wrinkled with a sisterly concern. Belle thanked her, dressed and scampered up the servant stairs to the queen's room, fastening the uniform's thirty tiny buttons as she went.

She stood trembling between two smirking guards at the queen's monolithic bedroom door and knocked with a bravado she didn't feel. The door immediately flew open. There, dressed in just her silken nightgown was;

A girl?

Belle had only ever seen the queen on their national coins. She supposed her to be much older. This woman couldn't have been more than a year or two older than Belle, her mid-twenties perhaps. Her hair was long and platinum, and braided to her shoulder. She had the smooth, apple-cheeked complexion of a dairy maid, not a vicious queen. She beamed at Belle, then, as if remembering her station, quickly pouted and looked down her nose.

Belle dropped to her knee in the special curtsy Madam Couteau had taught them, leaving her bowed at the woman's unshod feet. The queen had baby's toes.

"My God, Madam Couteau was right." The queen caught Belle's chin and tipped her face up. "You are exquisite. Everything you look at must feel beautiful." She stooped, peered into Belle, whistled. "Those eyes."

The queen's eyes were like polished steel. Belle felt harpooned by them.

"Bravo." The woman clapped, pirouetted and bounced away. "Come!"

Belle followed through a door into an entirely black marble room bigger than her family's cottage. In the center glimmered a polished-brass bathtub full of lemony-fragrant water frothing with bubbles. Thick steam turned the morning sunlight, filtered through filigreed shutters, into rays. Belle was so overawed she didn't notice the queen had unfastened the bow on her nightgown and dropped it to her knees.

Belle averted her eye.

"You refuse to honor me with your exquisite gaze?" The queen braced arms on her hips, and tapped her foot. Even from the corner of her eye, Belle could make out the wobble of the woman's large tits with each tap of her foot.

"I think only of Her Majesty's privacy."

"Look at me."

Belle did as she was bid.

The queen's lips parted under Belle's gaze. Was that a gasp? "I'm told I'm beautiful." The woman pirouetted. She was too, her body curvaceous and smooth as a marble figurine. Not fat, but well fed enough to smooth off her knees and elbows. There wasn't a knobbly bone on her. Her sex was shaved bald, and the top of her intimate crease glittered where a double-diamond stud pierced her clitoral hood. She might look like a girl, but she was all woman.

Queen Charlotte dropped into the hot water with a sigh. She nodded at the soap, sponge and a silver jug on a table set by the tub. "You may wash me."

Belle preferred men, but was young and open minded and the queen's beauty did funny things to her midriff. But mostly Belle was sharp and, even as she awkwardly upended a jug of warm water over the queen's shoulders, she wondered how she might bend the queen's desire to her own advantage.

She lathered the woman's back then, taking a deep breath, her tits. The queen hummed and lay back. Her chest heaved under Belle's soaping.

Belle lost herself in the pliable slippery flesh sliding through her fingers. The queen's nipples turned to bullets under her palm. She circled them, forgetting for a second that they belonged to someone else and weren't her own.

She was so lost she jumped when the queen purred, "I don't know what's more arousing, being in your hands, or in your gaze."

Belle washed downward, toward opening knees, and hips pushed up to Belle's soapy hands. The queen bit her lip.

Belle swallowed. When the village men were in this state they were suggestable and eager to please. Now was her time to exert some influence. She let her hand reach the woman's abdomen, then stopped.

"Perhaps Your Majesty might stand up?"

Queen Charlotte should find this impertinent, no one should address her unless addressed first, let alone make a request. If the woman accepted this, then Belle had some power over her.

Without missing a beat, the needy queen stood. Belle's head spun. That was too easy. She should see how far she could go. She soaped the proffered hips, bottom cheeks and legs and put aside a swelling heat in her own lower half. Queen Charlotte lifted a foot onto the edge of the bath to offer herself explicitly. Her belly trembled.

Gathering all her nerve, Belle offered the soap to her queen. "I fear I'm not worthy, Madam. You must do that part yourself."

The queen's jaw rippled. Her eyelids drooped. "I insist. If you value your position."

Belle bit her lip. "I like how you feel Madam, very much, and I'm honored, but it's not proper to wash you there. I will watch you; wash yourself, if that helps?"

Belle knelt at the bath side, dropping her face a little lower than her queen's hips. She mustered a blinking, innocent gaze up into Queen Charlotte's engorged flower.

As if hypnotized by Belle's eyes, Queen Charlotte soaped herself. "You make; me feel; angelic." After a brief stir, the soap plopped into the water, then the queen followed, crouched, yelping on digging fingers.

While her queen writhed in a crisis so strong it slopped water out of the bath, Belle took the sponge, soaked it and offered it the woman's still shuddering shoulders.

"Get out," Queen Charlotte spat, her head still buried between her knees.

The three bells didn't call Belle again the next day and Belle was morose, fearing she'd blown her only chance to save her family. But the day after the bells called her once more to the bathroom. Then the fifth day and the seventh, in fact every other day from then on. Madam Couteau was delighted that the gift she gave the queen should be so popular.

So Belle worked her small power. Every morning the queen would try to get Belle to "wash" her and every morning, at least at first, Belle would decline and watch her queen disport herself. She relished the adoration of the vampire who fed off her country, and her squirm when denied.

A sleazy drug dealer in Belle's village kept offering "free samples" to her and her friends as she grew up. He got a couple of girls hooked, who then disappeared to the brothels of London, Paris and Amsterdam. This was Belle's plan now. She declined all requests to pleasure her queen, but gave away titbits, under certain conditions, to keep the woman hooked, and so advance Belle's cause.

She offered to remove her underwear, and let the queen glimpse what she may up Belle's short skirt; but only if Belle could be excused all duties but for serving the queen. After a few days of this, when the queen grew frustrated, Belle offered to strip and join her mistress in the bath; if the woman found meaningful palace work for her mother, father and sisters. That morning the queen came twice, even though Belle kept her legs closed and below the bath's bubbles. More importantly, Belle's family were no longer unemployed.

But toying with the queen's crush on her was a dangerous game. The woman could withdraw what she offered in a fit of pique. Belle had to keep her sweet, and wanting more. How she wished her queen was a man. They were much easier to beguile once you had them hard.

She wished it was the king she bathed.

This was her exact thought the morning before the queen's grand tour of Europe's major cities, hoping to woo back the mysteriously lost buyers of the kingdom's produce.

The queen threw her robe across the room and barked, "Take off your clothes." She stamped into her bath.

No doubt she was angry about having to do some work, but Belle worried she'd be in the firing line of any frustrated tantrums. And sure enough, as Belle shrugged off her dress, and plopped chilly feet into the hot water; covering her recently waxed, clipped triangle of fur; Queen Charlotte scowled and pouted. "Girl you will release me today or I will sack your entire family."

Belle dipped the silver jug into the bath and poured warm water over the queen's shoulders. "Of course, Madam."

The queen blinked at her. "Is that a; yes?"

"Madam."

"You will; touch me?"

Belle soaped the woman's tits. Made a show of biting back her smile.

"Here?" The queen stood, water sloshing off her, raising her leg.

"Um-hmm." Belle treated Queen Charlotte's sex to a long stare. "Did you know many women enjoy a tongue in there too?"

The queen tremored. "I; they do."

Belle reached behind to soap the woman's bottom, down the sides of her legs, all the while regarding that puffy pudenda. "And many enjoy the taste of another woman."

Queen Charlotte swayed a little. "Do you?"

Belle nodded. She curled out the tip of her tongue and worked her queen's standing leg up and down from ankle to knees, possessed of the notion of soapily wanking an enormous cock.

The queen swallowed. Belle's sudsy hands slid up the woman's hard, horse-riding thigh. "I hear the King will remain while you tour, Madam."

"The buffoon is a liability; oh;”

Her hand grazed the woman's labia, stringing the juices gathered there. A drip collected on Belle's knuckle and without a thought, she licked it off. The queen tasted just like her. She laughed as Queen Charlotte growled at her rudeness and Belle had to steady her by the hips.

She swapped to the queen's raised leg, soaped it all at once from bottom to top. "It's impressive you can trust the King here alone. Many men play while their cat is away."

The queen scoffed. "We both know that's not true, darling. Without me to see to him every day he will fuck everything that; oh yes."

Belle's thumb ventured under the woman's fleshy folds. She'd never pleasured another woman, and queen Charlotte's sex was much fleshier than her own, but her fingers knew this dance by heart. She stroked the woman lightly from slot to diamond-studded clitoris. "If only there was a way you could see to his needs, even while she was away?" She rubbed a small circle around Queen Charlotte's hard nub.

The queen's eyes drooped and a smile played on her lips. She croaked a hum.

Belle picked her speed up to an itching rhythm. "Or if, while you were away, you could leave your right hand here. Keep a good hold on him?"

The queen laughed brightly, rocked her hips at Belle's thumb. "Indeed. No don't stop!"

Belle had sat back. She contrived a giggle. "Madam this is exciting me too much. Feel." Belle stood, took her queen's hand and pressed it between her legs. She knew she was wet inside, increasingly her morning duties turned her on, partly the sex, partly the power, but she was surprised as Queen Charlotte at how wet. The royal fingers felt eelish.

The queen's eyes widened. "I arouse you this much?" She withdrew her fingers, licked them.

Belle nodded. "Do you like how I taste, Madam?" Belle underlined her need by raising her own foot to the bath edge, matching the queen's pose.

Queen Charlotte, beguiled, dropped to her knees. Belle pushed her hips forward. The queen's mouth opened, leant toward Belle's mound.

Belle covered herself. "Is there something Your Majesty needs?"

"You know what I want, bitch."

Belle stayed put, proud over her queen, her fingers locked between thighs. She stirred. Hummed. "I may just release myself, if you don't min

Lady Lovecome’s Diary: Part 1

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Mon, 20 Jul 2026 21:07:00 +0000

Lady Lovecome’s Diary: Part 1.

Gardener Bill Tends Lady Lovecome's Estate.

Based on a post by A Big Cat. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.

Lady Bathsheba Ottoline Lovecome insisted I, and only I; call her Bash. As if that closed the social gap between us. As if a girl called Bash was a salt-of-the-earth type, the type who could happily hang out with someone like me, her gardener.

I was just twenty when I became the gardener for Lovecome manor. The widower Lord Lovecome was disinterested in gardens and rarely at the big house so for a year at least I had the best job in the world. I even had free accommodation in the groundskeeper's cottage attached to their gothic pile. Then his daughter, Bathsheba, moved back home.

Bathsheba returned from her Swiss finishing school a lady. A hungry lady. I don't mean hungry in a lascivious way, well I do, but mostly she came back hungry for life. She wanted to go to university. Her dad said it wouldn't help her "marry well" so he wouldn't fund it, but she was free to live in the manor house until she found a husband. Instead, she did her best to piss him off. She raided the antique erotica he kept on the top shelf of his library, and insisted on re-enacting it. With me. Then she exaggerated it in her diary, which she left lying about on coffee tables and window seats. Her dad threatened to sack me. Lady Lovecome said she'd leave with me and tell the press about it too. Happy families.

Bash was small and round, where I was tall and wiry. She had jet black hair where I was blonde. She had wicked, deep, brown eyes, where mine are pale blue. I smile all the time, but Bash's pillowy lips were stuck in a pout. She even pouted when she laughed, swallowing it and shuddering, as if to quash an underground explosion. The only time she smiled was when she came. Or when I came. Something she tried to contrive as often as possible because, as busy as I was, Bash was always bored.

While all her friends went to university she spent three years at home, alone. Years spent not reading law or history or economics but antique porn. Years spent minxing around barefoot, no knickers, teasing me while I tried to work. Years recorded in her diary; her dirty-minded days so predictable she'd write it in the morning and then we'd catch up in the evenings. Like generations of her family, Bash was a woman imprisoned in girlish immaturity, wrapped in puppy fat, waiting to be married to replace father with husband. I could relate in some ways. As soon as I could heft an axe, like generations of my family, I was imprisoned by work. We were each other's only escape.

Still, we were on different tracks. On her 21st birthday she left home. I moved in with Jane, a woman who looked a lot like Bash, and set up my own, failing, landscaping business. Bash married a duke. I only saw her on the covers of celebrity magazines, and in the papers when her dad died.

Then one morning I got a postcard from their residence in Sicily:

"Thinking of you, Sweet William. My garden needs attention."

My name is Bill. Sweet William is what she calls my cock. Her garden is her name for her vagina. And I hadn't heard from her in ten years.

It's cruel of me, but I told Jane that Lady Lovecome had offered me work and that I wanted to do it. Sex was pretty bad between me and Jane, and I think I wanted to make her jealous. I wasn't really going to take the job. We were naked in bed when I told her and I hoped she'd get competitive and dirty. She got angry.

"You want to work for Lady cum slut?" She rubbed in hand cream with quick, stiff movements.

"She's not a slut."

"She used to practice blow jobs on you."

"Doesn't make her a slut."

"Why not?"

"I practiced on her too."

Jane folded her arms, wedging the duvet tight under them. "You never practice on me anymore."

"You don't like it."

"Still. A girl likes to be desired."

I smirked, lifted the duvet and hummed at her lovely chestnut bush. She crossed her legs tight.

I sighed, or growled, or both. "She's married to a duke. And I'm living with you. It'd just be for the money. And what's it you say? Sex is so immature?"

She harumphed and twisted away to lie with her back to me. "Whatever."

Whatever is the worst. Whatever is like, "This is what you've got, deal with it."

Bash was the first person to say this to me. I was ordered to chop down a cherry tree I'd tried to grow for years because Lord Lovecome thought it looked weedy. It did look weedy, not like the bushy cherry trees in Lovecome's neighbor’s garden. But it was still alive. I refused to kill it. Bash got sick of me moaning about the tree and told me it didn't matter what I wanted. "This is what you've got. Deal with it." It took me two whole days to carefully dig out its roots and transplant it somewhere private.

Where it died.

So I find myself in Sicily. Or near it. The volcanic island of Stromboli, where the Lovecomes have summered since they bought the villa from Queen Victoria.

The smoking peak of the volcano towers over the stucco and clay-tile villa, bubbling unnervingly. I crunch across gravel under an army of cypress trees to doors fit for a church. I'm not surprised when they swing open before I even get to them.

There she is.

Her left cheek dimples as she tries to hide her grin behind her pout. She's lost her puppy fat but is still curvy. Fit looking. I can tell because she's wearing a bikini under a gauzy kind of beach dress that reveals rather than conceals. She's still got her shaggy, bellish bob. I recall us playing shadow puppets with spotlights, positioning ourselves so that her full-body profile matched the shadow cast by my erection.

"At last. Sweet William," she says.

I'd forgotten how deep her voice is. One rainy Sunday, she made me come just by humming Land of Hope and Glory on "Sweet William.”

"Lady Bathsheba," I say.

She presses her cheek to both my cheeks. "Come. I simply must show you my garden. It's in such a state." Her eyes shine.

I laugh too loud.

She shows me into the national museum she calls a summer home. Her feet slap-slap-slap on marble and she swings her hips, leading me through the grand hall and out a glass wall to the back terrace. She has a tight waist and wide hips now. Her bottom is round as ever. She used to complain that it wasn't elegant. She called it her "sit-up-and-beg bum." I told her men adore it. She said, "But I'm not a man."

The villa's built on a volcanic beach. A swathe of black sand leads out to frothing breakers. In the middle of the beach a crimson Turkish rug holds two enormous teak loungers, set like thrones with a sweating silver champagne bucket between.

The sea breeze cools my face. It brings me Bash's powdery lemon sent. I sigh.

Bash stands on tip-toe, leans into my neck and takes a deep breath. "You smell delicious." I'd forgotten how it felt to sometimes share a thought. It's like holding hands inside our heads.

"Let's swim." She takes my bag off me and immediately drops it. "I've given all the servants the day off." She sashays toward the sea, pulling her beach dress off over her head and dropping that too. "So It's just us I'm afraid." She kicks a wave. "For miles!"

I strip to my boxers while she kneels in the surf, knees apart, peering at me. We're in Lovecome Manor again and she's watching me shovel, her hands up her skirt.

I know Bash's body as well as my own. It's like she's a part of me, another pair of arms and legs. And it seems 10 years is nothing between us. I can almost feel the frothy breakers lapping at her gusset.

The water's freezing. I dive in and come up howling.

She coils her arms around my neck and squeezes me very tight. "Fuck," she gasps into my ear. When she pulls away her eyes are wet and spilling. "I've missed you every day." Her hips are wedged to mine. Her front nudges me as if looking for something. I'm not hard. Yet. I don't know where to put my hands.

My eyes overflow, too. I wipe, pretending it's seawater. "I've missed you, Bash." I hug her. Her body is like a memory made solid. A treasured memory.

We muck about in the surf. She loves me to throw her over the waves. I love to see her spinning against the sky, eyes screwed shut, screaming. I love her spluttering, "Again!"

Once she's worn me out, she takes my hand and we retire to the loungers. Bash and I used to refer to each other as soul mates. This is how, in the twenty steps from water to carpet(!) we decide, without speaking, that this is not to be a polite afternoon.

She chucks me an insanely fluffy towel but lies down wet on hers where it's spread on the lounger.

I wrap the towel around my waist and drag off my soggy boxers. I like the secret air round my cock and balls. I lie on the lounger beside hers. Me on my back, Lady Lovecome on her front.

Bash and I rarely chatted. I mean what did a gardener have to say to a Lady? But our three years together was so physically intense, we didn't need to make conversation. Not the formal kind anyway.

She looks at me with her cheek pressed to the backs of her hands. Behind soggy strands of bell-bob, her eyes swell up bigger than the sky. Water droplets glitter all over her shoulders, down her back and legs. Like diamonds.

She squirms. "What?"

"You're a beautiful woman."

She dimples, gulps. "You too; no, I mean. Whatever. You're much beefier though. I like it."

This makes me laugh even though it isn't funny.

She reaches over, takes my left hand, but only to hold it up. "Hmm. Not married."

"Living with someone. You?"

She flashes me a diamond the size of a grape, then drops her arm like the ring's too heavy to lift. "Gaudy, I know." She leans up on her elbows. "Are you happy?"

I shrug.

Jane calls me Mr. Sad. She describes me as a glass half-empty person. She even blames the lackluster performance of my business on my own lack of luster. And I don't get it. At the big house I couldn't get the grin off my gob.

Time must pass with us just looking at each other in silence because, suddenly, Bash's skin is dry. She reaches under the lounger, produces a bottle of sun lotion and throws it at me. She unfastens the back strap of her bikini top.

I squeeze white lotion across her shoulders and down her spine. She wriggles at its chilliness and the dimple-cheeked smirk of her hidden smile undoes me. Every time. When we first met she smiled as easy as me. All the time. I can't remember when she decided she needed to hide her happiness.

I perch beside her hip on her lounger and rub the cream in. During our time in gilded prison together, we experimented with the openheartedness you lose later in life. There's no part of each other we haven't explored with fingers, lips or tongues. That's why her skin still feels as familiar as my own. I even get a ghost of my own touch on my own back. My hand is hard and leathery. She breathes a little heavy. When my rubs spiral to her bikini bottoms she tugs them down, so I can go lower. She pulls them all the way to the cleft of her bum.

Her skin is rose gold. All over. "No tan line," I say.

"I usually sunbathe nude," she says. "Tan lines are so; gauche."

My hand strokes lower than it needs to, over her cheeks. She purrs, grinds her hips at the lounger.

I grasp her bikini bottoms and pull them down her legs and off her feet.

She adores being nude for me. All her diary entries (she read them to me, of course) started: "William lustily tore off all my clothes, eyeing every detail of my nudity; until he was rigid." She leans up on her elbows and looks over her shoulder at her own nakedness, as if to share seeing it with my eyes.

I'm so hard under my towel I can hardly bend.

I squirt cream on her bum and rub it in. More like knead it in, if I'm honest. In the dim at the top of her closed thighs, I can just make out intimate wrinkles and clefts I haven't seen in ten years. The little pink knot of her anus is a friend I'd forgotten I'd missed.

She growls, and wriggles onto her back. Her tits are still small and firm, her stomach smooth with a decadent little pot-belly. The ball of her mound is topped by a clipped triangle of jet hair. I stand up. I can't help it. It's like royalty has walked onto the beach. I should probably salute.

She yanks my towel off. My cock bounces into the Italian sunshine.

Her eyes widen. She pulls hair back off her face. "Goodness, you're much bigger than I remember."

I don't know if this is a compliment or not.

With a serious expression, she runs fingertips over my balls. She flicks a regal glance up at me, one eyebrow raised, then tests my shaft. The tip of her tongue curls out.

"What's got you so het up, Sweet William, hmm?" She says this to my cock as she grips it and slides up and down, so I guess she's joking.

She flops her legs open a little. Her clit hood, now neatly defined by waxed baldness below, is prominent as ever. I stroke her outer lips, they're podgy and so soft I almost can't feel them. Her thick, protruding inner lips graze my palm.

I smile, slip a fingertip along her slick groove.

She lets out a long, ragged breath. With Bash in my hand, and me in hers, I feel complete. Bash puts it better. Wrinkling thick eyebrows in a pained kind of realization she says, "I feel like I'm finally home."

But then she releases my cock and shuts her legs.

"Rules," she says. "I'm worried. I don't want to be that woman who forces you to be unfaithful to your partner."

I lick her glossiness from my finger. She slaps my thigh. "If we don't come, then we're still being faithful to her don't you think?" She says this to my cock, robotically, like she's rehearsed it.

"What about your husband?"

"He fucks around," she says. "He doesn't count."

I sense she's replaced father with spouse as a target for her disappointment. I kneel beside her so my erection is next to her face. I stroke her tight little tits. She chews her lip, watching my cock buck.

"You won't be able to stop yourself," I say. This sounds like a boast, but it's not.

"I should be Okay. I came massively earlier." She flicks a glance up at me and flushes. "You were late."

I stoop to kiss her, and she cups my neck and leans into me, but we find we can't close the last millimeter.

"This is very against the rules," Bash says, her lips brushing mine.

I groan, and kiss her cheeks instead, down her jaw. I cover her tits and nipples and wish I'd shaved but then remember, unlike Jane, Bash likes my chin rougher. Her body rolls under me like a wave trying to keep me on its crest. When I dip from tits to ribs to belly, she squeezes my shoulders and arms and gushes, "Good lord, you feel like a horse," but really she's pushing me down.

I swivel as I descend, climb onto her lounger and kneel astride her shins. She likes my cock between her feet. I do too. When my kisses reach her mound I take her hips and lift them to my mouth. I bury a kiss into the bare flesh below her tuft. I keep her legs tight together, nuzzle into that gap to get to her clit with my lips. It's exciting that I can't quite get to it. She lifts her hips to my mouth, tries to open her legs. Her body wants me to lick her. Her heart wants me to delay it.

I lie along her legs and pluck kisses to her pressed-together cunt lips as if they were the mouth I'm denied kissing. We have the same rules for each other as others have for prostitutes, it seems. She lifts her lounger's backrest so she can watch me without straining, and pulls her clit hood up to unsheathe as much of her bud as she can.

She shivers. "I need to come already."

"Um-Hmm."

"Perhaps it's Okay to come," she says. "What do you think?"

I'm not thinking, I'm kissing. Kissing brings me pleasure. Thinking, pain.

I kneel upright, grasp her ankles and open her legs. Now I'm going to bring her pleasure.

Her "garden" has just the one flower. It's pink and fleshy and it's in full bloom. Her juices loop between slot and thigh. I settle between her knees like a jigsaw piece slotting into place.

She strokes my head. "Oral is foreplay isn't it? Not actual sex. I mean, Fore; play?" She tips her feet onto their sides to sag her knees wide and make more room for me. "Christ I've done it at parties. It's almost dancing. Polite, really."

I press a kiss to her slipped-open lips as politely as I can, given the circumstances. She's hot marshmallow with a liquid center. Her juices string thickly to my lips. I lick her salty taste off them with my eyes closed. When I open them again she's watching me, her cheeks blazing.

"To be safe." I kiss her again, slower, harder. "I'll stop when I think you're gonna come." Then I kiss her again. And again. And again. Each kiss hitches her breath. Each hitched breath pulses my cock. Her pleasure, every tiny, hitched breath of it, makes my day. It always has. That someone's most intimate joy is also mine raises a deep moan to my kissing.

Her eyes slit. She opens her inner lips with delicate, beautifully manicured, fingers. Her diamond flashes. Juices bubble inside her, dribble from the dim into the sunlight, down her bum cleft.

I focus on her clit, pressing my lips to it lightly as I can.

"Taste me." This is her thing, me enjoying her taste and smell. In her diary once, I came just from her dripping on my tongue. It was written to annoy her dad. I don't think it ever happened. Not often anyway.

I kiss her clit firmer, nip it between my lips.

She tremors and opens herself explicitly. "Lick me."

It's her body talking. I ignore it, like I'm ignoring my own body, which also badly wants to eat her, and badly needs to be eaten. Instead I take a deep breath of her spread cunt. "Musky ocean," I say. "Your smell makes my mouth water."

She bites her lip. As if to show me what she needs, her finger dips into her slot, and traces juices up over her clit, itches at it. She grunts and stops, splaying her fingers above her clenching cunt. It always pulses like this before she comes. I don't know if this is the same for other women, it's not for Jane, but this is what happens for Bash. And when she clenches inside I have to bear down hard on the echoing pulse behind my balls.

I reach into the champagne bucket between us, scoop cold water. I dribble it over her flushed folds.

She gasps. A smile! But she doesn't come.

I suck her clit and curly labia just to enjoy her chilled flesh in my mouth.

"Fuck!" Bash says to the sky. I guess my mouth feels very hot on her. I stop, kiss her inner thighs.

"This is why we've never fucked," she says. "Licking is too fabby."

"We never fucked because we were terrified of getting you pregnant. Your dad would have had me killed."

"But I've been on the pill since I met you for fuck-sake."

I laugh along with another, deeper kiss to her folds, so I can vibrate into her. Always a favorite.

She grips herself behind her knees, pulls her legs apart and back. Her toes wriggle beside my head. "You ejaculated fountains though; I swear If one could get pregnant orally we'd have; ah!"

I send an emergency lick up her slot, then down. Top of tongue, bottom of tongue. I follow it with more ice water. I want to shut her up because she talks dirty to get herself off.

Bash always told me her fantasies while I licked her. Of course, they always started with "William eyed every detail of my nudity" but they always ended with me unable to control myself. She liked to describe me spurting all over her bottom, tits, clit or tongue. And when she came it was usually to blustering, "His; his salty sweet eruption!"

Bash calms down for a bit, but is still spread to my mouth so I breathe into her and nuzzle. She's soon off again though. She nods at the smoky peak of Stromboli rising above her house. "I think of you whenever the mo

Daughter of the Revolution: Part 15

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Mon, 20 Jul 2026 01:33:00 +0000

Daughter of the Revolution: Part 15

Abby and Alec are one. George and William return.

In 15 parts, based on a post by Seethegood. Listen to the ► Podcast at Connected.

"Are you next, Miss Sarah?" he asked, with an inviting look on his handsome face. She couldn't resist the temptation of the big, half naked man. He seemed to fill the tent, and despite being freshly washed he exuded a male musk that tightened her nipples.

"Yes, sir," she answered meekly. She trembled and almost fled when he advanced on her and began unlacing her blouse. To ease her nervousness, June joined him and together they gently disrobed her. Alec felt his cock stir at the sight of her nakedness. She protested that she was too for heavy for him when he whisked her off her feet and she clung to him in fear of being dropped. Her crotch grew slick as her full breasts pressed into his hairy chest while his big hands gripped her waist.

"I've got you, Sarah," he said, in a low voice that gave her the shivers. "Trust me, little one." She didn't know what surprised her most, the ease with which he handled her body, or that he'd called her little. She'd always thought she was too large. He continued lifting her and she released her grip on him so she could enter the water. Like June, she groaned as the warmth closed around her. June gave her another sip of whiskey and she sighed in relaxation, almost forgetting a strange man was soon going to run his hands over her naked body, like one never had before.

His big hands in her hair gave her a start. She slowly relaxed as he poured water over her head and worked the soap through her locks. She'd never felt so pampered in her life when he finished with her hair and used soapy hands to massage her exposed shoulders.

"It feels so good, doesn't it?" June asked softly, from beside her head. Sarah could only moan in response while Alec smiled in satisfaction. He loved spoiling women and it seemed Sarah was more than appreciative. June tugged Sarah to her feet, exposing her large, full breasts to Alec and June's eager gazes.

"May I help too?" June asked softly. Sarah was beyond saving now. The sensations she was feeling were foreign to her, but she couldn't say no to them.

"Yes, June. Please," Sarah replied, her words barely audible in the air. She gasped when together June and Alec each filled their hands with her big tits and soaped them up nicely, massaging them gently and teasing her nipples with skilled fingers. After a few minutes, Alec nudged June with his shoulder and whispered.

"You should take over. I've reached my limit." June knew immediately what he meant and nodded assent. He wasn't comfortable going any further with Sarah without Abby's blessing. He belonged to her first and foremost, a fact he believed in wholeheartedly. He gently plucked Sarah from the barrel and stood her on the ground.

"Are you still okay?" June asked of her, "I'll take over from Alec if you're comfortable with that."

Sarah hesitated a few moments and asked timidly," Will you do to me as Alec did to you?" The sight of June writhing on Alec's big hand was still fresh in her mind.

"If you like, yes, sweetheart," June answered softly, and kissed the shell of her ear from behind. Alec smiled as he watched goosebumps flee across Sarah's full breasts and her nipples grow even harder as she heard June's words. Her eyes closed and she relaxed back into June's slight frame.

"It's fine then, Miss June. I'd love it I think," she breathed. Alec settled back on the bed to watch the proceedings

June soaped up her hands and reached around Sarah from behind to cup her heavy tits. Sarah moaned in pleasure at her touch, then stiffened as June's soft hands slowly crept south. Her knee nudged Sarah's legs wide apart while her hand slid gently between her thighs. She slowly worked the soap over Sarah's smooth mound and eventually, to sound of soft moans, slid her fingers in.

There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Sarah had arrived.

Alec came over and gave her an encouraging smile and again picked her up and deposited her in the barrel to rinse off.

"You're absolutely gorgeous, Miss Sarah," he said in a low growl as he poured water over her body. She felt a rush of pride come over her. She'd never considered herself beautiful, but this sexy hunk of a man seemed to be enamored with her curves, and she was more than grateful.

"Thank you, Alec," she murmured quietly. "That means a lot to me." Between Alec and June, they finished her off, dried and dressed her, then Alec took his leave to go check on his Abby.

"Are you okay?" June asked Sarah gently.

"Yes, I think so. It was just a completely new experience for me. Especially since I've just met you two."

"Did it bother you having a girl make you cum?"

"At first it did, but you were so sweet and gentle, and with Alec here it seemed to make things easier, if that makes sense."

"I'm glad," June said. "Maybe it'll help give you some confidence with Nathan. From the way you were looking at him it seems you have some feelings for him?"

"I think so. Like I was telling Rose, I've been so long without a man inside me, I just need it so badly. I hate to say it, but for now I just need to have sex, a relationship can come later."

June giggled aloud, "Well, I can tell you that Nathan is more than capable of screwing you half to death. He packs a cock just as big as Alec's and he knows how to use it. Maddy, our maid at the plantation told me how well he fucked her. She walked bowlegged for a week!" Sarah shivered at the thought, then sighed.

"I just hope I'm brave enough to seduce him. He's very intimidating."

"Rose or I can help you get started if you like. We've both had a bit of experience," June said, with a sexy smile.

"I'd like that, please. I need all the help I can get."

Meanwhile, Rose was chatting with Nathan, while administering to his needs.

"Sarah really likes you," she was saying, "and she needs a man badly. Do you find her attractive?"

"Yes, I do. Profoundly so. She's a natural beauty, wonderfully curvy, and I can tell there's a wildcat inside her that needs to be freed," he said in a low voice.

"Pardon my French, dear Rose, but I'd love to bend her over and fuck her good and hard. It's been awhile for me since I've found relief, back at the plantation actually." Rose shivered at his ribald words, imagining in her mind the same scenario, but with her in place of Sarah.

"Then do you mind if I encourage her a little, maybe give her a few pointers on what to do?" Rose asked with a sexy smile. "You can tell me all the naughty things you'd like done to yourself, Uncle," she teased, while he colored at her words. He knew he should be used to her direct way of speaking by now, but the auburn haired beauty seemed to keep him forever off balance.

"Please do, sweetheart. I could use some female attention."

"Well then, I'll give you some now, stud," she whispered. Her slim hand slid under his blanket and he gasped when it found his semi-tumescent cock.

"Tell me what you like, Uncle, and I'll pass it on to Sarah," she purred as she stroked him fully erect. "While you tell me, I'll give you pleasure, but you must save yourself for her, I'll not let you cum."

Nathan spent the next half hour being tortured by Rose while she dug the darkest secrets from his mind.

When she left him, he was almost crying in frustration. She kissed him sweetly and longingly, knowing that if things in her life were different, she'd have him buried deep in her belly and filling her with hot seed. Her only thought now was this evening, and how she'd beg Alec, Abby, and June until she was satisfied.

Chapter 16

General Nathanael Greene took a deep breath and sighed in resignation. He'd been laid up with his wounded leg for several days now and was growing tired of it. The four beautiful women who'd been helping him convalesce were a large part of his laziness. No man on earth could have withstood the kindness and loving attention they'd been doling out to him and Major Moore. The Major had more reason to stay abed because his femur had been broken badly by a British musket ball, whereas Nathan's wound was a through and through affair caused by a rather large splinter of oak from the carriage of a field piece, hardly the same as he saw it.

With a groan of pain, he righted himself from his narrow bed and stood to his feet, somewhat wobbling as the tent walls spun slightly in his vision. He had to piss terribly, so he fought with his trousers and belt until he was satisfied, then tottered outside to relieve himself. A feminine gasp of surprise reached his ears and he turned to see Sarah bearing down on him rapidly.

"General!" she exclaimed unhappily, "you shouldn't be up and around, shame on you!" He gave her a weak smile and winced as his bladder reminded him of the relentless urge to empty itself.

"Ah, Miss Sarah. What a lovely surprise! I'll be with you momentarily." She picked up on the urgency in his voice and rushed to grasp his arm.

"What can I do for you?" she asked, as she gazed up at him with adoring eyes, still struck at his good looks no matter how many times she laid her eyes on him.

He limped behind his tent with her in tow and frantically worked at his belt with now clumsy fingers. Sarah understood his predicament at once and saw the opportunity to be more intimate with the man she'd been dreaming of nearly every night. She gently pushed his hands away and freed his belt to tug his trouser flaps open. He groaned at the touch of her hot hand, then let out a huge sigh of relief as he loosed his bladder and let flow a mighty stream of urine that spattered noisily on the ground. She couldn't take her eyes off the thick shaft in her small hand, thinking to herself that the first cock she'd held in years was pissing away happily rather than making love to her. Despite herself, she giggled softly at her predicament, bringing a quirk of a smile to his ruggedly handsome face.

"Well thank you, Miss Sarah," he said softly as he finished, then gave her a wink that dampened her underclothes. "I had just decided to take a walk to visit Major Moore, would you care to accompany me?" he asked gallantly, as she buttoned him up and retightened his belt.

"I'd love to, General."

"Nathan, please. I insist," he countered, loving how she blushed hotly under his gaze. He hadn't been able to resist eyeing her full breasts, the soft curve of her hips, and the hint of red rouge on her cheeks that Rose had offered to share with her. For the last couple of days she'd been dressing to please him and he'd certainly been taking notice. Rose had tortured him endlessly with her soft hands and had also pulled his deepest desires from him in intimate talks that left him sexually frustrated as a result because she'd refused to finish him off, telling him to save himself for sweet Sarah. Rose had also told him of Sarah's desire for him and how she longed to be taken by a man. Needless to say, his dreams had featured Sarah's intimate presence, and more than once he'd awoken in a sweat, nearly losing control and spurting helplessly in his bed clothes.

She gladly took his arm and supported him as he led her to the Major's tent. He swept the fly aside to find June cleaning James' wound tenderly while he groaned in pain. Nathan gripped his friend's hand in sympathy, wincing as the wounded man squeezed his tightly.

"Damn it, Nathan. This hurts like fucking hell!" James cursed through gritted teeth.

"I know, my friend, but you're under the best pair of hands in Virginia for this sort of business," Nathan consoled.

"Hogwash," June muttered under her breath as she worked, but blushed and smiles beautifully when James took her hand and kissed it softly. Sarah joined her, and together they finished up his bindings while the men chatted away.

"Have you seen Alec today?" Nathan asked.

"No, sir, I've been led to believe he's fashioning up a set of crutches so I can get around, this being laid up in bed is making me sick. I need some sunshine and fresh air," James stated.

Both women began to protest until the General raised a hand. "I won't hear it," he said, in a voice that brooked no dissent. "Sarah, June. You two tell Rose and Abby that James is to be taken outside every day unless he decides against it, understand?"

"Yes, sir," they said, meekly. June answered so because she was slave, and Sarah because she was in awe of Nathan. At their tone, he realized he'd literally barked out the order and immediately felt bad about himself.

"I'm sorry, ladies," he apologized, "I've no excuse to order you around other than I hurt, and am sick to death of being cooped up. Please, forgive me."

Sarah went to him and hugged him gently while June gave him her most beautiful smile, the one no man could withstand. She too, went to him and gave him a sweet hug while James looked on in some jealousy, tempered with a wink at his superior.

Just then, the tent flapped open to admit a smiling Alec, who bore a set of handmade crutches. James exclaimed in excitement and immediately tried to get out of bed to try them out. He didn't make it halfway up before groaning in agony and falling to his back again. The two girls went to him, and with their tender support managed to get him on the crutches where he painfully hobbled outside and sat on a nearby chair in the brilliant sunshine.

"Ah, so good!" he sighed in happiness. Alec produced a flask of brandy, and June, who was always attuned to the current situation, scrounged up the Major's pipe and packed it for him, then smiled at him as he happily puffed away. Rose and Abby strolled up and soon the entire group was chatting away, enjoying the afternoon.

In short order, June re-entered the tent to clean up and gather laundry. The women naturally followed her, talking merrily amongst themselves. Taking the opportunity for privacy, Alec huddled with Nathan and James for a quiet discussion that lasted awhile, so long that the women exited the tent sometime later to catch them conniving amongst themselves. They straightened up rapidly, but Abby and the girls had caught them red-handed.

"Whatever are you troublemakers up to?" she asked, with a sweet smile. The men reddened under her teasing gaze but clammed up immediately and refused to answer, obviously guilty as charged she assumed as she giggled out loud, but paid it no mind.

The men laughed it off, and Alec whisked Abby and Rose away while June stayed with James for a while longer. Nathan put an arm around Sarah and limped back to his tent, tired already from his exertions. She ushered him down to sit on his bed, then to her alarm, he gripped his thigh and groaned in pain.

"What is it, sweetheart?" she asked in concern.

"A cramp," he gritted. "Damn it to hell!"

"Let me help, please," she shyly offered. "Let's get those trousers off."

Tenderly,

Daughter of the Revolution: Part 14

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Sun, 19 Jul 2026 01:32:00 +0000

Daughter of the Revolution: Part 14

In the militia encampment.

In 15 parts, based on a post by Seethegood. Listen to the ► Podcast at Connected.

In bed that evening, Abby lay with her head on Alec's well-padded shoulder and gave him her most loving gaze while she ran her fingers over his hairy chest. "Will you do me a huge favor, sweetheart?" she asked with a flirtatious smile. He looked at her with a knowing smile.

"I knew you were up to something. What do ya need, Angel?" he asked as he hugged her close.

"I want you to come with me and Rose first thing in the morning. Some scouting needs to be done on the redcoats and I need you to help us get through our lines and past the sentries, both coming and going."

He quirked an eyebrow at her words, but he wasn't surprised in the least. He closed his eyes and thought for a few moments while she rustled with impatience. "Please, Heavy!" she implored, "think how fun it would be. Just like old times, sneaking through the woods with your favorite girls!"

Heaving a deep sigh, he answered her. "I'd love to, but I have to tell Nathan. It's his battlefield and we must respect that."

"Whatever it takes, I'm working on an idea that you both might like, I just need to spy on the redcoats a bit before presenting it to you and Uncle Nathan."

"I'll see what I can do. I'll speak to him now so we don't rouse him to early in the morning. Be right back," he answered as he rose from their bed. She tugged him back down and kissed him deeply.

"Thank you, sweetheart. You're the best boyfriend ever!"

Alec awoke to two, warm female bodies sliding next to his. "Wake up, soldier boy!" Rose whispered while Abby tickled his ribs. "It's time to rise and shine."

Reluctantly, he got up and the three conspirators dressed in silence, then slipped out of the tent. The sentry was expecting them and confirmed the password of the day so they could return to the lines safely without getting shot. Abby led them silently through the forest until they were observing the redcoat sentry posted in the trees. He was out cold and sleeping deeply. Led by Abby, the three spies worked their way through the trees until they could see the slumbering camp of the enemy. They nestled in close to the wet forest floor and waited for the sunrise.

Despite their warm clothing, the girls were shivering in short order and snuggled in close to Alec's warm bulk with grateful sighs. It seemed to take forever until a sentry approached the command tent, which was markedly larger than the others and flagged with the regiments colors. He roused the men within and returned to his post while rubbing his cold hands together to warm them from the night's chill. She watched with interest as a man came out of the tent and pulled a white wig over his head, then scratched himself and pissed in the dirt behind his canvas dwelling. Alec whispered that he was the general and the second man whom had emerged was probably his colonel.

A trumpeter blew reveille and the soldiers began stirring and rising from their sleep. Abby watched attentively as the officers shouted out commands and herded their charges into a loose formation. Grunts and groans filled the air as many a man paused to hurriedly empty his bladder before lining up before the command.

Sergeants called out name after name and the still morning air was broken by shouts as the sleepy soldiers answered in reply. Abby counted over 300 men in the formation, much more than she'd imagined there would be, while Nathan was lucky to have 150 left, even counting his recent reinforcement of Alec's company.

She turned her attention to the cannon on the front line. She counted fourteen, well dug into the bulwarks that partially shielded them from Nathan's field pieces. She knew Nathan had ten cannon that were inferior both in range and projectile weight to the redcoats, but she was undaunted. Her plan was coming together in her head, and what she saw increased her confidence ten-fold. The formation took nearly a half hour to serve its purpose and after the officers dismissed the men, they herded themselves towards several mess tents where they were served their breakfast. It wasn't until the men finished eating that the sentries were relieved with new ones and the night shift went to eat and go to sleep.

With alert sentries now on guard, the three spies were exceptionally careful while retreating to a safe distance and then returning through their own lines. They met with Nathan at his tent and he quizzed Abby over what they'd witnessed. She filled him in over breakfast and he asked her a few more questions.

"I highly respect your intellect and combat experience, and I'd like to know what you're cooking up. Would you mind sharing with me?"

"I need to speak plainly, Uncle, please don't be offended," she answered carefully.

"Speak your mind, my dear. I'm eager to hear your opinion." he returned. Abby gave him a grim smile and leaned in along with Alec and they plotted well into the morning.

Abby was able to convince Nathan of her plan and she insisted that he reduce his casualties as much as possible during the day. It pained her greatly to see men's lives wasted using traditional tactics when it wasn't necessary, and she told Nathan as much. He inferred that her ideas were most ungentlemanly, but he was desperate since having lost so many soldiers fruitlessly fighting the redcoats. She quizzed him on the powder charge used and diameter of the enemies cannon, easily available information since Nathan had captured more than one in the years prior. She immediately set the ladies in the camp to sewing up cloth bags full of black powder and grapeshot in the proper quantities to suit her needs.

June approached her with a determined look on her dusky face. "Abby, there's no way you're leaving me behind. Whatever you're up to I'm tagging along," she said firmly. Abby smiled and pulled her in for a sweet kiss and a tight hug. "Of course you're coming with us. I'd have it no other way. Would you mind watching Major Moore's back and reloading his rifle and pistols for him? I know of no person who can do it better or faster," she flattered. June unconsciously pushed her firm breasts out in pride at her owner's words. She knew she was good, but not exceptional, and Abby's words meant the world to her. She kissed Abby's red lips and sighed happily.

"Thank you, Mistress. When are we leaving?"

"Tomorrow morning, early. Quite awhile before sun up," Abby responded, before running her fingers through June's hair. "Can you supervise the ladies while they're doing the needlework? It needs to be done right."

"Of course, Abby. I'll get right on it. What's Rose going to do?"

"She'll be with me tomorrow. She scouted out the redcoat camp with me and she'll be helping me in my role. I gotta say, June. We're really hanging our little behinds out on this operation. I sure hope and pray it works because if it doesn't, we'll probably all end up dead," Abby said worriedly.

"I know you can do it, Mistress," June said confidently. "You and Alec are brilliant at this business and I have full faith in you two." She kissed Abby's cheek softly and hugged her again reassuringly before scampering off to help the seamstresses. Abby had chills down her spine as she watched her friend depart. This was her biggest and most audacious plan yet and she was almost frightened at the scope of it, yet the fact that she had the full support of Alec and Nathan boosted her confidence greatly.

Rose finds a match for General Greene.

Meanwhile, Rose had struck up a conversation with one of the camp followers, a widow of just over forty years old who'd lost her husband long ago to a vile sickness. As the two sewed up black powder in linen bags, they discussed Rose's favorite topic, men.

"There's few things in life better than a tongue on my clit or a thick cock buried inside me," Rose was saying, while the woman, Sarah, blushed slightly at her words, not used to such salty language from a lady like Rose.

"It's been years since I've had a man," Sarah whispered, "I really loved it though and I miss it terribly." Rose leaned back and perused her new friend's body with a speculative eye. Sarah was tall at nearly five foot eight, with long brown hair and eyes to match. She was slightly on the heavy side, curvy really, with an hourglass figure to die for. Her hips were wide and her breasts were heavy and sagged slightly, but her cleavage was immense and firm, while her nipples, hardened from Rose's words poked small mountains in the fabric of her bodice.

"Did your husband lick you?" Rose asked with a sparkle in her eye.

"What? My goodness! Never!" Sarah exclaimed in surprise, "I've never heard of such a thing!"

"You should try it," Rose giggled. "It feels wonderful when you cum on a hot tongue, then take the man inside you." Sarah blushed furiously and Rose put an arm around her. "We need to find you a man, a good one that'll take his time with you and treat you right. I bet there's an animal inside you that needs set free, my dear Sarah," she whispered with a sexy smile.

Sarah blushed even deeper and looked at Rose closely. "Can you help me find one? I'm not getting any younger and I'd like to experience a man again before I get too old."

"Do you want just sex, or a relationship as well?" Rose asked. Sarah thought a few moments before answering.

"I really need a man inside me, if it turns into something more, that's fine with me, but I'd kill for a long night with a man in my bed," she said wistfully.

Little did she know that Rose was many steps ahead of her and her auburn head was turning over an idea, that if it came to pass would more than satisfy Sarah's cravings. Rose decided that action was better than hopeful wishing and pulled Sarah to her feet.

"Come with me, honey. I've a wonderful idea." She led Sarah to Nathan's tent and sweet talked the sentry into letting them enter. He knew of her and Alec's group, and between that knowledge and her flirty nature he was more than willing to humor her. Since Nathan was on the battlefield, she and Sarah had the run of his living area. Together they cleaned it up nicely and washed all his dirty laundry along with his bedding, all of which needed it badly.

While they worked, Rose kept Sarah occupied with stories about Nathan, how he was a general and famous for killing the redcoats, as well as how he looked naked. She explained how well hung he was and how she'd heard Maddy's voice echoing down the hall as he'd pounded her to glory. By the time the women were finished cleaning up his tent, both of them were well aroused and their little pussies ran with sweet juice as they fantasized about him.

After they finished up with his laundry, Rose decided something needed to be done about Sarah's appearance. She took her to her tent and trimmed her hair to more suitably frame her face, then together they washed up using rags and warm water. Sarah was agog at the sight of Rose's shorn mound. Rose explained how much her husband loved it, especially when he was performing oral sex on her. Sarah was intrigued, so much that she asked Rose how it was done. Rose fetched a bucket of hot water and showed Sarah the intricacies of shaving her armpits, legs, and mound. When they were finished, Sarah slid a soft hand between her thighs and stroked herself gently.

"Oh my," she exclaimed, "so soft and smooth, I love it!" Rose then found a blouse that was a touch too large for herself and asked Sarah to put it on. It was a struggle to lace it over her bountiful tits, but giggling, they were just able to get the job done. Her nipples pushed proudly through the nearly sheer material while her areola were almost visible at the deep V of the neckline. Next, Rose found a nice skirt that clung tightly to Sarah's curves, accenting her bottom in all it's full firmness.

Rose backed off a few steps and said, "Let me see you, turn around for me."

Obediently, Sarah raised her arms and spun about, giggling like a teenager. Rose watched with growing lust as she took in the sight of the older woman. Just the few changes they'd made to her appearance had made a huge difference. When she stopped twirling, her breasts swung heavily in their tight confines, drawing Rose's eyes like a bee to honey. Her skirt fell nicely around her shapely legs, tempting Rose's eyes and clever hands. Her brown eyes sparkled with what Rose fancied was a slight invitation, so she slid closer to Sarah and kissed her gently on the lips.

"Fascinating," she murmured softly, "what a difference, you're absolutely delicious." Sara blushed deeply and pulled back slightly. Rose slid her hands down to her waist, enjoying the warmth of the other woman's body.

"Do you suppose the General will like me?" Sarah asked tentatively.

"Well of course, honey. He'll be head over heels!"

"You don't think I'm too big? My behind is rather wide you know." Rose ran her hands lower and Sarah's eyes widened in surprise when they cupped her round ass and squeezed gently.

"He'll adore you," Rose said throatily, "men love a little cushion down there, and up here too," she added while running a finger between Sarah's big tits. Sarah shivered at her touch and Rose smiled at her sexily. "You'll do well, honey. Sit with me and I'll give you some advice if you like. Fortunately, I've had plenty of experience in the matter."

Out on the front line, Nathan and Major Moore were having a rough go of it. They were struggling to keep casualties to a minimum at Abby's request, but the new guns the redcoats had brought on line were having devastating results. He'd lost 4 of his 10 cannon as well as nearly half of their gun crews. The day had been mostly an artillery battle with the redcoat General trouncing them soundly. He, James, and Alec were having a conversation while looking towards the redcoat lines when a cannonball came screaming in on their position. There was no time to react as the ball bounced once then slammed into a nearby gun, sending a rain of shrapnel through the area. Nathan went down with a surprised squawk as a huge splinter of wood punctured his right thigh, while a piece of iron from the gun carriage pin-wheeled through the air and neatly clipped the little finger from James's left hand. He yelped in pain and immediately clasped his injured hand to his chest, soaking his jacket in blood.

"Shit and fuck!" Nathan thundered as he sat on the ground staring at the nearly foot long splinter in his leg. "I'll kill that cock-sucking general! The son of a bitch has gone and pissed me off!" James chuckled with dark humor between grunts of pain from his wounded hand while Alec stooped down to help Nathan to his feet, and together the three soldiers hobbled to the rear and found the battlefield surgeon. He cleaned the men up as well as he could with his limited materials. He trimmed the loose flesh from Major Moore's stump and bandaged it carefully. Alec had sent for June, and when she arrived they assisted the doctor with pulling the nasty splinter from Nathan's leg while he cried out, twisting in agony on the makeshift operating table despite the dose of laudanum he'd been administered. June held the gaping wound open while the doctor pushed a whiskey soaked rag completely through his leg, using the ramrod from a musket as a tool.

When they were satisfied the wound was clean, June neatly stitched up both entry and exit wounds while Nathan gritted his teeth in pain. Alec helped him back to his tent and made him comfortable, then returned to the lines along with Major Moore to continue the day's battle. Word spread like wildfire about Nathan's condition and it soon reached Rose and Sarah.

"Let's go!" Rose urged and tugged Sarah by the hand. "Maybe we can help him and ease his pain." When they entered his tent he didn't even raise his head from the pillow. He was hurting badly and trying not to groan aloud.

At the touch of Rose's soft hand

Daughter of the Revolution: Part 13

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Sat, 18 Jul 2026 01:31:00 +0000

Daughter of the Revolution: Part 13

The General and the Major are wounded, Sarah looks for a man.

In 15 parts, based on a post by Seethegood. Listen to the ► Podcast at Connected.

The next morning after breakfast, Joseph cornered Alec in his study.

"So, about last evening, Mister. Greene," he began.

"It's Alec, please."

“ Okay, Alec. About last evening. Is that how it is with you and the three ladies? You're all, um, companions?"

"Yes, Joseph. We live and sleep together. Everything a normal couple would do except we're a foursome. It's a long story and somewhat complicated, but George and William insisted that we take up our old ways until they return. I love those three girls dearly and would do anything for them."

"And you expect me to do the same with Maddy, Mira, and Sabra?"

"I don't expect you to do anything if you don't desire, but I hope you do. Everyone must be in it willingly, or it won't work and hard feelings will arise."

"I see," Joseph said thoughtfully. "And the maids all know of your, um, relationships?"

"Oh yes, in fact I believe they want to emulate us, hence the problem of them rubbing on me like a damn cat every chance they get," Alec said with a chuckle. "I love them like family, but there's only so much of me I'm willing to share."

"I'm sure I like Maddy, she's certainly a smart and beautiful woman," Joseph mused, "I'm not too sure about the others yet."

"Let me give you some advice. Maddy is their senior and pretty much runs the house. She'll allow them to be with you if she desires. If not, well, we'll have to see what happens." Alec replied thoughtfully. "Just please do your best to keep them off my back. And another thing, if you want company in the parlor tonight, invite them. They'd be ecstatic to join us."

Joseph did exactly that, and he was joined by his new ladies on the loveseat. Mira sat between his legs and as she'd noticed June do the night before, and was knitting a garment of clothing. Maddy cuddled up next to him and put her head on his thick shoulder in contentment, while Sabra sat at her side. Showing her sweet demeanor, June moved next to Mira and helped her figure out a complex pattern in her knitting while Joseph spread his knees wide to accommodate the two beauties. The men chatted about the day's events while Abby and Rose listened sleepily. By all accounts they looked like a large, happy family and Abby heaved a sigh of contentment. Alec felt her move and he leaned in to kiss her sweetly.

"Well done, my love. Well done." he whispered while she gave him a smile that melted his heart.

"Take me to bed, Heavy. I need some loving." she said softly, and kissed him until his toes curled. He picked her up and carried her down the hall while the other companions readjusted their seats. Maddy rose, and bravely taking Joseph's hand led him to his room, then firmly shut the door behind them. Mira and Sabra were looking at a loss until June took them in her arms.

"Patience, my loves. Maddy needs a little time with Joseph." The two mulatta maids nodded in understanding, but they were obviously unhappy with their situation.

"Go to bed, little ones," June ordered. "Tomorrow is another day and we'll see what it brings for you."

Maddy stood before her man and slowly unlaced his shirt, baring his skin to her hot gaze in the candlelight. She traced the scar on his shoulder, then tenderly kissed the one on his face. He tried to wrap his arms around her but she captured them and held them at his sides.

"Allow me, please Master," she whispered. She knelt and tugged his boots free, then unbuckled his belt and slowly worked his trousers down, giggling softly when his tallywhacker swung free to tap her chin as it rose rapidly to greet her. When he was naked, she loosened the laces at her bodice and pulled it down to free her big, firm breasts. He gasped in delight when they appeared before him, her nipples already hard and wanting.

"Sweet Maddy," he said softly.

"Yes, Master."

He cupped her head in his hands and ran his fingers through her long curls. "I've not been with a woman for longer than I can remember. Please be patient with me," he said softly. Already, he was filled with excitement and knew he wouldn't last long at all. He was worried about spending himself too soon and disappointing her.

"Don't worry, Master. I'm here to serve you in all ways," she breathed, and gave him a beautifully submissive smile that spurred a long stream drip and alight on her breast. He gasped when she took him in both hands and opened her mouth wide. She was shocked at his thickness as her fingers didn't come close to encompassing his shaft, to the point that she doubted she could fit him in her mouth. He watched in fascination as she flattened her tongue and laid his swollen head on it, narrowly missing his crown with her sharp, white teeth. He'd never had a woman’s mouth before, and the sight of it finally happening to him was almost too much for his fevered mind.

When he was completely spent, she laid him back on the bed and finished disrobing herself. He watched, entranced by her beautiful curves as she bared herself to his gaze. He had very little time with women, other than visiting a whore on the rare occasion he couldn't stand relieving himself with his right hand anymore, and they were generally quick and to the point visits. Tonight was a completely new experience, one that he was looking forward to immensely.

Maddy paused for a quick thought before joining him on the bed. She asked herself what her mistress would do, would she be bold and take what she wanted or lie still and let her man have his way with her? She decided she'd be bold, and not giving herself chance to overthink it, she bravely climbed astride Joseph and surprising him completely, buried him in sweet kisses, so much that she had him gasping for air as she nearly sucked his tongue from the roots.

She raised up and fed him her magnificent bosom, steering one at a time into his ravenous mouth. She sighed in pleasure as he tugged at her like a thirsty child.

"Please, Master. Take me as a man takes a wife, Master. Give me what I need, please," she begged as she writhed her hips beneath him. He drew back slightly and gave her a tentative thrust, considerate of her earlier complaint of his girth.

She petted his back and shoulders, crooning in his ear while he recovered slowly in her arms. He tried to slide off her but she locked her arms and legs around him, holding him in place while she enjoyed the weight of him crushing her to the mattress. As he relaxed, she tugged his face to hers and smothered him in hot kisses. Eventually, he became too heavy for her and she allowed him to slide to her side. Gathering a towel she'd laid bedside, she wiped them clean of their combined juices, then she covered them both and snuggled into his side.

"Thank you, Master," she whispered in his ear. "You were absolutely wonderful to me and you felt amazing."

"Ah, sweet Maddy, I've never felt the like. I feel I'm floating on a cloud right now," he replied and brushed an errant curl from her eyes. She kissed him sweetly and laid her head on his chest, listening to his strong heartbeat. Slowly his breathing changed and she realized with a happy smile that he'd already nodded off to sleep. She cupped her tender womb. She was as content as she'd ever been and the flame of hope in her breast burned ever brighter.

Alec awoke in the wee hours and noticed Rose and June weren't in bed. He padded naked down the hall and found them still in the parlor, wrapped in a blanket on the floor in front of the fireplace. Mira and Sabra were next to them and sleeping deeply.

He picked up June and carried her to bed while she mumbled sleepily in his arms. When he returned for Rose and crouched to pick her up, Mira's slim hand boldly snaked out to caress his naked thigh. He jumped in surprise and looked down, not realizing he was so close to her. He watched her nostrils flare as she took in the hot scent of his and Abby's lovemaking wafting near her face. She looked at him with such a pleading expression that his heart went out to her. He knew well the feeling of being lonely and he felt for her. He took her hand in his and knelt to kiss her brow.

"Be kind to Maddy and help her in all ways and you'll have a man in your bed soon, little one," he whispered softly to Mira. She gave him a beautiful smile and nodded in acceptance. As he turned to pick up Rose he felt Mira's little hand trail longingly up his thigh and caress the warm crease between his firm buttocks, the back of her knuckles brushing his swinging sack. He wanted nothing more than to comfort her, but he knew it was better to let Maddy do it as she saw fit. He picked up Rose and gave Mira a little wink before heading to bed.

Abby had taken June in her arms and together they were sleeping like the dead, so Alec laid down on his side holding Rose close and she mumbled in her sleep, then turned into him and buried her face in his crispy chest hair with a deep sigh of contentment.

"I love you, sweetheart," she whispered softly, and kissed his warm skin.

"And I you, my little Rose," he returned, and kissed the crown of her head, then closed his eyes to fall asleep in moments.

As true to her masters as always, Maddy was up at the crack of dawn and had prepared a wonderful breakfast. Abby and Alec shared secret smiles as Maddy floated around on a cloud of love, touching and kissing her man whenever possible. Joseph's attitude was much improved as well, the smile on his face told the story of last night better than he could have spoken it aloud.

The plantation was bustling that day with Abby deeply involved in preparing the fields for spring planting while Alec conducted his spy business, consolidating bits and pieces of information he'd received via messengers and dispatching it to whomever he deemed needed the knowledge. It was just after lunch when a cry came from the sentry at the front door.

"Master Greene! A messenger is arriving, hurry!"

"Shit fire," Alec cursed, "what now."

"Master!" June's desperate cry raised his hackles and he flew to the front porch beside her. The messenger was at the porch stairs, still astride his horse and wove in the saddle, nearly losing his seat. His mount's head hung low and it was panting heavily while bloody foam poured from its muzzle. Alec ran to the man and on his way down the stairs noticed Abby trotting up, her face creased in consternation.

Alec caught the man as he fell off the horse and lowered him to the ground. He heard a ragged gasp, then a huge thump as the horse collapsed to the dirt. He looked up to see Abby with a bloody dagger in her fist. She'd put the poor beast from its misery before Alec could command it. She gave him a quick nod and knelt with him at the man's side. The messenger pawed blindly at his bag while gasping shallowly for air.

"General Greene, it's from General Greene. He's in a bad way and needs help," he croaked out. His trembling fingers found the parchment and he handed it to Alec.

"Someone get the doctor!" Abby cried out while holding the man's hand for comfort. June quickly ran to do her bidding while Rose trotted down the stairs to help. Together, the three dragged the exhausted man inside and laid him on the couch in the parlor. Alec read the letter and Abby watched his face intently as he frowned deeply, then a look of fierce determination came over his countenance and Abigail knew their lives were changing again, right before her eyes.

Alec raised his head and looked at her. She gave him her strongest smile but she knew he could see the uncertainty in her eyes.

"We go to war," he said with a dark scowl. She didn't blink an eye, she simply went to him and kissed his lips.

"Tell me what you need and I'll make it happen, Heavy."

He immediately sent for Joseph and together they rallied the militia, instructing them to pack light, and ready themselves for a long trek. Abby, Rose and June went to every home and slave cabin to inform them of the day's events. The wives wept at the thought of losing their men and the widows gave them love and support as best they could. Alec, with Joseph's advice picked a dozen hard men to stay behind as a skeleton security force to keep the inhabitants of the plantation as safe as possible. It was a nearly useless gesture if they were attacked, but he needed every man available to help fight the redcoats.

Alec and Abby had a rare argument as the strain of the day came to bear on them. "Joseph stays!" she fumed when Alec insisted he ride with the militia. "He's my man and I trust him, besides, Maddy now needs him. Don't take him away already!" she stomped her little foot and glared up at him. She was so beautiful and full of fire that he couldn't bring himself to cross her. He held out his arms and she flew into them with tears in her beautiful blue eyes.

"Thank you, Heavy. I love you so much," she sniffled. He caressed her back and soothed her until she pulled back to give him a sweet smile. Little did he know that he'd lost only the first battle of the day, and that another was building steam in her golden head.

Platoon Inspections

Alec went to his study and for another hour sorted his intelligence into two piles, one he kept and placed in his leather satchel and another that he tossed documents and notes from into the fireplace. He was under a massive amount of pressure, and used his best judgement on the importance of each piece before keeping or destroying it. He was just finishing up when he heard a rustle in the hedges outside the window near his desk. His first instinct was to reach for his pistol that he kept clipped to his sword belt and hanging on the back of his chair. To his chagrin it was gone along with his sword, he must have misplaced it, he thought unhappily.

A feminine voice pitched low like a man's reached his ears from the hedges.

"Major Greene. Report to the back porch in five minutes for inspection of the combat troops!" the voice said, as it quivered with laughter. He knew at once it was his Abby and his lip quirked in a smile, but he was hugely busy and answered a bit sharper than he intended.

"I'm really busy right now, whomever you are. Come back later." He winced as he heard the tension in his own voice, knowing she would hear it. A few seconds went by, then a different voice called out, Rose's by his best guess.

"Major Greene. Report to the back porch in five minutes for inspection of the combat troops. If you fail to report, all your special conjugal privileges shall be hereby revoked, forthwith!" the voice commanded sonorously, while cracking with laughter. Sure enough, it was his Rose, no doubt. A genuine smile broke his lips when he heard more feminine giggles floating out of the bush. His girls were trying to lift his mood and he loved them for it.

"Yes, sir," he answered, "five minutes it is. Right away, sir." Their laughter was music to his ears and he glanced at the clock to ensure he'd be on time per his ladies demands.

When his time was up, he strode down the hall to step out on the porch. His jaw dropped and he was struck mute for several seconds as he gazed in wonder at his women. The three beauties were standing side by side and rigidly at attention, while wearing nearly perfect reproductions of the Continental Army officers uniform, to include the tricorn hats Nathan had given them. Each girl's hair was braided into a thick ponytail that flowed gracefully down their backs to brush to tops of their stunning little behinds. Abby's uniform was piped with pink to match her cap while Rose and June's were piped in gold to reflect the same.

Explicit-Novels

Cáel Defeats The Illuminati: Part 3

Cáel Defeats The Illuminati: Part 3Cáel’s second vacation with Aya and friends.

Cáel Defeats The Illuminati: Part 2No Longer An Enemy.

Summer School Session.

Based on a post by TruthwithaTwist. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Miss Summers calls me in for a meeting.

Minnesota Libido: Part 4

Minnesota Libido: Part 4.

Jason & Sherri are joined by a MILF friend after another Halloween Party.

Based on a post by TruthwithaTwist. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Minnesota Libido: Part 3

Minnesota Libido: Part 3.

Window sex shows in the snowy night.

Based on a post by TruthwithaTwist. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Exchanging Valentine's Gifts

My pregnant wife & I have a special Valentines date

Minnesota Libido: Part 2

Minnesota Libido: Part 2.

Snowbound Valentine's Night

Based on a post by TruthwithaTwist. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.

A snowstorm canceled our plans, so we got creative.

Minnesota Libido: Part 1

Minnesota Libido: Part 1

I cash in when my girlfriend loses a bet.

Based on a post by TruthwithaTwist. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Lady Lovecome’s Diary: Part 7

Lady Lovecome’s Diary: Part 7.

Captured on video.

Based on a post by A Big Cat. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.

My last entry starts in heaven;

Lady Lovecome’s Diary: Part 6

Lady Lovecome’s Diary: Part 6.

Garden Fantasies Abound.

Based on a post by A Big Cat. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.

Lady Lovecome’s Diary: Part 5

Lady Lovecome’s Diary: Part 5.

My quest for the ultimate head goes deliciously wrong.

Based on a post by A Big Cat. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.

Lady Lovecome’s Diary: Part 4

Lady Lovecome’s Diary: Part 4.

Cavorting with artists.

Based on a post by A Big Cat. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.

Lady Lovecome’s Diary: Part 3

Lady Lovecome’s Diary: Part 3.

The King and Belle enter the forest of fantasies.

Based on a post by A Big Cat. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.

Lady Lovecome’s Diary: Part 2

Lady Lovecome’s Diary: Part 2.

Ring the bell three times for Belle.

Based on a post by A Big Cat. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.

Three Bells for Belle

Lady Lovecome’s Diary: Part 1

Lady Lovecome’s Diary: Part 1.

Gardener Bill Tends Lady Lovecome's Estate.

Based on a post by A Big Cat. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.

Daughter of the Revolution: Part 15

Daughter of the Revolution: Part 15

Abby and Alec are one. George and William return.

Chapter 16

Daughter of the Revolution: Part 14

Daughter of the Revolution: Part 14

In the militia encampment.

Rose finds a match for General Greene.

Daughter of the Revolution: Part 13

Daughter of the Revolution: Part 13

The General and the Major are wounded, Sarah looks for a man.

Platoon Inspections

Cáel Defeats The Illuminati: Part 3
Cáel’s second vacation with Aya and friends.

Cáel Defeats The Illuminati: Part 2
No Longer An Enemy.