Knowledge worker based in Bristol, UK. I enjoy open space and stimulating conversation. I adore a smart woman with a dirty mind. Shame they're so rare.
Event: First time with the object of my desire first year at UniLocation: Her new flatTime: Just after the end of the first yearShe was a real cute little indie-chick with a northen accent (sounded just like Cheryl Cole to my untrained southern ear). I made it clear I was interested right from the start, but she wouldn't date me as we were in the same flat. Finally relented after we moved in to separate houses. Big first night comes when I go back to her place. Turns out she wouldn't do doggy ("coz that's how homos do it") and wouldn't let me go down on her as it was "dirty" and made no noise whatsoever in case anyone heard her having sex. Absolutely gutted, total let down. Thought I'd done something wrong, but a mate who slept with her in our final year reported the same thing. Didn't last long thankfully. Weird.
I just realised this weekend that though I grew up using my right, and for the past few years not really noticing, I now prefer in most situations to use my left. I seem to get a little better friction on the head with my left thumb... Or is that saying too much?
Pregnant women are just beautiful. Pregnancy does do something really special to their whole aura. My wife doesn't really care for sex, but during her pregnancy she actually became proactive and adventurous. I loved caressing her bump when we had sex, her obvious fecundity was very erotic.
"Hurry up," her mother snapped. Sayuri Watanabe may have been taller than her mother, but she'd never been able to keep up with her when she was in a hurry. Sayuri had never been to this part of Matsudo – she'd never had a reason. Not that it really mattered. It looked like any suburb in practically every other city in Kanto, the vast sprawl of cities that made Tokyo the biggest metropolis...
Added 28 May 2010 | Category Reluctance
| Votes 11 | Avg Score 4.91
| Views 12,091
| 5 Comments
Back in the safety of his room, Bill collapsed in to his chair, his hands shaking. What had he done? How could he ever face her again. He couldn’t. Not tomorrow. Oh god, he thought to himself, she’s my daughter! [ Note to my reader: this story immediately continues the narrative in Lucy’s photograph . If you’ve not read that, my first story, then give it a try first, then come back here to...
Added 12 May 2010 | Category Incest
| Votes 27 | Avg Score 4.32
| Views 19,134
| 5 Comments
Inspired by just one such image I came across while browsing, this is not an explicit story, but explores what might be happening inside the characters' heads as a father confronts his daughter's sexuality. “What the hell is this?” said Bill, throwing the door open,and marching into Lucy’s room. Bill practically threw the laptop down on to the desk. Lucy was perched at the end of bed,...
Added 03 May 2010 | Category Incest
| Votes 22 | Avg Score 4.45
| Views 25,440
| 9 Comments
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