Most nights one of us regulars would unceremoniously tell a tatt-free stranger to fuck off. Wouldn’t matter that she appeared to comply with the, Women only; No Replicants, rule on the bar’s front door. But, on a slow retro-punk Saturday, no one summoned up the energy, so the too-femme-for-here stray scored a stay of execution. One that would be reconsidered when she revealed who and, indeed, what she was. Not that a star...

Sydney’s free settlers had limits, a regular blind eye was turned to the biblical invocation: Judge not, that ye be not judged. So, when it came to the likes of Brigid O’Sullivan, polite society couldn’t help itself: all freed convicts were skilamalink, but the Irish were beyond the pale. It was just as well the great and good didn’t know the half of it. The next stop for those who shaked a flannin of Sydney’s establishme...

Lieutenant-General Sir Richard George would never become accustomed to mornings in this god-forsaken colony. The squawking cockatoos’ addiction to slumber sundering meant he started every day on the wrong foot. Yawning, he slipped from their four-poster bed, careful not to disturb his more-sanguine wife, who, he’d always imagined, could sleep through anything, even mafficking parrots. However, despite Lady Elizabeth’s eye...

I want you. A video followed that text. Juices oozed onto the Lamborghini’s leather seat, as Marissa’s finger slid from her sticky cunt. She sensually sucked that digit between slut-red lips. “As a no-fault divorce state, his alleged infidelity won’t entitle you to additional matrimonial assets.” Her husband’s supercilious smirk at his attorney’s words pissed her off. “Fuck it. Add the car and I’ll sign.” “Deal.” “As is w...

Miriam Cohen was gobsmacked: mother had arranged a valentine's date for her. Not with a random young man, of course; rather, mama confided, in hushed tones, that David’s mother had confided, in hushed tones, “Doctor potential.” He was intuitive, recognising Miriam’s filial piety to the rigmarole surrounding a maternally arranged rendezvous on Valentine’s Day. And the well-judged gift, a history book, got her nattering. So...

That bitch had infuriated Lilith: eating the fucking fruit was bad enough, but feeding it to the only man on Earth was beyond the pale. Fucking wherever and wherever was diverting. Now, she couldn't get shit! Lilith, furiously pumping fingers into her sopping wet cunt, to fuck-all effect, screamed in frustration. FUCK the bitch! Life shouldn’t have become this complicated. She spied the bitch bathing in the river; passion...

“Fuck Christmas. I wanna shag sluts.” Santa's reindeer detoured to the North Pole pharmacy. Two bodacious babes prominent on the naughty list were, unsurprisingly, underdressed. Santa's schlong stretched one strumpet’s sopping snatch. Santa-seed spurted; Rudolph stomped his hoof impatiently. Venison’s invigorating when yule be shafting another quim. All-night sexual shenanigans screwed seasonal cheer; Santa's become our C...

“That large organic zucchini, please.” Her eyes rolled as I paid the greengrocer, “It’s courgette, Miss!” Later on, I twisted the vegetable deep, stretching her cunt’s slick velvet walls. “What’s this called, little putain?” “Fuckkkkkkkkk … Um, courgette, Miss?” Rhythmically vegie-fucking my cum-slut’s now squelching cunt, had her whimpering with growing neediness and dribbling drool from the corner of her mouth. “Need to...

The whirring fan was a triumph of optimism over effectiveness, not a skerrick of breeze cut through the treacly mugginess shrouding my skin. That humidity, redolent of molasses, mango, and frangipani, continually asked: Always the outsider in this fugging hell of a town? A bead of sweat pursuing its predecessor down my cleavage further dampened my décolletage. Despite wearing less, here, laundry is time-consuming. All of...

Never look back; that's your mantra. It helped loosen the knots binding me to parental beliefs. But, now; fuck you, it's never, ‘just sex.’ So it’s a spiteful last longing look over my shoulder, before vanishing into the woods. Lot’s wife glanced back and paid the pillar of salt price. That won’t happen to me; Mistress’s Halloween trick, turning our home into Sodom and Gomorrah, has already encased my heart in stone. On t...

Now! Oh, fuck! Her response is unambiguous. My text, Still schmoozing the directors, given no quarter. I can hardly exit stage left while the chairman’s pontificating on my amazingness. But she’s not one to give a damn about other priorities. Increased revenue, lowered costs, innovative financial products, adept risk management, … yadda, yadda, yadda. He concludes by dropping a bombshell; nominating his ‘CEO star in the m...

“Help! The plug’s stuck in Joanna’s bum.” That roused a somnolent Alison from deepening her all-over tan in the relentless morning sun. Aviators cut through the pool’s wicked glare; a panicky Hannah, followed by the sheepish Joanna, had burst through the gate connecting the neighbouring houses. Giggle suppression proved beyond her. In fact, she totally wiped out, which merited an exasperated, “This is serious, Alison!” Wh...

An act of sporting heroism made for the best day ever. An act of spineless weakness made for the worst day ever. For Jack, his dual-sport motorbike aggressively bouncing over the ruts of an abandoned forestry track deep in the Blue Mountains, the bitter aftertaste of his subsequent silence had neutralized the endorphin rush from winning the Sydney schools’ rugby championship for his team. An overnight downpour had reduced...

Who gives a flying fuck about rules on the last day of school? Not Sara; nor her besties. For they were the Coven; that self-styled moniker proclaiming us-versus-them defiance. Hitching tartan St Joseph skirts centimetres above a generous interpretation of buying into school or indeed maternal standards, they began burning their bridges. On the school’s main quadrangle, Loretta, using a lighter she’d nicked from her dad,...

Melinda’s message, Jack eats roots and leaves, had me cooking Ottolenghi’s vegan one-pan orecchiette puttanesca. Eating and enjoying, Jack asked, “Meat?” “Sure!” I whipped my knickers off. “Dessert instead,” he said, smirking. Bending me over the chaise longue, he wrapped fingers in my hair. Snapping my head back, he thrust his thick meat into my wet, welcoming quim, and fucked me hard, stretching my squelching pussy. Gru...