What's worse? Being two hundred miles away from someone you want to be naughty with or living in the flat next door to them? For me, it happens to be the latter. Sometimes in the evening, we sit on our respective sofas and send messages to each other using WhatsApp. Not your normal messages, the ones we send generally contain more than one explicit image of us masturbating or doing something with our pussies or tits. The...

Melissa's thighs opened wide. Touching her pussy, she looked into Mary’s eyes. “Do it!” Mary looked at her husband, he shook his head from the phone’s screen, poised on the bedside table. “Fuck him, Mary. He’s not here, you are.” Mary hesitated. “You want to eat it. Desperation is written all over your face, girl.” Melissa glanced sideways, another shake of the head. Mary could smell her arousal. Melissa’s dipping fingers...

The yellow top cried out to me and I stopped running along the coastal path. My daughter’s friend, Melissa, hidden behind a boulder, eagerly pushing the other girls head down her body. Her leg on a ledge, and her hand prising her knickers to one side, body arched. I was transfixed. Unable to move. My own hand searched the top of my jogging pants and my hand slipped down inside. I was soaked, watching the redhead’s tongue...

The sleepover had been fun but Melissa’s mobile just kept ringing. I watched as she reached out and grasped it, sleep still holding her eyelids closed while she answered. After a few mumbles and nods of her head, she sighed, ended the call and started to rise from the adjacent bed. I had been watching her sleep for a good thirty minutes. Looking at her breathe. Wondering. “I gotta get ready,” she said, “Mum’s picking me u...

The week leading to Friday dragged, and every time I set eyes on Rebecca in the morning made it worse. I don’t know how many times I masturbated in the evenings but it was unhealthy for a forty-two-year-old man. All I could see when I lay down on the bed was a writhing teenager ploughing her pussy with her fingers and bringing herself off. At least, the day had finally arrived and I ate my evening meal at seven at the gar...

Summer evenings are just wonderful when the breeze is low and there is still warmth in the air. The dark blue skies mould themselves into dusk and the gentle rustle of the Acer branches and leaves above my head and the smell of the freshly watered fern beds is very relaxing. With only my shorts on, I’m more than comfortable sitting and drinking in the near silence of nature. A spider grabs my attention in the bushes. It’s...

Wimbledon. A district and town of South West London, but the first thing you get when you look it up on the internet is the tennis results. Wimbledon is the home of the Lawn Tennis Association and hosts one of the most prestigious tennis tournaments in the world. The internet contains abundant footage of top-class tennis players, umpires, line judges and ball boys and girls, all captured on high definition. What it doesn’...

It’s called the Lush3, a remote vibrating internet-controlled toy. She said she’d wear it all day, told me to download the App and gave me her login details. I’m connected. You should see the lascivious grin on my face. She’s over seven thousand miles away. I don’t even know what time it is there, whether she’s in a late boardroom meeting or an early evening restaurant with her husband or the car or bus. I’m in control of...

Of course, the burning question on my lips when you sent me those pictures were... Did you cum? Did you reach the point where you discarded the camera, pushed it to one side of the bed and brought yourself off? Panting on your bed with your fingers in your sticky little honey pot, arching your back, pressing your head into the pillows, biting your lip until you moaned out loud. Did you climax? Did you use my name or his?...

Sandie, my neighbour’s daughter, nodded attentively while I described which bonsai plants needed careful watering. I was taken aback when she bent down to admire the Ginkgo. Her skirt rose, her puffy lips stared me out. She turned to smile, “nice, isn’t it?” I nodded, open mouthed, and before I knew it, my married hand was on her pert bottom and my fingers scissored deeply in her sodden cunt. She held tightly onto the tre...

Taking a deep breath, I let myself in with a roguish smile breaking out on my face. Once inside, I know the drill: slip the key and twist a half-turn into the keyhole - little assurance. I rush upstairs and look around the room, a loud sigh escaping my lips. Here I am again! It’s not like it’s an alien landscape because I’ve spent a lot of time in my sister’s flat lately (thank you pandemic). Given that she’s an essential...

He’d watched something on the TV, I could tell. He placed a blanket on the floor, stripped me naked and sprinkled cornflour all over my body. His hands glided over me, effortless and frictionless as he massaged my breasts and body. Until… Crevices were explored, fingers got wet and before we knew it, the massage was dough like with the consistency of glue that stuck to his cock like a whore’s mouth on heat. We giggled ent...

The Bear on the Hill is one of my regular drinking establishments on a Friday evening. I seemed to have reserved this place in the corner consisting of a couple of chairs, a table that’s just high enough to sit under and a wonderful view of the bar. It’s slightly set down by a small step, and it’s where I go to be me. My name’s Carol. My other name is Carl, but when I go out to The Bear, I always dress as Carol. The clien...