We’d drink and we’d laugh and we’d sleep in the stains fully aware that we’d never remain through the change the distance between so cold and unseen but felt in our hearts, so young and so clean yet to be tainted by the lovers disease so easy to lean on t...
The downpour hit hard and fast. So hard, in fact, that just the sound of the heavens opening and the deluge smashing against the concrete slabs outside made us both jump. The day started off with a low, cold, harsh sun, the kind that forces you to squint...
...I push my full length into you and reach down to squeeze two fingers into Red's sopping pussy. "There's plenty more where those came from," you say as you take two fingers and join me inside our new friend. "Plenty fucking more!" Red exclaims as she gi...
My mind is foggy. My eyes are bleary. My mouth feels like it is full of cotton wool. I can feel the warmth of your body to one side of me. I can just hear the shallow breath of you sleeping. I can feel the telltale signs of a disheveled bed around me & th...
The message you had sent me earlier had me intrigued. ‘Room 1285. Hurry, I have a present for you...’ My taxi labours along the city streets, every set of lights against me as the sweet anticipation inside me threatens to succumb to the frustration of not...
It's almost unbearably hot. All the windows are open yet no cooling breeze dares to enter the sunlit hotel room. The only thing the beads of moisture on your naked skin can pick up is the slight movement of air as I pass your bound body, the gentle pressu...
I rode the bus to work this morning. It was cold and empty - a symptom of the crisp late autumn air, the kind of weather that turns your breath to steam and your extremities into fumbling appendages that lack grace. The top deck of the bus was barren bar...
The room is bathed in deep orange and red, making the dark purple walls swell with colour and turning the cream bedspread into an alien landscape. Shadows from the four-poster are cast across the floor creating a runway, an entrance to your stage, a guide...
I study your portrait and read your words with breathless anticipation. Study every letter and imagine them rolling off your tongue, dancing from your sultry mouth to the erotic Southern Hemisphere cadence of your voice, showering me in their implied filt...
To watch you from the corner of your hotel room would be a delight. To be an audience for your performance, to bear witness over your long-felt lust finally released would prove to be a privilege. To be able to taste your scent in the air as you guide...
Your train pulls up to the platform and those butterflies in your stomach, subdued by the inevitable delays, suddenly leap back in to life and begin their merry dance again. Will I be on the platform, waiting with a crass sign in hand, your pseudonym bold...
