Rhonda Lawrence was sitting in bed with her laptop perched on her knees. She was reading a dirty story, something she was not totally comfortable with but had been reverting to for stimulation in the past few months. She had found Lush Stories after a friend of a friend let slip she had visited the site. The story she had opened before her was by one of her favourite authors, Mingemuncher. It was about a young girl going...

The following story is fiction. However, it is based on two events that took place when my wife and I visited Paris in 2012. There was an attractive couple in our hotel. I’ll call them Brett and Louise. One morning when I left the hotel to get some items for our lunch, I saw Louise being chatted up by a Frenchman. She was openly flirting with him and looked to be on the verge of leaving with the man when her husband appea...

This story continues from my last story about Penny. It is a bit of a travelogue, touching on the Sex, Drugs, and Rock n Roll era of the early seventies. But although this was a summer of sexual excess, I’d like to point out that I did not bang every girl I met. Like any guy, I missed out far more with the ladies than I ever scored. Curiously, If I went out with the sole intention of picking up a quick bonk, more often th...

Adam approached the reception desk at Industrial Pneumatics and asked if Bill was available. The receptionist, Irene, a pretty little teen, blushed and said she'd call and ask. Adam leaned on the reception counter and perved on her firm young globes as she made the call. Her ripe breasts were begging to be groped, but Adam knew she was spoken for, and she had resisted all his previous advances. So he did no more than look...

I arrived back in England in the last week of August. My mates had given up our Brooklands Close flat, and two of them (Brian and Phil) said I could sleep on the settee in the lounge of their new flat for the week before I left for Venice. In addition to all the gear I had stored at Brian's, my Mini was parked outside. So when I awoke the first morning, I set to servicing it to get it running again. I first had to buy a n...

In writing one of my recent stories, ‘The Red Dress’. I pieced together timelines and places from the sixty-odd postcards my mother had kept of my travels around Europe. Also, having been a keen photographer all my life, I am lucky that I had the foresight to write names and dates on most of my photos. One of the photos I came across was of Penny and me at a mate’s wedding. I only knew her for a few months, but wow, the m...

It was July 1974, and I was hitchhiking in France—from Calais to Venice, specifically. I spent the first night in a half-finished house in Moulins and was woken by the workers arriving at 7:30. They laughed and waved goodbye as I guiltily rose, pulled on my jeans and scrambled away. I hailed a ride in a truck, and the driver dropped me on the outskirts of Lyon alongside the Rhone River. Busting to use the toilet and needi...

During the re-writing of my ‘Rachel’s Trip To Jamaica’ series, I was describing her choosing a red dress for the party at Naila’s when a vivid picture of a woman in a red dress floated into my mind. Her standing outside a London tube station was so clear and realistic that I stopped writing, closed my eyes and tried to remember who she was. It took a while, but the Tube Station told me it was when I was in London in the 7...

The sun pouring in her bedroom window woke Rachel. She lay still for a moment, ascertaining how she was feeling. She fully expected there to be some discomfort from the alcohol and pot she had consumed the previous evening. But surprisingly, she felt great, better than she had felt in months. She leapt out of bed when she saw it was 7:20, realising she was starving. She moved to the shower, wanting to get to breakfast bef...

I have just finished a major rewrite of one of my first stories (Ohope Beach). As I sat piecing together all the events of that summer and getting them in order, my mind kept straying to events in the following year. One in particular stood out. It was the first, and if I remember correctly, the only proper gang bang I've ever been involved in. I have titled the story 'Ohope Gang Bang', although it has little to do with O...

As I reminisce about my sexual adventures back in the day, it would be negligent not to include Fusina in my writings. It was a small camping ground just across the lagoon from Venice. Many tour buses called in there and disgorged their young travellers for a night of rowdy partying around the bar. There was probably more bonking going on at Fusina each night than was happening in Venice. My girlfriend Frances and I stopp...

I read an essay on a story site about women who are unfaithful. I found myself agreeing with much the author said. But he was pretty entrenched and dictatorial in his views and seemed to think that all women could be put into a couple of categories. I can’t entirely agree. I’ve slept with more than a few married women, and all have had different reasons for screwing around, so I believe you can only ever generalise. The r...

It was Friday morning, and I’d arrived at work early to catch some labourers before they got involved in any other jobs. We had an issue with water about six miles up the new road we were constructing. It was in a place we had not expected, and I would have to design an extra culvert to go under the road. I parked my car and went straight to where all the men stood, waiting to be assigned work. I was getting cat-calls and...

I started writing on Lush with the sole intent of jotting down some of the amazing sexual adventures I have had over the years. And now, some sixty stories into recording both factual and fictional events, I have not even attempted to start one of the half-dozen stories I first wanted to tell. Why? Partly because I did not think my writing was anywhere close to being of a standard to do them justice. And also, I was embar...

I’ve been editing some of my older stories and scanning old photos over the last year; the images, in particular, have brought back many pleasant memories. It has also made me realise that I have jumped around with my true stories and that readers must be confused about how events tie in. So I’ll start this story by quickly putting a few years in order. In 1980, my first marriage was falling apart, and blaming the breakdo...