Millie was a fine figure of a woman. I know that's an expression that is often used only semi-seriously, like an old-fashioned compliment, but in this case it was true. She was beautifully constructed, medium height, nicely upholstered with firm flesh and just a light extra layer of post-30 fat smoothing her body out beautifully. And to top it all, she was of African heritage. Wonderful, smooth, very dark skin, slightly f...

"Ask her," Ali said. Ali was my long-term girlfriend and also my business partner. The her was Sita, our secretary, a cheerful 19-year-old girl of Indian heritage with a ready smile and a polite, helpful nature. Ali and I had been discussing having a threesome and who it might be good to invite. We had been together five years and made no pretence of ever doing anything as sensible as getting married. We were kindred spir...

Sitting in the late afternoon sun, leaning back against the wall of the pub, Caroline looked absolutely in her element. not because of the location, but the presence of the sun and her burnished skin. It's the sort of thing doctors advise against these days; we're all supposed to wear a hat, slap on some factor 75 and hide from the rays. Caroline was from a generation that grew up without such fears. With her black hair a...

There were three girls in the office that I would have liked to have sex with. And not just me, of course, but all the men who worked there. That's how it is in any place of work. You keep it professional on the surface, but that doesn't mean people aren't quietly lusting after each other, and the mistake most men make is thinking the women aren't doing it too. When I say three girls I fancied, I mean they were the stando...

My girlfriend Margie and I had been in Corfu for three days and had made friends with a group of Spanish people now living in London, a couple, Didi and Maikel, and a brother and sister, Juan and Marika. It was an interesting group, and you know how it is on beach holidays: everybody is virtually naked all day long and you can't help looking at bodies. Marika was an attractive woman. Aged 40ish with long brown hair and a...

A quick recap: in You Can Borrow My Sister we met a lovely, mature woman called Brenda, who had an open arrangement with her husband so they could both enjoy some extramarital excitement to relieve the tedium in their small town. But Brenda had a sister, Jeanette, who was recently divorced and Brenda thought it was time she got some sex again. Would I oblige? It would be churlish to say no, so... Jeanette was adamant that...

They used to have open mic nights on Fridays at my local pub. You never knew who or what style, but the singers tended to be old guys, grey-haired survivors of the rock generation, and some of them were pretty good. They had had their crack at stardom and not made it, but they still had talent and they still loved playing. They still had an audience, too, including women who sat at the front and paid close attention. In t...

People have been talking about angels since the dawn of time, but there is no single definition of what we mean by the word. Are we talking about some heavenly creation all in white with big feathery wings? It's a nice image, a comforting thought that such wonderful beings can be dispatched from above to save us in our time of great need, but it requires a bit of faith in God, which is not a popular trait in this day and...

"Oh, you dirty sods," said the gentle voice happily. A pause and a rustle of activity from the bedroom chair. "Oh, you dirty bastards." This was Gaby speaking, and she didn't sound pissed off, although the words look that way in black and white. She was now masturbating, sitting there with her hand in her knickers. Then she stopped and quickly got completely undressed. She was commenting on the fact that I was licking Liz...

Kissing Sharon was a beautiful experience. She was a lovely, shapely girl, good looking, with long, straight, shiny black hair and full lips. She was warm and womanly, loving, affectionate and passionate at the same time. She kissed tenderly and hungrily, happy to be playing tonguies with a man she liked. And she did like him. Always had. They had known each other most of their lives and she had been having sexual fantasi...

It was a fairly small hotel. Don't ask me how many rooms; all I know is how many waitresses and housemaids: enough to keep a young man amused. In summer there was an influx of girls from catering colleges and a few who just came to the area on spec, to see if there were any jobs. In winter it was just a hard core of locals and a few who had stayed on after the season ended. Rita was one of those. She was Latvian, with fai...

It was one of those eras in ordinary everyday life when women's fashion turns ordinary everyday women into provocative sex objects. Very unfashionable from a social point of view, when we are supposed to not notice gender or beauty or shape or whatever the PC people have decreed. People are people and you're not allowed to comment on physical attributes. In this case, in the streets of the UK the girls and young women wer...

They could hardly have been more different physically, these two girls sitting opposite me at Gate 10 at Luton airport, waiting for the fight to Edinburgh. Sophie was tall and slim, her immensely long legs shown off in no uncertain terms by the fact she was wearing loose sports shorts of the kind that might have been used by female hockey teams, if they don't still wear miniskirts in these joyless, wary days. She had long...

"Yes, he has got a lot to answer for, Beckham," Helen admitted. "He sort of made tattoos acceptable. I still don't really like them, although..." She was what is often described as a "respectable married woman", ten years into the marital marathon and leading a model life that had subjugated her spirit. The girl who had had dreams and wishes and desires had been left on the shore, waving forlornly at the ship of her life...

I had registered with a so-called dating site for older women, because I like older women and although the world is full of them, they tend to keep themselves to themselves. Some complain that after a certain age, they feel invisible, because men don't eye them up or chat them up as they used to, but is it just one-way traffic? Perhaps, ladies, you are preempting the lack of attention by portraying yourselves as not inter...