There was a wedding reception going on at a hotel in the centre of town. Jayne and Rolf. Jayne was a good-looking 22-year-old brunette, elegant and cultured, and desired by many a man in this small community. And none more so than Henk, a 25-year-old son of Swedish parents. The family had moved to England five years earlier and Henk felt almost English. He had mastered the language easily, had a good job in management wit...

Martinique is a lovely island. You might think all Caribbean islands are lovely if you don't have much experience of them, but they're all different. It's real life with good weather. Martinique is green - it has lots of trees. And it's not a building site like some islands, which are great around the edges but grim further in. I was staying in a village in an area called Les Trois Ilets and the "village" looked new and w...

“Nah, I’ve done my bit.” This was Elsie talking, a big, brash widow who held court every Tuesday morning at Jack’s Lounge, a coffee shop/restaurant/bar in this Caribbean community of expats. Jack’s changed its nature depending on the time of day, and in the mornings it grabbed a slice of the too-lazy-to-cook brigade who enjoyed being served. The group was almost entirely composed of widows. Breakfast was their time becaus...

I met Honey through a Christian dating site. I’m a Christian and it’s an unfashionable thing to be, so it made sense to look among kindred spirits. We hit it off immediately, as you can do in cyberland, even though I know you never really know until you meet in the flesh. She was thoughtful and kind, had a sense of humour I liked and seemed like a decent person. On the physical side, she was right up my street. She was bl...

“Where are we going?” Sarah asked. She was in Martin’s car and he was driving out of the pub car park. They had met two hours earlier and been talking ever since. He was medium height, well-built but not muscular, with wavy brown hair and blue eyes and he was fun. That was the main thing. Her kind of fun. It’s a word that can mean various things to different people. To her it meant he was intelligent, verging on intellect...

My first encounter with Monique had been a sordid little thing. After a lot of wordless flirting in front of her husband, we had met up in a derelict stone building at an old fort and I had fucked her there: crudely, roughly, like cave dwellers, she leaning against the wall and I behind her, just banging her until I came and then it was all over. Circumstances had dictated that, but I didn’t want it to be the defining mom...

Monique was a faded beauty. Her long, rather straggly black hair betrayed her age with its grey roots and her skin was dry and pale but her eyes were those of the 20-year-old she had once been, cheeky and vivacious, cool and seductive. She had been married to the same man for 40 years and had seemingly led a nice life. He was a sculptor of international repute and they had traveled the world, he working and speaking and l...

Mandy didn’t know about my relationship with her mother. She didn’t know that my tongue had been in every nook and cranny of the older woman’s body, nor that I had penetrated the canal through which Mandy had entered the world. She didn’t know that my exultant spunk had drenched the surrounding area because Mrs Hubert turned me on so much. She didn’t know that I knew about her relationship with her stepfather – unless Mrs...

Having cracked it with Mandy, I was looking forward to some record-breaking. And the award for the lad who shagged both his girlfriend and her mother five times in a week goes to… But things were about to get complicated. There was scheduling to consider now. For safety’s sake perhaps it would be better to have the Mandy sessions at my parents’ house but, for some reason, she didn’t want to do that. I concluded that she l...

I After the bare-chest episode which Mandy probably thought had shocked her mother, I wasn’t sure if she would go through with our Saturday afternoon arrangement. She thought she held all the cards, unaware that while she played the role of bashful, hesitant virgin, all was not lost in my world because I had begun a sordid – yes, that’s the word – relationship with the far more accommodating Mrs Hubert. I phoned her on th...

After my first little encounter with Mandy's mum - Mrs Hubert - I received no immediate invitation for a follow-up, which I found both surprising and insulting. I decided to get back to my real job: seducing her daughter. I was now armed with my new expertise, which amounted to briefly licking the older woman's snatch and even more briefly penetrating her before losing control and spraying my spunk around like an idiot. B...

Mandy was my first real girlfriend. We had been together since our mid-teens and now we were having problems. Or to be more precise, I was having a problem with her reluctance to go all the way. We would spend hours leaning against a wall at the back of her parents' house with my finger inside her until it wrinkled. I loved the smell of her pussy juice and there were times when I wouldn't wash that hand for days so I coul...

“You’re here again,’ said Elise. She was tall and slim and so pale-skinned that, with her straight black hair, you had to concentrate to see her as being of distant African origin. But since black people consider anyone with even one black gene to be one of their own, that’s what Elise was. But that’s another story. Elise was a waitress in my local café, a renowned breakfast spot at which could be found many of the Americ...

It's cool Saturday morning in a village outside Medellin, Colombia. Cool because we are way up in the hills in Santa Elena, a group of villages famous for its flowers. Down in the city, it's t-shirt weather every day, but you can feel the temperature drop as you ride up the winding hill in the bus. I'm staying in a little cabaña, a wooden cabin on a steeply sloping piece of land owned by two middle-aged Colombian sisters,...

The first time I went to the little church in Georgetown, Guyana, I felt more than a little out of place. There were only about twenty people there and they all clearly knew one another. All but two of them were women. And all were black, because Guyana is one of those countries where slavery was everywhere and when it was abolished in the late 19th century, many of the plantation owners eventually left, but the workers s...