I awoke next morning, refreshed after a heavenly night’s sleep, naked, in a bed seemingly impregnated with the fluids and scents of Sue-Ann and of our previous day’s loving. For awhile, I lay there luxuriating in sensual memories, but I couldn’t do so for...
Readers are advised to read “Local Affairs" parts 1 & 2 first. Being awakened by a ringing phone before eight in the morning was not Greg’s idea of the leisurely Sunday lie-in he had hoped to have; but the melodious chuckle that greeted his rather surly...
There’s something to be said for online dating As this day’s joyous nuptials clearly show. Let’s not be backward in our celebrating; Let plentiful libations freely flow! As this day’s joyous nuptials clearly show, Two souls have found each other captivati...
Yet again I found myself having to concentrate on driving while in a state of inner turmoil. Part of me couldn’t wait to get home and feast on the soft, creamy-white body and succulent cunt of the lovely girl who sat beside me oozing sex – perhaps literal...
Arriving home I dashed into the house, locked the front door and rushed to my bedroom. I closed the curtains, turned on the bedside light, almost tearing at my clothes to expose my breasts and my cunt, flung myself on the bed and brought the simmering wit...
The last time I saw her, she had been a gawky twelve-year-old, stuck awkwardly between childhood and womanhood. That was eight years ago. The difference took my breath away. I was fifty-three, and five years widowed. It had been a happy though childless m...
After the bright, brisk Hello with which she answered the phone, Fenella’s next words, Oh Jo, how lovely, came at a lower, more intimate pitch, with a throaty, feline vibrancy that sent pleasurable shivers over my skin. “Are you back home now?” “Yes, I’ve...
My route home took me through relatively undamaged areas that were free of roadblocks and time-consuming diversions. My elderly neighbour Fred Curtis was out mowing his front lawn and gave me a cheery wave as I turned into my driveway. He stopped his labo...
A poem by another of Fen’s and my favourite French poets begins with a couple of lines about languorous ecstasy and amorous fatigue (the whole poem, C’est l’extase langoureuse, has been beautifully set by Gabriel Fauré). “Amorous fatigue” – yes, that was...
Veronica Page had always been what convention described as “faithful” to Ken, and had never strayed from their marital bed; yet in recent years she had, with growing frequency, felt passingly tempted. But never by men; it had always been women for whom sh...
Gemma’s suggestion of an afternoon’s horseriding was just the right prescription for me. To be out in the fresh country air, away from the inescapable wind-blown dust of the rubble-strewn, earthquake-stricken city, to empty my head of the stresses of the...
“So you and the Famous Fatal Fenella have crossed paths again,” said my aunt Gemma, “but what a different girl she is now.” Her lovely green eyes twinkled in the kindly bantering way with which, over the years, she has greeted me on the many occasions whe...
New Zealand weather is notoriously changeful, and by the time Greg awoke on Saturday morning it had completely changed from the previous day’s torrential rain that had played a part in precipitating his sexual encounter with Andrea Hemsley. It was a glori...
Tuesday 22 February 2011. Twelve fifty-five pm. That was when a devastating earthquake hit my home town of Christchurch, New Zealand, after which nothing in this city will ever be the same again. Unbeknown to me at the time, that same moment was also to t...
It was raining heavily by the time Greg Somerfield parked outside Mrs Hemsley’s house. He looked at the distance to the house and cursed himself for not having brought an umbrella or a raincoat. He would have to choose between getting thoroughly wet and m...
