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Rome, New York was home to about 35,000 people, when the last census was completed. The residents mostly commuted to the city of New York and home every day. They had a small sedate town full of Christian people. Nothing ever happened there. Not until Ursula and “The Play Pen “opened for business.

“The Play Pen” advertised women only allowed. We will provide an answer to all hidden desires. Ask us, and we will provide your favorite dream or fantasy. We guarantee you results.

Right away, they got a visit from the local police department. They met him with pleasure and they were pleased to prove all their permits were in order. They showed him everything he wanted to see. If they were breaking the law, he couldn’t figure out how they did it.
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It was Diwali night… Almost all our relatives dropped by for a celebration. We had wine, beers and liquors. It was five years since I met all my relatives. To be honest, I did not know some of them. Aunt Chandra looked very sexy in her miniskirt and sleeveless blouse. Rayvathi, my sister was in her long gown serving drinks to our guests. Music was all the way. We danced and talked about our flash back. Due to the heavy alcohol consumption, everybody started to mumble and laughed over it. Mom and dad did not let me have much of alcohol, as I was still aware of what was going on.

It was late night and some of my relatives left. Fortunately (for me) Chandra had a lot of drinks and she randomly picked a room to sleep. Well that was my room! No one knew that she was in my room. I didn’t want anyone to know that Chandra was in my room. If my parents knew, they would tell me to sleep in the guestroom or at the living room. (more…)

It was almost the end of another ordinary day, in a very ordinary life. It was a cold, crisp November evening in the small English town that had been Julie Lovell’s home for the past twelve years. Twelve boring years stuck in a routine of monotony & regulation. Hell, her life was like groundhog day and the occasional weekend breaks away to see her parents or sister were the only times she got out of town to help break free from her safe, boring, regimented life.

Thinking about it, going to visit family in neighbouring towns was hardly a trip to foreign shores, whisked away at the last minute by a romantic admirer who’d been in pursuit for several weeks, despite her teasing and feigning disinterest. Now that was the sort of excitement and fun that she needed in her life right now. Still, she had her wild imagination and king-sized bed to look forward to sinking into later. Right now, she needed to get her heeled shoes off of her aching feet and run a hot, steaming bath. (more…)

Michael Powell was exhausted now. He lay very still, taking small, shallow, quick breaths. On his lumpy single bed, staring at the cracked, white ceiling of his room, Michael recounted the events of earlier that night, in his own private mind movie. He took one deeper breath, closed his eyes and smiled. He opened them again and reached over to pick up the toilet roll from the floor at the side of his bed. He wiped away the sticky mess that had landed on his flat stomach a minute before, cleaned the head of his now shrinking phallus and finally wiped his hands. He got off the bed, still naked, and made the short trip down the hall, mistakenly thinking there was no one else home.

Victoria opened her door adjacent to the shared bathroom just as Michael placed his hand on the knob of the bathroom door. He froze, turned his head and saw the grinning face of his flatmate peering out of her doorway looking directly at his exposed backside. He hopelessly tried to cover himself up, but only succeeded in showing off the big clump of sticky toilet roll in his hand. Not for the first time that day, Michael cursed his luck. Being caught in two compromising situations in one day had to be some sort of record. “Sorry Vix,” he offered. “I didn’t think anyone else was in.”
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God, how embarrassing. A grown woman, squirming in my seat. Jeez. Where do these idiot experts/sexperts come up with the rubbish that men and women are different sexually? It’s only centuries of social encoding that makes some people believe that women are somehow passive and monogamous. Crap. Who wouldn’t spend the day fuckin’ if there weren’t bills to pay? And who’d choose not to have variety in partners? Oh, sure. If a guy committed enough to work at it came along and the two of you made sure that things didn’t get dull. But that’s not going to happen in this lifetime. Not for me anyway. Too old. Too set in my ways. Too independent. Too, too wantin’ that young man up there on the stage accepting his award.

How incredibly attractive he was. Did he know it? Maybe. Maybe not. He didn’t sound cocksure of himself. He didn’t sound unsure either. He had a brain or he wouldn’t be receiving the J.B. Sotheby Award. Annually, the university held an awards ceremony where deserving students cleaned up in scholarship money. The Sotheby was reserved for the very deserving. Brian Cane was, I’d heard, very deserving. He was in the physics program and I’d not had him in any classes. Colleagues had said he’d win the plum prize. Yeah. I’d like to give him a prize. Stuck in his thumb and pulled out a plum. Come here, boy. Sit. Roll over. Let me scratch your tummy. (more…)

My warm-hearted husband has always had a habit of picking up strays. I suppose that’s one of the endearing things that attracted me to Donny in the first place. However, throughout the past 30-plus years, I can’t count all the wayward dogs, cats, and even rabbits he “adopted” and I ended up nursing back to health. Thank goodness we were lucky to eventually find loving homes for these lost souls, or our house would resemble a zoo. Now that we’re in our fifties, and basically empty-nesting, I figure my days of playing Florence Nightingale to his Father Flanagan were over. Apparently I figured wrong.

“Come on Honey, it’s one thing to provide shelter to some kitten or puppy, there’s no way I’m going to take in a full-grown stranger,” I replied emphatically, after taking a sip of hot coffee.

“I know I’m asking a lot Barb, but we do have that spare bedroom, and it’s not like he’ll be here forever. Once he gets on his feet… hey, the least you can do is meet him; then maybe you’ll understand,” Donny pleaded. (more…)

They sit, one in each corner of the double closet, like two, squat, white, abstract pieces of art, open to whatever interpretation the viewer chooses to make of them. Only the sculptor can validate the interpretation of any observer. Even though I own them I have no intention of even confirming what they represent or why they stand, alone and abandoned, in the corner of my clothes closet. They are both my cross and my salvation, all in the same breath; my sole remaining link to the past and the only hope I have for the future.

Like Scylla and Charybdis, master and mistress of the perils of the sea, and guardians of the straits in ancient Greek mythology, they guard the entrance of my own private hell; or rather they are in and of themselves my own private hell. No one, should they be discovered before my death, will ever fathom their significance in my life or the purpose of their contents. After all, they are so much more than what they appear on the surface, and only I know.

They swim before my eyes shimmering, the lettering on the sides flowing together and then separating, forming grotesque faces, first looking at me and then at each other as if deciding as to how to devour me, as if they have not already done so. (more…)

“Oh fuck, I’m late!”

Speaking quickly into her cell phone, 41-year old Natalie Franklin grinds her white high heel harder down on the accelerator of the BMW. On the other end of the line, a very girlish laugh is heard.

“What are you giggling at, Tracy?”

“It’s just funny,” she vaguely announces in a very soft voice.

“What?” demands Natalie, already frustrated.

“Hearing you say the F word. You never used to say it before.”

In fact, Natalie looks like about the last person in the world who would say it. Appearing very business like and professional, she’s a little embarrassed, but then remembers that Tracy swears all the time, and checks her watch again.

“Crystal better be at the course already,” warns Natalie. “This is the pro’s last lesson of the day. He might leave if neither of us show up on time. We’ve already canceled twice. I don’t know what Jim would do if we missed this one. He’s even going to quiz us tonight about the first lesson, and he said we better know ‘em all. That meeting would just never end!”

“Why does he want you two to golf so badly?” wonders Tracy.
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I doubt I was unique in any way. Finishing up my senior year of high school, just turned 18. Not a smashing success with the ladies, although pride compels me to admit that I have had my fair share of attractive girlfriends. Attractive, but without that perfect body girls seem to be clamoring for these days. And, of course, something about older women has always turned me on.

It could be that they are so experienced, and so confident, it could be that their maturity ensures that I do not have to worry about taking control of events, or it could just be my appreciation for a mature feminine figure. Whatever it is, I know I am not alone in being a teenage boy lusting after older women. However, whenever I would fantasize about them, the control they took always extended far beyond the normal boundaries of the confident older woman, or even the aggressive older woman. I realized soon that what I wanted, needed, was a dominating older woman. This is the story of how I found one.
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Beth sat at the bar waiting for her best friend to arrive. It had been months since they had seen each other and this had bothered Beth deeply. For years they had shared all the highs and lows of each others lives. It was a friendship that Beth felt would always be there. Over the past couple of years they had grown apart and Beth had searched deep within herself trying to figure out why this had happened.

When Beth had finally realized what had went wrong in their friendship it had hurt her deeply. She had finally realized that when all had been well in her life, was the only time when all had been well in her friendship with Kay. As long as Beth was there for Kay they had a good friendship but when the time came that Beth had to put her personal commitments before Kay’s the friendship had began to fall apart.

She had taken the first step to get in touch with her friend in the hopes that they could repair their friendship. Kay was always late so Beth was not surprised that she was sitting in a crowded bar waiting on her friend. After an hour had passed Beth knew that Kay wasn’t coming.
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I was attending an Exhibition of the Artwork from my Art College as some of my watercolours were on show. One of the patrons was this gorgeous blond woman in a smart dark suit with a tight skirt to the knee, and open at the neck to show some cleavage. I thought she would be out of my league but she approached me and chatted me up. Her name was Julia and she had been a patron for some time and would be buying some of the picture “I like to get them young and fresh” – did she mean the artwork or the artists?

We both had glasses of red wine and she had a gleam in her eye and a smile which was very attractive to me.

After a bit of time she asked if she could give a lift somewhere, which I accepted since I had walked to the gallery.

In the car she asked me where I lived and then said ” would you like to come back to my place for a late night drink?” which I readily accepted, thinking my luck was in! (more…)

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It was Saturday February the Fourteenth (Saint Valentine’s Day) and it was just after twelve O’clock noon at the start of the afternoon. It was extremely cold and frigid today, for the cold temperature outside was minus forty Celsius and there was a wind-chill factor of two thousand due to the strong gusting north-west wind blowing in the air.

Security Officer Sebastian Sears was working all by himself at a single security guard site in which he was to watch a large man-made hole in the ground (that was under construction) for a twelve hour shift. Sebastian hated the site, as he was stationed in a single small portable guard shack, that was about the size of a small room and it was furnished with a portable radiator heating unit to keep the security guard shack warm, a small black telephone, and two white plastic lawn-chairs inside it of which he sat on one that overlooked the hole in the ground. Due to the secrecy, he did not know that the man-made hole was the very beginning of the construction of one of the Canadian military armed forces command centers, as a part of the new North American Missile Defense Shield System that was being built. He was working all alone, as there were no construction workers working on the site that day and he was in the mid-stages of the day shift in which he worked from six O’clock in the morning until six O’clock in the evening.

He was completely bored with a good dose of loneliness and somewhat embarrassed due to the fact that he thought that he was guarding just a large and deep hole in the ground in an isolated field on the outskirts of the city of Winnipeg (although he was given clear instructions by his superiors to allow no one near the man-made hole). The ground was completely covered with frozen blinding white snow and there was no one for miles around, or so he thought.
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Doing good is its own reward, I’ve heard. It’s true; helping others gives one a certain satisfaction, a feeling that something has been done to make the world a little better. Yet there can be other rewards…

I had found myself in need of some of that sense of self-worth in my college days. Life in the dorm seemed so insular, so out of touch with what was going on in the world. So, at the suggestion of a friend, I volunteered for the local meals on wheels program. It was no great sacrifice, carrying lunch to one lonely, elderly person a couple times a week, visiting for an hour, and going back to my routine, but it made me feel better about myself and about the world.

Today, it was Mrs. Curtiss. I always enjoyed taking a meal to her; some of those I visited were bitter, or unhappy, or sometimes just downright unstable. This lady, however, remained outgoing, voluble, and “sharp as a tack.” I climbed the four concrete steps to her sagging front porch and knocked–the bell had been out of order as long as I had been going there.
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Whitney Holliday looked over herself one last time in the mirror. She couldn’t believe this; when she was growing up and raising her family, she imagined retiring and living alone with her husband in their home in the suburbs of Philadelphia, with her son and daughter off to make their way in the world. How cruel a trick fate had played on them all: her husband had run off with another (younger) woman when she was forty-three, and her twenty-two year old daughter Christy had moved back in with her a year later after finishing college. It wasn’t her daughter’s presence that bugged Whitney; it was the lack of a masculine presence. She had her husband had always had an active and pleasurable sex life, even after he started his affair that led to the demise of their marriage. When he left, it was like an addict quitting cold turkey: she was always agitated, irritable, and just generally unpleasant to be around.

Now Whitney was forty-five, and she had gotten used to the lack of physical intimacy she endured, and having Christy around made life more tolerable. They became better friends than they had been while she was growing up. Tonight they were going to a club in downtown Philly to watch a rock concert by Christy’s boyfriend’s band. She had dressed modestly enough: a sleeveless T-shirt with a pair of blue Capri jeans and non-descript boots. Although she longed to meet a man, if only to fuck her senseless for one night, she never wanted to come across as desperate. Christy came into her mother’s room and looked with her mother in the mirror. A lot of mothers are confused as siblings with their young adult children; these two women fit that analogy perfectly. (more…)

When I think back it is still a little hard to believe this really happened but this really happened. My job had taken me to Sacramento where I lived out of a hotel room for months on end. I did make it back home for the odd weekend but being single I availed myself of the local beauty and the friendly environs of Sacramento.

It was my practice to come back to the hotel, freshen up for dinner and then spend a little time in the hotel bar. I had made friends with the barmaid and she was always trying to set me up with some stranger. I didn’t think a lot of her taste in women but I did appreciate the effort. More than once she tried to fix me up with a married woman and while back then I didn’t make married women off limits I still preferred single women. On this particular evening I sat down at the bar and Sunny brought me my usual drink. I had noticed a beautiful blond sitting nearby but being rather tired I had already decided to have a couple of drinks and then retire to my room.

Well, Sunny wasn’t having any part of that and before I knew it she was introducing me to the blond. “Peter, this is Melanie.” We said hi to each other and went through the usual list of what we do and why we were there. Melanie was rather chatty and where she was also beautiful I had no problem giving her all my attentions. We had decided sitting at the bar was a little uncomfortable and had moved to one of the near by sofas. (more…)

“Atkins, can you spare one of those peach-colored roses for me today?”

I looked up at Mrs. Deershorn sticking her head out the window above me. The sweet old lady was about 65 and lived in the floor above me in this small apartment complex. I had moved in about 4 months earlier after a bad breakup with my longtime girlfriend. One of the reasons I took this room was the availability of a garden out my back patio. I had always loved gardening and in my mixed-up emotional state it was great solace.

Because of good rain and bright sunshine this season, I had enjoyed some luck with the roses I planted. Mrs. Deershorn had only a window box at her upstairs apartment and was thrilled to learn a gardener had moved in downstairs. Whenever I thought of it, I would drop off a few cut roses and we would talk about flowers and gardens and her grandchildren.

Despite the time I spent with her — usually only a half hour or so at a time — I really knew little about her. I knew she had two grandchildren who would visit occasionally. She used to be married, but hadn’t been for some time, divorce, death, I didn’t know. But she wasn’t married now. Her two-bedroom apartment was modestly furnished but everything was neat and clean. She did some sewing in the second bedroom, mostly clothes for her grandchildren. And then there were her flowers. (more…)

Johanna has been my girlfriend for many years. And in that time, I have come to know all of her family. I want to relate something that happened two months ago. Johanna and I were supposed to take a trip to Manhattan to see her aunt. At the last minute, Johanna was given a special project at work. It would mean that our trip would be delayed by a few days.

Johanna suggested that I take the plane to New York by myself, and she would meet me there in a few days. I argued that I didn’t know her aunt except for the one time I had met her and that I could wait for her. As usual, with our arguments, Johanna won. So on Friday morning, I boarded the plane by myself. A few hours later, I was in a cab headed for Manhattan. I reached the address that was given me and found it to be in a very upscale neighborhood. All the brownstones were well cared for, the streets were tree-lined and clean.

When I rang the door, a voice answered on the intercom. “Hello! Who is it?” I hate talking into any kind of intercom. But I pushed my face next to the screen and answered. “Hello, aunt Kat, it’s me, Carl. You know, Johanna’s boyfriend?” I heard her soft chuckle and then the door buzzer sounded. I pushed the door open and walked into a big foyer. It was big and old looking. As well as being immaculately clean. It must have looked this way years earlier, when this area was inhabited by the more affluent of New York. I took the little elevator up to the third floor. (more…)

I was a pretty normal kid growing up in the 80’s and early 90’s in Iowa. I had neither good looks nor a great body. In fact I was thin, but that was the factor that led to a glorious episode in my early life. I was trying to bulk up for a place on the school baseball team, though I’m not sure if the phrase “bulk-up” was known in 92. Used home “gyms” could be purchased through local newspaper ads for $50, but I didn’t even have that much money.

My mother was giving me some odd jobs to do for bucks and giving me encouragement. She happened to mention my efforts to our neighbors across the back fence, who happened to be the local Scoutmaster and his wife. I’d been in scouts for a couple years, but dropped out after a while. It was fun to camp, but the scoutmaster and staff always seemed to want to keep us real busy. He’d been 20 years in the military and it showed.

Carol, the scoutmaster’s wife had been my second grade teacher for six months when the regular teacher had an operation. She also taught Sunday school occasionally when a regular person was sick or something. She was nice looking, but an adult, and I didn’t know her that well. I’d had a few very brief conversations over the fence when mowing the yard, or if I had to talk to her husband about a merit badge or something and I’d gone to their house. That was it. Anyway, one day when my mom was hanging on the back fence talking to Carol, the subject of my trying to get some equipment came up. Carol said she’d been thinking about working out, too, and that maybe we could share. My mother even got interested, so we three got a used Precor home gym set-up for little money and set it up in Carol’s basement.
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In a few months time I was going to be 18 years old, a fit guy with nothing much to do. I had two months to kill between leaving school and going to university. Many of my friends were spending their time backpacking around the World, but I didn’t fancy doing that. I decided to try and get some work experience and build up some funds so I wouldn’t spend my university years as a typical poor student. I didn’t really want the sort of job where I was expected to get up early every morning, and spend five whole days a week in a boring office or local supermarket.

It was my mum’s idea. She suggested that I offer my services to neighbours doing basic gardening and handy man work. So I placed an advert in the local shop and sorted through the tools in the garage to make sure I had the right equipment for doing the job.

After a few days I’d received only one enquiry and I made arrangements to visit my new client, a Mrs McNeil. It was a hot sunny day, and after a shower I laid out on the bed the clothes I was going to wear. I love getting dressed in front of my full length bedroom mirror. I dried myself with the towel, and then gazed at my image in the mirror. Not too bad I thought as I lazily fondled my cock. It was getting semi-hard, and like any teenager I felt the urge to lie on my bed, and slowly wank myself whilst watching in the mirror. I resisted, as I was already running late for my appointment. I slipped into a pair of shorts and a cut off T-shirt and went off to see Mrs McNeil.
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It had been a long vacation. Karan had insisted on a long holiday and she and Karan had gone away for a fortnight to Mauritius with their close friends Simran and Rajeev. The holiday in itself had been fun, though these adventures often left Sunita wondering about the contrast between what the movies showed, and how her own married life seemed to be. In the movies, the couple would frisk around and be passionate with each other. Karan was more interested in sporting his dark glasses and looking good and cheesy around the pool and beach. He and Rajeev had spent a fair bit of their time eyeing the beautiful women in evidence.

She didn’t mind that. In fact, she encouraged it with the hope that in bed it would make him more of a tiger. She wondered where all that fascination for women went when she was in bed with him. He would either spend the night drinking into the wee hours so she was dog tired by the time he came to bed. Or when he did come to bed and make love to her, it was his usual unimaginative man-on-top style.

Sitting there in the setting sun of Mumbai, having returned from the vacation she and Karan were staying at Rajeev’s before flying out to Bangalore. Sunita idly remembered the one day Karan had been very drunk and very passionate in moving in on her after one night at the disco in Mauritius.

He had come so quickly because of his own arousal and in his haste to pull out of her had spattered his cum all over her. She rubbed the crotch of her jeans as she relived that moment of intense dissatisfaction when all the build up of caresses and close dancing was spent in one gush of torrid cumming. (more…)

I first met Louise one night, many years ago, when she and her husband, Ross, ventured into the coffeehouse establishment where my band and I were performing. They were immediately noticeable, as they were easily the oldest couple in the room and tended to stand out rather dramatically amongst the usual rabble of rowdy college students.

During one of our breaks, they managed to flag down one of the band members, who later introduced them to the rest of us. They both seemed very nice and were full of intelligent, insightful questions relating to the music business and the local music scene in general, so conversation was easy and never strained.

We warmed to them rather quickly, and before long they became regulars at the coffeehouse whenever we were performing there, even following us to other venues around the city.

We were invited to dinner and enjoyed the company and the cooking. As time went on, we became more and more frequently invited for dinner parties and social get-togethers, and our friendship grew.

When a day arrived when we found ourselves in need of a new house to rent, Louise took it upon herself to search the rental housing in her neighborhood and, as luck would have it, located the perfect house for us that was only two houses away from her own. As neighbors, we were constantly visiting back and forth and, as Louise was as much a coffee fanatic as I, I spent a great many of my mornings sharing coffee at her kitchen table and gossiping. The bond of friendship between all of us grew even more, and most especially between Louise and me, who shared many countless hours together, several days a week, sharing confidences and even intimate details about ourselves, and others, over our morning coffees.
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I was a typical over-sexed boy. It was the 50’s and young people didn’t engage in sexual activities like they do today. At least I didn’t. I was kind of nerdy, wore glasses, a bookworm, excelled in the classroom but not on the athletic field. I also masturbated a lot.

I was dating the only girl I ever really dated in school and she was as sexually naive as I was plus she had some other sexual hang ups which I didn’t discover until we eventually married. But that’s another story.

It was not a typical weekday afternoon. Not typical in the sense that my parents were both out of town and I was alone in my house. My dad had gone to a labor union convention and my mother went with him. It was one of the few times that they left me alone - but not without some adult supervision as I was soon to discover.

Late afternoon, home from school, house to myself, I did what many teen-age boys are prone to do. I turned the radio on to a Top 40 station and turned up the volume. I pulled one of my older brother’s girlie magazines out from it’s hiding place, took off all my clothes and lay down on my bed. Soon I was immersed in the pictures of ladies with big tits, fantasizing and jacking off with carefree abandon. (more…)

Flo lived in the same apartment building I lived in. I was 22 at the time and hadn’t met anyone in this new town. I had just gotten my first job after finishing college. It was the early 60’s, and I was lonely and horny. Flo was a single mother who had a 2 year old daughter named Dana. Her boyfriend had left her with the child and disappeared as soon as she told him she was pregnant. Flo was 38 years old and looked like Anna Maria Albergetti. She was always short of money and borrowing it from whoever would lend it to her. One day she came to my door and knocked on it asking for 5 dollars to buy some food. I gave it to her and felt I was doing a good deed.

Within a few weeks she seemed to be showing up every day to borrow some money. After this had happened several times I asked her when she was going to pay me back. She told me her next welfare check would come tomorrow and she would give me the money she owed me. The next day came and she gave me the money. I really felt sorry for her so I told her I would pay for a babysitter and take her to dinner, no strings attached, just because she deserved a break. That evening I dressed for in a suit I wore to work, and she dressed in a cute dress. (more…)

We hadn’t spoken for weeks when Kait sent me an email from two time zones away. When Kait sends any ‘report’ from the front line of her life it indicates that something serious is happening. More than three lines suggests that emotions have been tampered with, sex is on the horizon or there’s a ‘what do you think about this’ question to ponder.

Now, any email from Kait can brighten a day, in the same way as she had brightened my life, but for months they’d been short, succinct and with no big news to report. Her life seemed to be in a steady routine, flat lining way below exhilarating and just slightly above mundane.

She told me how she’d met him. There had been a bunch of them in a hot tub, Kait in a borrowed bikini. What started out as a night with a few friends turned into quite a party as more and more people showed up. (more…)