Short story Fiction and please allow me a little credit 🙂 .
Anyways, here’s my (very) amateurish attempt at writing a fictional tale……… and if you absolutely must leave the home? Remember to keep your distance from fellow human beings, I know it’s difficult but far from impossible, like you all I’m trying 🙂 .
I’ll admit to feeling a touch sexually excited, I’ve just returned home from the High Street with a pint of milk in hand, purchasing a little food because I refuse to panic buy and hoard. To my credit I observed a walking distance from others, but one has to make dry porridge oats at least taste palatable. Such are the chaotic times we live in, today it’s a simple joy to stretch my legs and feel the warmth of a spring morning sun upon my face, and who knows? Perhaps today will be my final walk in the sunshine for a while as Britain’s lockdown bites!
Gotta keep positive.
Yesterday evening I felt very down and depressed, but seeing a few happy smiling faces wandering around the Market Square quite cheered me up, btw to a person laden down with carrier bags of non perishable groceries however I will never point a scolding finger, such are the uncertain times we live in I’ve been guilty of a little hoarding as the rest of you, we human’s are anxious creatures and storing pantry food is a way of gaining back control……… perhaps we’re closer to lazy hibernating hedgehogs than we’d care to admit?
Oh yes I’m feeling a touch sexually excited! Truth be told considerably more than a touch because for the past fifteen minutes my jean’s crotch has been near bursting at its seams, penis tingling sensations pulsing along a shaft making it as hard as hard can be, and if you’re curious sporting the mother of all erections to such an extent I could hardly walk!
Having just purchased milk to keep me going over this weekend, a versatile staple food with so many culinary permutations, quite by chance I happened to be tailing two young women. lol keeping two metres to their rears as you should do 😛 ! Two care free happy girls also returning with their delicious booty. (Age appropriate which goes without saying!) Both slim figured slender and tall which is just how I fantasise them, one wore a bottom covering winter jacket, the other a salmon coloured jersey with black skin tight Yoga Pants, inadequate figure hugging material now shimmering against the low sunlight and you wish to know more? Her willowy toned legs were so smooth in appearance they just might have been spray painted black, and I mused! Oh yes I mused ‘how much to squeeze those ‘two buns’ Miss?’
But I cannot! I mean I wouldn’t cause you gotta remember to social distance at all times, and phew just so as you know I never have done nor ever will!……. Gotta get that one out!
(However doesn’t very woman attach a price on her body? A monetary value ‘slapped’ on her ass however prim and proper she may be, or how desperately she’s in need of cash, hmm so how much would she have charged to let me squeeze…… just sayin! 😀 Btw grasp this thought, I just may revisit my contentious ‘if illegal’ indecent proposal.)
Mesmerised I was! The sideways displacement of her child bearing hips a joy to behold, two plump round buttock cheeks quivering in time to each walking pace as only a female human can do, and gazing ever deeper into her pert round ass, bright sunlight illuminated the tenuously thin material to such an extent the Yoga Pants appeared translucent. Yes I could just see a hint of milky white skin through this unbelievably erotic garment, a G-string in place of panties her ass betraying a glorious feminine sexuality………. omg I couldn’t overt my gaze for ONE WHOLE quarter an hour!
And if you’re curious she didn’t once glance behind to see who was following, anyways even if she had, and noticed my pint of milk she’d assume I’d been grocery shopping the same as everyone else. Today I had intended to write a fourth corona virus themed post on the trot, yes more comment may well follow but I just had to take a break, forget about this awful viral catastrophe and mused why not lighten the mood sharing a sexy tale.
Even within these depressing times it’s funny how the sight of a pretty girl’s wobbly ass cheeks still brings a smile to my face, a little joy to my heart, uplifting jaded spirits and reminding me it’s the simple pleasures in life that make life worth living.
And finally, if you really must leave your homes remember to socially distance! Now I must do something about this damned rock hard erection……. any ideas please?
One final word writing, Blogging, dreaming of trim asses keeps me sane!
Original fiction written by myself (Andrew 🙂 ) and after rather painful reading one week later, I wished I’d waited because lol the beginning to my ‘erotic’ tale is rather painful reading. Just so as you know I’ve edited slightly, lol you live and learn!
Let us agree to descibe this as flawed but fun?
(And btw a tale of Voyeurism and NOT the movie ‘Rear Window’)
🙂 Now please read on………………………..
One late summer’s evening ten or so years ago, standing whilst leaning against my bedroom window-sill I gazed out upon a typically British urban scene, though not necessarily looking at the detached house of my neighbours opposite, if you really wish to know and I hope you do for the purposes of this tale, I’d awoken that summer’s night to watch one of natures true wonders, sheet lightning illuminating the pitch dark sky accompanied by ear shattering claps of thunder, so loud I’d flinch with shock! I don’t believe in God and creationism, but watching this impending thunder storm, a true marvel of our natural world, I couldn’t wait for the lashing rain, perhaps on evenings such as these I’ll contemplate ‘the meaning of life’, because surely some divine ruler must have created this spectacular display!
So I’ll ask you a question, before an electric lightning thunder show consummates with a pavement smashing deluge of rain, transforming the air icy cold within seconds, how do they begin? Yes and I hope you’re keeping up, that particular evening was uncomfortably warm, a humid balmy atmosphere meaning sleep was restless if not impossible and if you are unacquainted with British weather, evenings such as these happen only three or four times a year in Britain and looking sideways at houses along my street, all my neighbours windows were open with curtains gently fluttering in time with the humid breeze.
Then all of a sudden, catching me totally unawares, an attic room light switched on in the house opposite, a white light so bright against its dark brown tiled pitched roof, this room glowed in the night. The shock quite startled me from contemplative thoughts of life wonderment and creation, and for the life of me I suddenly felt the urge to all but stumble toward a bedroom shelf and grab my pair of birdwatching binoculars and btw I’m NOT a ‘peeping Andrew’ by nature, but yes I’ll admit to watching pretty ladies boobs. Binoculars in hand, I hurriedly returned to my bedroom sill position steadying myself looking at the attic room window across the street (and please be aware I’ve never done this before or since, as for legalities?) I’d propose ‘an Englishman’s home is his castle’ and this bedroom window is mine to peep through if I so wish………… now call the Police!
(Ok I’d agree watching through binoculars was a touch creepy, hey ho!)
With my two elbows propped upon the sill, I can clearly remember physically trembling as I brought the binoculars up to my eyes, then seconds after locating this brilliant white light, finally my neighbour’s room focussed into view and wow that window opposite flooded the optics in entirety and clarity. As if only metres away, I could clearly see the room inside with it’s white painted walls and a second window directly behind looking out onto the farm fields beyond, because this attic room sat below a roof sided apex, it’s very own bedroom walls have you will, only the centre part of the room was tall enough for one person to stand upright in.
Remember this fact because it is important to my tale!
Now to my second heart stopping shock of this truly eventful evening, sparking my imaginations alive the silhouette of a middle aged woman walked into the room’s centre, a slim bodied female pausing opposite our bedroom windows and WOW lucky me watching from across the street. I of course knew this lady well, and let us name her Helen for the purposes of this tale, there she stood motionless, a handsome looking woman 55years old if a day and no taller than 5’5″, yes she’s a girlish Grandmother in the autumn years of her life but with her slender figure, pert bosom and wrinkle free skin, I’m here to tell you mature lady Helen would make many a young buck’s groin twitch hard!
I gulped and swallowed, my trembling hands trying their utmost to keep the binoculars steady, yet my imagination has seldom felt more alive before or since because I’m telling you now, watching any woman is thrilling and sure to make my penis throb hard.
Though the thought crossed my mind, ‘Helen could well be aware Andrew is spying through her window?’
And so for half an hour or so, playing out before my disbelieving eyes began an eroticised performance a guy wishes for in his wildest dreams, sexual fantasies of near naked women sending him to sleep, curled fingers reigning in his bucking hardness, tingling balls within a bulging scrotum ready to shoot their warm sticky seed!
With every nerve in my body electrified alive, I watched as my neighbour Helen wandered the tiny space for what I always assumed was a bedroom, left then right she moved but always returning to her room’s middle window and my transfixed view, only disappearing for seconds at a time, Helen would pause motionless and the thought crossed my mind ‘was she hoping expecting I’m watching her slim figure clothed by only a mustard yellow tee shirt?’ Oh and white shorts clearly visible above her deep silled window.
Then suddenly she turned to lean out the opposite window, gaze for herself at the electric lightning show beyond, and oh my god like a proverbial streak of lightning, I realised those weren’t shorts Helen was wearing because in the process of stretching and leaning forward, the tops of two pink thighs came into view exposing just a hint of rosy buttock cheeks, oh my sweet Jesus… ‘Helen wore panties and NOT shorts after all!’
Shocks like these aren’t healthy for a man my age but instinctively I knew I’d never watch the like of this ever again, secretly viewing attractive knicker wearing women come only once in a lucky man’s lifetime.
Perhaps now bored of watching God’s lighting show, or having decided Andrew had seen quite enough of her ass, Helen glanced into the room’s centre and proceeded to shock me yet again. Holy %&’$ is this woman trying to murder me for in one choreographed graceful movement she slipped off her panties before tossing to one side so revealing a triangular mop of brown pubic hair to match her locks of brunette, a shoulder length style that suited her thinnish pretty face for as I said Helen’s a handsome woman.
Now naked from the waist down, well just below her hairy covered vulva and no not even my binoculars could focus that passport ‘slit’ to heaven, Helen again began to glide her tiny bedroom space all the time with pieces of cloth to hand, five glorious minutes passed by though I have a feeling Helen’s laundry folding display took a good while longer, yet again catching me unawares my sexy neighbour paused, her slim body framed picture perfect behind the attic window, her pretty face wistfully gazing across the room through a stare of deep concentration, and that’s when the ‘proverbial penny dropped’, at last I understood the reason she’d stare into space, ‘Helen’s gazing at her reflection in a mirror opposite isn’t she!’
Placing two hands aside her hips, she all but swayed in a rhythmic arc, first to the left then to the right all the while eyes fixed upon a distant object perhaps a full body length mirror? Oh yes I’ve never been more certain of a fact in my life Helen was admiring her reflection of that I’m now sure, then catching me quite unawares how many more times can this happen? She smoothed her hands across the cotton tee shirt, palms gliding up and over two gentle mounds of pert peaky bosom, only pausing to cup hold and squeeze and why not for she possessed a shapely pair of tits.
My groin ‘bucked’ as if about to ejaculate creamy sticky semen, but I didn’t cum as pleasure giving chemicals coursed through my brain, I gulped hard to catch a breath because for truly the first time that humid summer’s evening, I sensed something near unbelievable was about to happen yes and oh my sweet Jesus yes, Helen began to remove a last remaining garment, with two hands gently clasping the hem of her tee shirt, in one flowing movement Helen drew the garment upwards over her head with long hair pulling messily through the opening, before tossing to one side. And there she stood, motionless, eyes transfixed to a reflection gazing back, very nearly naked with her mopped pubic hair, a pink slender torso and breasts enclosed within her brilliant white bra.
‘Yes a bra! And there’s me assuming women just don’t bother when at home?’
God knows how I didn’t cum, though I could hardly breath through cheeks burning hot and a heart racing so fast it was surely about to explode, and there Helen stood for what seemed minutes thoughtfully admiring her beauty with pursed amused lips and hint of girlish smile. Yes she appreciated her aged body because Helen was still a handsome looking lady, then just as my trembling hands calmed she reached behind, stretching her arms she fumbled the clasp on her bra band allowing the delicate garment of intimate lingerie to fall from her body, hoops of bra strap slipping down smooth skinned arms towards the floor.
And there she stood motionless, my sexy neighbour from across the road stark naked from just below her waste up, two gentle mounds of small pointy breasts and if my eyes didn’t deceive me I’d guess they were a double AA cup. Que the culmination of this evening’s excitement, almost the instant she dropped her bra I climaxed, came hard within my night time boxers shorts, and all without hand stimulation for remember they gripped my binoculars! Feeling my groin ejaculate warm sticky semen stream across my inner thighs, and if you’re really curious my first hands free orgasm at the sight of a naked woman.
Two thousand seconds had ticked from the alarm clock on the bedside table, that’s how long our strip show lasted, a voyeurs delight the like of which I’d only seen in ‘dirty videos’, and now as Helen smiled at her reflection, my breathless mind began to regain composure, feeling utterly exhausted I lent back perching on the side of my bed, nights such as these come but once in a lucky guy’s lifetime, and as for all you readers shaking their head and muttering phrases like,
“Dirty Peeping Tom!”
Remember the window I gazed out of this balmy summer’s evening is on my property, yes you could label me voyeuristic and pervy, but this view is mine to own and I would suggest to any lady undressing herself naked, perhaps it’s prudent to close one’s curtains first!
Though hold on just a second, there’s always the hope Helen knew I was watching, timed her attic room strip after seeing my silhouette pressed against the bedroom window, watching this spectacular thunder lightning show. Hmm maybe she wished me to watch? Perhaps she hoped I’d be naughtily masturbating at the sight of her youthful Grandma’s breasts? Who knows but those two thoughts amuse me to this day whenever we meet in the street, hmm are we both playing mind games of,
‘You didn’t know I was watching on that warm summer’s night……. did you?’
So how did my sultry evening’s tale end, I guess after minutes of looking admiringly at her nude reflection and why an earth not, well as abruptly as this theatrical show began, so just as abruptly ‘came’ the finale or as I’d like to muse Helen thought I’d seen quite enough nudity. Just at that point of orgasm she disappeared from view, the attic room turned pitch black and I placed the binoculars upon the window sill beside me. Yes this once in a lifetime finished with my pleasured body cooling, my conscious mind happy and spent I quietly watched tonight’s thunder show’s final climatic scene, the air temperature tumbled as cooling rain lashed the tarmac road opposite, so cold in fact I returned to my bed a satisfied but exhausted man.
😀 I gotta leave you with a question, if you caught a glimpse of a sexy person undressing in their bedroom, would you watch or turn away?
(I hope reader’s enjoyed my tale and for those who didn’t, a photo post follows sooon……… unless I change my mind………. which I often do!)
(Independent eBook review, in fact the authoress isn’t aware I’ve written this 😀 )
Attempting to write my very first kindle book review after having been absent from writing on WordPress since early June, is more than a little daunting.
Novelette synopsis (age18),
‘Ebby Scott has supressed her adventurous side far too long. An almost-thirty year old almost-virgin, she is given the chance to live out a life that has hitherto existed in her vivid fantasies and in the books she keenly devours. And Ebby has stumbled across the perfect place to help her unleash her erotic appetites.
Across each of three nights, Ebby faces her past decisions, her present choices, and gains a glimpse of her possible future as her sexual adventures become ever more steamy, satisfying, and liberating.
Meanwhile, her hopeful and adoring suitor Nick waits for her back at home.By the end of her three-night escapade, will Ebby return to Nick’s loving arms, or will she be unwilling to give up her new-found freedom just yet?’
I should begin by saying I’ve followed Ms. Libre Pavey’s blog for many months now, a gentle and eloquent writer she herself describes ‘Laying the Ghosts of Christmas’ steamy romantic fiction, all I can add is she’s not wrong! I’ll go further and admit to ‘hardening’ (come on work it out!) whilst reading in my garden, several arousals if truth be told my imagination drawn into Ebby Scott’s ghostly romantic encounters. Btw I’m reliably informed the difference between erotica and steamy romance, is the latter must have a story and this novelette is most certainly steamy romance with plenty of descriptive scene setting to hold my attention. Thoughtfully constructed around an original cute idea, enough atmosphere to engage my imagination with memorable lines such as:
‘………geometric squares of leggy jasmine and delicate wands of Japanese quince creating stark silhouettes.’
And plenty of beautiful naked breasts (for as you know I am a lover of ladies squidgy pink fun bundles, a breast man through and through), with pulse quickening lines such as:
‘….…..breasts tipped with jaunty cinnamon nipples, skin turned warm caramel in the low-lit glow.’
I should say at this point, Charles Dickens ‘A Christmas Carol’ is my very favourite work of fiction, in fact without fail I revisit this ghostly little tale every Christmas Eve for the past twenty-five years, and I did enjoy spotting the author’s clever parallels. Similarly written in descriptive staves with ghosts of past and present visiting Ebby’s bedroom, parallels not dissimilar to Dickens tale absent the steamy romantic sex goes without saying! As the authoress reminds us loosely based on ‘A Christmas Carol’ with even a little ‘Cinderella dancing at the ball’ thrown in, and here’s a thing being my first review I’m very conscious of not wishing to give tooo much away!
As an aside, Libre paley intrigues me because she’s one of the few ladies to dare comment my err sexually explicit posts, not only a beautifully skilled writer but I’d guess possessing a ‘naughty’ confidence, I guess I’ll never know! Hmm? Was my excited anticipation and eagerness to read because I avidly follow blogger Libre Paley, the lady being one of my favourite writers on WordPress probably heightened my reading enjoyment.
Thoughts aside, our heroine Ebby (the authoress) narrates the tale.
Ringing in my ears has been a little voice whispering “write a review but jeeze don’t give away the plot period”, and now I’m feeling perhaps I’ve sold you a little short? Not to worry, well paced sexually explicit and highly readable ‘Laying the Ghosts of Christmas’ was a most enjoyable read and £0.99 Amazon Kindle purchase well spent. 🙂
A. Shepherdson 2019 (My musings are a little ‘writing rusty’ tonight.)
No NO don’t leave me yet!! This post isn’t as dull as you’re possibly thinking 🙂 .
A recent blog Titled ‘English language rules and why they can/should/must be broken (sometimes)‘ captured my imagination.
The correct use of English language, where and when to apply correct grammar rules, increasingly fascinates because I’ve been ‘writing’ on WordPress for over a year now and who wouldn’t be! Though I’ll add one important caveat, the question ‘do I consider myself to be a ‘writer?’ Definitely sharpens the mind, hmm jury’s still out on that one, however Holly once described me a ‘conversational writer’ which I quite like 🙂 .
Now putting to one side a fun pet tale, she elaborates on her current choice of reading Titled Dryer’s English ‘An utterly correct guide to clarity and styleby Benjamin Dreyer.’ which is quite possibly my next Amazon.co.uk purchase, and quoting from her own words,
‘This man is my new-found hero. Basically he suggests we can, and should, break all the English grammar rules we have learned in school. Unless we can’t or shouldn’t.
His writing style is so conversational, you’ll absolutely forget immediately that technically you’re reading a guide to English grammar, and he’s so funny. I was instantly captivated.’
NOW for me this is where our tale gets really interesting, apparently Benjamin Dreyertalks briefly about a challenge he recommends all writers take part in. For one whole week he suggests readers eliminate the following words from everything they write, omg talk about laying down a gauntlet!
(Queue an accompanying drum roll)
Pretty (not to describe something or someone, but to say ‘pretty tedious’)
On the last one he recommends, “feel free to go the rest of your life without another actually”.
And you’ll guess exactly what I’m going to say next!
Well I read that list and thought to myself ‘Holy crap I’m a Serial offender, I regularly and repeatedly use every single word from that list and quite possibly almost certainly within all 195 posts on this my WordPress!’
I’m not joking for effect either and whilst I’m here I’ll add ‘Anyways’ to Benjie’s list, ‘anyways’ is my goto word for realigning returning a meandering train of thoughts ‘back on track’, without fail if my thread of consciousness has veered off topic the following paragraph will always begin with Anyways, perhaps you’ve noticed?
Anyways where was I? Oh yes my fascination with grammar rules, now I’ll share with you my one and only self editing rules, that before publishing this post I’ll check (then double check) I haven’t used the words ‘it’ and ‘it’s’ though I will use ‘its’. “Why so Andrew?” Well in my humble opinion the word ‘it’ is an irritatingly non descript meaningless word, not tooo dissimilar to teenage girls and their addiction to the word ‘like’. Incidentally I have this theory that because girls converse far quicker than their brain’s are processing, the word ‘like’ is ‘scatteredhere there and everywhere’ so allowing thought processes to catch up!……………. 🙂 In my opinion ‘like’ is a meaningless conversational fill-in word however absolutely adorable ❤ to listen to when you overhear teenage girls chatting.
Here’s a ‘fabulous’ anecdote I happened across recently and apparently a TRUE story, anyways it (lol) made me laugh 😀 revealing how intelligent thinking stops an ignorant stupid person in his/her tracks.
Picture this. The phrase ‘NIGGER’S OUT’ is written in spray paint across a large expanse of virgin wall.
Only later a sharp thinking passer-by adds their own brilliant observation: ‘NIGGER’S OUT (but he’ll return after his dinner)’.
Don’t you think that’s priceless insightful and an awesome reply?
(My apologies to Victoria for ‘woosing out’ on Chapter 14, and I know I owe Darnell a post sharing the reasons I don’t use writing Apps such as Grammarly………….. lol no one can say I don’t try to interact here, that’s half the fun don’t you think?)
I’m hoping my Title above has intrigued you enough to read this very personal Posting. I’ll try to be brief with my introduction BUT I always say that don’t I!!
Dad sadly passed away early April 2019 after a long illness enough said. Well as you’d imagine we as a family have been busy with banking and legal documents etc hence a very good reason to clear and tidy through his study draws. AND AS ALWAYS HAPPENS when someone passes away, we discovered many long forgotten treasures including the typed manuscript of a fictional novel the name ‘Jennifer’ emblazoned in red ink across a Title page, but that’s a whole blog post all of its own which I’ll leave for another day!
We also discovered a folder crammed full of newspaper articles from the 1980s which I for one had clean forgotten about, and a selection of which I’ve photographed and shown below. Our local newspaper is called the Oxford Mail, every Town and every City across the world has its very own newspaper, although the internet has very probably moved them on-line however the Mail battles on in the Newsagents reporting local news to local people.
Well it turns out in the early 1980s my father wrote a ‘Mail’ guest column once a week, fifteen or so editions only and approximately 700 words long, themed on a variety of topics from family also childhood. Interesting readable pieces written with humour and from life’s experience and IMPORTANTLY Dad didn’t earn a penny because the Oxford Mail are known to be stingy with money, HOWEVER be totally aware he would neither have wanted or expected to be paid, I’d guess purchasing the stamps with glee because yes my father wrote through pure enjoyment, and I’d guess many of you reading here and now will nod your head in agreement 🙂 .
Yes Dad wrote for love enjoyment not financial reward 🙂 and that’s today’s introduction sorted. Below I’ve copied one of his Oxford Mail published article’s called ‘Facing up to the student challenge’ featuring my brother and his girlfriend, the original is of course typewriter written and yes I am rather proud of these pieces of writing, who knows perhaps he’d have been thrilled I blogged his article on the internet?
I’ll leave you with one last thought, if Dad was alive and in good health today I’m positive he would have taken to WordPress ‘like a duck to water!’
Can you visualise days at Redbrick University in the1960s? All the male students wore coats and the girls were locked up in their halls of residence, not a miniskirt in sight.
(Blimey 😮 Dad was imagining miniskirts!)
An entire Term’s equipment could be transported in one large suitcase. This was heavy, admittedly on occasions fellow travellers on the 11.17am narrowly escaped with their lives when the case was swung up onto one of those silly little tennis racks they had in those days. The swinging sixties and the permissive Seventies (to say nothing of the Expensive Eighties) have changed all this.
Below are listed some of the items essential equipment parents of prospective students might invest in. Also included is some advice to parents culled from bitter experience.
Don’t allow your son or daughter to secure a place too far away from home unless gaining comprehensive knowledge of the road works on the UK motorway network is your forte. Preferably choose one far enough away to prevent journeys home to borrow money or best non stick frying pan, but not so far away as to make the transport of incredibly heavy cardboard boxes a problem. Gone are the days when a text book costs 15 shillings. Books like those used by the student coast about £40 a nicend a quick glance will not rivet the layman like a Jilly Cooper.
Driven to tears?
2. On the subject of transport, invest in a van of fair size. If this is thought absurd, try getting three guitars, a trunk full of dirty washing, fourteen cardboard boxes of assorted shoes, cassette tapes (remember those?), books, files, a monster packet of Sainsburys monster biodegradable washing powder, a small microwave, a cardboard tube containing a poster of Madonna, portable TV and spare parts for a Citroen 2cv.
3. Students reappear at the end of June ready to unwind. This however is the parents hardest time. Struggling to get the cardboard boxes into the loft is only part of the problem. A trip to Israel and Egypt with the girlfriend is in prospect…………… paid for with proceeds from casual employment.
Watch the telephone bill. Calls to the Egyptian Embassy in the daytime are expensive. The trip will begin at 8am from Oxford bus station, so say fair well to at least one nights sleep.
Two days before departure, realisation dawn’s the girlfriend does not know where Egypt is, let alone that a visit there is rather different from a day out in Bournemouth. Search the loft for a school globe to show her. Full to the brim with typhoid injections and quinine tablets, she will take fright at 11pm the night before departure. ‘Prisoner Cell Block 11’ has a marvellously calming effect and the parent can relate to it by realising the inmates are having a better time than he is.
Reversed charges from Tel Aviv cost about £9, so budget for them. Arrival back after a month is also at 3am. Cook egg and chips, make gallons of tea while you listen to stories of spells spent in Israel and Egyptian hospitals suffering from gastroenteritis which seems to be the main feature of the trip.
A last piece of advice for the parent is to give up, at least temporarily, alcohol and tobacco and embrace the conversation movement with open arms. A crafty cigarette in the garage will pass unnoticed, but don’t throw away the tube from a used toilet roll last the green police pounce. Pay the Poll Tax, but don’t attempt to justify it…………. and pay the students as well.
When your son or daughter goes away for the first time, things will never be the same again. It is hard to negotiate the path between idealism and the demands of this difficult world but one day it will all be worthwhile.
R. Shepherdson & A. Shepherdson 2019
(One final thought, just imagine living in an age of being unable to edit as you go and NO spell-check!!)
(As promised I’ve a literary historical photography post for you today, yes the Great man himself Charles Dickens.)
13th APR 2019 I day-tripped to London by bus, changed onto the Underground taking the train to visit the Home lived in by Dickens for two years of his life, years later in 1925 the home was purchased then transformed into a museum, and now a ‘time capsule‘ revealing how Victorian homes actually looked inside.
The front door of 49 Doughty Street, now entrance to the museum in Dickens time owned by solicitor Henry Pickards, is a magnificent terraced residential home only 5 minutes walk from Farringdon Tube Station, comprising three floors, a scullery kitchen basement, and also a ‘loft’ we tourists weren’t allowed to ‘peek’ inside.
Read my ticket date above, “just sayin”. The map I’m also holding is printed from the internet, a free publication describing in detail ‘walking tour’ directions from Dickens Home all the way to St. Pauls Cathedral (a British jewel of historical architecture), incidentally showing a ‘route’ considerably longer than I’d first imagined!!
Alas virtually all of Dickensian London has been lost to years of redevelopment, both progress also a consequence of rebuilding this great City after 4 years of Hitler carpet bombing homes, buildings and factories by his Luftwaffe……….. what was the point to this monstrous vandalism? You tell me, on second thoughts please don’t! The truly surprising no unbelievable fact is Christopher Wren’s St. Pauls cathedral survived intact, incredible!
(There is a reason why, long story.)
On first walking through the front door to number 48, I was under no illusion I would be staying no longer than 1 hour, Dickens little known Museum is strictly for quiet thoughtful souls who wish to experience the Victorian atmosphere knowing this great man shared meals with his wife and children, wrote tales at his desk in the drawing room, endlessly climbed three flights of stairs the entire day (two up one down) and yes made love to Catherine in the master bedroom……………….. well come on yes he did!
Belowyou see amap essential to making ‘head and tale’ of today’s post, look carefully and both a floor showing three levels including the basement, also the various rooms inside 48 Doughty Street London, incidentally I was charged a very reasonable £9 entrance fee. Enter through blue door number 49, then once inside walk through a door into number 48 their family home.
1 Entrance Hall
The busy household passed back and forth on errands and social visits. Dickens often made, sometimes nightly, walks through the City he called his ‘magic lantern’. His neighbours were professionals, architects, writer and artists. yet the law courts, workhouses and slums fuelled his writing were but a short walk away.
(Remember Dickens was both a social and prison reformer, his father had been earlier locked up in a debtors prison, and Dickens would himself demonstrate outside Newgate Prison situated a mile up the road, in fact he was instrumental in having prisoner hangings moved to behind prison walls to the public’s disappointment!)
2 Dining Room
The location and grand architecture of the house was ideal for launching Dickens socially. This elegantly curved room played a key role. As a rising author enjoying his first flush of success, he entertained many leading figures here.
Pictured above, a dining table and bowl displaying any number of ‘plastic fruit’, Dickens bust hanging from a wall, and a lovely young lady tour guide wearing a very becoming ‘black and red’ check shirt! And yes I made a point of chatting to her 🙂 because I’m very friendly that way 😛 .
Remarking “you seem very tired” as she yawned 😮 , the young lady smiling answered “yes I am”, then standing one foot on the bottom staircase, hand resting upon the banister about to climb up, I turned grinning and said “this way to the bedrooms?” Well she actually laughed out loud finding my enquiring rather amusing (or because she was Dickens bored), all good flirty fun 🙂 don’t you think? You gotta at least try and make women laugh even if SHE IS thinking ‘jeeze he’s old enough to be my father!!’ 😀
3 Morning room
Catherine Dickens used this family room to arrange household matters, spend time with the children, welcome visitors and write letters. As a Dickens travelled often, much of their daily communication was in writing. Surviving letters show their happiness as a couple then.
Stepping into the second ground floor room I’m now standing in Dickens Morning room, as I said earlier I wasn’t under any illusions, there’d only be so much to actually see wandering around someone else’s home, but standing in his writing room is quite a magical experience, standing affront Charles’ writing desk reading a page written in his own hand, knowing he possibly quill penned tales of Scrooge and Tiny Tim, Oliver Twist and Fagin, Pip and Miss Havisham possibly three of the greatest tales ever written, I truly sensed the standing on hallowed ground feeling or is that a little pretentious?
That desk sits affront a window probably because rays of natural sunlight are considerably brighter than the gas lights hanging from the morning room wall, I can attest to the rooms gloominess and the reason why my photos are slightly grainy……….. Tourists are banned from using a camera’s flash!
(Descend one flight of stairs into the kitchen.)
The servants prepared the family food here, managed by Catherine Dickens, the mistress of the house. Traders came in and out with supplies. Victorian Kitchens were often low lit, home to vermin, and filled with heat and smoke from the cook’s fire.
Above 5 photos: The ‘cast iron’ cooking range, a dresser displaying china plates, looking upwards through a window onto Doughty Street, looking back through a doorway towards the Washhouse, and glass bottles standing on a shelf.
…….. and who knows what evil chemicals they contained in Victorian times?
5 & 6 Scullery and Washhouse
The maid washed clothes and dishes here, and cleaned around the house on a demanding schedule. Dickens’s sympathetic portrayal of servants endeared him to domestic staff around the country.
7 Wine cellar
Dickens wrote about both the pleasures and harmfulness of drink. At home, he kept a good cellar to lavish his guests.
8 Drawing room
As a child, Dickens improvised performances for friends and family. As an adult, he delighted in hosting amateur theatricals. In a later home, he had a rom made into what he called ‘The smallest Theatre in the World’. From the 1850s he would take his book readings to the public stage, becoming a celebrated solo performer.
9 Dickens’s study
Dickens had a strict routine, writing without distraction from breakfast to lunch. Then he might visit his Club, work on one of his charitable projects or take a long walk. He filled this room with a vast collection of books.
Below looking out upon the rear garden, and at current London property market prices helped by number 48’s provenance, I’d suggest this home is worth 2 digit £1,000,000s?
Above two notable and extremely famous artist prints hanging from a wall, to the left Dickens a middle aged man seated in a chair. To the right the Ghost of Christmas PRESENT seated upon an enormous pile of presents, clutching a lantern of Christmas spirit in one hand, and lecturing Scrooge as to the error of his ways!
….………….then again he could reminding Scrooge that phantom number three, the grim reaper incarnate follows sooon!!
Staircase (Between First floor & Second floor)
Below, photos pointing upwards to the master bedrooms & looking back into the Drawing room.
10 Mary Hogarth’s bedroom
Dickens experienced one of the most upsetting events of his life here, the death of Catherine’s’ sister Mary Hogarth. She was s 17 years old and apparently in good health. The shock devastated the family. Dickens struggled to accept the loss of someone he considered pure and good. The sentimentality of death scenes he later wrote is rooted in that traumatic even.
11 Master bedroom
While living here, Catherine Dickens gave birth to Mary and Katy. She would go on to have 10 children by 1852. Dickens separated from Catherine in1858. But when they lived here, they were largely contented and shared this bedroom.
Pictured below, and standing beside the Master bedroom four poster bed could be Catherine Dickens herself looking out the window onto Doughty Street. On the bed you see laid out garments of period clothing, whether the stockings belong to Charles or Catherine I have no idea………… but I can tell you two of their children were conceived here, yes Victorian sexual intercourse!!
(I’ve often mused ‘did Charles visit local side streets and sample the infamous Victorian ‘two penny knee trembler? Don’t be tooo shocked upstanding fine gentlemen visit brothels!)
Hmm pictures above remind me of that ghostly little book ‘A Christmas Carol’ once again, remember a frightened Scrooge sitting upon his four poster bed, the curtains drawn around to keep the three spirits at bay, no? Well why not go read this wonderful novel and see for yourself 🙂 .
Incidentally, I read ‘A Christmas Carol’ on Christmas Eve every single year.
Pictured above, is yes a reflection of myself taking a photograph towards the dressing wardrobe mirror………… alas my youthful head of hair is a ‘long ago’ distant memory!
12 Dickens dressing room
Dickens washed, shaved and dressed here. In 1840 the historian Thomas Carlyle described Dickens as clothed fashionably rather than ‘well’. This ‘fine fellow, Boz’, he wrote loftily, has ‘clear blue intelligent eyes’ and a ‘face of the most extreme mobility’ topped with a ‘loose coil of common-coloured hair’.
13 & 14 Nursery and Servants’ bedroom
The attic was the domain of the children (Charles Junior, Mary and Katy) as well as the servants, away from the more public spaces of the house.
I didn’t take any photographs of either the Dressing room, Nursery or Servants bedroom, there’s only so much culture you can ‘snap’ in one day.
One November afternoon inside the top floor bedroom of Helen’s London flat, the curtains drawn in the middle of the day, the quiet hum of traffic outside, a smell of burning incense, candles lighting our room and me with only one thought upon my mind!
Never assume that guy standing behind you in ‘The Deli’ queue is deciding which soft cheeses to buy!
Standing behind you in our shared bus queue, so close I could reach out my arms encircle your waist and draw you close into me, that hard bump below, my aroused groin pressing deep against your shapely pert bottom nestling between two barely visible peach shaped ass cheeks…………… but alas I can’t, I shan’t, I won’t nor ever would………. I value my reputation, cherish my liberty tooo dearly to put my fingers inside a sugary delicious sweetie jar.
I haven’t a writing Topic planned for this week, there’s family issues with my father having been admitted to hospital, however I will be exploring a theme inspired by watching one of those ‘Grammarly’ videos which precede EVERY YouTube video I seem to watch!! I’m wondering whether clever Google are aware I have a WordPress? Hmm plausible and are they tailoring my ad-stream towards writing sites? …………… Makes me wonder!
So the question I’m pondering this evening is if writer’s of Fiction use one of these gramma correction apps/websites? I don’t, never have and never will apart from spellcheck!
Now what I’m about to admit to you isn’t false modesty, I often ask myself ‘do I have a have creative writing ability?’ Because I’m aware I break many golden rules……… trouble is I wasn’t aware of them in the first place?
“To my great dismay, the English Language has no enforceable laws, much less someone to enforce the laws it doesn’t have.”
(‘An Utterly Correct Guide to Clarity and Style’ by Benjamin Dreyer.)
I very much doubt Benjamin Dreyer would object to me quoting him without permission, seeing as I’ve taken the time to read excerpts from his highly readable thought provoking book! However here’s a thing, Benjamin also went onto share what he suggests is a golden rule, yet in my untrained opinion this passage is a terrible read:
‘Certain prose rules are essentially inarguable—that a sentence’s subject and its verb should agree in number, for instance. Or that in a “not only x but y” construction, the x and the y must be parallel elements.’
Speaking as someone who, right here and now, couldn’t accurately explain what a verb is I’m coming around to the realisation I almost certainly break golden rules, and again according to Benjamin (my third and final reference) he suggests the four C’s, Convention. Consensus. Clarity. Comprehension help us use words to their optimum purpose, thus enabling us to communicate exactly what we are trying to say to our reader!
Incidentally what works for me is I download the conversation going on inside my brain at the time onto a laptop.
I think it’s at this point I forget completely Mr. Benjamin Dreyer and his English Language rules………….. I’ll only confuse myself.
Have you ever watched a chat show host interview a great stand up comedian and ask him or her,
“Have you ever stopped to ask yourself why your jokes make people laugh?”
A bloody stupid question I’ve heard asked many times, and it’ll come as no surprise the answer is always “NO”. And what a dumb question because stand up comedy, holding an audience in the palm of your hand, is an artform as comparable to any great wordsmith.
As an aside the nicest compliment anyone has paid to me is, ‘you made me laugh’………….. on WordPress that is not in bed!!
Analyse and distil the essence of what makes he or she funny and the comic will probably lose the gift of humour. Similarly should a writer be tooo over introspective trying to workout the reasons why people enjoy reading their prose? You know distil out the secret, formulate a potion so making them the next JK Rowling? Sell millions of books, become a millionaire, leave Brexit fiasco Britain and go live with D. Trump.
Now to the thorny question of my own creative writing ability, err my erotica sexy stories, let’s just say I enjoy writing them and let’s not ask tooo many questions shall we, 😀 incidentally I have 3 more tales in draft. 🙂
Finally a question for you please, if you are a writer of novels, or have novels electronically accessible on Kindle, do you apply specific grammatical rules throughout you story? How an earth does a writer manage to blend phrasing rules seamlessly into text without spoiling/confusing a plot?
I didn’t finish my intended Friday’s post, so instead I’m going to reblog a (favourite) tale I first published September 2018…………. however before I begin you’ll need to be reminded what a Happy Ending is, it helps my narrative (also brings to a close my Topic for the week, some may say “thank goodness”).
Urban Dictionary defines ‘Happy Ending’ thus: ‘When a masseuse feels inclined to finish your session with oral sex or manual release’…………… and forget the word inclined that’s what I paid her to do!
One blustery autumn afternoon in late September, a few months ago now! You’d have found me laying naked on my back, not a stitch of clothing on my body, my legs wide apart and a Romanian lady by the name of ‘Dana’ kneeling before me, a truly beautiful gorgeous lady gazing down upon me, a delicious wicked smile across her face oh and the reddest glossiest lipstick you ever did see.
“Do you enjoy giving gentleman hand relief?” I inquired,
And when you ‘come’ to think of it massaging a male client’s back muscles with dexterous skillful fingertips, finishing the massage with one hand gently curled around his erection and gently rolling his testicles between thumb and finger with the other, has to be one of the strangest occupations ever!
“Yes I do honey”,
Dana answered with a wicked grin, her lubricated right hand rhythmically stroking my love length and circling my purple helmet with warming palms, the joyous tingles and pleasurable sensations coursing from the tip of my penis down to my groin are near indescribable………… only men understand how gorgeous and beautiful those stimulated nerve endings alter his mind, his breath quickens, his hardness bucks and pulses as he draws ever closer to climax.
I once gleaned from secretive Dana where she’d learnt her gift for massage with an erotic twist from? She said after arriving in Britain as an economic migrant, earning money to pay for a deposit on land back in her native Romanian village, she first stayed with a friend in Birmingham but had no job, no income! Then one day her flatmate suggest they both rent a bedroom, advertise ‘certain services’ on an adult website, both working giving intimate Swedish massages…………. massage ‘services’ you’ll not find on your average Town’s High Street.
Well fast forward her tale several years and Dana rented a bottom floor box bedroom within a back street terraced house in a part of Oxford, a place where you’ll not leave your car unattended………….. put it this way if you did, your car wouldn’t be there when you returned!!!
I’d better shorten my winding complicated tale because you all lead busy lives, just understand whilst surfing the net one evening I happened across this LEGAL adult website giving intimate massages, phoned the mobile number hoping I was speaking to the lady in the photographs and well I became her 4 o’clock afternoon appointment that same day.
You’ll all know by now I’m an honest guy, well the website is legal, the ladies are over age 18 and working independently of their own accord and incidentally Dana stresses she gives no sexual services………… which means neither penetration or fellatio……… shame really because as I gazed into her eyes I didn’t half fancy a blowjob!
Well I traveled by bus to Oxford, found my way to the given name of the street, texted her for the house number at 3.55pm, then upon reaching the address told her my name through the intercom beside the front door. A buzzing sound came from said door lock and there standing in the hallway was one of the most beautiful young ladies I have ever seen in my life, slim gorgeous with a beautiful smile and warm becoming blue eyes.
I introduced myself and yes she was even more beautiful than her photos suggested, then followed her through one of the many doors into a dimly lit warm and cosy bedroom………..virtually absent of furniture other than a single bed with duvet, centrally heated, carpeted, very clean and extremely tasteful.
I handed Dana the advertised price and then stood there near speechless looking like a complete and utter lemon wondering what to do next? Until she said,
“Well take your clothes off!”
“All of them?” I rather lamely answered she must have thought ‘Jesus I’ve a right one here!’
“Yes all of them honey” she said laughing now, “then take a shower” glancing past me toward an even SMALLER side room (wardrobe) no bigger than a shower cubicle………… err that’s what the cupboard was!
So, and writing here and now this anecdote still makes me laugh, Dana stood there in her fishnet stockings, latex high waisted tight fitting hot pants (no knickers hold that thought!) also a black bralette revealing two of the most exquisitely shaped high round breasts you ever did see, I’m still smiling because this lady I’d known for sixty seconds stood but a metre close to me inside this tiny bedroom, and I near felt her burning gaze as I slipped down my boxer shorts, I glanced up and yes she was appraising my ‘bits and pieces’ ………… now just be aware I’m a clean bunny who was freshly showered wearing clean underwear, but as instructed I took a shower after being handed a fluffy soft towel.
(Why are Hotel towels always white?)
I ought to admit at this point I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Dana one time several years ago, she gave me a finger in the ass prostate tickle but as the days past afterward, I decided the service wasn’t for me…………… yes one for the bucket list but I didn’t enjoy it!
Well now I’m laying naked on her bed face down, a clean towel spread lengthways along the spongy quilt, arms down by my side then Dana places herself sitting on the tops of my legs, her two thighs either side my own and truth be told in a VERY firm vice like grip. Both Dana and I now comfortable I hear her squirt massaging oils into one hand from a bottle, then she began to push her hands deep into the small of my back, gliding them along my spine around my shoulders and all I can say is if you’ve never experienced warm skilful fingers work their magic on tired tight muscles, especially around the shoulders, if you haven’t then omg you haven’t lived! I will add Dana finger’s kneaded pushed and pulled tense muscles but not to worry she brought a true tingling warmth into my skin…………. btw I felt fabulous afterward!
And all the while we chatted about BREXIT, yes you did read right, she’s a working migrant from Romania! I talked about my family, we discussed Oxford architecture and I soon discovered Dana was witty personable friendly qualities you ascertain within minutes of meeting someone new, Dana is an intelligent young lady, then after 15 glorious minutes had passed rather abruptly she said,
“Now turn over!” Having first moved to one side,followed by a firmly spoken, “spread your legs wide!”
Dutifully I ‘widened’ presenting my bits and pieces in what was a rather precarious position, with Dana finally sitting her bum on her thighs kneeling close between them, and omg you just have to know this goddess of a lady was so beautiful with the prettiest sweetest smile you ever did see……………. and a wicked gleam in her eyes! Like I said she enjoyed jerking men off, maybe the thrill for her was being in control and dominating a man, or perhaps giving hand relief is just a fun way to pay the gas bill? Either way it’s times like these that I’ve never felt more alive.
Dana now wearing a pair of delicate latex gloves from a box, slips them on, cups my testicle sack with the palm of her left hand and curls lubricated fingers around the shaft of my penis with the other, oh and I forgot to add I’ve rarely been so hard erect and engorged before. I’d guess staring at her gorgeous boobs and plunging cleavage was the reason for that…….. oh as for knowing she wore no knickers! Well put it this way slightly parted thighs and tightly fitting hotpants revealed all!!
I should say at this point do I really need to graphically explain the process of hand relief? Men of course understand the ‘process’ and I’d guess all women have serviced a partner, anyways all I will add is Dana possessed a skilful technique she described as luxurious (it was!) Well she worked her dextrous magic, my penis bucking as I’m brought to climax then bingo she directs a stream of warm semen across my stomach……………. any men reading appreciate the joyous heavenly pleasure.
(And with boobs as exquisite as those two you’ll appreciate I even impressed myself!)
So there you are the Swedish massage with intimate ‘happy ending’, and for any ladies reading all I can say is if you’re in search of a well paid fun occupation, you could do worse than train as a masseuse…………….. oh and I forgot to say Dana’s Birmingham flatmate gave her the confidence and now she gives ‘happy endings’ for a living!!!
Been a while since I’ve taken part in any writing challenge, some bloggers refer to these as Awards (never understood that one?) But I prefer the idea challenges are answering cool questions with honest personal answers, they’re possibly more fun writing than reading but fun all the same, like I said Victoria’s dreamt up an interesting 11 Q’s.
1. One person who inspired you? Honestly I really struggled with this one, my brother? No perhaps more truthfully my mother, she’s the bedrock of our family where no problem is insurmountable, and within minutes of speaking with a total stranger I’m in awe of her ability to appear that they’d been good friends for years, I was incredulous watching her at 12 as I am now at 50. 2. One moment that changed the course of your life? Age 16 opening the letter from an engineering firm offering me a four year toolmaking apprenticeship, truly the happiest four years of my life AND I was paid a wage to learn skills I still enjoy using today, not forgetting those friendships with thirty other young men my age, their laughter, humour, comradery and bullshit tales……. happy days. 3. One thing that you would change about yourself, your life, the world
About myself? Better able to chat up women, truly I’m ok once in bed with them.
About my life? I’d do anything not to be living in a Country engulphed by a chaotic political madness known as BREXIT……….. the fallout will define the way I live until the day I die, thanks a bunch David Cameron you asshole!
The World? The honest answer is I’m weary and perhaps I’ve given up a little (Brexit is that bad), I’ve had enough of the constant bombardment of bad news, no horrific tragic news stories and wish the World never let them happen…………. A close relative many years ago committed suicide, still affects me now and perhaps will the more I get older?
4. One hero/heroine from past/or present? Easy, Elizabeth I, for some reason her reign captures my imagination more than any other person, I visited ‘The Tower’ last year, I remember climbing the spiral stone steps within on of the confined claustrophobic towers thinking to myself, ‘I am walking in the exact same steps as Elizabeth’, sounds pretentious? No completely true. 5. One cultural recommendation (film, book, song, painting)?
Film? As of now, Roman Polanski’s Tess of the d’Urbervilles, one afternoon our O level English literature class went to watch a screening at the cinema, a gorgeous beautiful film that blew me away and also regrettably the ONLY thing I can remember from two years of studying English Literature! I’m a late bloomer.
Book? Easy! ‘A Christmas Carol’ by Charles Dickens, without fail I read this ‘Ghostly Tale’ no earlier than two day’s before Christmas day, AND without fail I begin reading feeling like ‘oh no not again, do I have to? I know this story err like the back of my hand!’ HOWEVER by the finish of page 1, a gem of a beginning where Dickens has without question convinced the reader Marley is dead as a doornail that I am well and truly hooked (if you don’t believe he’s dead then the tale is un-believable). ‘A Christmas Carol’ is that good hence the many screen adaptations, yes reluctantly even the Muppet one. However the book is darker and more sinister than many might assume, the scene where Spirit three reveals to Scrooge HE is the dead man lying beneath the headstone is truly spine chilling……. Scrooge hadn’t suspected it was he after listening in to so many huddled conversations of people he’d known. So why read at Christmas? The ghostly tale is set at Christmas time therefore my own (now waning) excitement enriches the experience, but above all else throughout his book Dickens poses uncomfortable truths about my own failings prejudices, I haven’t given enough to charity that past year, I could have been more generous of spirit, ‘aren’t there tooo many children born into the world?’ ‘I pay my taxes so are there not enough workhouses to house the poor?’…………. a brilliant little book.
Btw I enjoy the concept of reading Hardy, but alas his novels get the better of me apart from his book of short stories………. hmm I think I have a short attention spans but I’m improving.
Song? Honestly Changes by the minute or the hour, I enjoy listening to BBC Radio 2 and I’m more than happy with their selections………. ‘The Sweetest Thing’ by U2 perhaps.
Painting? A day spent wandering around Tate Britain looking at paintings is my idea of a great ‘arty’ day, I know not a jot about art but I get satisfaction from looking at a painting that emotionally touches my heart and soul…………. pretentious? No we all enjoy art that speaks to us.
6. One challenge the world is facing? According to David Attenborough human extinction! This natural history guru expert and genius just days ago said mankind is facing extinction and I fear he may be correct.
7. One great thing that we have achieved? Sending a man to the moon, have him walk about its surface then returning him home safely again, I look at the moon through my telescope with awe and wonder because visiting seems so conceptually fantastical, in fact I near cannot believe it happened but I know America did, well done America.
8. One regret? I miss all four of my Grandparents still to this day, my mother married very young so I was blessed to be around them well into my thirties (we all live to a minimum of age83 in our family), perhaps mum’s father most of all, he took me to games of cricket as a child then years later I accompanied him as an old gentleman…………… wonderful happy days.
9. One nugget of advice for humanity? For Christ’s sake learn how to Govern yourselves with intelligence humanity and humility, devoid of greed avarice and selfishness, happily pay yourselves exactly the same wages, provide free healthcare and education for everyone……. ffs the list goes on and on! 10. One alternative career path you might have chosen? If I hadn’t been fortunate with gaining a toolmaking apprenticeship I’d like to have trained as an electrician, then again several years ago I happened across a genuine adult film company website, they were advertising lol for amateur male Pornstars………… no seriously, ordinary men were invited to apply sending a photo, you’d assemble at a hotel, the ONLY professionals were female porn models and well you get the idea!!!………. Ok I never ever seriously contemplated applying geez what if my mother had found out, also it’s disgustingy sordid and seedy but the temptation was definitely there, should I/would I is quite a moral dilemma? Lol ok I wasn’t tempted and then there’s the questions could I remain hard for 2hours and is six inches enough?
11. One thing that you could do better, but you don’t? Live a little.
Yes I realise ‘I bit my Pillow’ wasn’t the best title to have been penned by an erotic author……………. lol sorry it was the best I could come up with and yes I am happy to say I’m an author (of sorts). Aren’t we all?
No messing. Short and sweet. I’ll get straight to the point and say my tale called ‘I bit my Pillow!’ is fiction HOWEVER DON’T leave my blog quite yet because parts of that tale are true as happened.
(Btw if you are at all concerned, don’t be, my semi true tale is very tame reading but there is a context and I’ll reveal that tomorrow.)
The gay sex, the passionate kissing, the fingers in my ass never ever happened, though for very unique and quite frankly unusual reasons I did go to bed with the Frenchman in my tale, and yes we were both naked both not wearing a stitch of clothing!
So are you relieved? Or disappointed?
Tomorrow I will to tell you why in heavens name I slept with the guy, and how I came to be in his house taking a shower in the first place! It all makes for a fascinating read to myself, but perhaps not interesting enough to share.
(Btw a nature walk with photos follows sooon!)
Should I be admitting all my honesty here? Perhaps not but hey I’m not ashamed of anything and if you wish to read more well tune in tomorrow.
Remember a tale for adults, all very tame ‘stuff ‘and NSFW.
‘I was tired from traveling bewildered with nowhere to sleep, the choice was stark a park bench for the night or him, so I chose him relieved to be safe at last.’
I guess an emotional shock heightens sharpens the senses and I remember every detail, he’d taken a chance just as he probably did every evening, he was a lovely guy, a gentleman, he didn’t force himself upon me which I’ll forever be grateful for, I could easily have been raped only to end my days as dismembered body parts in an unknown grave, a missing person never heard of again. Understand he was a nice guy!
Nervously I crept out of his en-suite bathroom wearing only a towel round my waist, clasping clothes bundled in my arms, my comfort blanket, I’d just had a lovely warm and pleasant shower only to be faced by the French guy standing naked a few paces from me. And to say I was startled no shocked is possibly the biggest understatement ever, we’d never spoken simply because my French was non existent and he spoke very little English, call him Gallic relaxed confident, and although nervous and a little fearful I didn’t panic, I’m a good judge of character and he’d been a lovely guy this whole evening.
In fact he’d been a perfect gentleman ever since picking me up at the Station, but beneath my very invigorating hot shower I’d slowly come to my senses, I finally understood he’d been more than very friendly striking up that conversation in the waiting room, he’d been cruising, I’d been picked up! The penny had dropped whilst hot water cascaded down my slim pink body, and I knew as I’d suspected, at long last I was sure he was gay.
Having showered, clutching clothes bundled in my arms I nervously stepped out the shower and walked into his en suite bedroom, omfg there my Frenchman stood like a statue in the doorway, all pink and naked and possibly the biggest fright of my life ‘gulp!’
(I haven’t seen Christopher Robin as of yet, I’ve heard it’s very good so I’m 🙂 sure I will)
A home Town (may be mine) every year plays host to the World Poohsticks Championships, and yes I’m rather proud even if the event is just a bit of fun. 🙂 03/06/2018 to be exact.
Btw, The Championships are taken seriously and Money is raised for Charity! (The photo below was taken a few days in advance)
Below E. H. Shepard’s original drawing of Christopher Robin and Winnie The Pooh playing Poohsticks from Pooh Bridge, the photograph of the bridge is to be found on Langel common………. incidentally bridging the River Windrush!
And yes I realise this ISN’T the true Pooh Bridge from literature, but for some reason the ‘Rotary Club’ changed location……….. possibly something to do with car parking issues?…….. No matter the day is fun packed with live music and stalls so no one minds
Now reading the banner at the entrance to the common, lol see I’m not telling fibs 😀 my Town hosts it’s very own World Championships, and I should add walking beside Langel common’s long grasses brought on a sneezing fit………… my (blank) hay fever!
Confused? Then please read on.
(As an aside I met an old friend on the day with her young Granddaughter, even at 70yrs Rosemary’s still a good looking woman, her eyes ACTUALLY sparkled in the sunlight)
Wow to think my English rural Town stages a World Championships is quite something and better still the afternoon’s event has absolutely nothing to do with a Sport involving balls now that’s impressive! On the Sunday of which I speak children descended to the common coming from miles around to play a game first written about in in 1928 by author A. A. Milne, and that children are competing in a game taken straight from children’s literature is something to be truly celebrated……….. don’t you agree?
That the day’s fun has nothing to do with action superheroes, ‘nonsense’ names in AI video games or overpaid Sportspersons and their balls should be applauded.
Now as I said, aficionados will know the game of Poohsticks was originally played on a footbridge across in Posingford Wood, but not to worry, my Town is famous for holding a World Championships and I think that’s fabulous and pretty cool.
(OK lol it’s not quite the Olympics but I DO try hard on my Blog)
Now 🙂 do I really have to explain how the game of Poohsticks is played seeing as you are all writer’s on a blogging platform, remembering Winnie The Pooh and his little band of chums is a classic book written for children? Of course not, you’ve probably read yourself as a child, read it aloud to your children or grandchildren it’s a wonderful story that’s captured imaginations for decades (and many more)…………. hmm I may even read again one day, and why not?
Ok you’ve twisted my arm, I’m at a loose end this afternoon so why not write about Winnie The Pooh without plagiarising that damned Wikipedia! (I’m probably breaking umpteen copyrights showing these pictures but I make NO money from blogging!)
The actual story can be found in the book ‘The House on Pooh Corner’.
Winnie The Pooh Christopher Robin and his friends hang over the rail of one side of the bridge……….. safely I might add!! Each or them holds a stick importantly owned only to themselves, they each drop their stick at the very same time then rush to the opposite side of the bridge, hang over and note SAFELY if you’re ever going to try, then wait and watch until the sticks come into view.
Remember I said each with a stick recognisable to themselves, well the first stick that comes into view wins! And if you yourselves play for heavens sake take care and staySAFE!
Lol aren’t you a tiny bit envious of my Town 😀 seeing as you are all writers? Only joking but the tale is still pretty cool and do you know what, I’m going to throw a stick off the bridge one day on the way to work!!
Mildly adult themed therefore NSFW, incidentally did you know the anachronym stands for Not Suitable For Work? Hmm I didn’t until just recently, true.
I remember the afternoon I tasted a woman for the first time, close my eyes and I see two naked adults laying on a bed together, one a middle aged guy the other an Irish lady with dusty blonde hair and a few miles on the clock. Curvaceous she was with round perky tits, a tiny waist as you could ever hope to see and conversely wide child bearing hips giving her a classic pear shape figure as only English girls usually have.
So there we lay in a swanky London bedroom (hmm we’ll name her Rosie) the day she agreed to me going down below, she wasn’t sure mind biting her bottom lip with thoughts of I want to but let him wait, and a guy must never EVER pressurise a lady into doing something she’s not keen to. There Rosie lay on a friend’s large double bed, a window to our right curtains drawn with Autumn sun streaming onto us two naked lovers, passion filled and excited as two giddy intoxicated teenagers making love for the first time, the warmth of the sunlight making the temperature just right against a new season chill.
I asked, she agreed and neither of us had come after much kissing and fondling building to an intensity as only fabulous foreplay can do, the consequence both our brains were nervously excited and sexually stimulated as I moved from laying beside her warm fragrant body of sizeable hips and boobs jiggling like cold jelly sitting on a plate. Rosie parted her thighs, slowly to reveal sweet honey as you lift the lid of a beehive, a wonderous gorgeous moment as her lips curtain open, a moment I will never tire of till my dying day ❤ .
Rosie now laying in the most receptive position a woman could ever give of herself if a little precarious, her outer labia parted revealing moistened pink flesh, plump soft folds near succulent to eat now made ever more shocking contrasted against milky white skin! But no I wasn’t going to slip and slide my hardness inside, no not for a while anyway, this afternoon I’d been given permission to lick and taste this wonderous beautiful oh so erotic opening leading deep inside a woman’s physical soul.
I knelt before her as if praying at a religious altar, a special Godly place where you discover the meaning to life after entering heaven’s pearly gates. I smoothed the palms of my hands up and down her milk white silken thighs, touching for a second the pink patch surrounding her V, a colour of skin hidden by a woman’s panties and ever so erotic if you happen to see a lady her skirt drawn up her thighs, her intimacy hidden by soft white cotton delicates, if lucky you can just make out this flush tinted skin and yes very different to the rest of her body. Erotic. Secret and seldom often seen?
I’d waited my whole adult life for this moment, Rosie wide open her wet treasure glistening in the sunlight, me kneeling stroking with a finger, touching her pink rose petal the surrounding to her lips only to quickly pull away, tease her, arouse and excite, then Rosie having had enough of my annoying foreplay says,
“Go on Andrew lick me!”………….. a woman of few words was Rosie and if you want something badly enough do you need to ask twice when the connection you have with a lover is a near telepathic joining of souls!
Continuedfrom Helen partoneclick‘pingback here’ and 2 days later here’s the ending, also mildadult fiction.
Quick as a flash, I turned and near ran through my living room door……….
………………… pulling the front door shut behind me! Helen had disappeared from clipping her pink roses hadn’t she, vanished into thin air?
I paused in my driveway my breathing beginning to steady as a spinning brain caught up after a very surreal last half an hour. One minute I’d been jerking myself off watching my gardening neighbour’s jiggling boobs within her yellow blouse, the next Helen over the road lifted the cotton top, showing me her pert round breasts and on reflection I’d say they’re a B cup!
Anyways now I’m perspiring searching for Helen who, if you read part 1, had incredibly beckoned me over to her home!
A thought crossed my mind, ‘the minx was playing games, she’d caught me watching her garden and teasingly flashed her tits’, oh ‘blank’ my heart sank! Helen’s getting her own back, leading me on with intentions of………. ?
A feeling of disappointment seeped into my mind, no more a worrisome thought, perhaps she’d cleared off to tell her husband I’m a Peeping Tom! ‘Oh God No’ as I quite involuntary felt an ache in my stomach, then my mature wet dream with a smiling face appeared from behind the corner of her house.
Waving her arms vigorously, Helen beckoned me a second time calling out,
“Andrew!……………….. Andrew, hurry up man” taking a sideways glance up the road she turned and continues,
“Hurry up, we haven’t much time!” All the while her arm waving me over and quite vigorous it was to, yummy mummy Helen really DID want me OVER!
Hurriedly stepping off the pavement I ran across the road remembering to glance both directions,
“Jeeze I don’t want to be hit by a car not now of all days”, I muttered.
My mind now trying to comprehend what an earth was happening in my life, at the same time a beating heart pounding within my chest blood pumping into my brain giving a numbed headache, a sexually excited thought consumed me as I jogged toward her garage and down a tiled path toward an alleyway leading to her rear garden, ‘doe’s she want my hard dick I wonder?’
From gazing out my window to jogging this claustrophobic pathway is but a minute yet felt like a lifetime, I mused “Hell’s fire, is this crazy woman tripping on drugs?”
No sooner had I finished saying what could be my final sentence here on earth, my pace slowing to a briskness as I walked from the shadowed confines of a tight walled alley into the glaring sun of a VERY surreal late afternoon!
I stopped, soon followed by a near heart attack that could have taken my final breath as Helen jumped out from behind the house, flinging her arms around my shoulders she drew me closer as her back hit the wall and rather too hard to be comfortable.
Helen’s arms encircling my shoulders, my face but inches away from hers I felt warm breath against my mouth, and pulling me yet tighter into her body my two hands moved aside her hips as curling fingers held Helen’s waist. So close now our bodies touching from chest to thighs I felt her warmth through thin cotton fabric, her bosom rising with every intake of excited breath, my bulging groin now pressing deep into Helen’s crotch, and so large was my thickened dick it felt uncomfortable to move.
We kissed, passionately two adulterous lover’s wet lips parted open, the tips of our tongues touching entwined and dancing, my eyes wide open, Helen’s closed as her head moved from one side to the other her gorging lips devouring mine. For several minutes we deep throat kissed until finally one of us said something breaking a pre coitus silence.
Pulling her face from mine, Helen quite out of breath said,
“Andrew we haven’t much time”, smiling so sweetly her lips pecked me on mine and my heart began to sing, now my frenzied brain had finally caught up with the past 5 minutes near dreamlike incredulity. ‘Oh yes I’m quite alive’ I mused while standing in Helen’s rear garden pressing her against the wall kissing cuddling and for this brief moment her soft wet lips showed all I ever needed to know, ‘Helen wanted me, needed me, loved me!’
“My husband’s buying paint at the DIY store” she smiled a wanting fire lit in her eyes, “there’s no time to f### right now”, that was a shock and a half I can tell you……. ‘WHO SAID ANYTHING ABOUT SEX?’ “But I will jerk you off this time” she continued with a grin “I could see you staring at me and wanking, you dirty devil Andrew!”
Pausing blushing and smiling at my adulterous siren, Helen went further, “I was watching your right arm jerking, tell me did you come?”
“NO, and stopping near killed me Helen!”
Me open mouthed, a look of shock across my face, I just about got a questioning “you mean my curtain’s are actually see through?”
Then at the very point of Helen answering, my torso pulled back, the palm of my open right hand thrust into her crotch groping and squeezing her intimacy, my fingers prising her thighs apart as they curled underneath her fanny bridge, warm soft no doubt twitching and ready.
Helen gasped whatever she was about to answer unable to come from her mouth.
I squeezed her crotch tighter cupping my palm ever wider, the other hand now tugging at the button of her jeans a sexual excitement overtaking any lingering inhibitions. My imagination had long ago dissipated now replaced by a carnal primeval lust, the only thought ‘my fingers are going between her pussy lips whether she stops me or not!’
(Remember 🙂 this is a tall tale)
My fumbling fingers having unbutton her jean’s 28″ waist I pulled down the cold metal zipper, excitedly tugging at the raw cotton sliding down her shapely thighs, bending my knees as I crouched. Standing again my left arm reached around Helen’s hip an open hand squeezing a buttock feeling it’s roundness beneath soft cotton panties. As my right hand felt her ass, fingers of my other hand fumbled again into Helen’s crotch as I pulled her pantie gusset to one side, wriggling dexterous fingers in between parted folds of moist labia, all the while our faces but inch’s apart staring into each others eyes and both breathing ever deeper.
She smiled again, whimpering panting then catching a breath again as my dancing fingers touched a sacred pleasure spot, and after what seemed an age of fingering Helen’s dripping wet treasure, she worriedly repeated her stark warning,
“Paul won’t be long, we’ll f### another day Andrew” betraying a sadness in her eyes, she continued “you feel so big and thick against me, I’ll take you inside I promise”, then glancing down at her wrist watch and looking terrified, she said,
“Omg he’ll return in minutes, you have to go! NOW!” Such a crying shame I mused with my hand deep under Helen’s crotch and fingers searching for god knows what inside her warm pussy?
The excitement all tooo much for me, remember I was at a point of climax but ten minutes ago, I felt my ball’s rising as their storks shortened, my throbbing penis bucking as gorgeous sensations excited the nerve endings around the rim of my ‘bellend’, “I can’t hold back any longer” I whispered, panicking thoughts of ‘this passion’s all to much for me’ flooding my mind numbed drugged and slightly euphoric.
My eyes losing contact with hers, my head jerked back as I ejaculated thick creamy semen into my boxer shorts, warm and sticking to my thigh, an audible “I’m coming” gasping through open lips as I released, and God how I kept releasing!
(All very tame content with zero sex, oh and BTW my last erotic sexy tale for a while 😉 )
Click ‘here’ for ‘Beautiful Helen from across the road’ The Ending!!!
I’m standing close behind the living room window gazing at my neighbour Helen across the road, but don’t worry she cannot see me I’ve got net curtains that’s why, and take note I’m not a curtain twitcher or a peeping Tom looking at what others are up to in their spare time. No it’s just people pass by and used to look through the window into my living room, so UP went the net curtain!
But watching Helen busying herself pottering around her front garden is different, and I’m not being nosey mind, certainly not because this is me time, a time to gaze and appreciate my beautiful neighbour from across the Road.
Helen’s an elegant young looking fifty year old, with a slim and slender body now crouching on the lawn facing me, one knee pressed into the grass, a trowel in hand weeding around the bases of her delightful and loved rose trees.
Every so often she’ll lean forward her pretty face a picture of concentration as her arms tug at stubborn dandelions the most invasive of plants, and I watch and wait for these very moments because invariably at the same time as her vigorous gardening the looping neck line of Helen’s baggy yellow blouse opens to reveal pendulous firm boobs waving from side to side. Then if I really concentrate my gaze I can just about see her nipples, large dark disks of areola they are, chocolate brown in fact now vividly contrasted against her milk white skinned boobs.
Omg there must be a particularly hard weed to pull out because she has to stand up bend forward and tug with all her slender might, and joy of joys the neck of her oversize blouse drapes further and opens even wider to reveal both breasts now swinging untethered by a tight fitting bra. Oh thank you Sweet Jesus for summer gardening days such as these!
A questioning thought suddenly crossed my mind, jeeze I pondered, Helen doesn’t half spend a long time weeding that same patch directly opposite me! Glancing down at my wrist watch, and now very shocked to see my neighbour in the early autumn days of her life hadn’t moved from weeding that single pink flowering rose tree for, I stared at the dial and quite taken aback I realised for the last ten minutes……… I physically gulped in shock! A cold shiver went down my spine, omg I thought to myself, ‘Helen knows I’m watching, mycurtains aren’t blocking my voyeuristic playtime as well as I’d hoped and assumed.’
‘Holy f*ck!’ my brain momentarily in seizure, ‘jeeze what happens now’ I thought with beads of sweat forming on the skin of my brow, and all the time I rushed to let go of the shaft of my hardened penis, tugging at the elasticated hem of my boxer shorts, because yes I’d been masturbating whilst gazing at Helen’s pendulous swinging boobs with chocolate coloured nipples!
As you can imagine my mind’s in a state of excited panic, my heavy breathing isn’t only because I’d been caught watching, no minutes earlier I’d very nearly climaxed. creamy jizz soon to squirt into a white tissue held with the other hand, my excited hard shaft bucking and twitching about to shoot its load!
Yet more panic as I reached down to pull up my jeans and all this time Helen stood like an ashen faced manikin straight out of a teen horror movie, motionless, erect her face staring unnervingly straight at me through a net curtain more see through than I’d ever assumed!
‘What an earth happens now?’ I thought. ‘Does she run for her husband? Call the Police to arrest the peeping Tom from across the Road?’ A myriad of awful doom laden thoughts flashed past my mind as I finally zipped up my jean flies, my clothing now straight!
I felt my cheeks burning hot, cold droplets of perspiration trickling down my torso, my armpits now as warmed as all other erogenous parts of my body, then Helen did something so incredible, so close to unbelievable I nearly cannot write of the shock right here! Helen lifted her two arms, hands clasping the hem of her vivid yellow flouncy cotton blouse, only to pull the garment to first passing her waist, pause, then yet further still up and over her bosom so revealing two round breasts…………….. both approx a palmful therefore from experience I’d say a fulsome c cup.
So previously close to orgasm I nearly jizzed inside my boxer’s there and then!
Open mouthed my face a picture of bewildered incredulity, Helen smiled from across the road and for a second I don’t think I’ve felt such a mixture of relief and happiness mixed into one. But hold on her right hand no longer holding the garment’s waist hem, Helen raised her arm and with a curled up first finger my beautiful neighbour from across the road beckoned me closer.
Quick as a flash, I turned and near ran through my living room door……
To be continued and the link to part two you’ll find at the beginning!
Ray this Detective challenge of yours captured my imagination, my very first picture prompt actually and fascinating to me because three quarters in, without a care in the world I wrote myself into a literary dead end! If truth be told I very nearly deleted but persevered and came up with an ending which I think works but for the reader to decide. Hmm that possibly gives away my style, an idea, write, and see where a tale takes me?
I enjoyed writing Sally’s cheating husband lol in fact I got a little carried away, but it was fun and passed a few happy hours 🙂 , hope you enjoy and thank you. 🙂 ❤
Ray’s Rules: You are a private investigator. You have worked for Mrs Sally Canetti during the last 3 months – chasing her cheating husband. Write a short note to her (on the following photo).
Ray’s picture prompt
I am the Private Investigator
I have worked for Mrs Sally Canetti during the last 3 months chasing her cheating husband
Below is my short(ish) note, posted in an envelope to Sally Canetti with photo
The cheating artist in the photo = Mr Canetti
The artist’s nude model = Scarlet Dufrain
Dear Mrs Canetti,
I trust you’ve been keeping well since we last met, would you believe three months have passed, time flies, and I fear this will be reflected in my increased fee (attached receipt), the train tickets swallowed most of your retainer and London bed and breakfast consumed what little was left!
London I hear you say? Yes your husband visit’s London at the weekends and no doesn’t go fishing with his brother, then again you guessed correct the brother is a lying asshole, so beware the girly chats you have with his wife at the salon, a tissue of lies! Because now for certain I know he IS cheating as you suspected, hopefully my evidence will bring closure and off the record possibilities of great wealth……….. please remember that when you appraise my inflated fee.
Now you’ve recovered from reading the much inflated fee I’m afraid there’s good and bad news, your husband is mistrustful consequently takes great care with fidelities. For six weekends I followed Mr Canetti to London Paddington observing him from a carriage behind, and on each time pulling into the platform we’d alight then I’d lose sight as he hurriedly disappeared from view melting into the crowds. However all’s not lost, every Friday evening I’d follow his journey that little bit farther, that first Friday I lost him at the entrance to Paddington Underground………. very disappointing, all was not lost though, the following Friday I waited at said entrance and would follow him approximately 5 minutes more. Your husband is a clever man Sally, first I lost him after he alighted at Belize Park Station, the bastard waited till seconds before the door shut, jumped out passing him as he walked up the platform as I sped into the tunnel, you’ll guess I lost him.
Well not to worry, I surmised correctly our errant husband follows the same route and to the exact same timetable of trains, so having a hunch I took an earlier train than he to London, travelled the Underground to Belsize, sat in the waiting room with a coffee (note all costs are receipted) as the very same train motioned to pull out the station your husband jumped out and briskly strode through the exit with me in tow. I might add sporting a very self satisfied smug grin but it takes a clever man to hoodwink old ‘Sniffer Dobbins!’ Keeping your husband in view, sniffer by name sniffer nature, I followed close behind and on exiting the Station we took the short walk to Belsize Park (yes it really is a Park) and would you believe it I got lucky at last, because sited alongside the Park sat a row of black taxis, then quick as a flash your husband near leaped from pavement into a cab, so with great haste I might add, I jumped into the cab behind has he sped of into the distance me shouting to the driver,
“My man FOLLOW THAT BLACK CAB!”
And Sally what a splendid driver Abdallah was, with a great haste, as safely he could muster, my Pakistani friend followed your husband across busy London, driving up side streets, swerving around pedestrians, a quick left turn, down a one way street THE wrong way perhaps with a fast corner right, which got me thinking your stickler for timing husband and careful subversive behaviour takes the very same taxi every weekend.
I was proved correct!
We followed, or I should say Abdallah drove as fast he dare trying to keep up, I fed him a lie I was Military Intelligence (MI5) following a suspected carrier of Novochek nerve agent heading for Salisbury, a trick of our Trade is gaining friends, it excites people such as Abdallah to get involved.
Your husband’s car slowed down on driving through a quiet street off Piccadilly Circus, Abdalla followed slowly from behind and we two observed the taxi door open, your husband step out and pay his fare, nervously glance up and down said Street, climb several steps and enters a terraced flat. Though be aware Sally! Mr Canetti didn’t knock and wait for someone to open and let him in, no he took keys from HIS coat pocket, glanced up the Street again and disappeared inside.
Receipts for Taxi fares you’ll find in the envelope!
Here at ‘Findum & Catchum’ Private Investigators, our primary work is following wayward spouses, and experience tells old ‘sniffer’ Dobbins letting yourself into a flat only means one thing, and as I suspected your husband owns said Flat because later that afternoon I paid a special visit to Council records, and yes I guessed correct it’s there in black and white, your husband is sitting tenant for his Flat if by a different name, rather clever actually…… Mrs Canetti on full payment of our Bill I will provide you his address and photographs, yes I’d guess the photo of your husband painting a naked model hanging from a wall has been troubling your mind?
Three months passed while tracking your husband’s secretive clandestine fun and games, but there’s more, with every London Visit to his Flat off Piccadilly Circus, ten minutes to the second after your husband entered his flat, a pretty young lady with flowing long blonde hair would knock the door and Mr Canetti would let her in!
Scarlet Dufrain is her name!
So Sally here my tale arrives at weekend last. Friday I’d taken the precaution to rent a room directly to the rear of his flat, a ‘sniffer’ Dobbins hunch, and yes luck was with me, looking through my trusty camera’s Telephoto lens I would gaze into Mr Canetti ‘s living room with skylight, and another lucky break, your husband and Miss Scarlett Dufrain entered. Yes a Miss Scarlet, do you know her Sally? Well I didn’t and on further enquiries she works for a High Class Escort Agency and is not an artist model, Scarlet by name Scarlet by nature!
So what did they do together, I’d guess that’s troubling you now, well Friday evening he painted Scarlet in various naked poses, still life’s I think they’re known as! No she’s not a model Sally, I regret to inform you Miss Dufrain is an escort, a hooker, a rather pricey seller of sex!
I’d guess he pays her hourly fee with the money he receives from renting his flat out Sunday to Thursday……………. answer’s your question how did he pay for that new Mercedes, so you’ll be comforted to know he’s not returned to armed robbery and holding up Post Offices again! Be happy in yourself after all divorce settlements are made no creditors will appear from the woodwork, my suggested solicitors ‘Simon & Tedesco’ should see you right.
So back I come to 4pm Friday afternoon, there I was peering into Mr Canetti’s living room, the afternoon my enclosed evidence was taken and on payment you will receive photos ALL……… AND now’s the time I have to share the gory details of what your cheating husband got up to each weekend.
Very strange goings on Sally the like I’ve never seen in all my hours of hunting cheating spouses, Miss Scarlet walked into the room first, disrobed to naked, then my third ‘stroke’ of luck for you, she didn’t close the curtains! Scarlet wandered around the living room nude, perhaps looked in a mirror, admired her trim figure, plumped her golden locks then near jumped out of her skin when Mr Canetti walked in dressed as, brace yourself!..………… Dressed as Pablo Picasso so he was, all to paint his ‘Pretty Woman’s’ image in oils, the photos will look great in Court!
But there was a twist Friday last, Scarlet moved her posing chair to below the skylight, Mr Canetti bound rope around her arms, attaching her to the wall though note with her intimacy hidden, then returning to his easel, with his back to me, I watched him paint Miss Scarlet’s image………. the image of her at the Bow of a ship!
After he’d finished painting Miss Dufrain she was unattached from the wall, and there’s more, the expansive brush stokes whipped him into a frenzy so they did, the final act from this artistic drama being he’d rip off every stitch of his clothing, near throw Miss Scarlet to the floor and there they’d lay on top a threadbare deep green carpet making mad passionate love!
I have ALL the photos taken across five afternoon and they’ll be provided when said Bill is settled in full, and I’d like to think you’d pay ‘Findum & Catchum’ Investigator’s a nice healthy bonus, with my diligent private investigation I’ve recorded many explicit images, enough evidence for ‘Simon & Tedesco’ to take him for every penny he has………. there’s even a London Flat for you Sally, and speaking as your friend, I trust you’ve found my rather long winded tale interesting reading, yes rather long but very thorough.
THAT’S the good news of which I speak now for the BAD.
I have the gravest of news for you Mrs Canetti, awful information that I’ve never had to share with a patron before! Usually an errant spouse will take the greatest of care with protection, but alas each time I watched your husband make love to naked Scarlet on that dark Green carpet, Sally I can hardly bring myself to share with you but I must! The gravest of News is…….. Mr Canetti never once wore condoms! No I’m afraid not a single time and oh boy I saw a great deal of lovemaking.
Where was I? Condoms! No I fear your husband did not use any. Intimate relations between husband and wife are not the business of ‘Findum & Catchum’ Investigators but as your friend of many many years I don’t really need to spell out do I Miss Scarlet Dufrain is an escort, a hooker an expensive prostitute, she engages in unprotected sex with many a client…………… well Sally I need write no further………….. except go get yourself tested!
A blogging tip for you, I’ve discovered after three months ‘writing’, and note ALL my own original work, I have discovered I write my 😉 ‘adult posts’ when I’m feeling a little frisky that’s sexually excited to you!
And I’m wondering if my stimulated mind is because my brain is experiencing a natural chemical induced high………….. and note the word natural, I’ve never taken drugs and neither should you, two teenagers died the other week having taken contaminated shit at a music festival………….. what a waste……. so tragic! 😦
But I’m at a loss as to the reasons why a slight hardness and a gentle twitch down below helps my writing process hmm all very strange? Yep for fear of labouring a point when I’m in the mood to create on WordPress, and I’m a touch sexually excited the sillier more explicit posts appear in my imagination, I just write and the mild adult themes pour out of me as if I’m day dreaming, take my post ‘open apology to women’ as an example…………………. all very odd! Ok hold on before you get tooo excited I should add I’m not hard for hours, jeeze NO!
Perhaps those wonderful pleasure giving chemicals serotonin and dopamine secreted into our brains during sex makes writing easier, do you know what I think lovemaking chemical compounds make writing more enjoyable and sexually themed! Likewise adrenalin sharpens the senses and concentrates the imagination, quickens the heart when you’re about to orgasm perhaps I’m on to something here? And no I’m not writing this bs for the purposes of a humorous post! (Ok I’ll agree I’m writing bs LOL) …… anyways I thought I’d share this writing tip with all you lovely bloggers out there.
(Puts his laptop into hibernation for half an hour whilst he takes a lovely skin tingling shower, warm water flowing down his slim lightly toned figure.)
I’ve been thinking about this post in the shower and note the only place to idly dream up really good blog ideas, and yes I definitely find writing easier when ever-so slightly sexually stimulated or perhaps we’re more creative when we feel particularly happy, no let me rephrase creative in a certain way because many great works of fiction begin in dark recesses of an author’s imagination. I know my posts are absolutely dire when I’m depressed……….. and btw do you find the biggest frustration is being halted in free flow by a sentence which can be written 3 totally different ways, each as good as the other, yet for the life of you, you cannot choose which to use!
Hmm why not give writing a try when you’re sexually ‘turned on’ 😉 , the results could be hilarious awful or gloriously sensual but remember WordPress have mature content rules 🙂 .
This WordPress ‘Blogging Thoughts Photos & Life’ has been tagged awarded challenged several times by lovely bloggers, I always accept the challenge but don’t quite play by the game’s rules (lol just call me awkward 😀 ) then again I doubt anyone minds..………… HOWEVER the challenge always gives me a themed idea for a Post………… (btw note this one’s mild age appropriate adult).
Oh and stalking is a hot story in the UK at present several female TV personalities have Court injunctions placed on creepy men who have been following annoying harassing them, though they can do very little apart from hope these pests quit their nastiness bullying and psychological torture.
Ray challenged me a stalking tale so here goes, was I wrong to follow the lady wearing a short mini dress into the Department Store? I know you said 13 sentences but I’m afraid I write as I think hence 1600 words never mind thanks ❤ for the Challenge! 🙂
Yes I hoped but what did I see? 😀
Let me explain, one summer’s day a good while ago and being as I was at a loose end, I’d decided to travel into ‘blank’ by bus for no other reason than I needed to buy clothes and I’d been putting it off because I hate clothes shopping! So having boarded and now seated comfortably I glanced around the top deck wondering who I’d be travelling with today, and who do I see but a lovely a young woman across the aisle wearing a horizontally striped white and powder blue dress. Such a beautiful picture this slim demure creature perched on the end of her seat, blonde hair pulled back into a cute girly pony tale and she had a pretty face in side-on profile. (Note age appropriate!)
But hold on her gorgeousness didn’t end there and I can tell you this made my growing hardness tingle and twitch warm waves of pleasure spreading around my groin, oh yes I could see the hem of her dress rested well up her thigh, well being more truthful not that far below her knicker gusset though sat a seat behind I’d 😦 never see, yum quite the vision of femininity and sexiness though, good luck to her you’re only ever young once so flaunt it babe!
The only problem is bus travel is SO frigging boring consequently my mind wanders and imagination overpowers all (well nearly) thoughts of appropriate behaviour, idle day dreaming when excited can lead you places you shouldn’t go?
Well I mused she’s on her own and single, obviously travelling into Oxford to look at fashions buy clothes and a day of retail therapy………… and how do I know this? I don’t but by the way she kept opening a well known Department Store carrier bag and removing garments, carefully unfolding and examining, then even MORE carefully folding away again I could see they were still tagged brand new!
And me being the intelligent guy and people watcher that I am, her concentration and thoughtful expression told me these garments were returning to the Store! Hmm I’d guess to be refunded, well it lol happens and why else take tagged clothes INTO a store? Ladies do it all the time, buy a bra take it home try on and omg that bright purple is visible through your favourite virgin white cotton blouse……. and you think ‘damn it’s going back!’
I watched the young lady go through this careful ritual several times, she was neither sure or happy as women often aren’t when choosing clothes, and of course I’m furtively gazing at her milky white thigh and exquisite leg line, lovely long legs gave away she was a tall lady which is important to my tale THEN watching her indecisive mind in action a vision flashed across my visual imagination like a white hot bolt of lightening! ‘Omg’ I thought to myself, ‘when you enter that Store miss, the near auditorium vast space welcomes you with three long escalators……. one coming down two rising upwards deep into this vast retail cathedral!
Have you guessed this tale has potential stalker written all over?
I squirmed and wriggled in my seat becoming increasingly excited, warm blood began to turn my cheeks red, adrenalin increasing my heart rate the faster pumping blood engorging my dick my hardness uncomfortably and beginning to throb! The bus now turning into George Street I thought ‘Holy s#it, the second stop is a minute from the Store I bet this young lady will alight here and make straight for the escalators!’
Fast pumping torrents of blood now beginning to make my head hurt and heart race, I thought ‘this tall gazelle like creature will travel the escalator’, …… further she’s wearing a micro dress and I’LL finally discover the answer to a thought that’s consumed my mind ever since first seeing her milky white skinned thighs, ‘Follow her, then you’ll see what colour panties she’s wearing!’
‘Hold on’ I thought to myself, ‘there’s CCTV, she may look around, there’d be a scene, I’d be arrested!’ But sometimes in life you have to take a risk, opportunities like this don’t come along twice, and rather than pausing to take breath and noting following women is illegal, before you know it a sexual desire overpowers sound moral judgement and you’re err being inappropriate!
The bus jolts to a halt waking me from a whether to or not to conundrum, the gorgeous young lady rises from her seat as I instinctively near jump from mine, speedily so as to stop any other postential stalkers from stepping between me and my prey…….. well hold on prey’s the wrong word lol I’m only following her for frigging sake! What happens as consequence is mere coincidence 😀 .
She steps off the bus and turns right, I quickly follow but three paces behind watching her blonde pony tale swing and bounce with every stride her long legs could muster, her soft cotton dress flutter in the breeze a young woman on a mission she was, no doubt one retail thought on her mind oblivious to the stalker closely behind.
Thirty seconds later she turns left, electric doors opening a vacuum near sucking us in from the Street, four paces later she steps onto the travelling stairway, then four steps again I follow her tall slim body rising upward from my eyeline, my gaze being drawn down her body as first her blonde pony was lost from view, soon followed by her exquisite narrow neckline with the word Rebecca tattooed across in bold thin blue text!
(Hmm very strange, either she’s a lesbian or stupid enough she can’t remember her name?)
My heart now pumping so fast I feared my head would explode the additional blood engorging my hardness to such a size as I’d seldom felt before, with my eyeline now rested on her pert bottom having passed the profile of bra straps and tiny waist, and because our slow moving stairway to heaven was set at such a steep incline her micro dress hem came into full view (briefly because virtually none existed) with my eyes now following an exquisite sexy leg line of fit shapely thighs and tone calves until I to was standing as still as you possibly can with someone on a travelling escalator and could see no lower.
Nervously my gaze began to follow her leg line upward this time, noticing her feet standing 10″ apart a carrier bag with clothes resting one her left thigh just within the periphery of my vision, my eyes final reach her stripy dress and with one final upwards glance the answer to the one thought obsessing my imagination ALL morning came into view!
That was a shock and a half I can tell you, I’d been consumed with questions of what colour panties? Would they be French knickers, briefs, thong or yuck ‘shorties’ or even boyfriends boxer shorts now there’s a worry! But no doubt looking gobsmacked and stunned what do I see between slightly parted milky white thighs but the heavenly vision of the entry to a female’s reproductive system, her vulva and intimacy a shade of delicate shocking pink set against the visible white skin we stalkers and public only ever see.
With time running out, my eyes savoured every last contour of her vagina bridge the windows to my soul could save to memory, two plump folds of outer labia concealing a cave of gold jewels and pleasures within, and no I didn’t notice any beads of moisture secreted through her slit, no she wasn’t wet which must be a worry when you ladies leave home absent of underwear! What do you do if you get excited and ‘moisten’ when a shirtless stunning builder captures your view? Hmm now there’s a thought Ray!
But oh no, her thighs became darker as my eyes refocused to a contrast caused by blinding white light emanating from the Cosmetic’s floor level and now all tooo quickly coming into view. With one final gaze at this pretty lady’s most secret body part, me leaning slightly forward, taking an even larger risk and momentarily bending my knees permitted me to see the beginning to two pert round firm buttocks and an ass crack disappearing beneath stripy soft cotton fabric.
Then with one final final concentrated gaze recording this erotic heavenly image to my visible memory for all eternity, with one final gaze this age 18+ young lady stepped from the escalator no doubt making for ‘refunds and exchanges’, and yes seemingly oblivious to this opportunist stalker behind………… never knowing one other person know she’s daring enough to go without.
Feeling rather weak at the knees I to stepped from that slowly moving stairway though very quickly walking in a totally different direction, in truth heading for an exit which would take me away from this Store as quickly as possible! …………. But omg I grinned to myself, never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined she’d be wearing no panties AND better still her pussy was either shaved or waxed of all hair………… lol well who’d have guessed.
A. Shepherdson 2018
(Now accept this tale anyway you wish, parts could be true, hell the whole story could be true as written, OR my sexy escapade could be dreamt from an over active imagination…………. lol you decide for I’m afraid you’ll never ever know!)
………. Emily reached down grasping the hem of her tee shirt at the waist, pulling it toward the ceiling the stretchy cotton fabric no longer covering two large round breasts, revealing hard pointy nipples as big as I’d imagined, chocolate brown against pale pink skin. With one final tug at her hair she pulled the garment over her head, brunette bangs kissing Emily’s cheeks as the hair dropped to her shoulders, tossing the garment I’d wanted off all journey in the sink.
“Jesus what vision of womanhood” I murmured as my eyes devoured her bouncing breasts until I could gaze no more, then pushing my ass into the door I grabbed hold of Emily’s boobs with both hands, feeling hard pointing nipples pressing into the palms.
Emily continued to seduce me with her sexy voice now hushed so no one could hear, “you’re gonna screw me Andrew, make me squeal angel” she said pulling a tube of lubricant from a jean pocket with her right hand. Even if I could have seen my face I don’t think my wide open mouth and shocked expression was gonna stop her lubricating!
Emily swivelling her hips round so she could face the glazed window, allowed me to pull down her jeans so revealing peachy butt cheeks nearly succulent enough to eat, but hold on she wore no panties? That was a shock I can tell you, hmm ‘well perhaps that ticket collector does have them after all’ I mused.
Squeezing glistening lube into the palm of her hand, she asked one last question with a trust in her voice, “Andrew, I hope you are clean” arms reaching round a rather curvaceous butt. Then dividing those peachy cheeks, clever fingers parting her labia with one hand, fingers of the other forcing as much lubricant inside her tight vagina as she could, finally when comfortable she again held the ceramic sink rim with both hands, anticipating, receptive, ready.
“Are you a virgin?” I asked.
“You ARE joking!” Looking back at me mystified, “I f***ed the ticket collector earlier AND he’s got my knickers AND I got my period” she grumbled!!
‘Jeeze is this another dream’ I can’t handle much more drama!
“F*** ME” she shouted, grabbing hold of my hard penis so tight it hurt. Oh yes Emily is alive alright her sticky fingers circling around my purple tip. Then releasing hold of my shaft, gripping the vibrating sink even firmer, I pressed into her kitty sending shivers up my spine as I touched her slippery opening.
Wincing slightly Emily pleaded, “Come on, there’s not much time, I want your cum inside me.”
Not a man to be asked twice, her soft ass cheeks divided, my engorged hardness penetrated Emily’s sticky kitty, its pulsing walls taking me deep inside. Sexually exited, two loving bodies coupled by our hips, I pushed my groin toward her cheeks in rhythm to the rocking carriage, my penis shaft pulling half out then straight back in, pressing my hardness ever deeper into her vagina, my thick girth making Emily squeal with every loving stroke.
Out of breath as if I’d just run a mile, palpably feeling my balls rise, their storks contract as my scrotum tightened, ever faster harder my torso slapped at her ass, her forehead kissing the glazed glass panel. Harder I thrust ……..harder still…..slowing, fearing the soon to be climax I looked to the ceiling for well, the meaning of life? Only to see dirty yellow Formica.
“I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum!”
Emily now looking back lucid and in total control of her senses, understanding the precarious position she’s in unlike me slowing from a near frenzy, I held my pause before orgasm as long as I could, not waiting for her answer just holding onto those pleasurable seconds surely a gift from God, only a man knows how special they feel, spends his whole life craving those blissful two seconds.
With one final encouragement from Emily, a near pleading “well f***ing cum then” my groin orgasmed, convulsions from my hips along the shaft of my lubricated phallus, a near ejaculate explosion between parted ass cheeks pumping semen deep from within my balls into her vagina, gulping as much oxygen into my lungs as I could! My dirty deed subsiding, me deep inside her now, thick phallus stretching her walls to a limit, my Emily crying as I thrust her every last drop of my creamy ejaculate, happy that I’d f***ed her hard!
Still inside her my brutal violation of her genitals subsiding, my breath returning to normal, hands still tight aside her waist, silence was broken by a loud thud on the door followed by a worried ticket collector’s voice.
“Are you ok in there Emily?” There’s a girl come running from outside the toilet screaming to her mother!” Screaming I said to myself, thank God she hadn’t seen what I’d just done, the babe unaware of what dirty filthy joy Emily and I had consummated and WTF he called her Emily!
He asked again, “well are you ok? She’s desperate to use the lavatory!”
Emily coming to her senses as we uncoupled, reaching her hands down searching for her jeans replied to the train guard a tremble in her voice.
“Wait one second we’ve finished!”
“I MEAN I’VE FINISHED!!!”
(WordPress scrutinisers, I hope you allow this one it’s both tame and vanilla stuff)
What with the dry heat rising from the heater below my carriage seat and the excitement of meeting Emily being too much for me, I’d succumbed to a deep dreamy sleep hadn’t I, and for fear of confusing we return to that scene in the carriage.
Hedgerows streaked past my carriage window now replacing the flat green moorland with its purple tipped heather. Feeling a tap on my shoulder, a shock near stopping my heart from beating, I opened my eyes and there looking down at me stood a man dressed in blue tunic with matching coloured hat. A slender moustached man he was, his hand now recoiling after having shocked my body into life, the other clasping a small metal ticket puncher reflecting sunlight now streaming through our train carriage window.
Bleary eyed I looked up at the ticket collector’s face, paused, then sideways glanced to where my young female friend was sitting. She’d gone, disappeared, from what seemed only five minutes ago I’d been chatting to a pretty young lady with chestnut brown hair and now her seat was empty.
“Where is she?” I exclaimed at the ticket collector feeling provoked, a look of disbelief across my face quickly looking back at her now vacant seat. She’d vanished. My new female friend called… umm…was nowhere to be seen.
Now wide awake, lucidly returning to the land of the living it was dawning on me the screaming pubic haired lunatic, falling out of a run away train, hitting my head and yes dying a horrible death had never happened. It was all a dream and better still my new friend is called Emily!
‘Yes the pretty lady on the train is Emily’, I smiled.
I’d been dreaming hadn’t I, five ten minutes ago a combination of warm air and carnal excitement had nudged me into a deep sleep and now looking at the train official’s face one third time, I realised my violent wretched death had all been a horrible dream.
“Sir you’re back in the land of the living”, my train official replied with a chuckle whilst handing back my ticket. Then moving away, having spotted the lady with the daughter waving her hand to catch his attention, he replied one final time and I might add blushing to.
“What I’d been meaning to tell you sir………..well how can I put this………..your wife has asked me from inside the lavatory, can you please bring her some tissues!” And now his cheeks a full crimson red…………. “our train company has messed up on consumables!”
And with that he turned and rather quickly made for the opposite end of our carriage.
“Oh my god” I said to myself again looking at the cushioned seat where Emily once sat, “this IS the strangest day of my life!”
Reaching for tissues in my pocket and rising out of my seat, excitement reinvigorating my sanity, I moved towards the open door feeling a bulge in my jeans making it uncomfortable to move, anticipating what I assumed would be sex and hoping this girl called Emily didn’t want to show me the art deco sink tap fittings!
My heart began to race again! Fresh blood making the cheeks of my face burn and my penis broaden to its full girth!
Balancing myself as I pushed that same headrest, passing through that very same door Emily had minutes earlier, I stumbled into the dimly lit space coupling two carriages together. Noticing what I assumed was a bathroom door left slightly ajar, and because as we all know ajar bathroom doors are safe to enter, I took a sharp intake of breath and decided to walk in!
Squeezing my slim body around the oak door panel, opening into a space no larger than three foot square. I looked straight ahead facing a woman resting her ass on the corner of a reflective white ceramic sink, her two hands clasping the white china to steady herself.
The woman was Emily, a dark silhouette affront a window emanating such a bright light into our dimly lit cubicle, making my eyes sting uncomfortably as they adjusted to the dark against white contrast. My shoes now glued to the spot a jolt as if on que near leapt Emily onto me, flinging her arms around my shoulders she pulled my body deep into hers.
“What took you so long” she whispered, “I take it the ticket man said I wanted tissues, hell where have you been?”
“I fell asleep didn’t I” relief in my voice and so happy I’d met her again. Squeezing Emily tight, feeling her curvaceous body against mine for the first time, a warmth of affection between us quite intoxicating a new found sexual excitement making me swallow hard!
Then with her mouth close to my ear she whispered softly,
“Andrew we’ve only fifteen minutes before Gromont Station, enough time to feel you inside me.”
“Yes” I replied. “Oh god yes…….please!…………….Emily I need to f*** you”, nuzzling my cheeks into the nape of her neck, the scent of that delicate perfume upon her skin.
“OH GOD”, words stumbling from my mouth.
An icy cold shudder flowed through my body, an omg flashed across my mind like fork lightening across blackened midnight skies. In a state of panic, you have to believe this wasn’t disappointed resignation for whatever her answer I was by now so sexually excited, my dick engorged with blood, throbbing hard and painful within my tight jean crotch, whatever her reaction I was going to f*** Emily.
I’m a kind quiet gentleman but a sexually excited male is always minutes away from animalistic copulation, a desperate need to release his creamy ejaculate urging him on, a carnal desire as old as man himself. It’s at time’s like these an excited male, however decent may not be able to stop from forcing himself inside a woman. Be honest now, how many occasions have passions overwhelmed you and you’ve f***ed without protection?
‘Protection! Damn I’ve no condom’, words no man ever wants to say.
My mind a blur, pleasure giving chemicals surging through my brain I dropped my hands to my belt unclipping the buckle, ‘you’re not going anywhere’ I thought to myself as the cubical creaked and rattled. Leaning back I admired Emily’s locks of brunette hair dancing for the train, her pelvis now trapped between cold porcelain sink and my body unable to move, arms wrapped around my neck pulling me closer, oh and a violent rape flooding my mind!
I stood tall, this bloody train was beginning to make me angry near throwing me sideways into partitioning walls. My waist no longer pressing into hers I fumbled my jeans button open, tugging the fly zipper down, at last feeling relief as my penis sprung forward no longer constrained in tight jeans, its purple tip pressed against Emily’s blue cotton denim.
Then in a moment of clarity, my dick comfortable at last, my heart still thumping I calmly said to her.
“Emily I’ve got no condom! A mixture of shock and distress in my voice.
Emily recoiled back toward the window, releasing her arms from around my neck pushing my shoulders away at the same time, two strangers facing each other less than two feet apart. She looked into my eyes our waists the only parts of our bodies touching, then raising a finger to my lips she said.
“It’s ok Andrew”……”I’m clean and I trust you”, smiling a wicked love in her eyes.
“I never f*** with a condom anyway, I only take a man if I can feel the skin of his dick inside me”, throwing her head back giggling like a sex starved girl from a single sex boarding school.
Pushing me away still farther, so forcibly, my back hit the cubicle door slamming it shut, “God that hurt” I whispered to myself, visions of a trolley dolly listening the other side, witnessing the dirty deed I was gonna inflict on this pretty girl with brunette hair.
To be continued with the final part (ending) tomorrow…….
(Anyone loyal to my tale is possibly thinking lol, ‘thank God for that!’
One agonising minute passed!………………..Then one more………..then another and what with the soft cushioned headrest, warmth rising from the heater beneath, rhythmic rocking of the carriage not forgetting meeting an Emily, the delicious combination too much for me I drifted into a deep sleep.
Another five minutes passed when a gentle tap on my shoulder woke me from my dreaming. Coming to my senses I looked up at a man standing wearing a blue hat with ticket puncher in his hand, a nice face if a little bemused.
“My apologies sir” came a male voice, “but I’m afraid I must see your ticket!” Quickly rummaging through my jacket pockets confused as to reasons why, I handed the ticket collector the creased piece of paper rising out of my seat at the same time, a sudden urgency to find Emily propelling me at him my hand grabbing the very same headrest she’d held several minutes ago.
“Oi careful” he exclaimed “what about this ticket” pushing it toward me. Pausing apologetically I snatched the ticket from his hand, I’m numb and confused, he’s pissed at my rudeness.
“And you’ll be wanting this” presenting what looked like a pair of pink panties from his pocket, I could feel they were damp as the soft cotton’s exchanged into my hand.
“But five minutes ago a young lady walked right past you” he continued, “came right up to me whilst I chatted to a lady and her young daughter!”
“WHAT?” Visions of Emily ever clearer.
“You were asleep sir, your wife paused to look at you then near ran up to me pressing this underwear into my hand”, now seeming rather pleased with himself. “She called her a nosy bitch then ran up the aisle in that direction” pointing to the open carriage door farthest from me.
“Crying she was sir, very upset.”
I sat back down in Emily’s seat both hands pressing upwards into my cheeks tearful eyes staring straight ahead, a feminine scent breezing my nostrils.
“Well I’ll bid you a goodbye” patronised the guard, leaving the pink cotton delicate with me before proceeding to enter the carriage door, the door Emily had walked through but ten minutes earlier.
Pulling damp cotton from my face, I looked down at the scrunched up ball of material resting upon my unfurled palm, just making out a large circle of crimson red, she’d been bleeding into her panties gusset hadn’t she!
You can imagine the state I’m in, shaking my head angry at myself for falling asleep, “how could I be so stupid” I muttered followed by grief stricken, “jeeze Andrew you were gonna f**k her and now Emily’s gone.”
‘Hold on’ I said to myself, this is a train, it hasn’t stopped no one’s gotten off and with a new found composure I was on the move again.
‘EMILY IS STILL ON THIS TRAIN!’
Holding that thought in my mind I turned and ran along the carriage aisle, right past a startled mother pulling her daughter close to her bosom. Carried on running so I did, through the open doorway, past a closed toilet door finally coming to a breathless halt in that small area where two cars join.
Then a second great shock of that afternoon! Who’s standing before me but Emily, naked, not a stitch of clothing on her body, an outstretched hand clasping the shiny handle of an open carriage door, the one you use to alight and depart through.
Wind rushing inwards, sucking in sounds of clackety clack as the carriage hurtled along it’s tracks, a cacophony throbbing in my head so loud I couldn’t make out the words Emily was mouthing me. What a wondrous vision she looked, beautiful and wild with a brunette mound of hair sprouting from her vagina her tits bouncing up and down to the rocking rhythm of the coach.
Looking away from her hair covered genitals, Emily’s pretty smile had been wiped from her face, the feature I most love had disappeared, scarlet rich blood replacing the emerald green in her eyes.
“What are you saying” I shouted, “what?” “I can’t hear you!” With that she beckoned me closer, cold rushing air blowing her hair the vision of a she devil if ever I’d dreamed one. Dutifully following her directions near staggering my way forward, one outstretched hand pushing against the toilet door inching me ever forward until one metre distance lay between us.
“What!” I shouted again, the violent cacophony of noise deafening both our hearing.
Emily no longer the lady I’d fallen in love with, evil raging in her eyes, viciously growled shouting “you missed your chance you c**t!” Whilst tossing her head back and screaming like a lunatic. Then with all the might this woman could muster she lunged forward propelling both hands into my chest, pushing me off balance toward the open door my hands unable to clasp the door frame as I tumbled onto the tracks, Emily a dark silhouette in the carriage door looking back at me as I smashed my head against sharp ballast, gasped my final breath and died!
And here’s you thinking I was going to the dining car, Emily and I sharing lunch together, me fingering her wet pussy as we ate Dover Sole.
Fifteen or so minutes passed into our journey together and our conversations became happier and fun, giggles from her at my small talk, it takes me a while to relax but once warmed I like to think myself as an amusing guy, a turn of phrase here and there, an anecdote or two amusing her and now a quarter into our journey we are good friends.
Then Emily did something quite unexpected she ceased talking. Looked down at her map unfurling the sheets with renewed concentration to I guess see how far we’d travelled? ‘Oh shit’ I thought to myself recoiling back, elbows still resting on the tables edge, ‘what did I say wrong?’ ‘Why’s she suddenly lost interest?’ Anxiety flooded my mind I’m a sensitive soul ‘had it crossed her mind we’re becoming that little bit too familiar? A little over friendly for two complete strangers who’d only just this met?’
My heart sank. I wasn’t chatting her up most definitely not, I’m crap at that anyways. Night time in bed, hand holding my dick I’ll dream of pulling in a nightclub, ambitions to leave with a young lady and find ourselves a dark alley where she’ll lean back against a wall. Excitement engorging, I’ll lift up her dress pull down her knickers and I’ll penetrate her forgetting my condom, yes a little worse for wear but still sane enough to withdraw come the time.
Feeling deflated I watched her head drop, fingers tracing coloured lines denoting roads on her walkers map, and with a resignation I sighed an ‘Oh well the young lady’s mind’s elsewhere, oblivious and hunched over her fully unfurled paper drawing’. Then looking up, her eyes sparkling, Emily caught me watching her jiggling boobs and pointing nipples getting harder. ‘Damn’ I thought feeling my cheeks burn. It didn’t matter though, she smiled leaning forward and closer, her hands reaching out her delicate fingers now warm to the touch pulling my arm toward her, pressing my hand into the table making sure it wasn’t going anywhere.
“You are a sweetie” Emily’s whispered, head close to mine her tips of long brown hair kissing our dividing table. ‘Wow I was being seduced!’
Emily’s lips slightly parted made moist from the wetness on her tongue, and so sensually my heart literally melted. Then she spoke! Gosh her voice had changed, she’d suddenly transformed into a romancing more sexual woman. Then a thought a flashed across my mind, ‘wow she’s going to kiss me and her nipples are so large I can trace the outline of her areola beneath thin cotton’ fabric’ yum that me hard!
“Andrew”, breaking our silence her eyes childlike alive betraying a naughtiness, “you’ve been looking at my tits from ever since you climbed aboard this carriage.” Totally taken aback by her intimate and dirty phrasing, yes dirty is the word, I thought ‘what kind of lady says tits to a complete stranger she’s never laid eyes on before?’
As she spoke Emily’s finger tips walked further up my arm coming to rest on my shoulder pulling me towards her. Feeling a warm breath in my mouth, her heart rate pushing air from deep within her lungs and if you’re wondering her breath smelt pleasant, which was lovely. Leaning ever closer, her hand atop mine tight ensuring I wasn’t to be going anywhere, a delicate floral perfume breezed past my nostrils, a scent I hadn’t noticed before.
“Come on answer” she said with a girly giggle, she didn’t care in the slightest so what we’ve only just met. “So Andrew tell me why you’ve never stopped looking all journey”………..”they’re my best asset don’t you think?” Both of us now staring at two mounds beneath her thin cotton tee shirt.
Swallowing hard I replied a boyishly and quiet “because I’d love to see them”, then feeling ever more confident “because I want to suck one of those hard nipples”, whilst trying not to laugh at the same time! ‘Wow where did that brazenness come from, I deserved a slap around the cheeks, Emily crying out for the guard!
“No” Emily replied recoiling away, my face must have been a picture, mouth wide open with thoughts of ‘omg what have I gone and done now’, the pit of my stomach aching as though punched hard!
I was dumbfounded frozen in time, not a part of my body moved as I watched Emily stand from her burgundy vintage cushion, she caught my eye kissing me another one of her sweet smiles, ‘phew that was close!’ The path we tread in life is so precarious, her response could just as easily to walk away offended disgusted, don’t you think living is just luck and chance and little else?
Inching her curvy hips around the table, revealing shapely thighs inside tightest of tight blue jeans my eyes following the contour of her crotch, that oh so sexy curve of a woman’s body disappearing through her vagina bridge and what I assumed was a plump firm ass, “you’re a fine looking woman” I whispered to myself.
My attention now drawn to the outline of Emily’s frame, a gorgeous size 10 figure having risen from her seat, her left hand reaching out with fingers clasping onto the headrest beside the door frame. Held open incidentally by a stopper so as to allow refreshment carts to pass through. Pausing for moment, our carriage rhythmically swaying side to side, standing tall now balancing in the aisle between two seats Emily swayed in time to this rhythmic old carriage.
Slipping her rain coat down over her shoulders, throwing it back to the seat she’d just vacated, Emily looked the handsome young woman she actually was, taller than I first assumed her smoothed cotton tee shirt hiding a slim waist yet at the same time clinging to her curvy large breasts. Jiggling they were, gorgeously quivering in response to our train weaving itself through rain sodden northern moorland. Emily gazed into my eyes, smiled, momentarily looked toward the other end of the carriage ascertaining how many people accompany us, and for your information I was correct, a young woman and her five year old daughter sat many rows away.
Turning to face me again, with a hushed voice knowing our micro family could be listening, Emily said. “I need to pee wait five minutes then follow me” pointing at the propped open door as she moved away, catching my eye with a tiny wink.
In shock and rather exhausted I reclined into my soft vintage cushion, rubbed mist off the glass and gazed out the window watching hedgerows streak past, a new scenery replacing the monotony of purple tipped heather. ‘Wow’ I thought to myself they’d never believe this at work’ my heart rate slowing a little, ‘and now she wants me to follow her to the bathroom!’ Eagerly grinning I teased myself, ‘So Andrew are you going after her or sit here and read your book?’ Twenty minutes ago I was a tourist making my way to a Yorkshire village famous for drama’s on the telly, now I’ve just been propositioned by a hiker called Emily.
………. I hadn’t noticed the lady’s face or her bosom until a little way into our journey. The train had stopped at Gothland Railway Station, hurriedly I’d clambered aboard crossing a grubby green carpeted aisle, my legs touching brushing past her jeans on the way, making a mental note she’s wearing walking boots. ‘Hmm she’s a tourist just like me’ I’d thought to myself before taking a seat by the window. And do you know what, in the rush I really hadn’t given the lady a second glance.
Well that’s untrue, when seated I looked across for the briefest of moments, enough to see her head was bowed, an assumed concentration etched across her face reading a map. (Hold that thought) Then getting myself together I laid my belongings out on the table, sighed rather loudly and gazed out the window watching the incredible scenery pass before my eyes. Only then after a couple of minutes did I turn to look at my female companion, only then did I notice that her walker’s rain coat was unzipped open exposing two mounds of rather large breasts, all within tight navy blue tee shirt I might add! So of course my attention’s magnetically drawn to her rather prominent nipples pointing through the soft stretchy cotton, oh yes I noticed those two alright! Walking boots and an outdoor coat all indicate she was a hiker and there’s a coincidence just like me, I’m virtually dressed the same though without the hard nipples.
‘Hmm they’re rather yummy’ I smiled to myself.
The train pulled away and slowly rumbled its way through beautiful rain sodden countryside, flat damp and evergreen with only spongy heather for vegetation. Now comfortably settled with rucksack on the seat beside me, heritage train book and packed lunch an arms length away in front on the table, we rocked and rolled through a picture perfect beautiful landscape that attracts people from across the globe. Yet on cold wintry summer days such as these, a low grey cloud, a persistent deluge of heavy rain meant we were the only two souls in the carriage.
Though hold on a second, a hushed chatter from what sounded like a young woman in the distance, also muffled occasional squeals of laughter from a child in the distance, we were in fact NOT alone. One voice slightly higher pitch making the number five pop into my mind, ‘could be a girl of five years old?’ I mused. And with that I guessed a mother and daughter were seated at the very far end enjoying a day out like us two strangers.
Anyways the change in weather meant only we four travelled today in a carriage pulled by this gruff throaty diesel engine, 1960’s, preserved for tourists in search of nostalgia.
We trundled our way through rural Yorkshire me time to time glancing across our shared light coloured oak table, and looking about the rail car the whole interior’s a soft golden hew. Though being honest any fascination with historic trains was receding my mind now alive dreaming sexual possibilities with this gorgeous creature opposite. Every thirty seconds or so I’d glance across at her breasts jiggling side to side and up and down, they were large enough to notice and certainly enjoyable to watch, bouncing higher when our carriage jumped two connecting rails and making no secret this pretty young lady had boobs on the bigger side.
I thought to myself she should really be wearing a bra because they’re just that little too heavy not to be supported, in a few years when she reaches thirty they’ll drop, sag to not far above her belly button, but they’ll still look adorable pointing outwards, still look sexy as older woman’s boobs do. I nearly said to her ‘you’ll only ever get sexy cleavage again by wearing a Wonderbra’, I didn’t.
Anyways as you’ll have deduced by now my attentions are drawn to her boobs rather than spectacular scenery, then totally out of the blue she looked up from the map she’s interestedly following and beams me such a sweet smile that my lame nervous reply didn’t seem to matter. Awkwardness and silence broken we begin to chat about where we lived, occupations that employ us, partners, oh yes I managed to slip that one in!
Turns out we’re both ‘single’ and in truth I am, but a pretty young lady like Emily is NO WAY single yet she wears no wedding ring, no engagement ring and as you’re too well aware a guy always looks at a single girl’s ring finger!
Warmth flowed between us, a friendly conversation is struck up and it’s a given Emily and I liked each other, oh yes I forgot to tell you she’d let slip her name was Emily, a pretty name don’t you think? Hmm, Andrew and Emily has a nice ring to it, where was I, yes she wore no rings, maybe a woman who’s up for extra marital sex removes her band of gold, yet a girl betrothed sometimes leaves her engagement on! Confuses me so, is she single or is she not?
Returning my gaze to her red lips appearing fuller rosier in colour now, hmm that’s odd Emily wore no lipstick! Our shared carriage had been warmed by hot air blowing up from under the seats, the engine working harder pulling this great length of carriage had plumped Emily’s lips, flushed her cheeks a soft shade of pink, our heated intimate carriage space ensuring her feminine sexiness sparked alive. A wicked thought crossed my mind, doesn’t warmth inside a lady’s pelvic region make something else down there blush rosy red, make her catch a breath as she crosses her legs!
(All you really need to know is this tale was written by me, is original fiction in every respect and perhaps not the masterpiece I think it is 😀 , either way I had fun writing. A.)
“Winter’s come early”, said the young lady sitting on a cushioned seat near opposite me, her abruptness waking me out of a lonely daydream, quite a shock actually.
“Pardon Miss” I replied startled, my eyes now focused on a rather pretty face with warmth and love in her eyes. Hope I didn’t scare her but when you’ve hardly spoken to a living soul all morning, sudden questioning can be one hell of a shock!
“Winter’s come early”, she repeated pushing her arms and shoulders forward, fondly smiling, making out she was shivering and I’d guess pressing clenched hands deep into her lap. I say guess because a large wooden table between us obscured my view of her waist down.
Such a strange involuntary reaction shivering, I wonder if it really helps one warm chilled frozen stiff muscles?
The young lady continued smiling, lifting this lonely guys spirits and don’t you find the time span for a smile represents how greatly a lady likes you, what she wishes from you in return? Too short and she’s forcing herself to make small talk, too long and she’s really into you or is that soppy old me reading too much into feminine flirtations again, just be aware when a lady starts to talk to me I fall in love and this happens a lot!
I returned a smile this time going one step further and looking deep into her eyes, yet at the same time inwardly panicking having been caught off guard. So much so I nervously answered with possibly the lamest most awful reply known to man, wait for it!
“Yes but the weatherman on the radio said it’ll brighten up by this afternoon”, when really I wanted to say something very different, my eyes glancing below her chin for a split second then lower still before returning upwards and re capturing her gaze. Oh yes what I really wanted to say to this pretty lady, not beautiful as in a makeup model straight from Vogue magazine beautiful, no she was very much the pretty girl next door type, lovely delightful appealing with curly long brunette hair resting atop her shoulders.
The actual question crossing my mind as I gazed at her pretty smile, me now feeling the very end of my dick tingle and twitch the shaft hardening to the point of feeling slightly uncomfortable inside tight jeans, what I really wanted to say was.