Mild sex themes and written just for fun. Intrigued? Then please read on.
So Andrew why retell this true story in a blog? Well sex themed posts are a lot of fun to write and this one’s definitely unusual, mind you ladies names must be changed or you just might receive angry NO furious texts 11 o’clock at night, a long story read here…….. though on reflection I wouldn’t bother.
So with secrecy also discretion clearly in mind, let us name our lady err Lilly!
Don’t you think ‘Google street view’ is the most amazing website ever created? Now here’s a switched stream of consciousness for you. Ten years ago the thought that you could log onto a PC, enter a house number into a Google search engine, press ‘click’ and you’d be whisked to the exact location on a digital map was the stuff of dreams, you can even do this on a phone for heaven’s sake. What’s more you can move a yellow avatar, drop him onto the chosen house number and by the wonders of near science fiction itself, the screen will change to a street level photograph looking directly at the house you’re searching for.
Incredible, and because human beings are prone to breaking the law, you’ll gaze at alternative views and in effect ‘case the joint’, garden gates that may be unlocked, windows that could well be left open, all in all a website that’s tailor made tool for house burglars.
One evening several years ago, laptop to hand sat in a comfy living room chair, I located my own home on Google street having decided to take a nose around my neighbourhood, we’ve all done this and fascinating this car like journey can be to.
(As an aside my mother discovered a neighbour had built a swimmng pool in the garden she hadn’t known about! 😀 )
Ahh before I continue, below are two ‘screen shot’ images of my own home taken from Google street, but note all sensitive information has been blanked out, I don’t want any cat burglars robbing my home when I’m out!
Incidentally, many years ago I was standing at a bus stop yes waiting for a bus, and this van slowly drove past with the name Google emblazened across the side, and with what looked like a tripod fixed to the roof taking 360 degree photos from the road, I’ve since located that bus shelter to see if the camera captured me but of course all us prospective passengers were blurred out.
BTW as is the number plate of the stationary Mini convertible outside my home.
Anyways there I sat driving an imaginary car ‘up and down’ this quiet street I live in, and I can distinctly remember wondering who an earth owned that white Mini half parked on the pavement? Now I don’t own this sporty little car, neither do my neighbours nor any of my friends family or acquaintances. Well this started to bother me, just be aware I live in a very quiet neighbourhood with lots of road parking space, yet this Mini sat directly opposite my front door, no question in my mind the owner was visiting me, was I out perhaps at work? Who were they?
Then after half an hour or so of wracking my brains, like a streak of lightening I remembered it was Lilly’s car, yes at that very moment a Google van drove past, this young lady was inside my house and now I remembered she’d said her own car was being serviced in a garage, and she’d been loaned a white Mini courtesy car for the day.
Well I was chuckling to myself well pleased I’d solved this worrisome conundrum, then lol a second more wicked thought crossed my mind, and yes as I zoomed in closer to the second floor bedroom window, the curtains were drawn closed and note in the daytime, why would my curtains be CLOSED?
I know exactly why, Lilly was in my bedroom that’s why! 😄
Well turns out at the very second the Google street van drove past photographing my house, for absolute certain I can say without any shadow of doubt, Lilly and I were having sex in BED together, now there’s a thought, could even have been the very moment I climaxed as she rode my penis cowgirl. Now if you are interested and I know you are, cowgirl is my very favourite position, heavenly sex for lazy men. I can visualise Lilly now with her long blonde hair, a pretty ‘blank’ year old with trim figure firm strong thighs straddling my groin as she breathlessly rode me like a female jockey astride her stallion.
(I mean sitting on her horse ‘bobbing up and down’ as it raced to the finish line!)
Keep up 😀 .
Lovely lady was Lilly, with her firm to grasp high round boobs and bubbly personality, I’ve seldom had more enjoyable fantastic sex than with Lilly, she could even swallow my entire 160mm shaft down her throat……….. with condom fitted of course. Hmm happy days and she had the cutest little kitty!
Now come on! Tell me if I’m wrong, what are the chances that anyone can pin point where they were, or what they were doing at the time Google chose to ‘upload’ a photo of their home on the internet?
Can you ‘top’ that with your own unusual tale of coincidences conundrums and science fiction technology?
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!)
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!!)
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!
Now I’d guess above is possibly the most unusual blog Title you’ve come across today, but here’s a thing I’ve got an interesting anecdote for you, remember Gemma with the wet kitty? Well this tale features Chantelle another adorable sexy lady I’ve bumped into on my journey through life 😉 .
Jeeze a producer could take these two stories, weave into a narrative joining the sexy scenes together, choose from two age40+ actresses to play the female roles cause they’re always moaning about the lack of work for older women, then make a film about a guy’s oral bedroom escapades!…………….. ok perhaps not 😀 .
‘The weekend is finally here, and that means that it’s high time for a glimpse into a new story. Well, to be more precise, a flash fiction that might have the potential to become a more complex story..… eventually.’Alexandra Ispas
Today I’m reblogging original fiction written by a lady I Follow and yes the story is written for meee!!
Okay I should be less obtuse and qualify my boldish claim by saying authoress Alexandra Ispas’s blog ‘It’s A Small World’ is a place she write’s flash fiction every weekend, (my own reading genre isn’t fantasy but who says you must read specific genres?) Anyways retuning to this my introduction, Alexandra chooses a favourite album song of hers then writes a tale inspired by that song’s narrative and I enjoy reading her tales.
I only realised days later February 9th was my birthday as well! (Lol 😀 ?)
If you wish to read the lady’s original post click here: U2’s Where The Street’s Have No Name or alternately read below 🙂 and if you are a U2 fan then you’ll know doubt spot a few song lyrics in there. Enjoy 🙂
(This time I’ll be creating a fantasy flash fiction out of U2’s song, ‘Where The Streets Have No Name’, a song requested by A. Shepherdson. Cheers for the inspiring idea! Now, to get straight to the point, here’s a little fantasy for your craving imagination. I know you want it!)
An old man once told me that there’s a place without a name, a safe haven in a forgotten corner of the world. He said all contact with the outside was broken, so that peace and quiet would prosper.
These days, I craved for peace and quiet like I’d crave for air if it were to be taken from me. Yes, I craved peace and quiet like a page craves for ink and a flower craves for sunlight. I could do without it for a little while, but it wouldn’t be long before it would swallow me up and devour me to the core.
He told me:
“Take the street that has no name until all your love turns to rust. Beware the beating of the wind, but don’t fear it. Take shelter from the poison rain, for it is bound to strike if your path is true, and unnamed obstacles will slow you to a halt. Remember, it is better to pause and continue later than turn around and return where you began.”
I never found the street without a name. I asked for it, but, of course, all streets needed a name, so nobody knew one without it. Nobody in the mortal world. That could only mean one thing: the street without a name was in another world, one I took for certain was impossible to exist. Was the Faerie Realm truly real? And the Elven Forest and Giants’ Mountain? How about the Siren’s Lagoon and the Dragon’s Pearl Haven?
For the first time in my life, I saw these children’s stories with a whole new pair of eyes, but it was still too difficult to believe. In spite of all logic, I returned to the old man’s house at the edge of the village and ask him. What exactly, I would think about on the way, maybe, but I knew I had to see him. He was my only lead.
I only arrived as darkness fell like a curtain. As expected it appeared like the old man was home. Pale light shone through the smoky windows and the smoke of a warming fire rose through the chimney, its clouds disappearing without a trace in the night.
Knocking at the door didn’t help, so I allowed myself in with careful movements. Maybe he was asleep.
But what I found inside was nothing like what I had seen my last time there, and neither did I find the old man I was looking for. There was no chimney fire lighting up the furnished room and no presence of life whatsoever. As a matter of fact, the place I entered was not a room at all.
(Yesterday’s visit to a famous Victorian London cemetery didn’t go entirely to plan, I had a lovely day but alas didn’t take any photos, in fact no one in our Tour Group did and perhaps the reason is a simple ‘photographing the dead is yes a little disrespectful’, but I’ll maybe still write about the day.)
If you’ve happened to read yesterday’s post, you’ll know all the five days this week I am writing a tale flash fiction or whatever on the theme of women’s lingerie, don’t ask why perhaps I’m just odd that way……………….. incidentally the ‘publishing’ sequence has changed, or in other words that’s the story of my WordPress.
Laying beside Karolina two Saturdays ago I don’t think I’ve felt happier in a long while, my lady’s aged 50 and extremely passionate, an amusing conversationalist if a little hard to follow as she’s from Poland, but not to worry she’s an extremely sexy lady, in fact my idea of a dream woman, and I know having a lady stick her tongue deep inside your mouth while kissing sounds a little ahem icky! But it really is sensuous and divine.
So where are we two aged lovers to be found? Me a fifty something who wears glasses when having sex, also Karolina with her dodgy knee that locks up meaning she has to clamber off the bed to give creaking joints a stretch! No arthritis just ‘ole mother time’ creeping up and don’t you find older women are more grateful of a guys romantic advances, not desperate for attention, no just content to be loved for who they are, no spring chicken and all, oh and fucked hard by a guy who prefers his sexual animal to be a woman of more mature years.
Where are we? Inside a Travelodge Inn alongside a busy A34 dual carriageway, a bedroom to be more exact, I’d guess American’s would call this establishment a Motel for lonely individuals driving monotonous ashen gray motorways in need of a cheap place to sleep of a night.
Our room is in pitch darkness apart from a shaft of bright light shining from the wardrobe bathroom, the temperature’s boiling as Motels often are and Karolina’s laying on our bed gazing at the ceiling with me close by her side, so close I’m all but cuddling with my body touching hers from my chest to my toes, snuggled in tightly, my six inch hardened dick resting atop her thigh and bucking bouncing off her skin to the beat of a drum, physiologically connected to the blood pumping through my heart.
Yes I do love her, my arm resting on her tummy a hand slipped inside her burgundy panties, the same exact colour as a good claret of wine. I’m not looking at her lingerie briefs though with two digit fingers gently sliding back and forth through the parted lips of her wet kitty, sweeter than wine and bare of all pubic hair but for a small stubbly patch on her mons pubis, lol there’s a medical term you don’t hear often!
So do I miss that teenage pubic bush weeded out over the ravages of time? They’re kinda fun to run finger’s through or admire in the shower, a mop of brunette coloured hair dripping and wet.
With my fingertips doing all the talking below, my gaze is drawn to Karolina’s chest raising with every breath sipped in, two high round breasts nestling beneath her claret shaded bra cups, with its swirling patterns of lace matching the panties and my busy fingers inside, but hold on subconsciously my sexually aroused mind has control of my fingers without me knowing, playing a fiddle all by their own now pressed against her clit and dragging her intimate skin in small circles, the curtains of her labia lips now drawn tightly closed.
Then faintly audible to my ear, hardly noticeable within our church hushed boudoir, I heard the quietist whisper you ever did hear, Karolina with her eyes tightly closed, purred a softly spoken,
“Oh My God!”
Do you know if I’d cleared my throat or been distracted by noise outside I would have missed it!
She quiet startled me actually though not a muscle in my body responded to Karolina’s almost joyous incredulity, with my imagination pricked alive I suddenly realised my circling fingertips had touched a spot so sacred, nerve endings so excited by pleasure giving chemicals flooding her brain, a cocktail altering her mind, that for those few two seconds in time Karolina had been whisked to a blissful heaven itself.
(……………. and tomorrow, “Holy crap I’m on the bra and knickers Floor!”)
(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 😉 )
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!
………. 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!