Jenny was already stripped, down on the floor, masturbating wildly. Her boyfriend Charlie was supposed to come over within the next hour, and she wanted to get herself off before he came. Her blue eyes sparkled with life as she stuck the 4-inch hairbrush handle into her pussy, making it grind up against her g spot. She came all over it, got off the bathroom floor, and walked to the sink, shaking. Jenny washed it off, grabbed a shampoo bottle, and took another brush with a flat handle. She placed them, and the original brush, on the bathroom rugs and ran into the kitchen, pulling some carrots, a hotdog, and a can of whip cream out of the refrigerator.
Marlis Holmes was a forty-something freelance artist that lived on a barge on the River Thames not far from London. Divorced and rarely seeing her children, who were both at university, she sometimes got a little depressed and so she could empathize with people who occasionally jumped off a nearby bridge into the river. After a heart to heart conversation over some hot cocoa, she sent them on their way feeling much more positive about their lives. He sipped on his cocoa and nodded. Marlis found him rather sweet, he certainly had emotional problems but she thought he was simply just a little immature. When he removed the blanket the word little was most inappropriate.
My life settled into a new routine over the next several weeks. I was fucking my three boys regularly, rarely missing a day and often fitting two in after school. Read On. This is a confessional by a friend who wants to remain anonymous.
Do you write sex stories or sex-related texts? Register here to post. College Sex Chronicles: Foreign Objects!