The Artful Dancer [Str8] [MF] [Mdom] [Fdom] [anal]

The front door was unlocked, just as he said it would be. Music echoed through the house. He hadn’t said where in it he’d be, but she knew his location. He’d be out by the pool. He always had to revel in his perceived power.

Through the foyer. Past the kitchen. She saw it. The wide chair, back to the house, a head visible atop it. A table she knew what was on in front of it. Back straight, she walked out to the chair, her stilettos clacking the stone slabs of the deck into submission.

She stopped behind the chair, well aware he’d known of her presence from the moment she’d entered the house.

“What’s the weapon for?” She hadn’t seen it, but she knew it was there. Now she glanced. Two guns. Glock and bullpup rifle. *Surprise, surprise*.

[FM] Toke, Kiss. Toke, Kiss.

This is a story of my first time smoking, and my first time fucking.

I live in a small town, so to entertain ourselves we fish, drink, smoke pot and fuck. And I’m not sure which we do more.

I was raised in a very conservative family, no sex, no drugs, etc.

When I turned 21 my friend of four years, Septima (apparently she got her name because she was the seventh child,) invited me over to her house to play Skyrim and eat pizza like we always do.

Her house always smelled like weed and apple cider vinegar (for the bugs,) but this time, however, I was greeted with a haze of smoke. I knew she smoked of course, but she never did around me because she knew I wasn’t very comfortable around drugs, and was apprehensive about even second hand smoking.

The moment I walked in the door she said “Reilly, sit down.”

“What’s up?” I said, worried something had happened sense she always smoked a lot when things were bad.

She handed me a colorful glass pipe “I want you to smoke with me.”
Both relieved, and shocked I said. “I’d really rather not, sorry.” And handed the pipe back to her.

Dripping at the Bar–Chapter 1 [FM]

Sophomore year of college, spring semester. I’m a hot mess. Some guy I was seeing for like two weeks just ghosted me and I wanna get drunk and forget. I’m feeling ugly and flawed. I’m convinced the dude pulled the disappearing act because I wasn’t shaped to his liking.

I call Francesca and tell her I wanna go to this club where I fuck the bartender on and off. He’s thirty and a scum bag–the kind of guy who talks sweet to me like I don’t know what he’s after. But I’m willing to play along because he’s jacked and gives me free drinks. Plus he’s Puerto Rican, and honestly I like fucking guys my Italian father wouldn’t approve of (that’s another story). Anyway, Francesca, she’s game because she’s always game. She says she’ll be at my dorm at 10:00 with a bottle of Stoli.

[ff] (True story) The time I fucked a girl in the high school bathroom [public]

Helloooo ladies and gentlemen ;)

Author background — I’m a 19 y/o lesbian girl who writes stories about my real sexual experiences, and some fiction.

For imaginative purposes, here’s a basic description of me. I’m 5’6″, pale, I have dyed blue hair, I’m relatively busty, and my body is shaped pretty well. I’m not really skinny or fat, but tbh it depends on the day and/or my self control @ the time.

This story is of the time I, as the title says, fucked a girl in the high school bathroom. I’m a girl, so I use the word “fuck” a bit generously here. If you’ve seen my first story (which you totally should), you might know that I mentioned I had previous experiences. This is one of them.

I was a senior in high school when it happened. She wasn’t my girlfriend at the time, more of a way to “explore”. After talking for a while as friends, she basically told me that she always thought she was straight, but she was a bit “bi-curious” at the time. This discussion took place during lunch. She was actually the one that talked me into the whole thing. I was a pretty straight-edge girl, education-wise at least. I followed (most) of the rules. Her idea wasn’t anything specific. Go in the bathroom and fool around. She hadn’t done it before either, but she was a lot more courageous about it than I.

[MF] The First Woman to Ever Deepthroat Me

I realize that most of my stories make me sound like a all I have any interest in is fucking as many women as possible, and while it is true that I have a sky high libido and would like nothing more than to fuck all the time, *forever*, the truth is that on a daily basis I want what most people want, which is compansionship and a person to talk to.

That said, I have actually had a few long-term relationships in my life, and they have all been amazing. The first ended depressingly, with me being cheated on. The third resulted in some of the happiest days of my life. This is the story of my second long-term relationship, which began bizarrely and somehow just kept going.

I met a young woman at a club. She made fun of my shirt so I bought her a drink. It was an awful shirt, to be fair. I hate clubs and have no concept of how to dress for them. I wouldn’t have even been there if it hadn’t been for my friend Clubby, who would live her life in an endless dance hall if such a thing were possible. She liked to drag me along when she was trying a new place so that she could run to me and pretend I was her boyfriend if the vibe was all wrong amongst the club patrons. In exchange she usually bought me a few drinks but truthfully I would have done it for free because about half the time she managed to introduce me to somebody fun.

Sucked off by a Succubus – Sexy Beasts Series Episode I [mf] [ghost] [succubus]

[My Sexy Beasts Series is going to explore sexual relationships between humans and monsters- vampires, zombies, werewolves, giants, mythological creatures, shifters, etc.]

I had been travelling by train all day, bound for Istanbul from Paris on a business trip. Exhausted, I disembarked at an older station in Kecskemet, an old style city in the middle of Hungary. I had an overnight here, and then would catch another train in the morning and head southeast toward Szeged and the border with Romania. I checked with the kiosk and was told that the three primary hotels were full (because of a business conference apparently) but that a couple of hostels in an older section of town were available, and pretty nice. The helpful railroad employee picked up the old style telephone and dialed, and spoke in Hungarian, then hung up and turned back to me. “The Red Apple has rooms available. It’s very nice, run by an older couple, not very commercial at all. More like your American bed and breakfasts. Also, probably your cheapest option.” I grinned “Thanks. Do they speak English as well as you?” I asked. He laughed. “Not likely. But they’ll speak well enough to take your credit card and put a meal on the table in front of you. Take that cab over there.” He indicated a rusty old Soviet-era taxi idling on the street. I tipped him a few euros and walked to the cab.