It was one Friday night; Mary and I were at a hotel bar out of town, when Mary surprised me by drinking more then she usually did. She drank like a fish until she finally was so plastered that she was leaning against the counter to stay upright.
I was half drunk too, so when she asked me to help her upstairs to our room. For some reason I made believe I was really in no condition to go upstairs myself and I asked a guy who was standing next to us at the bar if he would help her up to our room.
He introduced himself, his name was john and he was a big black man. He quickly volunteered his services. I stood there as John wrapped his large arms around my wife and helped her walk toward the elevators.
At the elevators he picked her up in his arms and carried her into one while I followed behind. I noticed that one of john's large black hands were up under my wife's skirt. I assumed it was accidental, but secretly I hoped it wasn't.
"Oh Brittny, I just can't wait to get to the beach!" cried Joanne, "The temperature is perfect. Our bathing suits are perfect. And I can tell that it's gonna be a perfect day!"
Brittny rolled her eyes playfully while looking at her. Joanne had so much enthusiasm and optimism. What a contrast to my outlook on life, she thought. Brittny tended to look at everything in life with suspicion; if it looked too good to be true, it probably was. A perfect day, huh? It's probably gonna rain, or we'll get stuck next to some smelly fat guys or something. She looked at Joanne again, who was grinning from ear to ear, and some of her cynicism started to melt away. Joanne was a very good influence on her, Brittny thought. Just being with her made her whole outlook begin to change for the better.
"Well," Brittny finally admitted, "It does look like a nice day. Maybe it'll turn out to be a fun time after all." She couldn't help but smile.
Last night the craziest thing happened. I was at this fundraiser for some good cause I'm sure. I wasn't too interested with the going-ons around me. I didn't know anybody, and my friend who had dragged me into this shindig, had left with a desperate-looking chubby girl that he was sure to get lucky with.
Drink in hand, I wandered around trying find somebody interesting to strike up a conversation with. A couple of hours later and many drinks from the free bar, I had a pleasant buzz going on and still nobody to talk to.
That's not to say that I didn't start conversations. I did. Many of them. But for some reason, either my mood, or the drinks that I had consumed, nobody interested me. Quite a few ladies tried to prolong their boring conversations with me, but I didn't care and most of the time I just walked away.
My boredom lead me up the stairs in that joint to the next floor up which overlooked the big space where the party was held. The circular walkway was deserted as everybody was downstairs gabbing.
As I walked aimlessly, I reached a point where I saw a gorgeous set of legs, topped by a nicely curved ass of some woman leaning quite a bit forward on the stone banister. Her upper body was nearly horizontal. I approached closer to see who these fine body parts belonged to, but the side of her face was obscured by a huge column.
All the hypocrisy surrounding incest in the media is getting tiring and I'm starting to get sick of it. It's getting so bad that I feel I have to reveal some of my own secrets to create some semblance of balance. I've been having sex with my sister for years. We've always had a good time doing it and suffered no ill effects.
Unlike what people like to believe, we come from a normal, middle class family; not some degenerate perverts. It's may be a different picture to paint of the situation, but it happens to be the truth.
The stuff that I do with my sister, while kept secret from the rest of the world, including our parents, gives us a lot of happiness and well being. We're not abusing or exploiting each other as in so many other 'Normal' relationships we see around us. We are both very happy and well balanced and we have each other to thank for this.
As a salesman for a large corporation, I travel constantly. For me, flying is no more exciting than taking a bus-with the exception of one recent, unusual flight.
I was late for the red-eye from Philly to San Francisco, and was dismayed to see a long line of people waiting to go through the metal detector. I stamped my feet and sighed dramatically along with the others until I saw the cause of the logjam: A vision of Far Eastern loveliness in a skirt shorter than Heather Locklear's on 'Melrose Place' had emptied her bag and all her pockets, and still kept setting off the detector. The poor thing was turning a lovely pink from embarrassment and frustration. My heart and rapidly expanding cock went out to the girl.
Finally, she slapped her forehead, as if the answer had just dawned on her. As everyone stared in astonishment, she stuck a hand under her skirt and squatted as if she were about to take a dump right there on the floor. Elegantly plopping two little steel balls on the conveyor belt, she swished through the detector and out of my life.
"Well, here I am," I thought to myself. I didn't know why I came to this remote little beach. "Now what?" I heard myself say aloud.
The day had been a really hectic one. Stress at home, stress at work, stress, stress, stress. I thought for sure I would crack. I knew I had to get away, even if only for a little while. My boss almost fired me for a co-workers error. Thank god she had the balls to step forward and take the blame. Unfortunately for her - she was the one who was fired.
The kids were like monkee's in a cage today!! They were climbing all over everything, including me. Then no one liked what was fixed for dinner, no one got the right glass, no one ate - everyone yelled. Such a peaceful meal!
My wife was out of town on a business trip, and I had to attend an important dinner engagement given by the company I worked for. I called our usual baby sitter and told her that it was an emergency. Luckily she said that she could be right over.
After a fretfully boring dinner, I slipped away early. I knew that Kathy, our babysitter, would be relieved, since she had planned a hot date that night with her boyfriend, and I felt that she was doing me a great big favor by sitting for our two-year-old son.
I slipped my key in the lock and opened the door. There was no one in the living room, so I went to the door of the den. There, I froze.
I could see James sitting there, his pants down to his knees. He had a hard-on, and Kathy was stroking it slowly.
- Older