I write sexy stories to entertain and excite. My stories are respectful, consensual, full of dirty language, and laced with humour and unexpected twists. Enjoy!
Long-Distance Hike, Chapter 2
I took Red’s hand and led her back to my tent, ignoring the cheers and catcalls from her trail mates. At the edge of the circle of light she turned, waggled her hips at her friends and made an obscene gesture, then followed me, laughing to the tent. I checked her out as we walked. She was wearing flip flops, walking trousers, and a thick fleece hoodie. Not too dissimilar to my own outfit, although I had a pair of thin trainers. Her dark hair was tied back. She was slim and beautiful, and almost as tall as me. I grinned to myself in anticipation.
I’d picked up a trail name — Hopper — on the second day of my hike along the West Highland Way in Scotland. I was getting ready to leave the small campsite where I’d spent my first night, and I lost my balance as I tried to put my boot on. I’d hopped around for a bit, trying to pull it on, then tripped over my feet and fallen on my arse.
More than a Massage, Part 2
The sex had been spectacular, and I practically floated home. I texted Sarah as soon as I left the spa at the hotel, but it was a few days before I made it to her apartment for dinner and a chat. She opened the door with a huge grin and I gave her a hug.
More than a Massage, Part 1
At the end of a long week, I sometimes like to relax at a spa. I might swim a little or spend time in the sauna, maybe get a treatment of some sort. Occasionally, if I’m in the mood, I’ll get a massage. There’s nothing quite like having someone kneed your shoulders and pound your muscles to drive out the tension.
Bella and Hank, Chapter 1
It was, I have to admit, an inauspicious start, but desperation makes you do things you wouldn’t normally dream of doing. I’d been wandering – lost – in this bloody forest for an hour or more, and I was getting pretty bloody desperate. I had no idea where I was or how to get back to the car park, but eventually I couldn’t wait any longer. With shaking hands I unfastened my belt and pulled down my shorts. My underwear came with them and before I was even properly squatted, a huge fart escaped followed by an enormous turd.
The barmaid - ‘Hospitality Professional’ might be more appropriate, I suppose - at the Dog and Duck was, frankly, just my type. She had short blonde hair, blue eyes, a great set of curves, and a winning smile she deployed at every opportunity. We were both in our early twenties, she still struggling through college and working to pay the bills, me recently graduated and in my first job. I was sure I was in love.