Pete Symes

Pete Symes

Purveyor of paralogical compliance to verbally mediated reality and artisanal smut

  • Pete Symes
    Published 4 months ago
    Ribbons Buttons Bows and Cupid

    Ribbons Buttons Bows and Cupid

    Janine was more than a handful. Yet I never wasted a bit of her. That is the best description I can give of her breasts. Numbers are not for me. Janine was comfortably fluffy. A soft, well turned out sales rep at our company. Even at twenty four the office speculation was baby fat, well dressed, and well out of my league. Her perfect heart shaped behind was often well camouflaged by the long boxy coat of her prim business suit. It was the height of fashion at the time. It also hide her remarkably thin waist that was belied by the generous cleavage above the blouses worn under said coat. But it was her power sell uniform. Her hair was black and pushed high in the air bringing her closer to god. Once achieving such lofty heights it cascaded with great dispatch beyond her soft shoulders while making curtains for a face as pretty as could be on their way to earth. Fleshy dimpled cheeks surrounded a knowing smile that brought irresistible dimples to bear. A hint of freckles on her nose and cheeks showed the time spent on yachts and extended tropical vacations. The freckles were faded as Janine now cultivated her more porcelain skin hue. Finally her years had grown into that luscious body. She also had the most active sex drive I had ever encountered in a woman of her age. Her libido would put the more mature ladies who lunch lasciviousness to shame. She was fearlessly impetuous, getting it whenever and wherever she wanted it and had the filthiest mouth under the right circumstances. She would gleefully describe what she wanted, or do a salacious play by play of what she was getting as well as what it was doing to her. Add in a generous helping of moans, grunts, demands, and commands through the pre, post, as well as all throughout coitus maximus, well you get the idea. With Janine it was maximus or bust rolled up between long shapely legs. It was here my dirty talk during sex began.
  • Pete Symes
    Published 4 months ago
    Vanities Mirror
  • Pete Symes
    Published 5 months ago
    Twas The Night Before XXXmas

    Twas The Night Before XXXmas

    Twas the night before Christmas. No cocktails were mixing