Pete Symes
Bio
A scenario manifests. A scenario disassembles. I participate intensively for the duration.
Stories (46/0)
Window Dressing
Place your hands on the window sill as you lean over the couch. The lights in my office are out, but the light from the city street illuminates the room just right. We are now on the second floor. Across the street on ground level we see our coworkers still cock-tailing in the big window of the lounge we just left. I slowly lift what little skirt you were wearing all day at work. With a come hither forefinger I hook the string back of the thong I also knew you were wearing. You made sure I knew what treat simmered below early in the day, right here in this very office with an indiscreet reach and grab of materials on my upper shelf. No I wasn’t looking up your obviously minuscule skirt. I caught a glimpse of the little triangle of teal fabric on your sacrum junction of the three discrete strings that held the Telos of your thong in place. Your midriff revealing sweater hiked up when making your bookcase reach. I finally have the material I have been coveting all day in the office hooked on my index finger. I slide teal temptation down your luscious bare legs and work it past your stiletto heeled shoes. Kneeling behind you I sense your growing anticipation with more than one of my senses.
By Pete Symes3 years ago in Filthy
Finally Quatrain Cynthia
Slammie's Sindy As we cocktailed further Sindy begins to lament her unsatisfying relationships with “men“ her own age and within her circles. Past and present. I remember myself at those times. But I had been in a relationship for the most part of the age we were discussing, so dating was not an issue. Today's expectations seemed higher than they had ever been. Set by things we all watched on screens, posed or performed by good-looking actors and actresses who had been dressed and made up by a team of professionals. Then placed in a perfect setting with ultra perfect lighting. They were able to exchange witty lines or pitch-perfect sultry looks of the sort that awkward moments were easily parlayed into, shall we say, high bars to clear for romantic action and lust-fueled coital perfection. The perfection of the type that even the gods and goddesses of fabled Olympus would envy.
By Pete Symes3 years ago in Filthy
Finally Thrice Cynthia
Cindy Gets A Grip Cindy had my balls in her hand and was going on and on about how big they were. She was rolling them in her palm like they were dice and I was hoping she would blow on them one more time. Since I had only known her for a month she was just as likely to do that as anything with them. After fourteen years of faithful marriage I was going to find out. We had already gotten our first frantic fuck out of the way on the night we met.
By Pete Symes3 years ago in Filthy
Finally Deux Cynthia
Cynthia At The Stroke Of Seven The light poured in from the night downtown skyline through the full window wall of my bedroom making Cynthia’s emerald eyes sparkle. Both her black smokey eye treatment and her fiery tousled red hair was fussed and mussed from our lovemaking. But there was enough light in the room for a visual verification of my one word assessment of this moment. Hot. Almost as hot as her body that pulsated around me as I spurted again and again into her very core. I collapsed in her embrace as her black painted fingernails dug into my back. I savored her fiery final flourish, finish, and moan.
By Pete Symes3 years ago in Filthy
Finally Cynthia
Cindy Starts Cindy, Sindy or Cynthia. I have met and lusted after an inordinate number of girls, ladies, and women of that name; never mind the spelling. Yet had never bedded a single Cindy. Heavy petting, basement make outs, stolen kisses in parks. Yes. But a Cindy fuck was not to be. During my fourteen year marriage to Toni I had resigned myself to that fact. I thought I had put that fantasy away for good.
By Pete Symes3 years ago in Filthy
Leona Lights Up The Sky
I lay in the dark staring out over the night waters of Lake Michigan, through the floor to ceiling high rise windows, with the blinds pulled up for an unobstructed view. No other buildings were as high as mine giving me a panorama of the sky and water. I had the windows as open as was possible in such a building. They let in a breeze and the sounds from the park below. I was fresh and clean from my shower and I heard the water being shut off as Leona finished hers. We had been out together all morning and locked in sweaty embraces all afternoon. After all it was the 4th of July and it was hot in Chicago.
By Pete Symes4 years ago in Filthy
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.
By Pete Symes4 years ago in Filthy