Animal Farm   Chapter 1

    As a reporter, I learn things about the human race that are often…alarming, often sickening. The rape, for example, of a six-year-old girl as she played in the park with friends; the atrocity of war and the blood spilled by nations civilized and not-so.

My first exploration into journalism happened in my final year of high school; part of the work experience program the local council urged the headmaster to introduce to us tearaways who had no ambition in life, no career in mind.

I chose to follow a reporter around for those two weeks, and became so fascinated with the day-to-day routine of a country journalist that I enrolled in college and university to gain my degree in journalism.

But my desire was not that of my first tutor; no, I didn’t want the weekly spot in the county-wide paper, shoved between the Weekender section and the classified ads. I wanted to star in the country’s top papers, offering my story of the day far and wide from Scotland to Wales.

From the age of sixteen to twenty, I studied hard, and played little. When I wasn’t working my ass off, my spare time was taken up by the short articles and commentaries I wrote to bring in a bit of cash to pay the rent and buy my monthly packs of Bachelors dried soup.

By the time the ink dried on my degree, I’d applied for several jobs writing for daily tabloids, but none were responsive to my inquiries. Disheartened somewhat, I kept writing my opinions, my articles. Eventually, I launched my own website, posting my work twice daily.

The hits it received were…astronomical.
More »

8 Black Men, Rex, & Unk’s Junkyard

I would just like to say before we get to the fun stuff that …
I was molested as a child, & as with most survivors of incest,
we have what most would consider deviant sexual practices or fantasies(obviously not all). Most of my stories (soon to come;) will contain Taboo situations…rape, incest, bestiality, water sports etc.
Even though I write about such things (for most it is a way to control what happened to them)
I IN NO WAY CONDOGNE HARMFUL TREATMENT OF CHILDREN OR ADULTS ! (except with adults consent;)
I’M HOPING TO BE THE CUTE TABOO SLUT WITH PIGTAILS THAT THOSE TYPES NEED TO NOT HURT CHILDREN!!!!!!!!!!
I’ve been a sexual person for as long as I can remember.  I was extremely curious about everything.  I enjoyed attention for being “cute”, even so much as to like being watched. Feeling eyes on my body made me tingle inside, although I never really understood why.
During my childhood my family owned several large dogs. I remember being shoved down into the dirt and mounted by these large animals. I didn’t know what was going on, but I liked it.  They were much too overpowering for me to do anything less than allow this violation of my body.  I remember bouncing around, looking around to see if anyone noticed me being mounted by the family dog on the front lawn.  Inevitably my mother would come running out to “save” me.  I never understood what the big deal was about, especially considering she acted so mortified but refused to say a word about it.
Needless to say, that brought my curiosity bubbling up over the boiling point.  Anytime I would baby-sit, after the kids had gone to bed, I found myself leading the miscellaneous dogs to a secluded room in the house. I would pat them on the head & then open my legs to reveal my tight wet slit. Before I could even give directions they would lick my sweet slit clean.  There massive long tongues invading my tight space till I shuddered with delight.  Most of the time I fell asleep with the dogs face nestled between my legs.
When I turned 18, I moved out of the house & into the ghetto.  I didn’t mind it, I was sick of country life & its limited ideas about people & their personal life.  Besides, it was nice to find out that the black community appreciated a nice ass! The punk ass white boy country bumpkins I was used to would call J-lo fat & not PHAT.  I digress as women often do;)  I rented a place with my on again off again dick.  I paid most of the bills, but I didn’t care because my walks to work gave me more opportunities to get my ass smacked & pulled into some random garage where I started to build the rep of the girl who could swallow anything!

More »

   I met Jenny where she worked behind the counter in a coffee shop, one of those hip local poet hangouts that serve esspresso, and cappichino, and rag on the older generation. Young and still foolish she had a nose ring, and a pierced tongue, but what drew my attention was the thin short T-shirt she was wearing that let me oggle her tucked in waist with the ring in her belly button flap above her denim cut offs, and allowed her nipples to poke through atop thos swollen breasts showing that her right one had a ring pierced in it too. Now why a beautiful girl like that would think she needed any other help to get attention than the body, and face she had already was beyond my comprehension. Without all the jewelry she was perfect bait for the next Playboy Bunny of the Year centerfold. But the thing was, on her it all looked great, as did the butterfly tattoo on the outside of her left ankle, so I put it down as something the crowd she hung around talked her into. After all, with her natural honey blond hair, to have it streaked in bright lime, and red purple as if painted was a bit ludicrous even at 18 years old in her sophomore year of college.

More »

I kept Caroline over for an hour the following evening, and we finished up the last of the paper work just before she went home at six. That gave me a couple of hours to get ready to meet Henry over at Joey’s Dinner, and I made good use of that time by taking a bubble bath, and preparing myself with the things John had packed in my gym bag. Freshly shaved, bathed, and powdered, I put my makeup on extra thick, then pulled out the first item of clothing. It was a red satin quarter cup bra, that gave me plenty of cleavage, but only covered the lower quadrant of each breast leaving them mostly exposed, and the matching red satin garterbelt that came out next hung on my flaring hips like four inverted triangles looking extremely sluttish when the straps were connected to the sheer black Christian Dior nylons that only came up to just below mid thigh on my legs. The sheer white nylon thong seemed like an after thought, but when I put it on I realized immediately how whorish it made me look now as it didn’t match in color with anything else I had on. The lime green ankle strapped patten leather platform high heels did match the mini skirt, but the beige fish net T-shirt I put on under the patch work quilt like vest made my pussy itch with intolerable wanton lust as my bare nipples poked erect through the netting from the moment I put it on.

“Wow! What a fucking whore!” I said to my mirror image as I primped before gathering everything up, and after putting my work clothes in the gym bag, headed for Joey’s dinner.

• Gillian’s Makeover (Chapter 3)
• Gillian’s Makeover(Chapter 1)

More »

Hello, my name is Gillian Dupont. Normally, I’m a practical, very conservatively attired business woman. At just over 30 years old I still went to great lengths to hide my statuesque 37-22-34 figure from the male power mongers I have to deal with in the every day corporate world in which I dwell. I wear little or no make up, no perfume, and even keep my honey blond hair, dyed a donkey brown, up in a severe bun at the top back of my head while wearing these horribly plain totally useless eye glasses. I’m married you see, and I’ve always thought that my husband John was more than enough man for me to handle in bed, for one thing, and for the second thing, why bring sex into a business relationship when it only burns both parties, and achieves no goals. I loved my husband of seven years dearly, and didn’t think he’d appreciate my giving out sexual favors just for advancement on a few corporate ladder rungs, and too, him being a doctor, I’d have hated to come home one day carrying the clap, or something worse that I’d contracted from one of my peers.
Being left alone, that is to say, not being chased after, has allowed me a great deal of freedom that I wouldn’t have had otherwise, which is probably why I advanced so fast to such a top executive position as I did. No ones wife thought I was being chased around her husband’s desk, and none of the males felt threatened by my superior work.

• Gillian’s Makeover (Chapter 2)
• Gillian’s Makeover (Chapter 3)

More »

    I kept Caroline over for an hour the following evening, and we finished up the last of the paper work just before she went home at six. That gave me a couple of hours to get ready to meet Henry over at Joey’s Dinner, and I made good use of that time by taking a bubble bath, and preparing myself with the things John had packed in my gym bag. Freshly shaved, bathed, and powdered, I put my makeup on extra thick, then pulled out the first item of clothing. It was a red satin quarter cup bra, that gave me plenty of cleavage, but only covered the lower quadrant of each breast leaving them mostly exposed, and the matching red satin garterbelt that came out next hung on my flaring hips like four inverted triangles looking extremely sluttish when the straps were connected to the sheer black Christian Dior nylons that only came up to just below mid thigh on my legs. The sheer white nylon thong seemed like an after thought, but when I put it on I realized immediately how whorish it made me look now as it didn’t match in color with anything else I had on. The lime green ankle strapped patten leather platform high heels did match the mini skirt, but the beige fish net T-shirt I put on under the patch work quilt like vest made my pussy itch with intolerable wanton lust as my bare nipples poked erect through the netting from the moment I put it on.

“Wow! What a fucking whore!” I said to my mirror image as I primped before gathering everything up, and after putting my work clothes in the gym bag, headed for Joey’s dinner.
More »

“Scotch on the rocks,” Caroline ordered from the gruffy, bald, old black bartender in the empty bar, “and make that a double!”
“Any particular brand?” Asked the fellow in his 40’s learing, trying to look at her cleavage. It wasn’t everyday one of these gorgous white business types, probably a lawyer by the cut of her clothes, came into his joint. She’s got to be about a 37D-22-34 and either lost, or been dumped, he thought, adding ice to a glass, and what kind of moron would dump such a hot lookig babe like this?
“Glenlevet, if you have it, if not, anything will do. Just hurry it up!”
“Here ya go miss,” he said placing the drink in front of her, “Glenlevet. I don’t get much call for single malts in here, but I keep a bottle just for those special occasions.”
“Yeah, well this is a special occasion all right,” and Caroline swallowed half her drink in one gulp before putting the glass back on the bar. “Yeah, it’s special all right. I just caught my husband in bed with another woman. That bastard! While I’m working on the case of my life, he’s off boffing the 18 year old that lives next door. Wait until I tell her parents! They’ll castrate him!”
With that statement, Caroline downed the rest of her drink, and pointed to her empty glass and nodded. Not that she needed to, the bartender was already refilling the glass with the amber essence.
“They call me Jake,” said the black man casually introducig himself, then glanced up to see that she was staring at him almost as if……and was that another button open?
“I’m Caroline Huet,” Caroline said introducing herself, and downing the entire drink this time, before putting it in front of Jake for another, eyes becoming glassy, “and if you get me drunk…. Say Jake, have you ever had a married white lady before? Want one for a night?”
“Can’t say that you’d be the first, lady, Caroline, nor would you be a lady after I’ve had you,” and he put fresh ice in her glass, and poured once more, before putting the third double in front of her, and seeing another button undone, and half of her work skirt hiked up by the stool she was sitting on showing her garter snaps, and plenty of smooth white thigh above beige stocking tops.

More »