First Time


Jemma

It looks like a rape, but read on and discover that it isn't. The following story is based on the imagination of a reader who has given permission for the use of her ideas. For the sake of privacy, her name will not be published and does not bare any resemblance to the characters portrayed herein. The beginning is entirely her story, with only editorial alterations, background, in fills and the conclusion on my part. As with all of the works posted by me, under my name, it is protected by international copyright and may not be copied, published or posted under any other name without express permission of the author.

Lisa

I suppose that it was pure chance, a lucky throw of the dice, and a case of right time, right place, in which I met Lisa. The circumstances were hardly usual; in fact shock was possibly the first reaction she evinced from me. Definitely, shock. Intrigue and wanton lust also added to the brew of emotions that she caused. The experience of her was a life-changing event, one that would never ever diminish in the memory and would alter my perspective on life from that time onwards. I had been called by a man who's name reminded me of an out-board motor.

Mated with Bruno.

Before you tell me, I know it can't happen. I know it is an impossibility to breed, but call it poetic licence, call it fantasy, but whatever you call it, enjoy and forget the physics for a while. His powerful forelegs clamped her heaving hips in a tight embrace pulling her to his furred underbelly and preventing her release. With each thrust of his canine hips, his cock drove deeper into her belly causing her to whimper with the pain of having this monstrous dog cock search out the neck of her womb. The Doberman was her master now in more than just the physical sense. She had invaded his territory and offered her sex to him in an effort to placate his feelings of territorial violation.

Moon Phases

Six months earlier. It was at a beach party that Jack was turned. Someone, an acquaintance, invited him and a few bottles, to the dunes on the South Kentish Sea front near Dungeness. As usual, he drank a bit too much, but he was sure afterwards, that his drink was spiked. Certainly, he had a metallic taste in his mouth the next morning and a monumental headache, the like he had never experienced before. He was also quite photosensitive to the point of almost being blinded by the sunlight. He was alone and all that remained of the previous night's party were a few dying embers in the fire, and a few beer bottles and cans scattered around.

My first time

"Ah, I remember it like it was yesterday". The old dog lowered his greying muzzle onto his forepaws, eyes unfocused and milky with cataracts. His ears hung like limp washing, a sigh escaped from relaxed jowls as he recalled the memories. What had been brick-red fur was now faded, but offered warmth and protection to the young pup, who listened and waited for his mentor to relate the tale. "We were a family pack in those days, an Alpha male and Female, a male who had seen about ten seasons, a female of about twelve seasons and an older female who had seen perhaps sixteen or so. We lived someplace else then, in a huge house out in the country with loads of land and trees.

Painted Student

Lunch time in the refectory can be hectic. Students and staff share the same facilities, queuing for hot meals or paninis and coffee. It isn't the largest room in the college so, the tables and chairs can become precious, especially when they are pulled out of their serried ranks into group patterns so friends can socialize while they eat.Today was just like any other at lunch; hectic. The place heaved with a mass of young people whose voices joined in a cacophony of noise. The smell of food being cooked and coffee wafted on a warm breeze that circulated the canteen.The scrape of a chair on the herring-bone parquet flooring drew a glance from me, focusing my attention for a brief moment.

Role play

Occasionally, just occasionally, role play in the bedroom takes on a whole new intensity and, instead of role playing; the person becomes the role and is taken to another dimension. Occasionally, what starts out as a fantasy, stitched into a session of sex, soon becomes a situation, where anything becomes possible. Where inhibitions are left behind and the participants are removed from the real world of stresses and strife to a place, totally overtaken by the acts of present and future, lust and promise of fulfillment. The following is one such event; where the players become the played and all plans become secondary to the unfolding events, where the scene is the lasting real part of a fiction.

The lesson

God! But she was beautiful in those days. Not that Jenni is any less beautiful now, but she was unbelievably stunning back then. Since though, time and the bearing and rearing of children have taken their toll. Jenni still is a very good looking woman, a little thicker than she would like, but all in all, very pretty for a fifty something year old woman. Her beauty goes further than the depth of her skin. Jenni is one of those people who is just naturally lovely, without a mean bone in her and very few times has an unkind thought for anyone. Her integrity is beyond question, her faithfulness is unusual in the singular way it rules her life. It makes her popular and sought after as a friend.

The office

Before you read this, it isn't a stroke story as such. A story with sex in it yes, but not a quick fire wham bam. I thought it best to let you know. The players:Stella was a bitch, pure and simple, a statement of irrefutable fact. Somehow, in her twelve years working at the small Accountancy practice, she had charmed, or perhaps bullied the senior partner into making her the Office Manager. She was the archetype of the Office Manageress. Quite tall, at around six foot, as slender as a rake handle, with hair pulled savagely back into a bun at the back of her head that you would swear was pulling her face out of shape and taking out the wrinkles.

The stray

The first time I saw the stray was as I left home for work. He was curled up against the privet hedge, sleeping, just inside my front garden. He looked up as the garden gate squeaked, but showed little interest in me. He passed from mildly interesting to completely forgotten in the time it took to reach my car. The next time I saw the stray, he was laying full stretch in front of the fire in my living room. Jill had obviously met him and, Jill being Jill, had brought him in, probably fed him, mothered him and become his best friend, all in a day. The dog looked up, mildly curious at who was entering the room, but returned his nose to his paws and contented sleep.