Christmas cranberries, ainsley-ts and a wooden fork

When I get home, Rebekka is wearing her leather boots in the bath. “I opened my Christmas present early because you said it was a sex toy. But it isn’t!” She says. “I could have opened these in front of Aunty!” Read more

Bitch Magnet by David Aaron Clark

“MY PHILOSOPHY?” says the trim black man in the white shirt with bemused wonderment.
“I have no philosophy. I live, I act, I react. Life is short, there’s no time for philosophy. What’s your philosophy?”
I allow as that I have yet to settle on one. I explain that I am, in fact, here at this disreputable West Side club because I’m still busy exploring the ramifications of several conflicting trajectories of rationalisation. Read more

An Inverted Heart. Glowing Ruby Red by Marissa Moon

I’m staring at an inverted heart. A perfect peach. Ripe for the plucking. My husband’s bottom is small, firm, and round. His legs would make many a woman jealous and I wonder if any of his squash partners have ever commented on his smooth hairless limbs or the lack of pubic hair. Despite a taste for slinky lingerie he’s still a fit sexually active red-blooded male, not one of those prancing ninnies who desire nothing but cross-dressed humiliation and the chance to kiss Madame’s feet. Not that there’s anything wrong with that…. (Sissies!) Read more