Dirty mom in lingerie shows off hairy pussy.
I am a 36yr old housewife married for ten years and live in a quiet suburban area. This letter is about what happened just after I wed. I was very naïve about sex and had never done anything exciting although I seem to attract the attention of many men. I had then shoulder length blonde hair and a good figure with 36c bust which looked bigger because of my slim waist.
Anyway after six months of marriage I lost my job and my husband suggested I stay home awhile before looking for another. I tended to get a bit bored and one of the things I looked forward to was the company of two men, one almost 60, the other 55. They were retired and did peoples gardens for a bit of extra cash and to keep busy.
Sometimes I let them into the house for a drink or chatted to them in the garden. Nothing sexual ever crossed my mind, or I think theirs until one afternoon when they were leaving one of them dropped a magazine. I picked it up and was about to call them back when I realised it was a sex magazine. Instead of giving it back I began to thumb through it. I had never seen anything like it before; it featured mainly women being spanked. I was amazed; I had never associated sexual pleasure with that sort of thing and was shocked to find these elderly gentlemen reading such things. One picture showed a woman bent over a man’s knee and her skirt pulled up being smacked with his hand. Another showed a series of pictures that started with a woman in a room with three men. As the pictures progressed she was touched up and then they bent her over a chair and pulled down her panties taking turns to spank her.
The ones that really caused me to have a funny feeling were at the back of the book. They showed men with their penises out and masturbating while women were spanked. Some showed the woman holding a cock. It made me feel turned on and so I settled down to have a really good look. I was very excited at seeing pictures of men’s cocks and fascinated on how these women let themselves be treated like that. Something about the whole idea of being spanked intrigued me - it was very kinky and unusual.
When the men were about to finish for the day I called the elder one in and gathering up courage I handed him the magazine saying, “You dropped this earlier.”
He was shocked and spent the next five minutes apologising to me. As he seemed more embarrassed than me I felt brave enough to say that it was OK and I had looked at it and found it interesting.
“At my age it’s just for a bit of excitement,” he said.
Then he asked me not to tell his wife. I said I wouldn’t and somehow it made me feel a little naughty sharing a sex secret with another man. Before he left he said he was glad that I had found it worth looking at and that I wasn’t annoyed. When they had gone it wasn’t long before I was laid on the bed with my hand inside my knickers. For the next few days my mind kept thinking about the unusual sex magazine. It had excited me more than just pictures of couples making love would have done. I had never had any desire to look at porn magazines but these had had a strange effect on me.
Next time the men came to do the garden I found I was very excited. I wondered if the subject would get mentioned again though I wouldn’t dare ask if he had any more books. When I heard a knock at the door and saw the elder man I invited him in. He apologised again and said that he hoped I wasn’t disgusted with what I had seen. I reassured him that it was fine and that I found it interesting and said that it was the first time I had seen such a thing.
(tale # 4) get full text ... Dirty mom in lingerie shows off hairy pussy.
Granny with glasses n nylon stocks.
It amazed me what could happen when you didn't expect it. Hell, I didn't even think it was a possibility for it to occur. I have been going out with my girlfriend for over a year now, and we are both very happy with each other, but there are just some things I thought she could never do. After all, she didn't have a cock, and that was what I wanted. I had these thoughts for a long time, but never had acted on them.
I was an avid chatroom watcher, sometimes interjecting a comment here or there when I had an opinion, whether it was asked for or not. It was then that it started with a friendly IM. His screenname was 'GoodTimeCharlie'. He wrote that he liked my profile and I thanked him for the comment. We talked for a little while longer about little stuff before he started asking questions. "How old are you? What do you look like? Where do you live?"
"25; 6'1", 200lbs, blonde hair, blue eyes, clean shaven; where I live is on a need to know basis, when I think you need to know, I'll tell you." were my answers.
That last question kind of threw me a little bit. "What are you into?"
"What am I into? In what way do you mean?" I asked.
"You know, sexually."
"Women." I replied.
"I'm sure you are, most of the good guys I talk to seem to be, but can you honestly tell me that you've never thought about having sex with another guy? I mean, come on. It's just you me and the computer. I won't judge you for what you think about."
"Well, I guess I have had thoughts about being with another guy. I mean, hasn't everybody at one time or another?" I questioned.
(tale # 5) get full text ... Granny with glasses n nylon stocks.
Horny lesbo couple drinking smoking and toying.
The Doctor looked out the tinted window of the Rolls as it swept through the gate, peering over the rims of his dark glasses at the lush and manicured lawn, the neat flower beds. all as sunny and idyllic as a bride could wish for. The towers of the Pittsfield hotel could just be seen over the green trees and soon the large tent was visible, set up on the lawn just outside the hotel.
“God how I hate being out in the daytime.” he said. “Especially among a bunch of your relatives at some sort of pagan fertility rite. I’ll bet they won’t even be speaking English.”
Dhipa elbowed him playfully. “Would you stop! Of course they speak English, and we’re not pagans. It’s my favorite cousin’s wedding, and it’s a very important occasion. I’m sure it will be lovely.”
“Is this what our wedding will look like?” he asked her.
She looked down her nose at him. “Perhaps. But much grander.”
“There won’t be any animal sacrifice? No fire walkers, that sort of thing?”
She slapped his knee. “Now stop that! These are all very important people: my parents’ friends, all the leaders of the Pakistani community here. They all want to meet you so be good. You’re an art dealer, remember.”
“Yes, of course.” He turned back to the window as the Rolls came to a gentle halt near the tent, which was festooned with balloons and enormous bunches of flowers. A crowd had already gathered, the men in their black or white tuxedos standing in knots and talking, the women bustling around with trays of food and drink, looking like flowers themselves in their brightly colored clothes. Children ran about chasing each other and screaming happily. The pool had not yet opened for swimming but they were already hysterical with excitement.
It was a perfect day for a wedding, sunny and hot with the sky an intense, vivid blue and the grass a vibrant green. Everything was alive with color and excitement and the Doctor frowned when he saw all the gaiety. He would have much preferred to skip this event, but Dhipa had begged and pleaded, wheedled and pouted to get him to come. This was the social event of the year for her, perhaps the decade, and everyone would be there; how could she not show? It would cause talk, scandal. Furthermore, by now everyone had heard of her betrothal to the Doctor but few had met him or even knew anything about him other than that he was enormously wealthy and not Pakistani.
(tale # 6) get full text ... Horny lesbo couple drinking smoking and toying.
Russian amateur likes hardcore in pantyhose.
You’d finally made it. After saving for so long, you were sitting on an airplane that was making it’s final approach to Honolulu. The day was unbelievable out there – sunlight so bright you could almost feel it on your skin already. The cotton-candy clouds billowed pristinely against the clear blue of the late afternoon sky and you could already see the palm trees waving in the gentle ocean breeze. There was the craggy hull of Diamond Head, the green carpet of Punchbowl, the nautical traffic in Pearl Harbor and finally the long reef runway that was the plane’s destination.
The first thing you notice after entering the terminal is the air. It is thick and warm, an intangible tropical blanket that drapes gently over all your senses. The salt breeze is a tang in your nostrils, punctuated by the sweetness of flowers wafting in from a distance.
Peace and quiet for a week! And even the “crowd” at the airport is small and pleasant as you grab a taxi to take you downtown. Your hotel reservation is in a place called the Hale Koa, right on Waikiki Beach. From what you’ve heard, that’s where you can find anything you want on the island, along that strip. Unless, of course, if you’re a surfer, then you’d have to go up to North Shore, but that was only a half hour away.
The resort is huge but that same sense of calm hangs here too. Your room is small but adequate and cozy. You don’t plan to spend very much time in here anyhow.
After a shower to wash away the long hours of flight, you dress casually, planning on a walk through the district and an informal dinner somewhere. Watching the crowds from your room’s balcony, you realize that shorts, t-shirts and flip-flops are the accepted style of dress here, so you follow custom, relishing the comfort and freedom you feel away from all the bonds of home and work. Everyone seems so laid back here.
Again, you are amazed at how peaceful the city is, even amidst the nightlife crowds. It’s clean here, you see no fights, you don’t even feel the urge to continually check to make sure your wallet is still in your pocket.
After an hour or so of walking up one side of the strip and down the other, and after pausing to view the most wonderful sunset on earth, you give in to the gnawing hunger growing in your belly. One of the little kiosks you approach smells too good to pass by. You read their short menu and get an explanation of several items you don’t recognize, then decide to have a pork manapua and plain saimin. You lean on a nearby railing and try the new dishes.
The manapua is a thick doughy bland bread baked with a sweet, spicy pork filling. It melts pleasantly on your tongue – a different taste than you’ve ever known. Even though it nearly fills you up, the saimin noodles are calling your name. This is a very Japanese taste – these thick egg noodles – but you realize that about 60% of the people you’ve encountered this afternoon are Japanese.
Now, feeling happily satisfied, you want to find a little of that party atmosphere that Waikiki is famous for.
(tale # 7) get full text ... Russian amateur likes hardcore in pantyhose.
Petite teen janette in white pantyhose on a field.
To one afflicted with the habit, there is no respite. Its a curious phenomenon. They are all around and I treat them as if it was like a big stamp collection. Some people love to look at breasts, some are into asses. The thing that draws my attention is the female foot. Don't get me wrong, breasts are certainly a close second, but I walk around and collect the images in my mind, comparing and contrasting, looking for those that I feel are most perfectly formed, prettiest, softest looking, and most lovingly cared for. I store those images and refer back to them for later comparison. There is something intricate and complicated about them. The rare sighting of perfectly formed feet is a special occurrence and worthy of some regard. It permeates my everyday life and I find myself staring constantly. Of all of the fetishes that are out there, I guess I am lucky that this benign form is what is what turns me on.
It was a business trip to London with my boss, Susan that got me in trouble this last time. I had worked for Susan for the last six months in the Chicago office. I was the idea man and she was the marketer. We were in intense competition with colleagues in our regional office in London and Susan arranged for us to travel to London with the intention of showing them up and insuring our place in the pecking order. We had arrived on the red-eye and spent the day in meetings. Susan was masterful, commanding the audience and stomping our competition. It was a long day, and we had just arrived back at our hotel.
Although not a raving beauty, Susan had soft features with curves in all the right places. Her most striking features are her long shapely legs and her full, pouty lips. Her personality is what makes her sexy with a commanding presence and massive self confidence.
We agreed to shower up and meet back in the lobby for a drink and dinner. I went back to my room and took a long steamy shower and changed into khakis and a sport jacket. I went down to the bar in the lobby and ordered a drink. Time passed and no Susan. I got antsy and went to look for her in her room.
I knocked on her door and heard her tell me to come in. I tried the door and found it unlocked.
Now those of you who are into feet, you know that you study the print that a woman's foot makes in a leather boot, the outline of the shape and the tease of an occasional dangling pump. But when Susan walked out if the bathroom wrapped in a towel, I got a full view of her exquisite bare feet and all of my blood instantly rushed south of my belt buckle. In fact, it took me a moment to realize that she had wrapped a towel around her wet hair but had not yet wrapped one around her body.
In a matter of fact way, Susan told me that she had been delayed on the phone with the states. I was unable to say anything intelligent, so I sat on the bed and waited, pretending to stare at the floor but concentrating intently on storing the intricate curves and polished details of her toes and soft skin. Smelling weakness and enjoying her upper hand, Susan sat on the bed and chatted with me about the days events. Immediately, she picked up on my keen interest and discomfort and bounced her foot so it touched my leg as she spoke,
Her toes were impeccably cared for, which surprised me since I had thought about them many times, but had never actually seen them. Susan is very sexy, but didn't seem the type to put in special effort in seemingly insignificant details such as her feet. She was sporting one of my favorite looks. Pearl coat polish in a shade of pink contrasting just a bit from the pale tone of her skin. They looked luscious.
She smiled and leaned back on the bed, resting on her elbows and extending her legs forward. That was it. I turned toward her and without a word, took one of the soft feet in my hands. I began kneading the soft skin and stroking the smooth insoles lightly. I brought the foot to my face and let the soft skin brush against my cheek and then my lips. Susan took her other foot and gently traced a path across lap, probing for my erection that had pitched a tent in my pleated pants. I placed a small kiss on the soft instep and massaged her sore muscles as I held it against my cheek.
(tale # 8) get full text ... Petite teen janette in white pantyhose on a field.
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