Smut With A Smirk

Tamara She was barely over five feet tall. A big head of long curly shoulder length hair. She would, as we all could, wear blue jeans to work, My favorite pair had stars on each bun of her tiny behind. They wiggled and winked and twinkled at me every morning as she passed through the warehouse from parking lot to front office. That’s  where she worked. I would make sure I was positioned where I could watch her well formed tiny tits bounce in their often braless state beneath sheer fabric in the summer. I enjoyed the round enhanced garment heftiness in her winter attire as well. But the real treat was her tiny round  be-starred behind. The way her long dark curly hair bounced in rhythm around her shoulders in her jaunty trek through the warehouse made mornings better than the somewhat nasty morning brew that came out of the coffee machine. But spending the rest of the day flinging boxes and filling out shipping forms was filled with visions of me ravishing...

Tasha Another Friday slinging boxes at the warehouse. We had a lot of orders to pick and get out before UPS showed up at the end of the day. Usually nothing provoked more anxiety in Ricky and I than to see one of the sales staff in the warehouse late Friday. Often that meant they had just made a sale and would demand getting a new order out quickly to impress their new sales prey. No sales person in the place struck me as more predatory than Tasha. She was a sleek five foot six, slender torsoed blond with a luscious rounded bottom. Whether in jeans or a flowing dress her bottom was tops. She had short curly blond bobbed hair that could only be described as fluffy. Often it fluttered about her face obscuring her right eye while her other eye would slyly size you up. To me she was the personification of the idiom of the times. Foxy.   This Friday afternoon she was particularly so. She approached me slowly, almost panther like, not dressed for business success but in Friday...

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Ellen Joy Ricky and I were out in the parking lot playing our version of handball. Really it was just slapping a tennis ball against the factory wall and keeping a pseudo type of tennis score. Boy it was hot that day. One of those steamy August days in Chicago. As usual Donna and Annie were sitting on the shipping dock watching us spend our lunch hour running around working up a sweat. At twenty years old neither Ricky nor I had a clue why these two 40 something women would watch us so intently, or had any idea of the thoughts that were going through their heads. Call us naive. We all worked for an advertising specialty company, Ricky and I were shipping clerks, and Annie and Donna were engravers, silk screeners, and general production staff. It was a small company run by Sheldon Roth. Ricky and I were in full lather, our shirtless muscled young man bodies running  and pounding the tennis ball into the wall when Ellen Joy, the freelance artist sauntered out o...

A Woman Of Note on Amazon Six Months Later Beer Rinse Lynn settled in at the camp ground bar next to me. Her stature placed her pert breasts just above the rim of the bar, much to the delight of the young corn fed Wisconsin boy bartender. Lynn gave him her sexist sweet smile as her thin lips parted over perfect white teeth and ordered a beer. This pleased him to no end because I don’t think elaborate cocktails were in his repertoire. He did not much care for race day weekends. Especially "The June Sprints" because a lot of city folk came up from civilization to invade his dairy land digs. Lynn looked him up and down and she made sure he and I saw her do it. Jim's cum still fresh on her breath and she was already thinking about more. “Jim heading in soon?” I queried. “He’ll be along soon I imagine. He’s a bit spent at the moment.” She smiled up at me and both drank and rinsed her mouth with the beer as her hand ran up my thigh. “Speaking of spent, I hope Fred ...

A Woman Of Note   on Amazon Six Months Later Lots of questions were filling my head as I sat at the camp site. It was a fine June day.The sun was shining. The two tents had been set up, wood ready for the campfire at night. Dinner and gear stowed and ready for the next two days at the June Sprints car races in beautiful Elkhart Lake Wisconsin. So here were the questions. Why was I sitting outside a tent listening to the unmistakable slurping sounds Lynn makes when giving head. Why were they so exaggerated. For my benefit I had little doubt. The under played groaning of Jim getting ready to come which I clearly recognized from our tandem servicing of account wenches. Why had Eileen canceled on me at the last moment. On that I had some inclination as to the reasons. Eileen was a highly intuitive lass and perhaps I had underestimated her because of her Catholic School upbringing. Perhaps Lynn had underestimated her because of Eileen's huge breasts and a small br...

It is better to give than receive. As we sat there looking across to each other it became apparent that one of the good things about the inadequacies of language is that some things need not be said. “Let me turn up the heat and draw you a bath.” I said as I rose. I was please to find upon entering the bathroom that Judy, although a very busy woman, had not been neglecting herself. She had a wide array of scented bath oils and crystals as well as a large bathing sponge and plenty of clean fluffy towels. I chose a pleasantly scented oil that was half full, found a ideal temperature and allowed the bath to begin filling as slowly as possible. When I returned I found she had positioned herself in her meditation area and breathing the deep relaxed cadence of one experienced in the practice. As I knelt down before her she looked at me through half closed eyes and said “Even though Rene filled me in about this, I can’t say I am sure of what I do?” Rene was a girlfriend of mine ...

6. I knelt before Lynn while she sat on the sofa and took a sip of what was left of her nightcap. She looked down and said, “That is not going to waste.” Read it now at Amazon.com

5. Her minimalist hourglass shape combined with anti abstract genital offering was more than I could process mentally. I went full physical and was upon her sweet spots with a pounce. Read it now at Amazon.com