NavelStories™

This was her 31st birthday - turning 30 is an event - turning 31 is a bummer. I could of bought her jewelry, or some fancy kitchen gadget, but really, I wanted her to have an experience. She was a beautiful petite blonde with an above average body even for a 30 year old - and at 31 now, she didn't look the part. scouting around for a fit younger guy to give her an erotic massage was not an issue. We'd talked about this idea before - and given our history of openness, I knew she would enjoy the moment. The man arrived at around 8 pm. Kelly was upstairs taking a bath with some prosecco in preparation and anticipation. He and I chatted for a bit about ground rules (don't do anything unless she asks, no means no, etc) as she dried off and headed into the bed room. She was to be naked, face down, and blindfolded for the start - she obliged. She knew nothing more than I was getting her a massage, and that I had selected a guy who was open to more - if she was. The masseuse, who i

Don't you hate people who are borrowers? I don't mean the guy who borrows ten bucks that he may or may not pay back, or the housewife who runs next door for a cup of sugar. I mean the guy who borrows your hammer and fails to return it, so when you need it you've got to hunt him down and get it. And you can't use your lawnmower, because he's borrowed that, and when you went and got it, it was out of fuel. That's George. He's a nice enough chap. Reasonably handsome, or so the women say, reasonably intelligent and with a great deal of charm. It's that blasted charm that lets him get away with borrowing things from everyone instead of buying his own stuff. Speaking personally, I've had it with George and his borrowing. Being a neighbour, and one of his main victims, I was invited to a barbecue that George was holding one evening. The main reason I went was to make sure that he returned my barbecue at the end of the night. He's just as likely to lend

You get home from the office Christmas party and stumble up the stairs, stripping off the dress, the heels, the bra, dropping your glasses on the vanity and collapsing into bed beside your husband. Within seconds, you're snoring. Good thing, he's already asleep. Morning comes and you feel his arm covering you. You reach back and feel that he's hard. Whimpering quietly in his sleep as you touch him. You pull your panties down and ease back against him, sliding his shorts down and while you're not quite wet enough, you still push yourself onto him. Ever since he agreed to get the vasectomy, you're more attracted to him than ever. He doesn't move. He's still asleep. You smile to yourself. "How great of a wife would he think I am if he wakes up and I'm riding his cock?" So you keep it gentle, small rocking of your hips as you gradually ease yourself all the way on him. "Fuck, he's extremely hard today," you think. It's been a few

 Jose heard the lady of the house coming long before he saw her. Having worked for the Smiths for almost five years he had a pretty good idea of what she was wearing just by listening to her. These were her grey platform heels. He could tell by her pace. That meant she was probably wearing her denim micro shorts and a torn half tee that wouldn't quite cover her breasts. Today her husband was out of town on business so she'd even worse than she normally was. "Hey there, you ready for some refreshments?" Jose pretended not to notice her at first and continued tending to the garden. "Jose?" He turned around. He was wrong though, she wasn't wearing a torn off tee, instead she was wearing a black bikini top with pink skull and crossbones emblazoned over her breasts. She had two glasses of lemonade and a pitcher more waiting if he wanted more. "You've been working out in the hot sun all day long and you deserve a little refreshment don't you think

The sun was beginning to set, sliding slowly through the evening sky to rest behind the hill. Princess Ivy watched from the west wing of the castle as the red hue filled the sky before her, bathing the kingdom in a beautiful glow. It had been an awful day and she was nestled in her favourite window seat, watching the sunset in the hopes that it would cheer her melancholy mood. It had a calming effect on her and she used it to think over her day without too much anger rising within her. It had been a day organised by her mother to find her a husband, as most days were now that she'd turned 21. A dozen suitors had been paraded in front of her over the time, each more dull and lifeless than the one before. Some were snivelling things, brought forward by some Lord from here or there, the heir to an estate who wanted to ally themselves to the royalty. Some were strong men – warriors, grown rich by war and now wishing to secure a title. She could see no beauty in them, no creativity, jus

I heard footsteps behind me, running. I turned to look and was grabbed. A hand came round and clamped over my mouth, the other one circled my waist. He must have been hiding behind a bush in one of the front gardens. I wriggled and struggled, but the arm round my waist was just too tight, still I had one arm almost free. I remembered a few self-defence lessons I'd learned and I knew I should use my free arm to try to startle and wind him. I dug the heel of my hand into his ribs with all my strength, then followed it with fingers into the soft bit just below the ribs. There was a grunt and he momentarily took his hand away from my mouth. I didn't worry about trying to shout 'help': I just opened my mouth and let out as loud and bloodcurdling a scream as I could manage. Almost at the same moment a man appeared from the front garden of a house on the other side of the road. He was running towards us and he was also shouting -- bellowing in fact -- as he ran. I felt the gri