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Hi guys, this is for all of the people who’ve asked me to write more on these two; I hope you like it. They’re not completely the same people (well, Sasha is still very much Sasha, but Suzanne is a lot younger and a lot less confident in herself) but it’s something that’s been bugging me for a while and I wanted to see how it would play out. Please let me know what you think!Sasha stood off to the side of the soldiers, silentlyscanning the groups of people around him. He wasn’t looking for anyone inparticular, but his eyes settled on a lone figure and suddenly the hairs on theback of his neck stood on end. On the surface, the girl was unremarkable andthe soldiers certainly hadn’t taken any notice of her; however Sasha hadlittle regard for their abilities anyway.

From a distance it appeared that she was dressed plainly,with no visible jewellery or other valuables. She was wearing a flowingred-brown skirt and a sturdy looking pair of boots, and a long, dark grey coatin an attempt to keep warm in the snow. Her hair was loose, almost as if she weretrying to hide her face beneath the chocolate brown strands, but she was stillshivering in the cold.

She was definitely not a native, the shivering was a clue tothat. It was rather a mild day by their normal standards and the sun wasshining weakly through the clouds. Sasha moved a little closer to get a betterlook at the girl, but not so close as to alert her of his attention. On closerinspection her coat seemed like it was designed for form rather than function,as were the boots. Definitely an expensive Western designer of some sort. What was she doing here?

Suzanne was shivering, partly due to the ridiculous cold(even with her warmest coat on), and partly due to fear. She couldn’t believeher bad luck that a hoard of soldiers would turn up and start searching peoplejust when she had been about to leave. She was pretty sure she didn’t haveanything to hide that they could find, but it didn’t matter; she’d heardstories. Thankfully, though, it seemed like the soldiers hadn’t noticed herand she was going to be able to slip away unnoticed.

Or maybe not. She gasped in fright as she noticed one ofthe men walking straight towards her. He wasn’t in uniform but he had arrivedwith the soldiers, and something about the expression on his face told her thatit wasn’t a good thing that he seemed to be taking an interest in her. Perhapsit was the rifle strapped to his back that worried her, or the nasty lookinghandgun that he was carrying pointed at the ground. Oh, god.

Suzanne tried not to look terrified as the man stalkedtowards her, but it wasn’t so easy. He certainly didn’t look very friendly. The words “hard as nails” and “evil incarnate” quickly sprang to mind, althoughhe wasn’t unattractive like most of the men around her. He slowed to a haltabout 10 feet in front of her, motioned to her with his gun for her to come tohim. She didn’t move. He started speaking to her in his language, and herheart started pounding wildly. She was pretty sure he wanted her to go over tohim, but she couldn’t get her legs to work.

He looked unamused. He continued his advancement on her,growled angrily as she started backing away, eyes darting about for any hope ofa means of escape. No chance. Suzanne yelped as he reached out and grabbedher by the hair, his gun coming to rest at the bottom of her jaw, none too gently. She froze, her hands instinctively coming up to try to push him away but notdaring to touch him.

The man didn’t say anything for a while as he stood holdinghis fistful of poker straight hair. He seemed to be studying her face,enjoying her look of panic as he pressed the muzzle of his gun into herthroat. He was tall, a part of her brain noticed as he used the gun to tilther head back so that she had to look up into his eyes, and she didn’t darebreak his stare. His eyes were dark brown, and he had a scar over the left eyethat left an almost fetching gap through his eyebrow.

“You’re not from this country,” he said softly, letting thegun trail down to her collarbone. “What are you doing here?” Suzanne hadtrouble understanding what he meant; a few short lessons and a quick glance througha “Teach Yourself” book could only go so far, after all. Thankfully, she didremember how to say “I don’t understand.” She’d used it a lot. Read the rest of this entry »

I had been attracted to Ruben since the first time I met him. Something about the way his smirk played on his full lips, I suppose. I don’t really bother taking the time to figure out what exactly attracts me to certain men. I just enjoy the new cock to tease. Except, I’m not really a cock tease. I’m a flirt. And a slut. Big difference.
 
I hadn’t really been able to do much flirting with him the night we met. My boyfriend was there (boy, he sure cramps my style) and I wasn’t sure of the relationship my friend had with him. As a matter of fact, it was some time later before I confessed my attraction to my friend. My friend knows me well. And apparently she knows him well too. She grinned wickedly and said she’d put us in touch. But not before she’d let both of us know what a surprisingly good match we were sexually. I learned that he liked to give it rough. Really rough. What luck! I like to take it rough. Really rough.
 
We began to email back and forth and chatted a bit on the phone. We were getting to the stage where we might set up a meeting when my friend called me and told me I’d hit a brick wall with him. Ruben had been waiting to hear about a promotion. It was almost a sure thing and then one day he heard that it might fall through. He’d spent much of the day thinking dirty thoughts of the things we could do together. But when he heard that the promotion might fall through, he prayed. He promised God that if he just got this promotion, he wouldn’t even screw around with me. And guess what? He got it. If I were a man, I’d call that a cock block. Dammit. But I’m not one to push someone to do something they don’t want to do, so I let it go, leaving the offer on the table. Read the rest of this entry »

Ever since we got married, I had put up with a lot. My wife, Lucy, was obsessive, controlling, short-tempered and stubborn, to name a few flaws. But I stuck with it because I loved her. I also, at this point, did not believe in divorce or adultery. Thus, I was quite shocked when I came home early one day to find my wife on her knees sucking a big black cock. She slurped as she pulled her mouth away to look at me, and jumped up, attempting to sputter an excuse. I stood dumbstruck for a moment, then simply turned and walked out. She didn’t follow. I can not explain my emotions at this point, for instead of feeling a perhaps natural rage and sadness, I simpy felt empty and cold. One would think that after being so faithful to Lucy despite the endless troubles it took to make the relationship work, and seeing her like that, I would be furious, and ready to go back and scream my lungs out. Instead, nothing.

As I checked into a motel roughly 2 hours later, the bitterness finally began to well up inside me. Eventually this turned to anger, and finally a burning desire for revenge. How could she do this and think she would get away with it? Automatically, my mind began formulating ideas and scenarios with which to get the bitch back. Sitting alone in my room, I decided the best and most…creative form of revenge would be a taste of her own medicine, as it were. Grabbing my keys, I drove to a nearby sex shop and made my preparations…

I knew Lucy would be at home when I knocked at the door a few days later. She had tried to phone me a couple times but I was inconsolable. She answered the door without checking who it was, and when I saw her, a brief moment of pity and hesitation overcame me. I looked up and down her body; she had always been beautiful, with black silky hair and olive skin to go with it. Not to mention her perfect perky breasts, which were all natural and yet full and round. She also had a real hourglass figure, with her curvaceous hips framing her amazing ass. Snapping me out of my daydream, she said simply “I’m sorry.” Another ten seconds passed, and I replied “You will be,” before pushing her roughly inside and slamming the door. I pulled out from behind my back a cloth soaked in chloroform, and shoved it over her face, ignoring her attempts to stop me. I received a scratch to my face, and a sore shin, but she was unconscious. I began to make my preparations. Read the rest of this entry »

Lord knows how long it ago the realty had put up the sign. I could barely make out a faded phone number and the name of the realty selling the property. Right next to the sign was a driveway, overgrown and neglected, that angled up through the hill.
Maybe I had time to explore a little more.
A few minutes later, the drive opened into a small parking lot, full of potholes and weeds, with a large old A frame style building stuck into a clump of trees set at it’s edge, just above the freeway, facing out over the ocean.

Another for sale sign was driven into the flower beds at the front of the building, with a small plastic box attached to the post, half full of mildewed paper flyers. I pulled a flyer from the box and walked around the front, reading. A photo of smiling Clem Jones, the real estate agent, stared out at me from the front of the page. Clem was literally gushing with nifty information about the building - he told me all about the square footage, the improvements previous tenants had made for business zoning, and heck, look at the view.
I was halfway around the place, fighting around some thorny old rose bushes, before good old Clem let me in on an important little secret.
The key to the place was in a little lockbox, right at the front door. And look buddy, here’s the combination. Go right ahead and have a look around.
Crazy how trusting folks out here in the sticks are.
Good old Clem was right on. I found the lockbox, bonked it around a bit to shake off the rust, found the keys, and walked inside to have that look around. The place had been an old surf shop, once. A counter ran the length of the back wall, next to a stairwell leading to a landing that wound around the front room. Another door led off into a backroom. A few moldy posters hung behind the counter area. Trash littered the floor. Thick beams supported the ceiling in the main room, with heavy, metal hooks driven into them at regular intervals. A couple old surf boards had been left behind, still attached to chains dangling from the ceiling hooks.
And Clem was right again. The front windows, stretching from the floor to the ceiling, had a great view of the ocean. I rubbed a little dirt and grime away with my hand, and peered out at the little beach cove across the highway.
I smiled. Perfect.

I followed the family in their blue Volvo for a few blocks and eased into the grocery store parking lot right behind them.
The side trip to the A Frame had taken longer than I thought, and I was hungry. It was almost noon, and my stomach was rumbling. The traffic this morning was brisk. The town was bigger than I’d thought it would be, and every church in town seemed to have let out at the same time. My van idled next to the Volvo at a stop light, and I watched the woman in the passenger seat clip coupons from a newspaper. She noticed me staring blankly her way. I gave her a little shake of the head and a smile. Silly me, all zoned out. She smiled back, agreeing with my goofiness. When the light turned green, I eased into the Volvo’s lane and followed it toward the golden arches down the road. Read the rest of this entry »

I had been attracted to Ruben since the first time I met him. Something about the way his smirk played on his full lips, I suppose. I don’t really bother taking the time to figure out what exactly attracts me to certain men. I just enjoy the new cock to tease. Except, I’m not really a cock tease. I’m a flirt. And a slut. Big difference.
 
I hadn’t really been able to do much flirting with him the night we met. My boyfriend was there (boy, he sure cramps my style) and I wasn’t sure of the relationship my friend had with him. As a matter of fact, it was some time later before I confessed my attraction to my friend. My friend knows me well. And apparently she knows him well too. She grinned wickedly and said she’d put us in touch. But not before she’d let both of us know what a surprisingly good match we were sexually. I learned that he liked to give it rough. Really rough. What luck! I like to take it rough. Really rough.
 
We began to email back and forth and chatted a bit on the phone. We were getting to the stage where we might set up a meeting when my friend called me and told me I’d hit a brick wall with him. Ruben had been waiting to hear about a promotion. It was almost a sure thing and then one day he heard that it might fall through. He’d spent much of the day thinking dirty thoughts of the things we could do together. But when he heard that the promotion might fall through, he prayed. He promised God that if he just got this promotion, he wouldn’t even screw around with me. And guess what? He got it. If I were a man, I’d call that a cock block. Dammit. But I’m not one to push someone to do something they don’t want to do, so I let it go, leaving the offer on the table.
 
It was some months later when my friend brought him with her to a BBQ. He’d brought her on his motorcycle and I was dying for a ride. So I got him to take me out for a spin. I enjoyed the feel of having my arms wrapped around him. There’s nothing like the sensation of having your body pressed closely to someone you’re attracted to, and we were pressed tight. As tightly as I could manage, actually. But I was good. He wasn’t making any flirtatious comments or movements of his own, and I wasn’t going to waste time flirting where I wasn’t wanted so I kept my hands to myself. The next day my friend told me that he’d half expected me to go for the ‘reach around’. I laughed. Expected… or hoped? Hmmmm. Read the rest of this entry »

**Author’s note** Hi guys, this is for all of the people who’ve asked me to write more on these two; I hope you like it. They’re not completely the same people (well, Sasha is still very much Sasha, but Suzanne is a lot younger and a lot less confident in herself) but it’s something that’s been bugging me for a while and I wanted to see how it would play out. Please let me know what you think! 

Sasha stood off to the side of the soldiers, silentlyscanning the groups of people around him. He wasn’t looking for anyone inparticular, but his eyes settled on a lone figure and suddenly the hairs on theback of his neck stood on end. On the surface, the girl was unremarkable andthe soldiers certainly hadn’t taken any notice of her; however Sasha hadlittle regard for their abilities anyway.

From a distance it appeared that she was dressed plainly,with no visible jewellery or other valuables. She was wearing a flowingred-brown skirt and a sturdy looking pair of boots, and a long, dark grey coatin an attempt to keep warm in the snow. Her hair was loose, almost as if she weretrying to hide her face beneath the chocolate brown strands, but she was stillshivering in the cold.

She was definitely not a native, the shivering was a clue tothat. It was rather a mild day by their normal standards and the sun wasshining weakly through the clouds. Sasha moved a little closer to get a betterlook at the girl, but not so close as to alert her of his attention. On closerinspection her coat seemed like it was designed for form rather than function,as were the boots. Definitely an expensive Western designer of some sort. What was she doing here?

Suzanne was shivering, partly due to the ridiculous cold(even with her warmest coat on), and partly due to fear. She couldn’t believeher bad luck that a hoard of soldiers would turn up and start searching peoplejust when she had been about to leave. She was pretty sure she didn’t haveanything to hide that they could find, but it didn’t matter; she’d heardstories. Thankfully, though, it seemed like the soldiers hadn’t noticed herand she was going to be able to slip away unnoticed.

Or maybe not. She gasped in fright as she noticed one ofthe men walking straight towards her. He wasn’t in uniform but he had arrivedwith the soldiers, and something about the expression on his face told her thatit wasn’t a good thing that he seemed to be taking an interest in her. Perhapsit was the rifle strapped to his back that worried her, or the nasty lookinghandgun that he was carrying pointed at the ground. Oh, god.

Suzanne tried not to look terrified as the man stalkedtowards her, but it wasn’t so easy. He certainly didn’t look very friendly. The words “hard as nails” and “evil incarnate” quickly sprang to mind, althoughhe wasn’t unattractive like most of the men around her. He slowed to a haltabout 10 feet in front of her, motioned to her with his gun for her to come tohim. She didn’t move. He started speaking to her in his language, and herheart started pounding wildly. She was pretty sure he wanted her to go over tohim, but she couldn’t get her legs to work. Read the rest of this entry »