Clark was livid. Not that this was an unusual state for him to be in. Not at all. That was, ironically enough, really at the root of the current problem. Of course, with Clark, there was ALWAYS a problem, or a crisis or a situation, or SOMETHING that he (and ONLY he) could repair and set to right. This was because Clark was one of those self appointed “General Manager of the Universe” types who felt that no one else was really capable or competent enough to get the job done, and done right; whatever that job was. He was a stereotypical hard-charger who would never admit to meeting his match – even if he had! He was about to have his male ego’s perfect track record disrupted, however, and here is where our story begins. Here is where Clark’s reign as “Lord and Master of All He Surveys” would end, and he wouldn’t even know it. Read more…
Tag: Masturbation
It began as part of my standard bit.
“Look at those tits!” Walter said. Walter Woodman, age seven going on seventy-five. Green hair. Freckled complexion. Always wears the same yellow-and-red plaid sports jacket with the same pair of light khaki pants and brown loafers. Height: 3’ 6”.
Walter is my ventriloquist dummy. We were in the middle of my act, doing a monthly gig at the bar lounge of a hotel near the beach. I had spotted her using my peripheral vision, which becomes acutely perceptive for those who do my line of work. At least, for those who do it well. She is older than me, but gorgeous: one of those women that puts out a high-beam erotic vibe, like some radiant version of the Spanish fly. I could see the men (and some women) around her fidgeting from sexual agitation. Read more…
“Harlot!”
The preacher at the podium screamed the word into his microphone, making it reverberate through the enormous, brightly lit sanctuary of the megachurch, in which hundreds of congregants were gathered for Sunday services. Like the other churchgoers, Goddess Marquesa was startled.
Her surprise intensified when she saw her own face appear on the giant LED screen mounted behind the preacher, which until that moment had been projecting placid images of wide prairies and sunny shorelines. Looking at the ceiling toward the front of the large auditorium, she saw the remote-controlled camera that had surreptitiously been trained on her. It had caught her in an upper-torso focus, so that the assembly got to take in the blond locks, emerald eyes, classic features and voluptuous breasts that gave her such seductive appeal. Read more…
Day 8
She came for breakfast this morning. I had been dreading seeing her, and was indeed very uncomfortable. I didn’t know what to say or how to act. I took my seat at the table and sat mutely, eyes downcast as she laid out the food.
“Why so glum?” she asked.
“I’m ashamed,” I answered. Read more…
Day 6
A change at breakfast today.
“Why don’t we talk?” Goddess Marquesa proposed as we sat down. “It might help distract you from trying not to look at my legs and breasts.”
“Why not let me move back to the other side of the table?” I asked. “Better yet, why not stop dressing so provocatively?” Her outfit was particularly seductive today- red shoes and skimpy red lingerie, complemented by sheer white stockings held in place by red lace garters. Read more…
