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You must be 18 or over to view this site, please read our terms. Cindy and I had been married for two years. I had just finished giving her an orgasm with my tongue when she said, "I wish I could come when we fuck. My friends tell me those internal orgasms are much deeper and longer. I wasn't sure about Cindy's past but she wouldn't talk about it.

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Whether you're into lesbian erotic fictionreading about seriously hot bisexual threesomesor the classic but still sexy AF tale of someone hooking stodies with their exwe've got it all covered. We add new erotica to our site most days. Password: Forgot your password? Fee adult stories 1 Page 2 Page 3 โ€ฆ Page Next page. Her kiss wandered from my mouth to my ears and neck then down to my chest and had my body bucking wanting more.

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I 've finally finished unpacking.

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This chapter happened the following Spring. Indian crossdressing 1. The horse plodded along, its rider hunched over the pommel tired, hungry, and wet. The screen remains stubbornly blank today. I have three children two teenagers and a two year old, now I have 2 Sister Wives, [โ€ฆ]. It is just my wife and myself at home so I am hardly ever dressed when I'm here.

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I 've finally finished unpacking. Propping a photograph on the window ledge by my bed, I glance round at my new flat. The plant that Nicki bought me as a moving in present sits next to an empty bottle of Cava and two ancient champagne flutes, remnants of our celebrations last night. A bed, two stacks of books and a bulging clothes rail make this half of the flat look overcrowded already.

This is my new studio flat containing everything that I own in the world. To a stranger, it might look pathetic, but to me it's perfect. After a relationship that should have ended a lot sooner, I finally broke up with my boyfriend of three years three months ago. I've been couch surfing ever since I moved out and it feels incredible to finally have my own space. I've craved this opportunity for so long that I don't mind forking out the extra rent for a studio flat.

Now that I've finally bagged a serious job, it's time to have a place of my own as well. The last year with my ex was unbearable. He'd always been jealous, but the further we grew apart, the more suffocating his possessiveness became. If I went out without him I'd have to 'forget' my phone to avoid getting fifty arsey texts and having to reassure him that no, I hadn't danced with any guys, and yes, it was a crap night without him.

It got so bad that I stopped wanting to see my closest friends โ€” even a night with Nicki would result in a fight. But the worst sacrifice I made was losing contact with Tom. Nicki's my oldest friend, but Tom was my closest.

I met him at my first Saturday job, waitressing at his Dad's restaurant. He made me laugh on my very first shift and we were inseparable from that moment on, always slinking off on our breaks with bottles of half-finished wine and tasting each course, "just to make sure that it's OK for the customers".

Little did I know that my weekend job would inspire my future career. But even then I guessed that my partner in crime would be a friend for life. Tom is one of those drop dead gorgeous guys that every girl wants to go out with. Predictably, he's had a string of pretty, dull girlfriends for as long as I've known him. There's nothing between us, we're just friends, but try telling my ex that.

We had so many fights over Tom that I stopped seeing him and allowed us to drift apart completely. Alright, there was one time when I wondered whether anything would happen between us. We'd been on holiday together to stay with his aunty in Spain. We had so much fun spending long, lazy days on the beach, sipping cold beers with countless bocadillos. It was one of the only times in eight years of friendship that neither of us were in a relationship.

In fact, I was only there to stand in for a girlfriend he'd broken up with days before. The night before we went home he dared me to go skinny-dipping. We were sitting on the pier where one of the restaurants had placed a few tables up by the water's edge. I knew he thought I'd never do it and I was more than a little tipsy so I pulled my strapless dress off there and then and jumped straight in.

The water was freezing and I rushed to the surface, squealing. Tom was bent over with laughter. Reaching down to pull me up out of the water, he gripped me in his tanned arms and a wave of electricity ran between us.

I hadn't been wearing a bra and, as I clambered up to him, I realised my tiny knickers were see-through from the water. Of course I felt self-conscious, but as his eyes flickered along my body, lingering on my hardened nipples, I almost forgot my embarrassment. I wanted him to look at me, I felt like it was the first time that he'd really seen me. A wave of energy rushed through me, tingling between my thighs. If I hadn't seen the waiter walking over just then, well, I don't know for certain, but I felt sure he'd have kissed me.

I pulled my dress on before I was seen and we sat back down to finish our drinks, but the atmosphere had changed completely. Every other night we'd been howling with laughter and taking the piss out of each other. Suddenly we were quiet, the air between us heavy with expectancy.

I remember how excited I felt, but also how frustrated I was that this was only happening now, the night before we went home. On our way back to his auntie's apartment, he put his arm around me, a gesture that he'd repeated a hundred times, but this one it was different, more tentative, his fingers gently circling my sun-kissed shoulder.

My heart was pounding, my senses felt heightened. The smell of salt water in my hair was mingling with the subtle scent of his skin. The humid night air felt like it was closing in on me with sound of music and people and chatting in the restaurants that we passed.

Everything was intensified and unreal. My mind was already in his auntie's flat, me sat on the edge of her dining table with him stood kissing my neck, pushing my dress up to my waist and slipping inside me. Tom, my best friend Tom, licking the salt water off my skin and biting down on my breasts. But none of that was meant to be. His aunty was waiting for us with a room full of friends and neighbours.

In front of this crowd of people, we slipped straight back into our familiar roles, Jess and Tom, totally platonic friends. I wasn't able to sleep that night though; it was infuriating knowing that he was lying there in the next room, tantalisingly close. I imagined him naked in bed, fighting with the blanket in the heat, as sleepless as me.

I couldn't stand it, the desire that he'd awakened in me had to be released. I slipped my fingers between my legs and imagined Tom's strong hands running up my thighs, his hot, hard lips and soft, wet tongue inside me.

I bit down on my lip and clenched the sheets. With the thought of him, hard and thick, pulsing inside of me, I reached a shuddering orgasm, before falling into a frustrated sleep. I kiss goodbye to Andreas and Peter and bolt the door of the cafe behind them as they walk out into the dark night. It's been a long, busy day and they've earned their tips, showing every customer the enthusiasm that we take pride in at Te Quiero.

When the owner told me that he wanted to take a step back to start a new venture, I wouldn't stop at the pay rise he offered me, I reeled off my ideas for a renovation and insisted on being made a shareholder.

It's a tiny amount, but it makes a massive difference. I no longer feel as though I'm throwing my energy into someone else's project. I'm doing this for me and it's given me the confidence to turn my life around. I walk through to the little back office, checking off the changes I've made with pride.

The wall that I've dedicated for local artists to exhibit their work on is constantly changing. A portrait of a proud, moustachioed man with friendly eyes reminds me of Tom's dad. I log in to Facebook at the office computer, welcoming the mindless distraction that will help me to switch off after a busy day.

I click onto Tom's profile page and have a flick through his pictures. This has become a habit lately, before I know it, I find I've wasted half an hour looking at pictures of Tom on a beach in Thailand surrounded by bikinied girls, Tom on the back of a motorbike straddling one of his mates, Tom's familiar, magnetic grin, Tom at a food market bartering.

Then, "Hi stranger" - a live message from the man himself โ€” pops up in the corner of my screen. I walk to the bus stop with a spring in my step. I've missed Tom so much, the way he makes me laugh, his surprising shyness if I ever succeed in making him blush, the midnight feasts that we'd make after a night out. I've been kicking myself for sacrificing our friendship, all for my ex's ego. I can finally see how futile it was. Nothing I did or didn't do would have made him have faith in me.

And Tom is the only guy that I've ever had a real, uncomplicated friendship with. Well, mostly uncomplicated. I've got the next day off and spend the morning pottering around in Camden Market.

I try to see Te Quiero through his eyes. How will he see me now I'm finally realising my ambition to run my own restaurant? After finding a s mirror, a cashmere throw and a box of wine glasses for the flat, I cart my new purchases back on the bus. When I get to the door of my building there's a tall, tanned man holding a massive bunch of sunflowers at my door. It's Tom, grinning at me widely. How did you know where I lived? You look so well?

These are so beautiful," I cry, ecstatic and flustered and utterly surprised. By this point we're climbing the stairs to my flat. I'm juggling the flowers and all of my bags.

Tom looks awkward, as though he doesn't know what to do with his hands. He's not looking at the room at all but staring at me, really staring. Not "You look well. He's tanned, toned and bigger than I remember him being, he seems to fill the whole flat, towering above me. He doesn't say anything but cups my chin in his hand, stroking my cheek with his thumb.

I freeze. I don't know how to react, I don't want to breeze over this gesture and spoil the moment. I want to press myself up against his hard, warm body.

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