CHRISTIAN COLLEGE SEX COMEDY: PART 8 extended - A Spring Break 13-part Novel. Honestly I only wanted to shave her legs. By FinalStand. The player above contains the intro section. Listen to the complete episode by clicking here, at Steamy Stories. *He who said ‘Live by the sword, die by the sword’ wasn’t into empire-building* “Zane, what’s up?” Christina said by way of greetings when I returned to campus that night. Despite the gang being alone, the group of us gathered in tightly together. “I had an interesting talk with the Chancellor today, as you all probably know. Among other things, she told me she knew Heaven’s secret and she’d expose it and my relationship with her, bringing about my humiliation,” I informed them. There was a hush amongst us. “What, what did you tell her?” Heaven asked fearfully. “I told her to go right ahead,” I replied. A murmur of displeasure went through the group, except Christina, who stared intently at the ground, and Heaven who looked like she was going to cry, or kick my ass. “How could you do that to me?” Heaven whispered. Before I could answer, Christina chuckled softly. “Heaven, the key phrase here is 'humiliate him’. Zane isn’t afraid of the whole world knowing you two are together. She’s severely underestimated him and his ability to differentiate between lust and friendship.” Heaven looked to me for verification. I gave her a kiss on the lips before saying, “Christina said it better than I could, but she knows what I meant.” “Besides,” Hope added, “now that Zane is here, Heaven, you get grandfathered in, so to speak. You’ve been here three years so they have to let you graduate.” Heaven look to me with some kind of new curiosity. Once again I almost wish she’d kick me instead. “Heaven?” I questioned her. She bit her lip. “Can we have some boyfriend-girlfriend time?” she asked me all of a sudden. “Damn, Heaven, I thought we agreed to share Zane?” Chastity teased her. “Along with letting the poor guy get some sleep from time to time,” Hope agreed. “Can we get together tomorrow, Heaven?” I begged my transsexual lover. “Make sure you get Barbie Lynn’s permission,” Faith joked weakly. “Screw this,” I groaned, “I’m getting a clone.” “That’s enough, ladies,” Christina announced. “Zane, thank you for the information. It gives us some things to think about; good night.” Heaven rushed up and kissed me hungrily before joining her departing friends - ravenous little minx. I’ve Never Done this Before I made my way to the dorm and proceeded quietly to the fifth floor, saying goodnight to a few girls along the way. I was pretty sure the door being locked guaranteed me a bit of alone time. Clue number one that this was not going to happen was the soft fluttering glow from the top of the stairs followed by the faint scent of roses and wax. I was trying to figure out what Barbie Lynn had planned when I came up to the landing and saw Brandi and Opal reclining on the bed and staring at me, illuminated by the light of a dozen candles. 'Oh, fuck,’ I thought, 'Brandi, leg shaving, rescheduled from earlier this evening, plus Opal hoping for a three-way later. Damn it!’ I must look somewhat put-out because when Brandi addressed me she was cautious. “Is everything okay?” “Yes, absolutely,” I responded. “I need to get some hot water, some towels, and we can begin.” “We brought up the towels and hooked up a coffee maker for the hot water,” Opal said. “Great,” I summoned up as much enthusiasm as I could manage, “let’s see what I’ve got to work with.” I walked up to Brandi, taking off my shirt. As I came up, Brandi swung her legs off the bed and spread them to either side of me. I sat cross-legged on the floor, taking my shoes and socks off. Before slowly and sensually removing her shoes and socks, I made sure to massage each calf. “So, what kinds of tools are being provided?” I questioned her. “We have shaving cream, a safety razor, a multi-purpose moustache trimmer,” Opal presented to me. “Trimmer?” I questioned.

A Park Affair: part 2; A chance at a new life. by  r a wallace. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Chapter 3: Regrets? Wendy I woke the next morning lying beside a man who wasn’t my husband and felt good about it. I didn’t feel a bit of guilt as I looked at him. I’d done two, one-night stands in my life and wasn’t excited with what I found next to me in the morning. One of the reasons I had sworn off drinking before meeting my husband. The amazing part was, I didn’t feel a bit horny at the moment and wondered if that was going to be a problem–would he want more from me now? As I lay there I wondered if he had saved my life, not merely by accident because of the baseball, but because he saw I was troubled and stayed with me, so I wouldn’t try to use the pistol again. That was what I had intended. I simply didn’t know if he had or not, but probably. His bringing me home with him had certainly changed my thinking in that regard. I’d been ready to end my life over a man Robb felt wasn’t worthy of my consideration. Not that the passion he had shown as he lay into me didn’t tell me I was desirable to at least one man. It had a tremendous effect on me for reasons I didn’t fully understand, and maybe never would. I felt a movement, then Robb rolled over toward me, his eyes open. When he saw me looking at him he smiled, causing me smile back. “Could you spare a kiss this morning? He asked. “You mean could I spare a kiss and something else?” “A kiss and then you let me hold you for a while. The something else is up to you.” I laughed as I rolled over onto him, “Make way mister, you’re going to get an armful of woman.” I snuggled into him and heard him reply. “You mean an armful of beautiful woman.” The words melted me immediately. If he had wanted to control me for his pleasure, he had me–no contest. We lay together not speaking for a while, his hands caressing my leg and arm. I kissed his neck a few times, then snuggled and closed my eyes again–he pulled me closer. I could hear his heart beating, feel his chest rise and fall, and smell him. When was the last time I had been so intimate and comfortable with a man? I couldn’t remember for sure. It was sad, but I couldn’t, not even with my husband. Shit! My husband. I was going to have to go home and face him today. Would he even notice I hadn’t come home? If he did would he even care? Knowing him, his only concern was that I would make him look bad–his wife not home and obedient where she should be. He would push for me to attend Fellowship with him in the afternoon to keep up appearances with the congregation. I pushed the thought away as my stomach tightened. I’d make this time with Robb last another hour, then face the reality of my life. At this juncture I realized I had one to live thanks to someone who cared enough for a woman crying on a park bench to intervene. It was as incredible as it seemed I realized. I was lying in bed with a man in my panties after he had promised to do what I asked of him to end my despair. “Are you hungry?” He asked. “Yes, actually I am.” “Does scrambled eggs, corned-beefed hash, and toast sound good to you?” The words made my mouth start to water. I realized I hadn’t eaten but the Danish since the previous morning. My stomach gave an audible growl and I placed my hand over it as if it would hush it. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’”, he laughed lightly. “I have to pee,” I slid out of bed and headed for the bathroom. I finished my business, washed my hands, than looked into the mirror while running my fingers through my hair. I thought I looked hideous. Then I thought again about why I was here in the first place. That’s what a tart looks like. At least a satisfied one. I swallowed hard, opened the bathroom door, and walked into the bedroom to see Robb sitting on the edge of the bed in his briefs. When he saw me his jaw dropped. “My god! Wendy, you’re gorgeous. Drop dead gorgeous.” I stopped dead in my tracks, looking down to see my breasts standi

CHRISTIAN COLLEGE SEX COMEDY: PART 6 extended  - A Spring Break 13-part Novel. Fighting for the Weekend. By FinalStand.  The player above contains the intro section. Listen to the complete episode by clicking here, at Steamy Stories. *Giving can make you richer while keeping leaves you only with what you have* Before we departed Rio raced back to the room to make some last minute adjustments to her attire. When she came back out all the conversation stopped and every one of us stared. Where could I begin? Rio had three earrings in her left ear and two on her right, the bottom on both sides being ivory skulls with red ruby eyes. She had an obsidian gem glued to her forehead just above her eyebrows. Her right eyebrow had a simple silver ring, but the one in her left nostril was a tiny pentagram. Her lip ring was a on the left side; a double loop. She’d taken off her bra and her nipple piercings, linked together by a chain, were clearly visible underneath her shirt which she’d tied tightly right below the breast line; her bra was now AWOL. Her belly button ring has an onyx teardrop attached. As she walked up to the group she stuck her tongue at the others exposing her pewter tongue barbell. She skipped over, breasts bouncing, and hugged me before leaning back and pumping her fist up in the air. “Free at last!” “Ten, eleven, twelve,” counted off Chastity quietly. “I have fourteen,” Rio grinned lasciviously to Chastity. More than one girl began doing the physiological implications of that claim and I doubted they were thinking about her toes. “At least if we all end up being arrested one of us will be unrecognizable,” Christina commented. “Is, is that one of your classmates?” Jill muttered, clearly blanking out the old Rio from her mind. “For better or worse she’s one of us,” I boasted. Barbie Lynn, sticking close to my other arm, gave me a desperate, quizzical expression. “She’s one of my students,” Barbie told Jill. “She’s one of ours still seeking redemption.” Before Rio could be more of a smart-ass I gave her hand a hard squeeze and while she grinned mischievously, she did hold her tongue. “Okay, ladies, let’s go,” I announced. We all started migrating toward the door. “Where are you going?” Jill asked. “There is a party next door,” Christina provided. “The Wiccan lesbians?” Jill gasped. “I was wrong, Jill,” I evaded. “They are a sorority house, not Wiccan lesbians. They invited us over tonight for a little school mixer.” “Well, as long as it is just you girls,” Jill hoped. I nodded and headed out the door. “That wasn’t very nice,” Christina scolded me once we had gathered outside and began moving toward the Kappa Sigma house. “If I told her it was a sorority house she would have worried but been unable to do anything. This way she didn’t have to worry,” I explained. “You have the Devil’s Tongue,” Christina chided, but she had that smile and gleam in her eye. “And how,” Barbie Lynn snickered. Something passed between Barbie Lynn and Christina but I missed it. My group spilled through the trees that separated the properties and headed for the front door. Storming the Gates Two guys had parked their car and were coming up the walkway when they saw us. They did a double-take before looking at each other utterly confused. We lined up at the door first and after I knocked a bright-faced girl, most likely a newly-minted pledge, answered. She took a look at me, smiled, then that smile faded as she saw the passel of women behind me. “Hi, I’m Zane; we were invited,” I offered. “Oh!” he eyes lit up,”you are that Zane. I thought, well, we heard you were bringing a guest or two. I, can I check with someone?“ she babbled. "Sure. Can we wait inside?” I suggested. She nodded and we all started filing in. Our arrival sent ripples through the house. Apparently not many girls crash a sorority function and since most of the guys present were expecting unfavorable odds, the social dynamic had shifted. “Zane,” Tawny Flores greeted me. Being the So

CHRISTIAN COLLEGE SEX COMEDY: PART 5 extended    - A Spring Break 13-part Novel. Zane goes from a morning shower to a heavenly night. By FinalStand.  The player above contains the intro section. Listen to the complete episode by clicking here, at Steamy Stories. *Birds are made beautiful by their plumage but divine by their flight*  (Yes, this tale is supposed to be somewhat humorous and outrageous too. While not always comedic I’d like to think it is mostly a good-natured romp.) Sharing Umbrellas Tuesday: My schedule which the Chancellor had been set in stone, had me in sole custody of the fifth-floor bathroom from five forty-five until six, so I was grateful that only six girls were waiting for me when I arrived. At some level I was sure they expected me to say something and I was pretty sure they hadn’t really articulated what they wanted. I said nothing and edged past them. The bravest one, Opal, followed quickly after me, though I had that special moment of taking off my robe in front of her as I readied for my shower. Somehow the blood of Homer’s Amazons had entered this school’s student body because Opal met my bluff with her buff (body) and crawled under her own water stream once the water was steamy. As I started washing my hair, I caught sight of another girl moving in on my far side. I did my best to remain nonchalant and managed to get my hair clean before they made their move. “Zane,” Opal asked innocently, “would you wash my back?” I smiled, nodded, and took the bottle of liquid soap from her hands. I poured some into my palms before placing the bottle on the closest shelf. I started rubbing it onto her shoulders and down her back. The placement of our bodies was complicated by my emergent erection. I worked my way down her back until I touched, then parted and cupped, her ass. I pressed my body against her back with my penis taking a few moments decide on whether it would go up, in, or in between. Finally it slipped up until my cock rested warmly on her back. Opal was totally overtaken by events and simply stood there as I slowly rubbed my body up and down against her back. She looked over her shoulder speculatively as I reached past her for more liquid soap and poured some into my hand. Bottle put aside, I shared the soap with the off-hand before starting to rub down the front of her shoulders. “Put your hands behind your back,” I whispered into Opal’s ear. She was initially hesitant, then started putting them behind her back where she brushed against my cock, and again before she wrapped her hands around it and began slowly stroking it with a soapy grip. While she was working on my morning wood, I made slow circles down to her breasts. Her nipples came alive under my fingertips. I first coaxed them, then plucked them, and finally pinched them tightly as I handled the rest of her breasts roughly. Opal began panting, moaning, and undulating her whole body against mine. I couldn’t stop myself from kissing her on the crux of her jaw and neck. “Oh, Oh, Oh,” Opal began to gasp. I felt her body start to tremble under my touch so I hunted for that most sensitive place with my tongue and bit into that spot on her neck sharply. Opal slammed hard into me, bouncing up and down on her toes like some sudsy, hot vibrator against my penis, if only I had the time. "Ah,” she sobbed in joy. Even after the orgasm settled, Opal kept gyrating against me. "This wasn’t what I had in mind,” Opal moaned. Whoops! “My apology,” I told her, and started separating from her, but she held firm. “Oh, no, you don’t. Maybe you misunderstood me. This was more, much more than I expected. I’m glad you are superior to your hype. Can we do this tomorrow morning?” “Hum, how about we see what comes up then?” I evaded. As I backed away, the girl on the other side held out her soap bottle expectantly. “Sorry, but I need to get out of here before girls, other girls show up,” I explained to her. “Brigit; my name is Brigit,” she filled me in. “Can we do,

A Park Affair: part 1; A failing marriage, a caring man, and a new life. by  r a wallace. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Chapter 1: Intervention - Wendy Meets Robb. Wendy I sat sullen, depressed, on the park bench in the early evening watching a man playing catch with a boy, probably his son. I was fingering the pistol inside my shoulder bag, my finger on the trigger. I closed my eyes to start the silent count one…two… Wham! I was startled, my fingers closed reflexively in response, including the finger on the trigger. I heard a loud bang inside my shoulder bag. I looked down and saw the bullet hole just above the brown leather bottom. I pulled my hand out of the bag and found it was trembling, my heart pounding in my ears. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I hope you weren’t hit?” I looked up to see the man standing in front of me, his image hazy as tears formed in my eyes again. I couldn’t even end my life without screwing it up. I heard his voice again, but not his words. I sat my bag on the bench next to me and looked up when he spoke again, his face showing concern. “No, it didn’t hit me,” I replied dumbly. “You don’t look so good, your eyes are red as if you’ve been crying. Is there anything I can do to help, do you want to talk?” “Uncle Robb, Dad’s here to pick me up. Thanks for playing catch with me for a while,” came a voice from behind me. I watched as he tossed the baseball in the general direction of the voice. “Any time Ted, tell your father I’ll talk with him later.” I watched as the boy ran past us, got into a car, waved, and was gone. Numbed by it all, nothing in my mind made sense, it seemed I wasn’t worth anything to anyone. “Mind if I sit with you?” “Look, I appreciate your kindness, but I’m not likely to be good company. I just found my husband with another woman. Not that I haven’t suspected it for a while, but I thought our trial separation was working out. I just need to be alone.” “You weren’t thinking of doing something stupid were you?” I looked at him, then my eyes went to the round hole in my bag. Stupid? It was a way out. My own husband hadn’t slept with me in six months and he was getting off on another woman. Stupid? There was a reason I wasn’t wearing my wedding ring. I didn’t want to be found dead wearing something the bastard had given me. Robb I’d tried to catch the ball, jumping up to snag it when it sailed above my head. I had hit it just enough to send it toward the attractive woman sitting on the bench not far away. I thought I heard it hit the bench, not her, but a muffled sound seemed to have made her jump, and I felt an apology was in order. When I stopped in front of her I saw the teary eyes, at first thinking it had hit her. Then I noticed her eyes were puffy red, she’d been crying for a while. Her dark curly hair hung below her shoulders, her brown eyes placed below nicely trimmed eyebrows. She was dressed in a skirt and blouse, her exposed legs shapely, like the rest of her. She was obviously distressed, then I saw a small hole in her cloth shoulder bag as her eyes shifted to look at it. The slightly ragged hole seemed entirely out of place at that location. It was then I knew, the sound I’d heard wasn’t the baseball hitting the bench–this woman needed help now. Wendy He sat down next to me even though I hadn’t replied. Shit, did it matter? Another few minutes in my miserable life wasn’t going to change anything. I hadn’t even been able to kill myself and I realized I was pointing the pistol at the wrong person if I did. I knew I could never kill anyone, apparently not even myself. Then it popped into my head. If I were to do something now to get back at my husband I’d do what he had done to me. I would throw it in his face, telling him it was better than anything he had ever given me in all the years we’d been together. He hadn’t been physically abusive to me, the fact he wouldn’t touch me was painful enough; far worse in a way. What better way to get back at him by than by making him

Empty Nester Starts Dating Again. -  Mom explores new wild side, first date, years after divorce. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. University, 17 August 2021   The pale vanilla thickly painted cinder block walls that framed a small high window above the twin bed reminded me of the inside of a prison, but to my son his new dorm room was freedom – at last. I almost didn’t even get the brief glimpse of where he would be living for the next year. At first, he insisted he could carry up his boxes and suitcases himself, as he didn’t want to introduce his new roommate to his newly single, middle-aged mom. I even promised not to dance or sing while there, but maybe it was the fact that I mentioned those possibilities for ultimate peer embarrassment that got me dismissed shortly after the luggage entered the room. My son was about to test out his suburban survival skills, and at 18 he was ready. Somehow, amid or maybe because of my many mistakes, he had turned out well. There was nothing else to say that I hadn’t told him already that he would be willing to hear. So I gave him a discreet hug in the stairwell with no other students around. “I love you, honey.” “Love you too, mom.” And he jogged back up the stairs to his new life, while I retreated back to the car and the four-hour drive home. With the green blur of trees in my peripheral vision and nothing but an endless, straight two way freeway ahead for the next 80 miles, I turned up the end of Joan Jett’s “Bad Reputation,” just before it segued into the next hit on my 80s dance music playlist. I remembered dancing in the bathroom to Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” while putting on too much eyeliner ahead of a college party with my best friend Wendy back when we were virgins. But truth be told, I managed to stay one all through college too. Wendy and I were on the phone last month as she celebrated her 48th birthday, wondering why we tried so hard to be perfect, rather than having more fun when we were in our 20s. She was always prettier than me – at least guys thought so – with her highlighted shoulder length blonde hair, blue eyes and high cheekbones. So experiencing the inevitable part of aging of becoming invisible in public was hitting her harder than me. Her blonde highlighted hair was about 5 inches shorter than college and she still had her high cheekbones etched with the outer edges of wrinkles near her eyes. Like me, Wendy had probably only gained about 5 pounds since college, but unlike me, it looked to be mostly muscle from her part time job as a yoga instructor. If she had cellulite, I had yet to see it. But like most women, Wendy could be her own worst critic even while protesting the unfairness that women are so judged by their looks. She said, “I was in the customer service line in Home Depot last week, but the clerk came around the desk to show some gal in a short tennis dress to the hardware aisle for the right size wood screws for her project. Hello – it’s not as if I wasn’t already standing there. Am I invisible?” “Maybe you need to wear a short sports dress for errands. You could still carry it off,” I said. “Yoga dresses are in style now.” “That’s not the point, it’s about fairness,” Wendy said. “Hey we got that attention when we were her age and didn’t complain,” I said. “Yeah, we made quite a pair. But unfortunately we didn’t do anything with it! Not really,” she said. “What do you mean?” I asked. “We were too good, too uptight, always trying to do the right thing, stupidly trying to have morals,” she said. “Don’t you ever think about it and wonder why?” “Yeah, if I had known I would marry my college boyfriend three years after graduation only to get dumped as our kids reached whatever age he considered viable so he could leave to fuck a zillion others. Yes, I would have said a yes a few times instead of no to any number of other guys in college,” I said. “We followed the rules. But for what?” she asked. “For the nice, appropriate boys who deemed us marriag

STIMULATING READING - listen to the Podcast A libidinous librarian gets what she needs… 2.9k words by LaurelAspen Unlocking the big oak doors Emily glances up at the Spring sun filtering through the stained glass windows of the ‘Institute’. Originally endowed by a Victorian benefactor, now an adjunct of a modern university, this Gothic revival style building goes unnoticed by most people passing by on this bright 1993 morning. The research library within opens on just three days a week with Emily, its part-time librarian, fitting the job around her PHD studies. Some colleagues consider it a fusty backwater; Emily rather enjoys the church-like surroundings – lofty ceilings and marble floors - and calm, quiet ambience. Staring the day as usual at 8.45am, Emily turns on the lights, picks up the post and then sits at the front desk waiting for students to arrive. The job isn’t the most exacting; mainly helping to locate obscure books, its perk being plenty of time to write her thesis and, blush making to admit, peruse the rather splendid erotica section. Something that’s become a bit of habit of late, leaving her distracted and almost perpetually aroused. This ‘special collection’ is kept locked; its key supposedly secure in a safe; in fact on a chain around Emily’s neck. Currently ‘in between boyfriends’ (no, not like that!) in truth modern men – mostly boys inhabiting adult bodies in her opinion - don’t really do it for Emily. Call her old-fashioned but well, she wants someone old fashioned. Emily’s romantic, bookish outlook on life sometimes feels unsuited to modern times. As exemplified by today’s attire: cardigan, blouse, and a string of pearls, the epitome of respectability; a typical librarian. Knee-length skirt, sensible shoes, minimal makeup and glasses habitually perched upon her head complete the academic look. However, underneath one (who? she reflects glumly) might be surprised to find some almost sinfully brief lingerie adorning her trim figure. Perhaps not so conservative after all… Later that afternoon, Emily looks at her watch, half an hour until closing, not likely to see anyone else today she thinks. Wrongly, because striding confidently through the rotating door and purposefully approaching her desk is a new customer. In contrast to the usual scruffy students (although arguably the lecturers are worse) he’s smartly dressed. Wearing a tie in fact; Emily likes a man in suit and his fits very well. This tall man with silvery grey hair favours her with confident smile and Emily melts inside – lust at first sight. Michael, they are quickly on first name terms, is a postgrad mature student working on the final dissertation of an English literature MA. He’s taken a couple of weeks leave from an unspecified (Emily suspects high-powered and well remunerated) job to complete it. Meaning, she sends a silent prayer of thanks to whichever celestial deity might be responsible, he’ll be making frequent trips to the library. Visits she soon begins to eagerly anticipate – feeling disproportionately disappointed on days when this charming, personable and undoubtedly assertive man doesn’t appear. Get a grip girl, chides her inner voice, whatever your fantasies this is a purely professional relationship. “What did you do before studying,” she enquires one morning. “Came from money, followed the family tradition into the City and made some more,” he shrugs. “Clichéd thing for a privileged person to say but it didn’t make me happy.” “What does?” “Good writing, hence my being here in literary mode, how about you?’ “A very bright kid from a feckless, under achieving family; got a scholarship, got out of my dead end town and got a higher education. Not having money means I’ve had to take a series of dull jobs to pay my way.” She’s no need to make her point any more strongly, Michael gets the implication. “Though I detect a steely determination,” he responds without rancour. “Academically, yes,” she agrees, “in order to remain wi

International Backpacking Favors - Hot outdoor sex with two German girls. (group sex) By VancouverFun. Listen to the Podcast At Steamy Stories. In the last few years, I have started to do short solo backpacking trips around Vancouver. There are so many great spots in the local mountains to hike and camp and recharge. I had always wanted to hike to Rampart Ponds - it’s a new backcountry campsite a couple of days walk from the nearest trailhead. Finally in September, I got a nice window of warm fall weather and packed up and headed out to the park. The first day is pretty easy with a short hike into the Elfin Lakes campsites. I got there early in the heat of mid-day and even had time for a very cold dip in one of the Elfin lakes. I lazed away the afternoon in the sun reading my book and taking in the views. I had an early dinner and with the short days of September, I was in my sleeping bag by 8 pm. A few hours later, I was awoken by lots of noise and commotion from a late arriving group. It sounded like they were having trouble setting up their tent in the dark - there was much muttering in German but also some laughing. The next morning I was up early for the walk up to Rampart Ponds. I only met the late arrivals for a few minutes before I headed up the trail. They were 2 young very gorgeous German girls backpacking around Canada for the summer. When I talked with them, I found out that they too were headed to Rampart Ponds today. I set off alone. I made good progress hiking and it looked like I would get to the Ponds just in the early afternoon. I decided to have a long lunch and a bit of a siesta in the warm fall sun lying on a warm flat rock outcrop. I was awoken by the sound of the two girls approaching and talking. As they rounded the corner, I said “hello” and unfortunately startled them a bit. They took their packs off and sat on the rock outcrop with me. They got out their lunches and started eating. They confessed they had been on high alert and were very worried about Canadian bears after hearing one too many bear stories. I tried to reassure them that with some smarts about how you hike and set camp you can make it so bears aren’t much of a problem - they were not buying this, they still looked concerned. After a while, I shouldered my pack and set off down the trail calling back, “I will see you at the campsite”. It was turning into a hot afternoon as I huffed my way up the final hill to the Ponds. I was setting up my tent, when the girls came around the corner. They asked if they could set their tent up near mine to feel safer. I told them I was fine with that. In a very unembarrassed European way, they dropped their packs, peeled off their clothes and headed straight into the cold alpine lake. It was amazing to see these two very petite blonde girls with stunning bodies and beautiful pert breasts heading into the lake. Probably to not offend my North American sensibilities they left their bra and panties on. There was much screaming and quick splashing before they quickly re-emerged from the ice cold lake. Their bra and panties were now soaked and transparently stuck to their beautiful petite bodies. The water must have been very cold as their nipples stuck proudly out through their bras. They sat in their bra and panties in the sun drying off for the next few hours. We cooked dinner together a long ways away from our tents and then we all put our food and cooking gear in the bear lockers. With the short September day’s, I headed to my tent soon after the sun went down and the temperature started to drop. I heard the girls head to bed a few minutes later. I was awoken sometime later by someone frantically pulling at my tent door. It was the girls, they were frantic as a bear had come into camp and the bear found a forgotten chocolate bar in the top of one of their packs. The trouble was the pack was in their tent with them at the time. Luckily they exited the tent on one side (the door side) as the bear entered

Cleverness is Sexy - Listen to the Podcast The Rise of the Nerd Alice is an exceptionally brainy young woman who’s pursued her academic interests to the exclusion of almost everything else in life. There will, she reasons, on the verge of her 23rd birthday with the MA she’s strived so hard to attain almost completed, be plenty of time to pursue other interests later. Travelling perhaps, a life outside the university library, something mundane as clothes shopping for goodness sake. Used to being an outsider - teacher’s pet, nerd, bookworm and swot are familiar, frequently uncomplimentary descriptions - Alice embraces her geek status with pride. Sure, she attends the occasional post graduate party, more out of a sense of obligation than any real enthusiasm, blokes her own age don’t really do it for Alice. Seemingly either intimidated by her intellect or determined to brag to their mates they’ve ‘scored a nerd’ it really isn’t worth the hassle. Being one of very few scholarship entrants among so many private school educated peers doesn’t help her social integration either. The invitation to join the college quiz team is an entirely different prospect, both a challenging intellectual test and, best of all, the chance to meet Giles Knighton, celebrity quizmaster (‘QM’), of the TV series ‘Battle of the Brightest’. This popular programme involves a collection of brains the size of Mars competing for, well, since you ask, an engraved glass bowl. No cash prize, no foreign holiday, simply a public validation of higher education. You see Alice secretly fancies Giles; she’s minimal experience of such matters but something about the way he solemnly utters the phrase “five point penalty” when an over eager contestant answers prematurely makes her damp with desire. So much so that in recent months she’s had a bizarre recurring dream of being summoned to his office where the QM, dramatically stretching each syllable, insists Alice pay a pen-al-ty and then spanks her across his knee. Where on earth did that idea come from? Never smacked by her impeccably liberal parents as a child and top of her class each year she was a regular goody two shoes. Is spanking even a thing, Alice wonders? Oh! Apparently it is and that’s a question she won’t be asking Google again anytime soon… The quiz show is filmed over three consecutive days at a London TV studio with overnight stays in a posh hotels - luxury after years in grotty student housing - culminating in a grand final, followed by a winners’ dinner with Giles. On the first day of competition Alice, an avid fan of the show, doesn’t share her teammate’s nerves. This assurance momentarily leads to over confidence when she impulsively answers before the QM has even finished a question. Wrongly it turns out, he looks directly at her - just like in the dream. “Five point penalty,” says the QM solemnly and Alice becomes simultaneously mortified and excited. Perhaps she’s mistaken but it subsequently seems the QM’s focus is on her whenever she looks up. One of the production team also notices and nods to a colleague. “QM’s got one of the students on his radar” “Well we know where that’s going,” comes the amused reply. Day two, Alice’s team aces the quarter and semis to secure a place in the play-off. Filming is through by early afternoon, allowing everyone time to prepare for tomorrow. Alice belatedly realises she’s woefully underdressed; her default outfit of hoodie and jeans really doesn’t work on camera. Aware of the QM’s burgeoning interest she knows that while cleverness is sexy - an aphrodisiac in its own right - it might not be enough to keep him focussed. Her appearance urgently needs a revamp, but purchasing new clothes is intimidating; supercilious assistants, too much choice and a budget of next to nothing posing seemingly insuperable problems. Without much hope she seeks sartorial salvation in a nearby upmarket charity shop. Alice selects a dress and in the course of trying it on gets chatti

Tits 4 Tutoring - listen to the Podcast Kyle tutors a snooty rich girl… with equally rich results. After the break was over, I was somewhat excited to return to school. On the bus, Emily was all over me. “I still can’t believe Mom fucked you.” Emily said. “Well we can’t all live such glamorous lives as I do,” I said as I puffed an imaginary cigar. Emily hit me playfully on the stomach before unzipping my pants. “So are you excited to be a senior?” Emily asked as she licked my cum from between her fingers. “Pretty much,” I replied, “it’ll hopefully be better now that I have that journalism scholarship in the bag.” She stroked my cock. “Just promise me that wherever you go, you’ll take me with you.” I looked at her and saw the serious concern in her face. I wrapped my arm around her. “Emily, there is no one in the entire world I’d rather spend my life with. Who knows? Maybe we’ll even travel the world together.” She smiled and lay her head on my chest, continuing to stroke me as we pulled up to the school. The teachers directed us to the large gymnasium and onto the bleachers. I saw many girls in blouses and floral dresses that looked as if they could double as a tablecloth in Julia Child’s kitchen. “I’d love to see you in those,” I said to Emily, wearing a motorcycle T-shirt and leather skirt along with her knee high leather boots. “You’ve seen me naked,” she retorted, “So why do you care?” I considered this. “Good point. Consider it stricken from the record.” “Never was recorded,” she replied as we sat. I laughed and shook my head as she nestled against me The principal, Jennie Stevens came onto the stage and began to speak. Her black top and sweater did little to hide the curves of her 30J tits. She spoke of the school policies, dress codes and class schedules. Thankfully, I had my friends in many of the same periods. Ms. Franklin, a 36-year-old English teacher was immediately one of my instant favorites. She really encouraged my writing and over the next few days read my short stories. She had a curvy figure and still looked attractive in her black skirt and blue heels. Her 32G tits nearly popping from her blouse. “Kyle?” she called as I was about to hustle out with the class to lunch. “Yes Ms. Franklin?” I asked. She fiddled with her gold wedding ring and began. I could tell she was having marital problems but I didn’t press. Not at the moment anyway. “You know Kendall Hutchinson don’t you?” “Yes…” I answered, not sure why she was asking about her. Kendall was a senior as well and cheerleader not to mention one of the most popular girls in school. “Well, to make it short,” Ms. Franklin said, “she’s failing this class. And the last thing I want is for anyone to stay behind. So… seeing as your one of my best students, I’d like you to consider tutoring her.” Being as Kendall was as snooty as they came, Ms. Franklin more than likely saw my hesitation. “I know it’s a lot to ask, Kyle. Especially with no pay but I’ll try anything to make it up to you.” As you know, I can never resist a woman in need. She looked at me pleadingly with her warm brown eyes and I sighed. “Yay!” she cheered excitedly while clapping her hands. “Don’t worry, I’ll arrange everything with Kendall. Thank you so much Kyle.” I smiled at her happiness. “You’re welcome.” She was still smiling as I walked to lunch. - Emily snoozed on my chest after a hard and fast paced ‘first day of after school fuck’ (Emily’s words). Her hand remained tightly clenched on my cock but I didn’t mind. I just loved having her near me, her strawberry scented shampoo being so comforting. My phone chimed on the table next to her bed and she stirred but didn’t wake up. I checked the text and groaned as I saw it was from Kendall. “Go ahead,” Emily groaned without opening her eyes and she rolled off me, letting me quickly dress after she kissed me. “And I want you good and hard tomorrow!” she called after me as I left out the door. - As I pulled up to Kendall’s house, I was taken aback b