Modeling

Hi there, handsome! Writing blogs over the last year has been very therapeutic for me. If you were unaware, I'm what most would refer to as a nymphomaniac. That's right! I have an almost insatiable appetite for sexual gratification. In fact, it's really what drew me to becoming a PSO in the first place, and makes most days a real dream come true. However, I wasn't always so easy going about my need for orgasms. At one point, I actually was forced to seek therapy to deal with being a nymphomaniac and it didn't really work out the way I thought it would. So. why don't you kick back and read about exactly what happened! I hate waiting rooms. They're so sterile and completely uninviting. Who wants to sit in a chair with some random 1980's fabric while thumbing through two year old issues of Cosmopolitan? It certainly is not how I want to spend my Monday morning, or any morning, really. Sadly, it's necessary at this point in time and there isn't muc

The trip was lonely. It felt like I had left a part of me there. I guess, in reality, I had. I need a distraction tonight. I pulled in around 5:30. The middle of March in norther Illinois is still raw. That didn't stop my parents from setting up the grill and grilling some 'home grown' steaks. It had been a while since I ate something like that, and with a couple of beers. It felt good to be home... kind of. We sat at the kitchen table and got caught up. They, of course, asked how Kathy was. I think they could tell, as I smiled, recalling her sitting on my lap in the whirl tub. They asked how Kathy's parents reacted to the news that she was going to live up here... together... with me. Told them that, like them, they weren't nuts about the idea; but, knew how we felt about each other and that we would probably do it anyway. I left out the part about her dad, getting assurance that my plan was to marry his daughter. They asked what my immediate plans were... like i

Professor Stone knew she would have to take care of the man who had asked out Jill. Men were such a nuisance. If it was up to Professor Stone, the entire world would be run by women. It would be a better world. She used Jill's phone to call Laurence. "Hey babe, you're that chick from the coffee shop right? I was wondering when you and I could hook up. What do you say, your place or mine?" questioned Laurence. Professor Stone made a face---babe, chick---who did this guy think he was? Didn't he know that women deserved to be worshiped? Well, Professor Stone would make sure that he learned soon enough. "Actually, Laurence...this is Jill's advisor Professor Stone. She's been in an accident and she only wants to see you. So'd it would be great if you could come over to my office at City College and we can talk about things." stated Professor Stone. "Sure thing!." said Laurence. Professor Stone hung up the phone. She smirked and shook h

The young man awoke in a dimly lit room. The plush bed cradled him as he began to move his limbs. Where was he? Sensations trickled through his skin, crawling across like currents of electricity. She was a redhead, with fiery locks of an unnatural shade, framing her pale, freckled face. Her creamy skin and cute nose gave her mischievous smile even more power. She wore a sheer gown of crinkled white silk that barely concealed the curve of her lithe body. Green eyes, as bright as stars, stared down at him. He blinked twice as the red-haired woman licked her pink lips. "Hi," she said, her voice husky. "I'm Eins." Glancing up at her, his eyes lingered down her body. She was straddling his prone form, her muscular legs tight against his hips. Eins trailed a finger down his cheek, across his jaw and over his neck. Heat rush across his body but Eins didn't move. "Do you remember your name?" She asked. "Grant?" he replied. "Not anymore,&qu

Christina was returning to the building where the offices of the prestigious newspaper The Sun are located, after spending months working on an assignment as a war correspondent, which she accepted because of the experience it represented to start her journalistic career and of course the prestige it represents. They were months of arduous and dangerous work in a distant and especially hostile land for a western woman of free mentality and criteria, especially it was difficult for her to depend at all times on male companionship precisely because of the high level of danger that a war conflict entails. Returning home was a great relief for the now hardened correspondent whose editorials met with the approval of her editor, who was unconditionally supportive and always had words of praise for Christina. The night gave her a restful sleep session in her bed, after months of nights on an uncomfortable cot and the continuous sound of shelling in the distance. Finally Christina enjoyed th

SEVEN YEAR DITCH TROLLS: There's a cheating wife here. Put a finger on 'Chris' and track it through to the end. Just for fun, see if you can read it without moving your lips. Then go to the comments section and whine about 'cuck' and 'slut' and so on. NORMAL PEOPLE: A revenge story with some sex. As usual, not heavy on body descriptions. Constructive feedback appreciated. Chris first met Nick when it was pissing down with rain. He was driving to work, wipers at full speed, and there was this drenched man. The bonnet of his car was up and he was standing in front of it, kicking the grille. Chris had to smile. He'd had his fair share of crap cars when farther down the corporate ladder. And couldn't help but laugh when the bonnet crashed down and trapped the guy's tie. He pulled over. "I don't know much about cars, but can I help?" He got out and released the catch, and the bonnet shot up again. The man jumped back to avoid getting s