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  #31  
Old 12-Nov-19, 12:27
HermanDG HermanDG is offline
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Default Re: August 2019 - A Summer Retreat

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Originally Posted by mixfightor [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
I always love your writing, mate, but Claire is one of your best characters, yet. She is an incredible woman and clearly has you beat in almost every department. I can't wait to see what happens when "the fun part starts."

Thank you for continuing this for us, Herman.
Well, I do suffer for my art ó so Iím glad you enjoy it, my man...
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  #32  
Old 18-Nov-19, 07:47
fightape fightape is offline
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Default Re: August 2019 - A Summer Retreat

Please oh please don't stop now
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  #33  
Old 10-Jan-20, 16:28
baller2242 baller2242 is offline
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Default Re: August 2019 - A Summer Retreat

HermanDG,
I know life has us all busy especially now starting off the 1st quarter but so you know when you get the chance there are many of us eagerly awaiting to hear your aftermath of this loss...and hopefully being the type of person you are the inevitable rematch that followed since we know you hate taking an L.
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  #34  
Old 13-Jan-20, 02:08
Snafu Snafu is offline
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Thumbs up Re: August 2019 - A Summer Retreat

Great work
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  #35  
Old 19-Jan-20, 22:45
HermanDG HermanDG is offline
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Default Re: August 2019 - A Summer Retreat

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Originally Posted by baller2242 [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
HermanDG,
I know life has us all busy especially now starting off the 1st quarter but so you know when you get the chance there are many of us eagerly awaiting to hear your aftermath of this loss...and hopefully being the type of person you are the inevitable rematch that followed since we know you hate taking an L.
To quote Larry Bird, ďIíve never lost, Iíve just run out of timeĒ.

Thatís especially true where Stacyann and her monumental rabbitís foot are concerned...
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Old 20-Jan-20, 15:30
Stacyann Stacyann is offline
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Default Re: August 2019 - A Summer Retreat

If you are implying I’m lucky I believe you know better. Hard work beats talent and strength when talent and strength don’t work hard. And you little boy, you definitely don’t work hard.
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  #37  
Old 21-Jan-20, 02:57
HermanDG HermanDG is offline
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Default Re: August 2019 - A Summer Retreat

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Originally Posted by Stacyann [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
If you are implying Iím lucky I believe you know better. Hard work beats talent and strength when talent and strength donít work hard. And you little boy, you definitely donít work hard.
Iím smiling and giggling inappropriately just reading this. I beg to differ, definitely worked hard...
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  #38  
Old 18-Jun-20, 20:08
HermanDG HermanDG is offline
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Default Re: August 2019 - A Summer Retreat

CHAPTER 06 - Spanish Bombs



The dream of escape was futile...


In truth, there was nowhere to go where she would not find me and in this moment as every sweaty, lustful, sadistically vindictive and exceptionally naked ounce of Clare bore down on me, I became strangely resigned to my fate. It was time to reap the whirlwind and see if it could be survived.

Clare grinned maliciously and her beautiful eyes narrowed, brilliantly lit with delight at seeing me so helpless under her absolutely pernicious sway. My arms were pinned beneath me by our mutual weight on the king sized bed of my suite — to where Clare had dragged me by my hair while spurring me on with vindictively angry kicks to my bare ass and ribs — but also by some handcuffs, furnished by Clare, that tightly held my wrists and trapped my arms behind me. Clare desired that I be defenceless to any punishment that she might imagine for me, so in that space it rendered with her left knee crushing into my diaphragm, thereby making any and every breath a chore, while her trailing shin continued on down my abdomen and concluded at the point where her high arched, left foot positioned fortuitously across my groin. There, Clare would periodically refocus my attention — when she personally deemed that it had waned — using sharp, slapping kicks to my balls as her primary method. Clare further enhanced the grinding pressure of her left knee by actively pushing off with her right foot on the mattress, which ensured that every fleshy brick of her abdominal wall engaged as trickles of dewy sweat rolled down her core as a byproduct of her exertions.

While that tableau was already an embarrassment of dire riches to behold, the coup de grace for Clare in this moment was the physically invective, two handed chokehold that she maintained on my throat. Oscillating her pressure and intensity, Clare was literally throttling me back and forth from extreme discomfort to near unconsciousness, revelling as she did in the gurgling sounds that she was chasing from my prone, writhing form as she fully asserted her unquestioned dominance.

“Mmmmmmmm”, Clare purred, her smile broadening, “I love the sound of you suffering. You may be a CHUMP in combat, but your are a CHAMP at being my little, helpless bitch.”

The accent — so sexy just like the rest of her — combined with her intelligence and skill and sheer malevolence, made for an intoxicating cocktail. Clare happily punctuated her declaration of contempt by propelling herself into the air so that she could drop right back down on top of me with all her weight, leading with her — seemingly — extra boney left knee as it ruthlessly smashed into my stomach while — with brutal coincidence — her left foot slammed into my gonads, which she mirthlessly drove home with some added gusto. The effect of those incorrigible collisions was that any air that had been in my lungs, became violently expunged. The issues produced by that reality were further complicated by Clare doubling down on her chokehold with a determined zeal. There was no doubt about it, she meant business in this moment and her business was deadly serious.

Allowing herself a moment to admire my latest indignation by her hands, Clare shifted her position so that she now straddled me with a knee on either side of my rib cage. Once there, Clare engaged her powerful quads so that any ability for me to expand into breath could be severely hampered and managed by her. While I had spent a great deal of time thinking of what it would be like to get between her legs, the torment that she could unleash with those gams made me seriously reconsider my initial desire to find myself where I now was. The strength, as expressed by the steely cables that seemed to live under her skin, was both awesome and terrifying, but the skin that sheathed those mechanisms of destruction was of such a magnificent lustre, so incredibly soft and supple, that it defied capture by any definition or terminology. I reckoned in that moment, through the delirium of agony that I was experiencing, that she might actually be a cyborg — the entire package that she presented was all too devastatingly perfect.

To further help her leverage into that life rending, squeezing action with her legs, Clare brought the tops of both her feet to my groin so that she could cruelly hook them up and under my vulnerable ballsack, smushing it flat with her feet so that she could use the nexus of my pelvic girdle that she found there as her anchor point to stabilize her while further reducing my prospects. This position also allowed her the added benefit of being able to continue with her provocative use of the painful slap kicks to my nuts according to any whim she might fancy. This notion was something that she seemed to fancy on a regular basis as she restrained me in that incontestable fashion, much to my chagrin.

Leaning into both of her hands around my neck, Clare’s shoulders bulged and protruded forward, popping tiny veins out in her shoulders that carried down into a roadmap of vascularity across her biceps and forearms, serving witness to the energy she was expending in pursuit of my demise. Her entire upper body shared in this gruesome load and tensed together in concert. Clare’s tanned skin glowed with a slick gloss of roiling perspiration and the view of her body from my humbled vantage point as she decimated me was as magnificent as it was terrifying. I had no idea if this was still a state of aggressive play or if we had ventured into a new, uncharted space for me. To be honest, the fearsome thought that Clare might just end me there in that room began to unpack itself in my mind. I could feel panic riding into view and as it did, Clare certainly took note of that state of my distress.

“Scared, Herman? You should be”, Clare seared, “I watch fast talking chaps like you blither on every day, so smug in their overconfidence, thinking that they’re all the big boy, wheeler dealers. You cheeky bastards think this world revolves around you. It does nothing but fill me with purest joy to lay your lot low. I own you right now, Herman. Your life is literally in my hands and is mine for the taking and all your talk and blighter smarminess can’t do a thing to reverse your course. I. OWN. YOU.”

She basked in her dominance, smiling broadly. I was helpless and utterly vulnerable. Somewhere in all of that sound a fury, a moment of clarity parachuted in through the carnage; I now totally understood where Clare’s husband Charlie fit into the puzzle of this omnipotent conqueress. He was the least fast talking, overconfident dude that I’d ever met. Either that or he had a dick the size a fire hydrant. Given the current situation, I resigned myself to maybe not having the time to conclusively solve that mystery on this trip if at all.

“So lovely the sounds of your gasping and choking”, she continued, “That sound absolutely tickles me. This is what defeat tastes like, my little man. Suck on that bitter harvest, you worthless cur. How powerless are you in this moment? How pathetic are you in the grips of a REAL woman? Be here and present, Herman, and recognize where you live in this world under my heel.”

All the choking kind of pre-emoted the possibility for a witty reply if I was being honest at that point,

Clare, released her right hand so that she could pull back her hair from her face a wipe away a trickle of perspiration that she then callously flicked into my eye, blinding me with the stinging brine of sweat. She chased that humiliation with a couple of demeaning slaps to my face, alternating her approach between forehanded and backhanded blows. Throughout that ordeal, Clare never lessened the pressure on her, now, singlehanded and intolerable grip on my trachea. Apparently not satisfied with her handiwork, Clare fluidly shifted like mercury, bringing her left shin across my throat, pushing my left shoulder down firmly with her left hand and gouging her right knee into my liver as her shin ran across my abdomen, leaving her foot dangling off to my right side. Clare perched herself on me imperiously in order to maximize the effect of her weight on me and all our mutual weight crushing my firmly bound arms into the mattress. As I winced from the effect of the new burden of her shin across my throat, her lips curled spitefully into a grin. There was not a torment or torture of me that didn’t bring her some measure of sheer pleasure. Fucking sadist. Goddamn it, she REALLY made me horny.

As I balefully twisted under her duress, I briefly fantasized about choking Clare out with a select few parts of my anatomy. Regardless, Clare took advantage of the situation by beginning to circle and tease my left nipple with the tips of the fingers of her free right hand. Damn if that woman wasn’t an expert in getting a rise out of a fella, something that I knew she would make me regret as soon as it happened.

“Still a frisky boy, eh”, she observed, continuing ominously, “Let’s see about that, then.”

Clare began blasting hammer shots into my manhood over and over again in quick succession as though she was pounding on a drum. The shock and violent repetition was overwhelming, as were the nauseating waves pain that she produced through her labours of malice. Even as I convulsed reflexively, Clare rode me like a surfer, never losing her balance as I violently churned beneath her. My body continued to involuntarily tremor with aftershocks well after she ended her diabolical barrage, but Clare rocked her weight back and forth into her shins, providing additional damage to this latest offensive until she settled on leaning into the leg that she had across my throat. The pain, both physical and psychological was immense. I thought I was dying and my field of vision began to darken.

Once again, I had no doubt that I was doomed. But Clare had other plans, shifting again so that her naked form now lay directly on top of me so that she could stare into my eyes while she propped herself up on her forearms that were crossed across my chest with her right hand resting on my right nipple and her left hand dangling over my left, so she could skillfully tease it with her fingertips. While her legs originally fell outside my own, Clare quickly recognized an opportunity and snapped my legs up into a hugely effective Grapevine hold. Clare’s face was beautifully serene and scant inches from my own. Her expression was almost loving as she studied my face, which I was sure was a contorted into mask of pain. It was inconceivable as to how calmly that insuperable woman contrasted holding me fast, with absolutely brute strength that belied her supple form and affectionately tormenting my nipples as though we were lovers engaged in a post-coital chat about what groceries we needed for the week ahead. My groin throbbed. My legs were stretched to the breaking point and Clare’s face showed all of ZERO strain, as though destroying me required as little effort as drawing breath. It was all part of her attack in this moment that occurred on multiple fronts; physical, sexual and psychological, with ebbs and flows as they suited her. Her body felt so sinfully good as it pressed against me, even as it felt as though her legs were splitting me apart like a Thanksgiving wishbone and my arms endured the intense sensation with the kinds of severe pins and needles associated with having been trapped under the two of us for God knows how long. It was maddening — time had lost all bearing. Every moment was about feeling as though I was being swallowed up by the pain and suffering that she skillfully imposed. There was no state of being beyond this cruel intimacy that we shared from diametrically differing poles and perspectives — she, the tormentor and I in the role of the dutifully oppressed. The world, the universe, was found in these millimetres that separated us and the sickening reality of anguish that she constructed in that space.

With Clare’s talent of being masterful at pushing every button imaginable, it was no surprise that her physical manipulation of my nipples caused me to become engorged with the tip of my phallus rising up to meet Clare’s gloriously smooth femininity. There, I noted that she was very definitely a consumer of expertly applied, laser hair removal. Her privates were as slick and smooth as an ice rink following a Zamboni flood between periods at a hockey game, especially in the sauna like atmosphere created by the flush of our proximal body heat. Looking at me as she felt me growing into a fleshy rigidity beneath her, Clare cocked her eyebrow, marvelling at her discovery wiggling suggestively over my skin and cultivating an ever growing, carnal response from me. Providing my right nipple with a respite, she lifted her hand so the she could trace her right index finger from the tip of my nose down across my lips to a point where she paused, pushing down on my bottom lip with weighted deliberation.

“Mmmmmmm...Herman”, Clare exclaimed, “That’s quite a sausage you have there between my legs.”

Clare began dipping the head of my cock ever so slightly into the opening of her vagina, slowly, inexorably teasing me with her questionable intention. It was all a ploy to give me just the slightest inclination of how wet and tight she was, even just a millimetre or two in. It was like being shown the gate of heaven and then realizing that your ticket in was in the pocket of another pair of pants. Each time she dipped me in, she would follow by pulling off to a point where I could just barely feel the edge of her before re-inserting me back into The cusp of her enticing wetness by an intoxicating millimetre or two. Clare repeated the process to a point where my engagement was almost as torturous as any of the shots to the groin that I’d endured. She was giving me blue balls like I’d never experienced.

“Oh Herman”, she cooed, “that cock of yours feels quite lovely. But I wonder, how much do you like my little pussy?”

Initially a throaty moan was my only answer, but Clare pressed on.

“Do you like it? Do you like my how tight my little pussy is?”

“Yes”, I rasped as breathlessly as when I thought Clare was trying to choke me to death, “YES!”

“But do you love it, Herman? Would you give anything to be it’s little slave?”

“Omigod, YES”, I exclaimed. The feelings she created were equal parts wonderful and excruciating.

“Do you want in, Herman”, Clare purred, licking her sexy lips to a moistened sheen, “Do you want to slide that big cock inside me? No one WOULD know, I promise. No one COULD know, you would have to SWEAR IT. Do you want to stop all this silly fighting and just fuck for a while? Do you SWEAR that this would be our dirty little secret forever and always?”

“Oh, yes”, I almost screamed passionately, “Please...YES! I swear! I swear it!!”

Clare weighted her finger on my bottom lip even more, prying my lips apart as she dipped the head of my cock back into her ever so torturously, incrementally more than before as she began to draw her lips near.

“Good boy, Herman....”, she whispered lustily, trailing off into a moan so subtle as to almost be imperceptible. She seemed to slide down into my shaft to that point of the razor’s edge where I thought she might be on the verge of take the entirety of my meat stick fully inside of her. Clare unravelled her legs from mine and rested with her knees outside my hips as she straddled me, without taking more of me inside her. I welcomed the sensation of something other than complete agony coursing through my legs and pushed forwards into her ever so slightly in order to underline my desire as her right fingers moved away from my lips and her hand slithered down my chin and neck until she rested her palm flatly on my left pectoral. My head tilted back as a guttural moan desperately crawled from the depths of my soul and escaped my lips. Clare’s breasts brushed against me and electricity crackled between us from that contact as I felt more of her weight shift into her right hand as she prepared to sink herself down into the full expanse of my turgidly throbbing member. We were BOTH ready for what we knew was coming next.

And then Clare’s knee slammed into me with the most crippling and incredibly cruel nut shot in the history of the universe. looking back, I guess one of us POSSIBLY didn’t know what was coming next. Obviously Clare was a maestro of chaos, with a fertile mind for killing by inches. In this case, a lot of inches felt as though they’d just been nuked.

On cue, Clare pivoted again, drowning my head in the full volume of her shapely and ruthlessly strong thighs as she crossed the front of her right ankle over the back of her left knee. Catching her left ankle in her right hand, Clare pulled back on her foot like it was a parking brake as she closed the chain and I found myself in a withering Reverse Figure Four Lock.

My face was thoroughly mashed into my tormentor’s ass and her alluring, obviously unavailable, but yet still about as “moist and delicious as a Betty Crocker cake” as ever pussy. While that might have been acceptable as a distraction, the crushing force that Clare could apply with her legs went well off any and all charts. My head splintered into a million shards of intense agony. The woman was an absolute savage even if that was somewhat belied by her aristocratic, English accent.

“You STUPID cock up”, she sneered, “Do you seriously think that I’m just some tawdry whore who only requires a simple FUCK?”

The answer was just SO obviously an absolute and resounding “YES”, but given her prominence over me in that specific moment, I didn’t see the point in debating, especially since her last knee to my balls made feel as though Clare had completely eradicated the core of my being and replaced it with a vacuous black hole of agony. I did have to admit that I loved hearing her spit out the word “FUCK” as she did in her high brow, English way. Her voice when she talked dirty was like verbal Viagra for me.

“Is this where you’re achy, luv?” Clare questioned while hauling in a robust mittfull of my ravaged scrotum and shaking it vigorously as I chafed between the vice grip her thighs, “I know you’re the adventurous sort as you were quite frisky with my hindquarters earlier on, but if you get even a little bit fresh, I’ll make sure your prodigious banger gets mashed and that I send you home with it as your carry on bag.”

So wonderfully descriptive and demented. was there any question that I loved her? Even so, while I wasn’t sure if it was good judgement on my part or just simple fear, I did pull my slightly protruding tongue — that I was in the midst of sending on an excursion — back into my mouth for the time being. Let’s just say that it seemed like a good call in that moment where Clare was grinding my brains into a morass of goo with her thighs. The very last thing I needed was to inflame her even more. Clare didn’t need the help, really. It was already obvious that she struggled with self-regulation where I was concerned.

It was at this time that I noticed that Clare seemed a bit distracted by her current proximity to my Ol’ Reliable, my Weaponized Custard Launcher. She seemed to have given up the ghost on ransacking my groin and was, instead, using her free hand to stroke my H.P. Loveshaft as though she was trying to coerce it to give her a raise at work. It was an odd thing to experience, being both terrified and thoroughly into as devious a woman as Clare at the same time, especially since history suggested that I always seemed to wind up with the girls who spent a lot of time both loving me and trying to kill me from time to time. That trait was generally a hard quality to describe on a profile for any garden variety dating site, to be sure, and was probably the reason why, other that a tight list of vetted and approved playmates, I tended to stick within a very monogamous and “accepting of my foibles” framework. Clare was definitely demonstrating an ability for growing a new kind relationship with my schlong and she did not hesitate to express her happiness with that by bearing down extra hard with her thighs around my head, making me see stars yet again while wondering if there was any chance that she might be able to pop my cranium as if it was a pimple.

“Fascinating”, Clare marvelled, “No matter what I do to you this thing still responds as if it has a hope in hell of being inside me. Your cock really is your true Mini-Me, even if it is a lot better looking.”

Of all the low blows that I’d absorbed on the afternoon, that one seemed like the most unfair. My little erotomaniac was clearly being defamatory. Clare, flush with a full of a sense of play for the moment, carried on by throwing small boxing jabs at the crown of my Purple Helmet of Doom, smacking it around as though she was sparring with a Weeble Wobble. Strangely, or maybe not, it was kind of hot, even with Clare trying to furnish me with matching imprints of her Sartorius muscles on the sides of my skull. I wondered if her interest in using my scrotum as a speed bag had waned. My answering came quickly as I felt the sharp sting of Clare flicking my left testicle with her middle finger. Clare’s laughter gurgled, sending ripples through her belly as she did, encouraging her to repeatedly fling my testicles, alternating between right and left without conscience. Good Christ, you only need to graze balls!

“Your cock seems like a perfect avatar for you, Herman”, Clare chortled, “Decent looking, quite tall and with enough girth to make a girl feel safe, but pretty weak once you get around your first impression and see all the baggage in behind it. Good God, man, your testies are like eggs!!”

Clare continued on with her flicking rampage, pausing intermittently to swat around my Womb Raider.

“Pick on someone your own size”, I mumbled, the sound of my voice surely muffled in the cavern of her crotch where I found myself.

“Oh aren’t we bold?” Clare retorted, “I thought maybe your cock was a little more up for the challenge at the moment than you were. He pops right back up when I whack him. You become a bit of a layabout when I knock you down, as much fun as that is. I think it is still up for discussion if playing with Mr. Bits and Bobs is more entertaining than knocking you about. He certainly has more personality — mostly because he knows to keep quiet — and while I’m willing to accept him wholeheartedly, you’re showing a little more cockiness than I’m willing to allow, Herman.”

Clare planted both of her hands on my hips and pushed back aggressively while releasing her Triangle Hold. As my head dropped to the mattress, that sight of her ass following in hot pursuit of my face quickly became the only thing that I saw until it blocked out all the light and I found myself being suffocated by an all-encompassing Ass Smother. Never one to leave well enough alone, Clare began lobbing in a series of body shots from her unchallenged position of authority, bruising my ribs and abdominals without any reprieve.

“Somehow, some way, I will teach you to be as quick with your manners as you are your tongue, my friend”, Clare lectured, ramping up the speed and ferociousness of her attack. Where originally I could somewhat guard against her ploy by flexing my abdominals, they were now beginning to weaken and with that I was once again completely defenceless against her. In parallel, my oxygen supply was becoming null and void. I wanted to plead for ASSylum, but currently had a mouthful of taint, eliminating the possibility. Just as the stars in my field of view were brightest and I thought I was verging on being unconscious, Clare’s otherwise lovely buttocks lifted and I gasped in what felt like the freshest air of my life. Never satisfied, Clare pulled my head up by my hair towards her butt crack, positioning my mouth up against the rosebud of her anus.

“Lick it”, she demanded, “Prove that you’re a champion of SOMETHING.”

I declined the offer with a firm counter of, “Fuck you, bitch!” Probably not the greatest idea in retrospect.

Clare responded by smashing her ass back down towards the mattress, using my head as both the emergency break and landing pad. Adjusting herself to where she was satisfied that she’d appropriately limited my supply of oxygen with her buttocks, Clare began pummelling me anew, this time drilling three to four power shots into an area of my torso before moving on to another. The only air that made its way in through the avalanche of ass that enveloped my face was incidental, as her momentum caused her to rock side to side as she delivered her strikes that drove any stolen breathe almost right back out of me. After what seemed like an eternity and with me hanging halfway over the brink of senselessness, Clare’s scintillating bum again lifted and I found my face being escorted back towards the Brown Star of Uranus via Clare’s strong grip on a handful of my hair at the top of my head while I gasped for any sundry breath while en route.

“One more chance to get it right, Herman”, she threatened, “Don’t disappoint me. Lick it!”

With no room for error let alone pride, I complied,. I gave Clare’s asshole a tongue bath as if it was a triple scoop cone of Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia ice cream. I was so steadfast and persistent that Clare couldn’t contain a lustful moan and even found herself grinding into my passionate licking and slobbering. One way or another I was in deep shit, maybe accepting my fate and working with the options provided me was the way to getting through the ordeal at hand. For how long I continued, I was unaware. I was spurred on by the hope of some eventual freedom and Clare’s rather throaty lamentations of pleasure. She was a freak. God I loved that.

As I continued, based on Clare’s chorus of moans, I was sure that I had her nearing a brink of her own, although her howling suggested that she was getting plenty of air. With one hand, she tugged aggressively at my hair with the other, she clutched my trouser snake and even made a few sporadic attempts at charming it by pumping it libidinously while she twerked her ass in my face in unison. But as I went for broke, striving with this only opportunity to lay her low, Clare tore my face from her delectable derriŤre and then fell forward across me while she panted like a dog in heat, straining to compose herself.

“Fucking bollocks” she exclaimed so breathlessly that you might have thought that she was the one who’d been locked away in the dungeon of another person’s ass, “Your a true prick, but you sure are a relentlessly talented prick in some ways.”

Clare rolled off me and lay on her back next to me with her head down by my knees and her left hand resting on my cock where she intermittently allowed herself the option of softly stroking it in an almost unconscious fashion, as though she didn’t recognize it as being a part of me. Clare slowly composed herself next to me with her right hand entwined in her damp locks, her face still flush. The sole of her right foot was positioned halfway up her left thigh and her right knee had fallen open as the she were doing the yoga Tree Pose on her back while her abs continued to rise and fall as she attempted to normalize her breathing.

“Fucking hell”, Clare cursed, still gripping and working my unit as though it were a plate of Beef Strokinoff. The room teemed with the cast of a scent that surely echoed intimacy and the scene of the two of us lying on our backs, drenched with sweat, breathless and with Clare somewhat away with the fairies while coincidently climbing up and down my King Dong with her hand like it was the Empire State Building probably would have filled in all the necessary blanks had there been anyone passing by. Thank heavens that we were lucky enough to be safely sheltered behind the key coded door of my suite, coddled in our private little den of iniquity.

That is until we heard her voice trembling with anger.

“Mummy...?!”

To be continued...

Last edited by HermanDG; 18-Jun-20 at 22:21.
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  #39  
Old 19-Jun-20, 12:24
baller2242 baller2242 is offline
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Default Re: August 2019 - A Summer Retreat

Fan-freaking-tastic!!! Another great installment with quite the enticing cliffhanger ending. I do hop you're able to find the time and inspiration to finish the next section soon because I'm certain many of us will be checking in frequently to see what turns this tale takes next.

Stay safe!
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Old 19-Jun-20, 18:13
HermanDG HermanDG is offline
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Default Re: August 2019 - A Summer Retreat

Quote:
Originally Posted by baller2242 [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
Fan-freaking-tastic!!! Another great installment with quite the enticing cliffhanger ending. I do hop you're able to find the time and inspiration to finish the next section soon because I'm certain many of us will be checking in frequently to see what turns this tale takes next.

Stay safe!
Thanks, man! I really appreciate the comment...
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