Half-Time Oranges


[bondage, bdsm, voyeurism, ff, anal sex, stranger sex]

“Half-Time Oranges” is a collection of six sexy short stories by Secret Narrative. This anthology includes the popular stories: Sample of Sin, Red Bonds, The Velvet Vice, Ice and Lace, Half-Time Oranges, and Daisy’s Peeper.

Please note: These stories were published previously with the title: Erotic Blossoms, and are unsuitable for readers under the age of 18.


Excerpt taken from: Sample of Sin
      My name is Phil, and I’m addicted to sex. I’m telling you because I can’t tell anyone else. Film stars and other people in the public eye announce their issues with sex addiction, usually only after they’ve been caught with their pants down. I’m not like that, and it’s not why I’m here, I’m writing this because I hope the details of my latest encounter will excite you.
      It makes my cock rock hard thinking about it. I doubt I’ll get to the end of my story without needing relief, perhaps you’ll join me?
      I have been married for nearly twenty years, I say nearly because I can never remember the exact year, and certainly not the date. I get away with it though. In spite of thinking she’s being cryptic, my wife drops hints so blatant I’d have to be a complete idiot not to catch on. I’m many things, as you’ll discover if you continue to read, but an idiot isn’t one of them.
      Anyway, fact is, I have been married about nineteen years too long.
      We’d barely made it to our first wedding anniversary before I buried my cock into a cunt other than my wife. Since then, it has been dipped into so many cunts and mouths that I’ve lost count. Luckily, work takes me away from home on a regular basis. I’m able to indulge my greatest pleasure; fucking, licking and slurping as many lovely hot cunts as I can get my aching cock and delving tongue into.
      Recently, I had to attend a conference abroad, held in a hotel in a city in Northern Europe. The details are unimportant so I won’t waste time on them. On the third night of the conference, I finished late. The others had already gone to dinner but having been in my suite preparing for a presentation (more banal details that I won’t go into) I’d have to eat alone. I didn’t fancy the hotel restaurant, and as I was free for the night, decided to explore the immediate area.
      I discovered a bar with a restaurant attached, accessed by way of steps leading down from the street into a basement. It looked unremarkable from the outside, but on reaching the lower level, large glass doors revealed a bar, a small dance floor, lounge and dining area. The latter had a busy sectioned off room behind glass doors for smokers. Smoking is popular in the city, more so than in my hometown. I don’t smoke, so the waiter sat me in the outer area, took my drink order, left a menu, and disappeared.
      My drink appeared on a tray held by a stunning, mature woman. Her perfume arrived a millisecond before she placed my drink in front of me and stood back to take my order. I was momentarily speechless with lust but listed my requirements and watched her fine arse wiggle away from my table. I absorbed every detail, black skirt, in a shiny fabric, which stopped at her knees. A pristine white blouse, buttoned up the front, a frill at the low neck, decorated with a large brooch, inviting my eyes, as if they needed further enticement, to her breasts. They swelled inside the blouse creating an impressive cleavage, stretching the white material, which gaped slightly. The effect might have appeared tacky on some women, but on her, it was mind-blowingly sexy.
      I could tell that she was wearing stockings because seams decorated the length of the back and the tight skirt revealed the outline of her suspender buttons. The seamed nylon disappeared at her foot into flat shoes. She wore a traditional frilled apron tied at the waist. Her mid-length hair was dyed a vibrant, rich, warm brown and was tied back in a black ribbon, which itself had been tied into a bow.
      I could not take my eyes off her as she moved around the room serving other diners and strung out my own meal as long as possible. I ordered dessert and coffee that I didn’t really want, drank more brandy than usual and put off asking for the bill until she passed by my table so that I could speak to her. We made a lot of eye contact as the evening progressed and not just customer service type. I was certain that the woman gliding around the room on a cloud of femininity was interested in me.

Word Count: 13,451

  • Manufactured by: Secret Narrative

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