Modeling

Welcome back, everyone, or for the first time! Again, sincere apologies for the gap between chapters. Real life has once again gotten completely out of hand. This chapter is longer by a stretch than the others, and has a lot of build-up and exposition before the naughty bits at the end. That being said, Chapter Seven will be very heavy on the action and erotica, and lighter on the plot. As usual, a little bit of non-narrative description before we jump in: this is a world where "settled peoples" would probably never travel more than a day's walk from the place they were born. Even nomads or herders like Leotie's people would tread the same trails and paths following game or pasture generation after generation. The idea of one city-state marching an army over the hills to conquer another one and then trying to govern the conquered territory is absolutely a new and unfamiliar concept for these peoples. So too, is a journey like the one Kiravi has embarked on, or a pro

[This is a story about Injection fetish. If you've never read those two words in that sequence and don't know what it is, this is going to be boring for you. You've been warned.] +I appreciate all feedback. Better if it's direct. +All characters are 18+. *** It was a regular Monday at the college. I was having a very bland lunch in the canteen when the screen of my phone lit up. A WhatsApp text from Ayesha. I quickly opened it. "I'm finally back in Mumbai. And I'm craving some vitamins. (Winky Face Emoji 2x)" "Finally! Something good on a bloody Monday!" I thought to myself. Ayesha was a fellow Injection Fetishist. We met a year ago. I was in my third year of medical degree and at the time was interning at a small clinic. Ayesha was a junior college student who lived right next to the clinic and often visited the clinic for common illnesses. I was interning as an assistant to the doctor and had met Ayesha on a few occasions. The clinic was

--//-- Part One --//-- It was a slow night. An achingly slow night. Not that we're ever exactly thriving but tonight was an exception. I had a couple come through and buy some lube about an hour ago, and now there was a singular dude who was inspecting the whole damn store with a bewildered expression. I wondered how he found himself here- it's almost like he had no idea he was walking into a sex shop when he walked up the stairs. He was picking things up and inspecting them, and dropping them like they burnt him as he worked out what they were. It was kind of funny to watch actually. He kept checking his phone and sighing. I guess he was killing time. I guess when the only things open at this time of night are bars, us, and the haunted house next door, perusing a sex store isn't the worst way to keep you occupied. He glanced up at me after almost an hour of investigation and gave me a weird look I couldn't decipher. Usually I read people pretty well. Most of them a

A week after Xavier's return from vacation during the winter break, he had achieved his burning ambition to be selected for the college athletics team during his freshman year itself. After a gala ceremony announcing the results of various teams, including athletics, the previous evening, he had returned to his off-campus digs and gone directly to his landlady's mansion as per her request. It had been a heady night when they had both imbibed a fair amount of whiskey, she had peed on his face, given him a bath, taught him how to insert a butt-plug into her arse, given him a blowjob and swallowed his cum, and also allowed him to finger her to a climax. He had then fallen asleep on her bed in the mansion that she, former princess Lady Gayatri Laxmi, occupied while he tenanted in her outhouse. The next morning, Xavier awoke at 5 o'clock as was his wont. He briefly relived the events of the previous evening as he lay in the Lady's bed, eyes open, facing the wide glass door

It has been a few years presently, we attended the nudist camp whenever we could, and my modest wife has succumbed to the enjoyment of the camp. The freedom she felt was evident in her happier disposition after we came home from the camp. Becky also liked the attention she received from the males at the camp. She reluctantly modeled nude at first for an art group I was part of. She has since become accustomed to be the only nude female in a group of male artists. We were close to forty when the next chapter of our life started with an ad for a female model. The advertiser would pay twenty-five dollars an hour for the model. This was at the time the internet was not prevalent in our lives. I just arrived home from work, my wife came over and gave me a kiss with a paper in her hand. "I was looking through the paper you brought home and there is an ad for a female model. They will pay twenty-five dollars an hour. What do you think, should I call and find out about it?" "It