What a good boy…Chapter 13

Chapter 13

I walk to class with Gwen and Sophie and she’s so looking at me. Gwen does this side shift and then I’m walking between these two hot girls. Sophie’s looking at me as we head in from the halls to the cafeteria and Sophie’s getting us coffee’s while Gwen is getting some fresh cookies. The caf makes cookies in the morning and sells them all day but they’re best when they’re done in the morning.

What a good boy… Chapter 5.

Chapter 5

I help mom with supper and help out with making the salad. Mom’s a really healthy eater and we do a lot of veggies and not just salads. But tonight we’re making chicken breast rolled in cream of mushroom soup and then Shake and Bake and put in the oven.

The salad’s actually good stuff or I think it is mixed greens that they sell in the plastic boxes and a dressing of olive oil and avocado with lime juice in the blender then we stir in really small diced cucumber in it and the pistachio nuts for crunchy stuff.

It was colder than he had expected, the sleet steadily hardening into snow, but Ken had endured worse. There was a hedgerow running between two of the fields which he thought might work for the night, and part of it looked to be hazel, or at least something with similar leaves, which the shrub had clung to despite the nastiness of the late Autumn and Winter. It had all looked so simple when he was little, the Boy Scout books almost rhapsodising about hatchets and straight staffs as a ridge pole, but walking around with an axe these days would get him lifted by the plod in no time.

She stopped pacing, put her phone down and looked at me. “He’ll be here. But . . . I’m ready, if he doesn’t make it.”

Michel and Delphine returned to their Devon retreat by train later that afternoon. It had been a long day. Neither of them was in the mood for much small-chat on the train.

Despite the latest episode with her daughters coming to an end, Delphine was still pretty down in the dumps. She would not admit it but the attempt by her daughters to have her declared unfit to manage her life hit her very hard. The effect of seeing them face to face in Verity’s Office was very real and impossible to brush off. Michel was there with her all the way but he knew that it was going to take some time for his wife to return to anywhere near normal.

Part Four

The next few minutes were another blur of ‘logic.’

Not only was Chris outnumbered, but girls just had a way of explaining things and connecting points in a way that made it nearly impossible to undo layers stacked against him. He was already wearing panties, so there wasn’t a lot of harm in wearing them for a little while longer. And it clearly made Amy ‘feel better,’ so going along with it meant being a good cousin. Besides, boys shouldn’t be scared of wearing pink. And on, and on, and on.

Author's Note: First time posting on here! Please let me know if I'm breaking any rules in regards to sharing links below. And hope you enjoy the first part of one of my currently ongoing stories. Once I get used to the format on this site, I'll start posting the rest of the available parts!

Part One

Panties.

The party was sprawling down the lawn towards the harbor, splashes of bright colors against blue skies, scudding white clouds and a crystal clear view of the Boston skyline. It reminded me of the dream I had taken across the threshold into morning. It had been years since I had seen that dreamscape, but there it was, whole and healed and perfect: me, making a graceful dive from a wooden pier into a deep, pristine lake, surrounded by snow-capped mountains, pine forests and the clearest air in the world. Wearing a lime-green one-piece and curves that were, finally, all my own.

“Two pints of the Skull Attack, a Guinness, a Carling and a Carling top”

“Lemon or lime?”

“Lime. You new at this, son?”

Though the might of his right arm was already legend, it was not by battle prowess that Sigurd held his men steady in the face of a boiling sea of fearsome creatures, of horrors that would freeze the blood of the most bold.

Another nap another story... darn muses.

I'd just finished combing our daughter Cherry's hair, parting her hair on her left side, and now I stood back from her, hands on her shoulders. "You make a handsome, elegant picture," I told Cherry, with all the pride of a father. My wife, Brianna, was making the finishing touches on her hair, tucking it under to give it a light androgynous impression.