Prologue:
Hi, my name is Sasha Anderson. I just turned 12 years old last week. I'm
four foot ten inches tall, and almost 90 pounds. You may have seen photos
of me on the internet. I am a contestant in America's Hottest Teen
Transsexual Pageant, under 13 category. It's an online beauty pageant for
young transgirls. Some nasty people online have accused my mom of setting
me on the path of being a TS porn star and escort. But it's way more
complicated than that. This is a path that I choose for myself. She

She knew how to treat him -- exactly as he deserved.

Mrs Bennet and the Body in the Library

By Susannah Donim

In between performances, Holly takes Michelle out for dinner.

Chapter Six – Mrs Bennet in 2021

“I really enjoyed that,” said Sheila back in the dressing room after our half hour (OK, forty minutes) synopsis of Miss Austen’s five-hundred-page novel. “You were all really good. You must be so proud of Holly.”

I remembered the night she threw me out. I had worn her sexiest underwear. She hadn’t worn it for years, so one of us may as well use it. I was half way through clipping my stockings to my suspenders when she came in. I thought she would be out seeing her friend until 10.30 at least.

“I bloody knew it, you little queer. You couldn’t leave it alone could you. Well you can bugger off. I want a real man.”

I don’t know if I want this? I’m on my back in his large double bed. I taste my smeared lipstick and smell my Eternity perfume. He loves it which is why I wear it.

He looks down at me with an expression of lust and dominance.

“Baby, you’ve got me so dammed hard. You’re perfect.”

I awoke to feel him pushing himself into me. I was on my front. I drew my head up by pulling my elbows up under my breasts.

“Uhhh, please, not so hard.”

He drove his cock back into me knocking the breath out of me.

“You know you love it rough.”

No, I thought, you love it rough. I still had a little lube in me from when he spent himself inside me last night.

“Please Martin, it hurts.”

Sawyer is a young financial analyst in New York City tasked with profiling the fashion industry for his firm's investors. He's landed a meeting with renown fashion designer Greyson Oliver over dinner, much to his wife's chagrin. But after dinner, while touring the couture house's studio, Sawyer's life is forever changed when he comes across a special set of couture gowns…

This is my take on a Poco song from 1976 . Please give it a listen. I find it insanely catchy. It's about a woman called Rose Dunn in the old west.

Roll along, roll on
Rose of Cimarron
Dusty days are gone
Rose of Cimarron

Rose stood there staring out of her window, She was wearing a long black dress and was tightly corseted. She wasn't expecting any visitors, but liked to look presentable. Just in case.

When she discovers her boyfriend's infidelity, a woman plans a most devious revenge.

Genesis of a Contented Housewife

Sylvia sat in a hardback folding chair with her face towards the bright sun, enjoying the warm spring afternoon. She was generally at peace with the world as she had just enjoyed a delightful lunch and had had the opportunity to renew her friendship with an old and dear friend. She was feeling mellow, aided by three glasses of a gold medal-winning California Chardonnay.

The Offer Part 3 A Woman's Reality?

I have proof read this, but there may be some mistakes. Please forgive these.
The formatting seems to have gone strange. The preview looks fine , but it is giving narrow paragraphs.
I will try to fix it.

That night in bed, he was energetic with her again. She lay there,
Feeling sorry for herself.

"I can see I'm going to have to remind you what you are more often"

He rolled off her and dozed off.

She lay awake wondering what he meant.

Tom didn’t know why he booked the appointment.

It had been over two years since he last cut his hair. At first it was laziness. Then pride. And then… something else. He never said it aloud, but he liked how it looked in the mirror. How it felt. How it moved. Especially after brushing. The glide, the shine—it stirred something.

But now he was standing in a boutique salon, pretending he was ready to chop it all off.

A single chair. No receptionist. Just her.

The stylist looked up from her phone and froze.

“…Wow.”

The doctor looked at the chart, "Well, you'll be glad to know, there's nothing wrong with your heart. You've just spent too long not eating right and sitting behind a desk. I'd say you should start with walking, stretching, warm up exercises, calisthenics, and only then try something more strenuous."

I developed a much closer bond with my Mom after our special “mother-daughter” time together.

On the following Sunday morning, I came downstairs early, knowing that she would be preparing a big breakfast while my father and younger brothers slept.

She was lost in thought and clearly surprised to see me so early, and I startled her a bit.

“Goodness!” She exclaimed. “Oh, Good morning, Honey Bunny!”

“Morning Mom…I was wondering if I could help you get everything ready for our breakfast this morning?”

Originally posted 2005/02/01

Remember how courteously inefficient all that old correspondence by snail mail used to be? It often seemed as if you would never be able to get anything straightened out by dealing with people who weren't even reading your letters...

Gentlemen;

“The parody is the last refuge of the frustrated writer. Parodies are what you write when you are associate editor of the Harvard Lampoon. The greater the work of literature, the easier the parody. The step up from writing parodies is writing on the wall above urinals.” - Ernest Hemmingway.

“Turnabout is fair play.” — Angela Rasch

The following parody has many references to Cary Grant and his movies. . .above and beyond the obvious. Should you get bored with this story, or if the story runs against your grain. . .use it as a puzzle. . .try to pick out all those references.

This story also contains several un-attributed quotes. We apologize for trying to be someone or something we’re not. We suspect the nature of the story supports this decision.

The next couple weeks leading up to the book report were pretty normal, aside from my new wardrobe options. As the day I would make my debut as Annie Oakley at school drew nearer, I started to anticipate the event and harbored a mix of anxiety, excitement, and hope that my decision to go “all-in” would be well received. As I finished typing up my report, I had a little bit of trouble concentrating as I thought about all of this, but ultimately buckled down and got it done.

Mom had me practice my presentation with her, and even gave me a few pointers.