Half-Time Oranges - Secret Narrative - ebook

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.

Ebooka przeczytasz w aplikacjach Legimi na:

czytnikach certyfikowanych
przez Legimi

Liczba stron: 67

Odsłuch ebooka (TTS) dostepny w abonamencie „ebooki+audiobooki bez limitu” w aplikacjach Legimi na:


Half-Time Oranges

Six Sexy Shorts


Secret Narrative

Half-Time Oranges

Half-Time Oranges

Six Sexy Shorts

Copyright, Secret Narrative, 2014

The right of Secret Narrative to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988. All rights reserved

Cover Image Copyright

© Vitorta | Dreamstime.com

Designed by, https://www.fiverr.com/ilgeorgiev



This book contains strong language and sexually explicit content that some readers may find offensive and which is unsuitable for persons under the age of 18.

Half-Time Oranges


Sample of Sin

Red Bonds

The Velvet Vice

Ice and Lace

Half-Time Oranges

Daisy’s Peeper

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.

She brought my bill, which I paid in cash, lavishly tipping her personally, as well as pressing my business card into her hand.

“Phone me, please. Tonight, at the end of your shift. I must see you in private.”

“Very well, sir.” She smiled. Heavily accented but impeccable English sounded delightful. Her shiny red lips stretched over cute teeth and made my cock leap in my pants as I imagined those lips encircling my shaft.

I walked slowly back to my hotel and went straight up to my room, desperate not to be seen and collared by anyone from work. If she called me, I’d find a way of getting her into the hotel and my room. After that, I intended to fuck her until we were both raw and sore.

I must have fallen asleep, I’m fucked if I know how because I was rampant, it must have been the brandy. Anyway, my ringing mobile woke me. I checked the number, delighted it wasn’t a colleague or my wife, I answered.

Her perfect English announced her name.

Iris agreed to come up to my room. “I will be there in ten minutes,” she told me, saying it was no problem in the anonymous hotel.

I gave her my room number and counted out some cash, leaving it on the bedside table. Although aware of a genuine mutual attraction, I’m not stupid; sure that Iris supplemented her income as a working girl.

At her light knock, I jumped up to let her in, surprising myself with a surge of nerves. I’d taken the precaution of phoning my wife to say goodnight, telling her that I needed to sleep because I had a big presentation the next day. Not a total lie. Anyway, I rarely felt guilty feeding my ever-present, rampant need to get my end away as often as possible.

“Do we need to negotiate?” I asked.


Iris listed her many and varied services.

I intended to indulge myself and counted out sufficient Euros to access all areas before handing the notes over, watching while she tucked the wad snugly into her bag.

Soon she was kneeling in front of me, unbuckling my trousers.

She unzipped my fly, expertly releasing my cock, before tugging at my trousers and pants. I allowed them to fall down past my knees but didn’t make any effort to step out of them. I was still wearing my socks and felt that I’d look stupid if I took my trousers off.

Iris sucked, licked, and gobbled my cock, alternating with her mouth and both hands, rolling my balls expertly and gently in her fingers, occasionally investigating my anus with a digit. I stood, head tilted back, revelling in the sensations making all my joints feel fizzy as my orgasm approached. I spunked into her mouth and watched her swallow in one gulp. Before I’d had time to recover, she took advantage of my weakened state and pushed me back onto the bed.

“Get undressed. Take everything off.”

I quickly removed my clothes and reclined naked on the bed. I surveyed her whole appearance for the second time that night. Little had changed since I first set eyes on her in the restaurant with the exception of her shoes. She had replaced the flats with a superb pair of stilettos.