Sunday, October 13, 2013
Friday, September 06, 2013
Friday, April 05, 2013
You and your coworker Tanya have barely exchanged more than a few sentences of conversation in all of the years that you have shared office space. She reminds you of your fellow engineering students at UCLA who could barely speak English. During a flight to Minneapolis on business you watch surreptitiously as Tanya fills in every last blank space on the Sunday New York Times crossword puzzle. "She should have excellent oral skills." you think to yourself. A few minutes later, after taking a deep breath and summoning up your courage, you inquire about her recent holiday vacation. Tanya's eyes widen in surprise behind horn-rimmed glasses but she does respond to your query. Emboldened, you pose another question. And then another. Finally you have broken the ice and Tanya chats amiably during the rest of the journey. Much later she invites you to her hotel room for a nightcap. Upon entering suite 605 you notice a stack of silky, full-back panties lying on her bed. Is this some type of signal? Could you have melted the heart of your formerly frigid coworker so quickly? Apparently so.. soon Tanya is begging for sex and sucking on your cock like it's her favorite flavor of frozen popsicle..
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Sunday, March 24, 2013
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Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Pockets of iniquity still thrive amidst the rampant redevelopment of downtown Los Angeles. Around 8am on a grey Saturday morning an inconspicuous 1990s-era Honda cruises slowly down San Pedro Street, heading closer and closer to the once notorious Skid Row area. Its operator searches for a sign bearing the name of the long-defunct La Jolla Hotel. Facades of recently renovated buildings dominate the landscape although many of them still abut abandoned rooming houses and weed-strewn lots. After a halting, circuitous journey the visitor finally spots the decayed old sign looming above the barricaded entrance to a century-old, dark brick building. Despite the earliness of the weekend hour people are milling about on the sidewalks, carefully assessing each passerby who ventures into this quadrangle of rough turf. Gentrification has not yet reached the intersection of 6th and Stanford, but it will. The Honda rolls to a stop about one block past the former La Jolla Hotel. After shutting off the engine the driver surveys the grim surroundings, senses the presence of mostly invisible watchers. The humble appearance of the vehicle does not fool anyone. Longtime residents of the area know that cruel surprises almost always arrive in a seemingly innocuous manner. They wait patiently. The object of their scrutiny reclines in the front seat and takes an internal measure of the atmosphere while ruminating upon the checkered history of the La Jolla. Several decades earlier authorities had forced the closure of the business after three suspicious deaths had occurred on the premises. News of the untimely passings had neither made the headlines nor come to the attention of the general public, but the ensuing police investigation had given rise to a disconcerting rumor. The lead detective handling the La Jolla matter claimed that once-promising Hollywood actress Madelyn Porter was residing inside of the decrepit establishment. Barred from the film industry during the McCarthy era Porter had focused her considerable energies on creating a reputation as a mystic. Back in 1950 many acquaintances believed that she was researching means by which she could destroy the lives of those who had betrayed her. Since that time unconfirmed accounts of Madelyn's secretive, vengeful existence had become legendary, taking on momentum as the decades passed. Most recently, a maintenance crew on a routine inspection had reportedly encountered the former actress on the third floor of the condemned La Jolla building. Each of the spooked workers swore that she looked exactly the same as she had in the iconic publicity stills taken for her last film in 1949. Blinding flashes of light and powerful tremors had forced the men from the structure before they could confront her. Shortly thereafter city officials had deemed the La Jolla unsafe for entry and had slated it for demolition. The cassette player inside the Honda reaches the end of a tape and makes an abrupt clicking noise, jerking the driver back to the present reality. From a distance various observers see the front door of the vehicle slowly swing open. Its occupant steps onto the sidewalk, determined to gain access to the La Jolla and at long last put both Madelyn Porter and her legend to rest..
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Thursday, June 28, 2012
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Thursday, June 07, 2012
A friend just sent me this article about Taylor Stevens, a pornstar with whom I was unfamiliar. I started searching for her on the Net and was astounded by her dramatic transformation! Very impressive. She is a potential goldmine as a representative for any number of companies who specialize in weight loss.
Sunday, May 13, 2012
"Check into the Golden Poppy Motel on Friday afternoon." the message had instructed. "I will leave a key for you at the front desk." On the appointed day Tanya hears Chuck Berry crooning to her from a CD player as she enters Room #1 of the establishment. She finds another note next to the bed. It reads: "Take Waterview Way down to the beach and look for the old, abandoned lifeguard tower. You will see my footsteps in the sand. Follow them." The setting sun is bathing the coastline in its golden glow as Tanya arrives at the destination. Within moments she encounters the weather-beaten tower and a set of tracks which lead her straight into the arms of her waiting lover. Locked in a tight embrace the couple watches the last rays of daylight fall into the ocean. Stratified expanses of pink and orange clouds have materialized around them and soon, off in the distance, they see a faint crescent moon making its first appearance in the evening sky. The temperature drops dramatically. "Let's go back to the motel." Tanya suggests. "I want to take a long, hot shower and then give you one.."
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Sunday, April 08, 2012
Friday, April 06, 2012
Suburban housewife Tanya Hamilton spends the day at the mall with her daughter Alice. When they return home Alice accepts an invitation to go swimming in her friend's pool. Glad for some time to herself Tanya lies down for a nap. She tosses and turns restlessly for several minutes before deciding to read a book. To her chagrin she cannot find the latest Sue Grafton novel anyplace. Presuming that Alice must have taken it Tanya climbs out of bed and heads into her daughter's room. A surprising collection of old rock albums catches her attention and she squats down to examine them. "Alice listens to Foghat?" Tanya exclaims aloud. This proves to be only the first of several revelations that the staid Mrs. Hamilton will have about her daughter on this quiet afternoon. Mere moments later Tanya stumbles across Alice's cache of hardcore lesbian pornography. Her singed eyeballs spin inside of her head but the shocked mother can't seem to put down the offending material. Soon, with few qualms about the appropriateness of her actions, Tanya is feverishly masturbating herself to orgasm as she stares with burning intensity at four voluptuous women engaged in a no-holes-barred, Sapphic orgy. She cries out in ecstasy, not caring if the neighbors can hear her. When the waves of her first climax eventually subside Tanya gets her bearings. She reminds herself to slow down and take it easy. The melody of a dimly remembered tune begins playing in her head as she contemplates her next move. It takes her just a few minutes to gather up a sizable chunk of her daughter's porn collection. She smiles at the women on the covers of the magazines as she returns to the master bedroom. "I'm in the mood, the rhythm is right.. " she sings in a voice full of joyful anticipation. "Let's move to the music, we can roll all night.. "
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Tanya Danielle lies in her bed completely unaware of the presence of an intruder who has entered the room. She drifted off after returning from a long shopping trip with her daughter. The uninvited guest creeps across the carpet. He stares at her for a few long minutes. Unexpectedly Tanya begins to stir. Perhaps she somehow senses the rapt attention being focused upon her and a primal instinct compels her to wake up. The visitor silently slips away. When Tanya fully awakens she has no idea that anyone has violated her privacy or gained access to her home.. (Sleep fetishists will love the prolonged shots of the defenseless Tanya as she rests in her bedroom, oblivious to the world.)
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Thursday, March 01, 2012
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
The omnipresent Mrs. Johnson oversees her pleasant suburban neighborhood with a combination of bitterness, disapproval, and anger. None of the local residents can understand how she persuaded the owner of the corner market, Apu, to let her start working behind the counter at his shop. Many people now avoid the place during her shifts. Unlike her sensitive neighbors blithe, friendly Tanya Danielle has no intention of allowing Mrs. Johnson to interfere with her daily routine. Each morning she bounces into the store with a smile on her face and a gleam in her eye. Mrs. Johnson glowers unabashedly as the comely blonde prepares coffee and brings it to the register. On January 12, 2012 Mrs. Johnson surprises Tanya by smiling at her while she counts out her change. Wonders never cease. After returning home Tanya reflects on the incident as she sips her freshly made beverage. It takes a few minutes but she gradually becomes aware that the java drink tastes slightly different than usual. Much later - long after her body has frozen permanently into a statue - Tanya realizes that the redoubtable Mrs. Johnson must have slipped a chemical agent into her coffee.. Will Tanya's body remain frozen for all of eternity? Exactly who will be the person to discover her in this petrified, defenseless state?? Watch Frozen Latte at DeviantDownloads.com to find out now!
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Sunday, December 11, 2011
"Didn't you see the posted signs?" the stern officer demands. You are completely speechless. She glares at you through her mirrored shades. No words come out when you open your mouth to speak. "The maximum speed limit on this street is 30 miles per hour. You blew past me like a bat out of Hell." How do you respond to someone who is making no sense? Is she confusing you with another motorist? You quickly glance around the immediate area and find it to be deserted, just like it was ten minutes ago when you stopped here to eat your lunch. "How could you miss me parked right there on my motorcycle?" she asks contemptuously. "I was clocking your speed." She was on a motorcycle? In that uniform? Without giving you a chance to respond the officer orders you to slide into the passenger seat. She jumps behind the wheel and commandeers your 1973 Ford Pinto. "I'm taking you into the station." she snarls as she floors the accelerator with her high-heeled boot. The Pinto coughs and sputters and you go lurching down the street with this obviously deranged, scantily clad cop. Upon arrival at headquarters she jerks you from the car, handcuffs you, and leads you into the building. Oddly, - or perhaps not, considering how your day seems to be going - the squad room has boarded-up windows and looks nearly abandoned. The officer propels you down a long, labyrinthine hallway until you find yourself inside of a surprisingly comfortable, well-appointed room. After chaining you to a leather couch she says: "Let me introduce myself. I am Lieutenant Danielle. Some refer to me as the 'Bad Lieutenant'. I have a special way of dealing with the scofflaws who pafss through my town." The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Your mind seems to detach itself from the present circumstances. Lieutenant Danielle sneers at your obvious discomfiture and begins unbuckling her belt. From a great distance a welcome sense of relief slowly infiltrates your consciousness as you realize that she is carrying no weapons other than her sharp tongue and a lascivious gleam in her eye..
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