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Invitation To Live PDF

176 Pages·2011·1.19 MB·English
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INVITATION TO LIVE Copyright © 2010 Max Ibach All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Carnal Desires Publishing, a division of Double Dragon Publishing Inc., Markham, Ontario Canada. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from Carnal Desires Publishing. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. A Carnal Desires Publishing eBook Published by Double Dragon Publishing, Inc. PO Box 54016 1-5762 Highway 7 East Markham, Ontario L3P 7Y4 Canada http://www.double-dragon-ebooks.com http://www.double-dragon-publishing.com ISBN-10: 1-55404-783-8 ISBN-13: 978-1-55404-783-3 A DDP First Edition October 1, 2010 Book Layout and Cover Art by Deron Douglas INVITATION TO LIVE Max Ibach Chapter One Not much going on today, Sheila Robinson thinks to herself as she pushes the vacuum cleaner around the house. She has a fetish for doing housework naked – a preference that got her laid a lot when Lenny was living with her. If she wanted sex, all she had to do was put on the stilettos and work commando around the apartment. Seeing her naked could divert Lenny from the best basketball game ever played. She would intentionally work in the next room from where he lay sprawled in his recliner. Her performance was best done where only the occasional glimpse was afforded him. The sight of a kinky naked woman pushing a vacuum in high heels would bring Lenny at a high lope. Just a passing glimpse would give him an instant throbbing erection that required her immediate attention. When he came to her for sex, he would be naked and clutching himself. After his initial presentation, Sheila would take over. What followed would be most of the ways there are for adults to misbehave. The thought of her giving him the ultimate lover’s kiss would immediately place him at her mercy. Past cock-tending memories would make him ready for anything she wanted to do to him. Lenny Johnson’s idea of sex involved nothing more than fellatio. His instrument of full erotic arousal also included being restrained as a necessary feature. She preferred using standard police handcuffs. Sheila was always willing to give him what he wanted, but for him to be properly flammable Mister Lenny Johnson required bondage. If she didn’t bring the cuffs, he would willingly go and find them for her. The mere sight of the cuffs would starch his cock to its maximum muscular thickness so quickly the event would frequently give him a headache. If Sheila didn’t want to clean house naked, all she had to do was bring the handcuffs into a room and show them to him. The sight of the manacles would prepare Lenny for everything that was to follow. Any form of restraint would guarantee her Lenny’s preferred form of sex in near record time. Sitting on his face would frequently turn into an hour-long lust-fest before she would allow him fulfillment. Her most favored form of tending him involved rationing herself to him. Sometimes summoning the sperm factory would find her kneeling in a room and calling his name. Either clothed or unclothed, all she had to do was show him either the thigh/wrist restraints or the cuffs to get what she wanted. Finding her kneeling anywhere in the house would turn his cock to spring-steel density in a heartbeat. He loved for her to talk to his cock between slithering applications of her tongue stud. Licking his stones required mercy, if she expected him to last very long. Without mercy, Lenny Johnson would lose control and come almost immediately. On this day, the memories of lust with the long departed Lenny Johnson crowded her mind. Sheila has decided to sit naked at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee while reading the morning paper. Later she will have to head out on assignment to cover more of the idiotic political scene in the city. In a week, the elections will require her to fly somewhere to cover more of the national pre-election crap. Sheila hates politics almost as much as she hates politicians. With reading the morning paper foremost on her mind, she heads for the apartment door leading into the hallway. Every morning she customarily leans outside unnoticed to retrieve the paper. No need to fetch a robe – she just extends an arm without anyone’s noticing. She cracks the door and has a look. The damned newspaper is further along the baseboard than usual. She sticks her head out to have a look around. Nobody is anywhere in sight. It’s about an hour before people begin leaving for work. The next time she tries the retrieval, she puts more of herself outside than she originally thought would be necessary. The paper remains just out of reach. She can touch the end of the roll, but not enough to grab the thing. Dammit, this is not working out the way I had hoped it would. She stretches a little further without success. In fact, her extended fingers push the local news rag another half-inch further away from her. She takes another look along the corridor. Still nobody. Sheila leans more dramatically out through the gap in the door this time. In her new position, she would be fully revealed, with the exception of her left foot. Her elongated position would make her visible to any voyeur who happens to enter the hallway. She considers for an instant what she looks like in her bunny rabbit slippers, with sun-stroked golden hair and eyes the color of glacier ice. Her appearance speaks of wooden shoes, dikes, and windmills in a far land. She has been told before that she radiates animalistic sexual heat even when she is fully clothed. One man she dated claimed she looked like a bedroom, no matter how she dressed. She studies the newspaper problem through the door opening again before moving a little further out. She finally does a dramatic stretch that would have made her yoga instructor proud. As her palm encounters the end of the roll, the door nudges her slipper-shod foot aside. The door closes with a latching sound that has a finality to it that she is not likely ever to forget. She turns like a cornered rat to clutch at the thoroughly locked doorknob. At first, there is a quiet astonishment before full panic sets in. The entire time she fights with the door, she whimpers over her latest lot in life while jerking frantically on the knob. Sheila now stands cloaked only in overpowering personal terror. She glances feverishly both ways along the hallway. The only way back inside the apartment is either to call the Super to come let her in, or as a last resort, ride the elevator down three floors where she will have to walk boldly to the front desk to beg assistance. Of course the elevator will shortly be fully stocked with people on their way to work. Riding the system with other individuals while traveling naked would be an edifying experience. She again rattles the door with no hope of access. At the moment, hopelessness has yet to fully establish its atmospheric foothold. Her first thought is that there’s no way she is going to willingly make the dramatically embarrassing trip to the front desk naked. Doing that would create the most disconcerted tale of a lifetime. It would be recorded in all the local diaries as the day when the dumb blonde reporter locked her nude self out of her apartment. If anyone were to come along with a camera, she would most likely make the local five o’clock news. While she considers her situation with more than a glimmer of self-awareness, she jerks again on the offending doorknob. By now she is displaying wide-eyed terror. In a flash she mentally turns into a trapped rat frantically trying to return to her burrow. Almost as though it’s been scripted, she hears the door behind her unlatch. Sheila turns just her head in time to see Nick Blackstock step out of his apartment. He’s obviously on his way to work. Nick is probably of Italian descent with a shock of black hair and the build of a weight-lifting aficionado. Sheila has watched him at the apartment complex pool, making Olympic quality dives from the high board. The man is built like a Greek god. He wears a narrow white Speedo when he dives. Every time she’s seen him at the pool, she has wanted to grab his crotch and lead him to her apartment as though he is a trailer attached to a hitch. She’s never even heard his voice, but no matter. She lusts for him the way a junky lusts for his next fix. While Nick did those rolling, twisting, heart throbbing dives, desire filled her as though a rose was suddenly turning from a bud to a full blossom within her pelvis. The first time she saw him dive, she wanted him in her before he ever struck water. A man built like Nick is more than inspirational. His narrow white swimsuit is not much larger than a swimmer’s jock. At the moment, all she can think of is him dressed that way as she turns to face her fate. She stands frozen in place as they stare at each other. He puts forth a hand as he announces, “Hi, I’m Nick Blackstock. I don’t believe I’ve met you.” “Not now, you idiot!” she wails in panic. “Get me out of the hall before someone sees me!” His eyes crawl over her body with more than incidental interest. She has a distinct feeling that she’s about to hand out a free ass pass to her orgasm mine in order to get out of the hall. She makes no effort to screen her nakedness from him. There’s no arm across her breasts, no hand cupping her hairless mons. Her Brazilian muff cut is gloriously on display. The aesthetician had worked on her yesterday, so the wax job is as fresh as possible. She stands momentarily with her arms behind her where her hands still clutch the knob. She suddenly turns again to grapple in vain with the door. It’s entirely obvious to him that she’s been walking around naked inside her apartment. Very soon, it’s going to be apparent to anyone walking past that she relishes nudity. At the moment, reading the morning paper is the furthest thing from her mind. Sheila is currently an individual at odds with her shattered early morning dream. She decides that Nick is probably the same as Lenny. By now, his cock has assumed the rigidity of a concrete reinforcing rod. His package seems to have grown alarmingly in the last three seconds. She imagines his sex engine pulsing

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Most books are stored in the elastic cloud where traffic is expensive. For this reason, we have a limit on daily download.