Room 2D

Short and sweet, from Blushes 11 Long summer evening; the sun’s heat through the day has made the atmosphere up in the loft room warm and humid. Laura hears him downstairs, taking his time  —  she kneels on that chair and tugs her knickers up so that her bottom will be ready for one or other of those things in his horrible box. Fresh-bared skin feels sweat-damp in the still air. He usually likes to have her like that, although sometimes  — ‘Hope you’ve got your knickers down, Laura!’  —  his voice from the foot of the steep stairs. ‘Y-yes  — ’   she calls, and slips her pants down quick as she can before his head appears at floor level at the top of the steps. Warm slidey moistness as the tugged-up tightness between her cheeks pulls from between the chubby snugness of her buttocks. ‘Now then, young lady  — ’ Laura gulps miserably, and pushes her ‘naughty little bottom’ out with uninte...

Five more illustrations by Hardcastle from the Contents pages of Janus magazine. From Janus 78. Beating the bass. From Janus 79. Testing the surface. From Janus 80. Self-flagellation. From Janus 81. A Pretty Penance — a humiliating journey on the Tube. From Janus 82. “Right listeners, can you guess what this sound effect is…”

From Blushes Supplement 22 Today, just after lunch, I saw young Sally down by the old man's shed. Just hanging around I think. I watched her from my allotment, over the hedge. It must be a good ten years or so since they moved into the village. She's a good-looking girl, no doubt about that. Lovely shoulder-length curls of reddish hair, bobbing around as she turns her head this way and that. And she's grown quite tall since her earlier teenage years. I wondered what she was doing, on her own, down by the shed. She definitely looked uneasy as though she hoped no-one was watching. She couldn't see me, though I was so close I swear I could feel her perfume on the sultry warm air. She was looking for something. First she stretched up, feeling along near the top of the door, and I saw her nipples pressing out against the taut material of her tee-shirt. I must confess I've often wondered what she looks like. I mean, ...

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From Uniform Girls 8 It was a rather damp and muggy Autumn afternoon. Earlier, the ground had been filled with excited, enthusiastic kids running, jumping, throwing a variety of objects, or simply horsing around. By and large, they were unsupervised. Technique was at a discount. Being there and doing something energetic was all. That was the reason, reflected Herb Wainwright, why British athletics, on the international scene, was in such an abysmal state. We got ecstatic about winning a bronze, very excited about coming fourth or fifth, even gratified if one of our team reached a final. It wasn’t good enough in his view. The Americans, the Russians, the Germans were out to  win . Coming second or third was considered a failure. That was the difference. Britain, in this present age, lacked the true competitive spirit. Herb gazed around the near-deserted ground. Hurdles had been left lying on the track, javelins lay like cas...

A story from Janus 47 by R T Mason Albert Higginson, staring intently, made muttered sounds of stern disapproval. It shouldn’t be allowed; it was disgraceful; it was a pity there wasn’t some kind of  law  against it. One might ask, if it upset him so much, why Albert had to  look . He could have been doing something else, various things, rather than staring so intently out from behind his bedroom curtains. And if the sight angered him so much why was he using his bird-watching binoculars, to magnify and clarify every detail? What Albert was gazing at with such concentration, such rapt disapproval, was his recently-new neighbour, Melanie Halford — Mrs Melanie Halford — 23-years-old and very comely. He was gazing at her rear view as she hung out washing; more specifically he was gazing at the tight seat of her jeans. They  were  tight, skin-tight like an exceptionally well-fitting glove, over ripely rounded haunches. So tight that at 30 yards with good binoc...