Room 2D

From Whispers 1 He never knew who would be coming, but none of the circle ever did. He waited at home as usual on the third Saturday of the month, half expecting a ‘phone call to say it had been cancelled, looking down the drive from time to time and hoping to see a car, which he probably wouldn’t recognise, bringing whoever it was to be this month. When the car came it was Freddie, whom he’d met once before; the girl in the back of the car was blindfolded, which lent a tang of mystery to the whole thing from the word go. Freddie said that Julia had arrived safely, though he didn’t say  where  she’d ‘arrived’, but George knew she’d be back home by Sunday night; no doubt she’d relive the thrill of her own weekend with him when he, in his turn, told her about his. They would both tell little lies, of course, but even that was part of the game. They left the girl with him and said they’d collect her on Sunday afternoon. ...

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Photo-story from Janus 160 Harriet Grace, Head Prefect at St Catherine’s School for girls. The epitome of all the virtues: beautiful, full of grace, bright and studious, Oxbridge-bound. Flowing blonde hair and sky-blue eyes. A face and figure most girls would die for. Perfect personality, wonderful singing voice, virtuoso violinist, superb athlete — holder of the school record in long jump and hurdles. A halo would not look odd on that flaxen head. Goodness glows from her. Even her name is perfect. Harriet Grace. Girls in younger years have crushes on her. The hearts of male teachers thump when they glimpse her going through her paces in the gym or bounding in skin-tight shorts down the runway to soar into the air on shapely legs, hair tossing like wheat in a breeze. Harriet Grace. Could any of her admirers and acolytes have imagined that she could ever be Harriet in disGrace? The story is painful to relate — yet strangely thrilli...

Story from Janus 33 by Robin Martin. Lengthy, but a good read and with some delightful illustrations by Paula Meadows. Jane stood in front of the full-length bedroom mirror, her bathrobe hanging open. Slipping first one shoulder off, then the other, she tossed it on the bed. She studied her reflection in the glass and was pleased with what she saw. Tallish and beautifully proportioned, Jane was proud of her figure and rightly so — long slender legs with thighs just swelling enough to make them shapely and erotic, and above them surprisingly broad and curvaceous hips narrowed to a slim waist. Higher again, well-formed breasts were firmly thrust out bouncing provocatively at the slightest movement. The warm bath had left her skin a glowing pink with the fragrance of the bath-oils radiating around her, the nipples on her breasts glistening and erect after the towelling. It was a juncture at which Jane very often paused for sensuous s...