Introducing...the Mouse

I used to think it was just voices in my head that filled it with these fantasies, but I was proved wrong. I was sitting at a bar gazing at what had to be the cutest bartender I had seen in years. Then a voice started talking to me. At first I thought it was the usual voice in my head, but it seemed clearer. Then I saw it.

It was a mouse sitting on the bar by my beer glass. I looked around and tried to remain calm...and kept my wits about me as I realized that nobody else sitting around me could see the mouse. Still...when he sat up and started to talk to me, it took the fact that I was on my fourth beer over two shots of jack that kept me from screaming and running out of the bar. He spoke to me....and the voice sounded familiar.

"That's right...I'm the voice you thought was in your head." He continued, "It's been me all the time". "The reason you can see me now is that we are....evolving". The mouse introduced himself..."my name is Mika".

I knew I was terrified...but Mika put me at ease. Told me to remain calm. What choice did I have? Was I to tell the people at the bar that a mouse was talking to me?

I took a deep breath, and whispered to my new friend in a manner where the other occupants of the room could not hear me. "So it is you to blame". "You're the reason these dark fantasies are in my head".

Mika gazed at me and cracked a smile, "Blame me if you must, for a sane person that you still claim to be should realize that this is why I exist".

A sip of my beer and Mika caught me drawing attention away from him and looking at the cute bartender that had been serving me. "Well...she sure is cute isn't she"? Mika laughed...not upset at all that my eyes currently feasted on her body instead of giving him full attention.

Yes...Mika has spoken to me before I thought. We have been friends for such a long time. My best friend has been a talking mouse. I sank another shot and said out loud, "Sure Mika...tell me what you're thinking". It was loud enough for several people to look my way...I realized my mistake and when the curious onlookers saw that there was no more outbursts to come, they looked away.

Mika laughed at me and asked if he could continue uninterrupted. "Sure, Mika...tell me what you're thinking", I whispered. He spoke calmly and evenly.

"That girl behind the bar is probably desperate for cash. Flirt with her and offer her money to take photos of her. Tip her two hundred dollars and give her your address. She'll be hungry for more. When she comes over give her three hundred dollar bills torn in half and tell her that you want to take some erotic photos. Take some photos and then hit her with the bomb. Tell her that you'll pay her three hundred more to take her photo in her underclothes with her hands bound behind her. "

Mika continued,"By that time the drug you put in her drink will be taking effect and while she is drifting off you can put her on the bed and bind her ankles. Then there will be plenty of time to gag her before she realizes that her photo shoot is to become a full time gig."


I looked at Mika and he looked at me. We both laughed. I looked at him and whispered, "We'd have to be insane to think that a girl would be that gullible or that we'd get away with it". Mika looked at me and winked, "Yeah...insane." I took the last gulp that was left in my beer. I looked at Mika and said, "nothing here is real...right"? He looked at me with a glimmer in his eye and said, "sure Simon...nothing here is real".

Simon the Student

I take a couple of college classes in my spare time for the most part as an excuse for a man in his forties to be around hot young sober women.

The fact that I may actually learn some things to help me at work, or that my bosses might be impressed with my initiative is just a bonus.

No doubt some of you kinky moms who read the blog are thrilled at the thought of Simon at the same school as your daughter. However, I love to sneak in the ever true line "nothing here is real". Although it is true that in High School I was voted "most likely to kidnap to have a date".


Anybody interested in intense study? Only in the spirit of academics of course.

Silence

No...a saint I am not. Quite evident in the affair I'm having with a woman I met some weeks ago. A perfect playmate. She was married also to big money so just as much to lose as me. The only drawback was her bitch daughter that we also had to schedule our sessions around. I've met her in passing a few times. Twenty year old college student. Smug smile. Quite sure she suspected my involvement with her mother. Of course I had always steered clear from her judgemental eyes. Sexy dark hair...like her mother. Most definately if she had a few more years on her and an attitude adjustment she might be just as good a lay as her mom. I would know soon enough as it turned out.

So it was to be that I fucked her mother and stayed at their home just a bit too long that morning. My lover had gone to work and my prying nemisis surprised me by coming home early from school. Caught in her house; no denying why I was there. An argument ensued and the bitch said she was going straight for my home to tell my wife.


Yes...quite insane...but I grabbed her and held onto her, dragging her with me until I found some clothesline and began to tie her up. At that point only wishing to talk some sense into her. As the bindings took hold her snappy talk telling me how insane my actions were had begun to turn into screams for help. My hand over her mouth, I found some fabric to gag her. She squeeled and squirmed as I tied it tight between her teeth. A primitive gag, but effective enough to keep screams withing the confines of a house.

I think it was when one of her kicking legs connected with my balls is when I lost any sanity I had left. I told her that it was time that I teach her some manners. I dragged her into the bedroom that I had fucked her mother so many times before so the raging hard on that replaced the aching of my kicked balls was no surprise. I leaned her over the bed and in my insane anger I was mumbling something to the effect of satisfying her curiosity once and for all. She squeeled and twisted as I pulled down her skirt and I did not hesitate pile driving into her.


She took to me rather well for the defiant bitch she was minutes before. Attitude adjustment seemed to suit her just fine. As a matter of fact her body noticeably shook with anticipation when I blindfolded her and told her how much her mother enjoyed when I did that to her. I fucked her over and over the better part of the morning. The way she took to my cock after I ungagged her seemed to assure me that my secret affair was intact.

These days the routine is taking care of mom when the husband goes to work and taking care of sis when mom leaves for the day. Turns out sis quite enjoys the bondage before I fuck her. She's much nicer to me these days. Now that we ALL have our secrets.

The Dance

The quiet girl at work trusts me enough to tell me how her live in boyfriend is not satisfying her...needs. Flattering. I'd take it as a signal, but I'm twice her age. Nonetheless, she's quite legal and tells me how she has an urge to dance. I think she wants to dance with me. Perhaps if she knew how I liked to dance she wouldn't be flirting with me.

It does take two to tango they say.

Puzzle

What a strange puzzle we are. Our pieces our so jagged...so jaded...so unorthodox. Yet the pieces of your puzzle fit snuggly into mine. A perfect fit. Together our puzzle pieces make a beautiful picture. That's all that matters. Together we fit.

Optimism

Partners

I like when a friend and myself kind of throw a scenario out there we tailor it together. She suggested a nasty policeman. Her wish was my command.

I picture a girl dressed hot coming out of a nightclub and walking toward her car. The club packed, she had to park on the street several blocks down. A car parked next to hers. A man walks out of the car and indentifies himself as a policeman. He forcefully, yet professionally, pulls her to his car. He tells her that he does not allow hookers to walk his beat.

My collaborator says that my idea is good and that her wrists would have to be confined in handcuffs as a cop would do. I agree.

Our victim is too preoccupied denying she is a hooker to even think as to the possibility that the man currently cuffing her hands behind her back is not who he says he is. He has her in the backseat of the "police car" and is pulling her ankles together to cuff them also.

My friend take over the reigns. She suggests that she begins to struggle. Bewildered as to why her ankles need to be restrained. It is then that she sees pre-cut stips to tape stuck on the back of a head rest. She now knows that this man is not a police officer as he puts a packing in her mouth and taped her mouth shut.

So where does it go from there I ask? She laughed and said, "I thought you could fill in those blanks".


"That I could", I said. Then I suggested that we leave the rest up to the reader's imagination and that we get together to formulate the rest of the story together.

Deeply awaiting Friday night. She is dressing hot and going to the club. Myself? I'll be outside the club arresting hookers. The public servant that I am.

Feet

As we soar past Labor day and the joy of football season starting, I must admit that it is my favourite time of year. There is a small regret though. That regret is the small fetish I have developed around women's feet. Don't get me wrong, I don't yearn to suck a woman's toes or have a woman do things to me with her feet. Not quite my thing...but of course have no objections for men who like such.

What I like is my interest in how women adorn their feet...which, of course, is most evident in the summer months. I think footwear that exposes their feet and toes to be sexy. I think a woman who takes the time to make clear that she wants a man to gaze at her feet is sexy.


I like what you ladies do to make me look. The ankle bracelets, the toe rings...yep...they work. It's sexy that you took the time make sure I've looked.

I like tan feet and their toenails painted in a way to highlight that. Though I look, I don't especially like cheap flip flops...though sandals where the sole is very flat appeals to me.


It should be of no surprise that foot displaying shoes with thin straps around the ankles get my attention. Quite easy to fantasies those shoe straps to be ankle bindings instead. I sometimes wonder if she thinks that way when she wraps those leather straps around her ankle.


But sorrow fills me to realize that winter is just around the corner. Slushy streets and cold mean sexy feet hidden in boots. A remedy is barefoot and bound in my bedroom....a nice substitute.

Writer's Block

I would tell you a story...but having some creative issues right now. Writer's block some call it. Maybe you can help me? A picture can be inspirational. What do you say we look at one and see if it inspires some ideas?

Look at this photo. What a gorgeous girl. Petite...athletic, yet still curvy...and blonde. A sweet bonus. This has to inspire a story.


How about a story about me meeting this girl and we fall in love. We get married at sunset on a nice sandy beach. Two kids...one boy and one girl. A year seperating them.

But that is not what you are here to see. You know that Simon has other things in mind. Fantasies are quite a paradox. Fascinating in how they differ for other people. No doubt the married on the beach scenario IS some people's idea of a nice fantasy. However, people with that kind of fantasy are probably too busy living it...or out trying to live it to be here on this blog right now.

We are both here because our fantasies are a bit different. Call it cursed or blessed I/we see something different when we look at the girl on the pier. Ok...at least I do. Maybe curiosity has you returning so often to this blog...but at least some of the fantasies here intrigue you.

SOOOO....when I see the girl on the pier, what do I see? Let me tell you.


I see a girl who is more impressed with the money a hot guy she met at a nightspot has than she is with caution. She agrees to meet him at a pier for a day on his boat. No land to be seen and invited below. She envisions her lips to meet his, but instead they meet a chloroform soaked cloth. She wakes up nude and hogtied with her filthy rich nightclub stud naked and his sail at full mast.


She soon finds out that her nightclub mark is rich mostly from selling pretty young things to foreign countries. Blindfolded and gagged she is moved to another vessel and finds herself the main attraction in front of all kind of rich men.

Relax. It's just fantasy. Nothing here is real. Except for the married on the beach thing. I've done that. Sand does end up in the strangest places. Don't you think?