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I’ve begun a series of short, illustrated stories in which Emma travels through a portal so that she is within the scene of a painting or photograph. I’ll probably do one a day for a while, and then we’ll see. There’s certainly no shortage of paintings and photographs. If there’s an image of a photo or painting you’d especially like Emma to visit, and if it’s in the public domain and you have a link, let me know.
A reader complained (I guess it was a complaint) that Amanda’s nipples in the recent story (Raspberry Nipples) were no where near raspberry. I suppose it’s a matter of taste. According to my Adobe Color Chart, Amanda’s nipples are in the raspberry family, specifically a shade called “Candy Bar.”
Hex : #feb9d7
Rgb : rgb(254,185,215)
Hsl : 334° , 97% , 86%
RgbaColor : rgba(254,185,215,1.00)
lab XyzColor : 70.488, 60.675, 72.286
HsvaColor : hsva(333.91,27.17%,99.61%,1)
HsvColor : 334° , 27% , 100%
This is also the color of Amanda’s clitoris when lightly coated with girl cum, for those of you interested in a fuller picture.
Today’s story has to do with fishing. It’s called “Fishing” and I hope it provides some useful or at least entertaining fishing tips.
According to SoL search, thus far I’ve posted 29 stories which have something to do with fishing, but lest I mislead anyone, I am not an accomplished angler; to date I’ve caught but one fish using hook and line, a six inch sunfish. I was very proud of that fish. I landed the beauty and watched it flipping and flapping on the pier for all of eight or nine seconds before my cousin rushed over, freed the catch, and tossed it back into the lake. If I were to write a story about this episode in my life I’d be a few years older than eleven and the cousin would be a really cute girl instead of the obnoxious boy cousin two years younger than myself, and though, much like that real life pest of a cousin, she might release the fish, later we might discuss my fishing prowess, perhaps even comparing its length and girth and, let’s face it, perfection, to that of my exuberant cock.
Many of my stories are written for friends, and today’s story “Crossing” is no exception. Though it makes use of Lisa, a long time Internet friend, it was written with another friend in mind, a fellow author whom I met here on SoL shortly after I started posting again in December of 2020. Howard and I exchanged hundreds of emails in the six months I knew him, discussing writing and relating the adventures of our lives.
“Crossing” begins with an experience Howard told me about: waiting at a railroad crossing in a small Alabama town, and the beautiful girl in the car adjacent to his touching herself shamelessly. From that point on, the story is invention. I did the picture for Howard, and he was very pleased. Had Howard been able to read the entire story, I’m not sure he’d have been thrilled, but I think he would have smiled. I’m not sure why I didn’t write the story so Howard got the girl. I should have. During the last weeks of Howard’s life we talked frequently on the phone. Up until then, most of our correspondence involved Howard relating his fascinating life and me asking him questions and encouraging him to reveal more and more. He didn’t need much encouragement. His life was quite remarkable. At the end, he found it almost impossible to speak, and it was up to me to provide the words.
I miss Howard. Someday I may write a sequel to this story, and if I do, you can be sure Howard will get the girl.
Recently an enhancement was added to SoL so that illustrations appear in epub versions of stories. This applies to old stories as well as new ones. I’m very pleased about this feature. As many of you know, the illustrations are meant to be an important part of my stories. In some cases the illustration includes information that informs the story in what I consider a vital way. (That’s usually my goal, in any case, though I realize I don’t always achieve it.) I do like the look of stories on epub, and I recommend that you give it a try. (In some cases there is a slight scale distortion for epub illustrations, but I don’t think this is a serious detriment.)
In honor of secretaries, I'm posting a couple of little secretary stories, one of them from the poetic pen of Ashley.
I'm also putting up the third rehab story, this one written by Auguste, in which he charts his code blue experience.
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