1. Happy Endings


    Date: 10/11/2014, Categories: Group Sex, Author: henrygatewood, Rating: 2, Source: LushStories

    For AG, who asked… The principal protagonist in the tale I have to tell you is a woman by the name of Myrtle Mary Townsend. She prefers to be known as Myr, because the elegant, mysterious and slightly aromatic image that this single syllable conjures up is far more accurate than what you might imagine on hearing her given name. Her own story is long, complicated and for the most part obscene. It is enough, for now, to say that she is twenty-nine, tall, beautiful, raven-haired and pale and, thanks to an ever-waging war for affection between her wealthy father and even wealthier step-father, has ready access to an amount of money which, if written down, might easily be mistaken for a phone number. She has three degrees, speaks six languages, plays two musical instruments to a near-professional standard and a third merely excellently. I know, sickening isn’t it? She’s really nice , too. Unless you get on her bad side, that is. You don’t want to do that. She has been my closest friend for many years - though our backgrounds could hardly be more different - and when we first met... ah, but I digress. Let’s get started, shall we? * * * Myr sat alone at the bar in the smallest room of the conference-cum-party suite at the Meadway Hotel London, SW1. She wore a long, flowing black dress with a lacy crimson trim at the bust and long hanging red sleeves. Her body was encased and eye-poppingly uplifted by a tightly-bound leather corset. She had discarded the pointy hat with the ...
    trailing red ribbon, but was confident she was still pulling off the fairytale princess look. Maybe a fairytale princess whose formative years had featured a little too much Joy Division, but a fairytale princess nonetheless. The occasion was an all-singles fancy dress Valentine’s Ball being thrown by a vague acquaintance whose name she had forgotten. She hadn’t wanted to come. It had all been Elena’s idea, and she’d promptly disappeared off to a room somewhere upstairs with the first handsome man to pay her the slightest attention. The main hall was full of rich, single idiots dressed as pirates and princes and historical figures and celebrities. The music was disgusting pop, as was the wine. All in all the event fell well short of even her lowest expectations. She had escaped to this smaller, quieter part of the extensive suite, to wait until Elena returned from her giggly humping, or until Myr became too bored and left without her. There was a bar and there were relatively few people. There was no music. Myr sat on a tall, leather-cushioned stool with one elbow on the bar, swiping text into her phone with the thumb of one hand and taking the occasional sip from a large gin and tonic held in the other. She was having an argument on twitter about sexism in the media, another on facebook about the ethics of taxation, a game of chess with a renowned Pakistani mathematician, and cybersex with someone whose gender she had yet to establish. None of it was really going anywhere. Just ...
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