| Author: | Dixon Cox | ISBN: | 9781497775091 |
| Publisher: | Dirty Eros | Publication: | January 19, 2014 |
| Imprint: | Language: | English |
| Author: | Dixon Cox |
| ISBN: | 9781497775091 |
| Publisher: | Dirty Eros |
| Publication: | January 19, 2014 |
| Imprint: | |
| Language: | English |
WARNING: 4300+ WORD HARDCORE EROTICA - ADULTS ONLY
When a local newspaper reveals that sordid activities are taking place in Pleasure Park, one reader decides to visit the park and have his darkest fantasies fulfilled. But is it safe, or will he find himself in a terrible predicament?
EXCERPT:
Just as I was about to leave, I heard a rustling and a black shadow moving towards me, coming from an area I had not yet explored. I watched as the shaped moved towards me. It looked like a man... I wondered if this was a message from something or someone, telling me to wait a while longer. I decided to wait and see. I was just sitting on a park bench, hardly an arrestable offense.
As he got closer, I could see that he was in his mid-forties, wearing sweatpants and a sweater, almost like he was out for a run. But he wasn’t running, he was walking, making a beeline for me, his face bent downwards, keeping up a brisk pace.
He stopped about a meter in front of me and looked at me. I looked at him. He looked around, as if checking for something. Satisfied that we were alone — or at least, we weren’t about to be attacked, he pulled his sweatpants down...
WARNING: 4300+ WORD HARDCORE EROTICA - ADULTS ONLY
When a local newspaper reveals that sordid activities are taking place in Pleasure Park, one reader decides to visit the park and have his darkest fantasies fulfilled. But is it safe, or will he find himself in a terrible predicament?
EXCERPT:
Just as I was about to leave, I heard a rustling and a black shadow moving towards me, coming from an area I had not yet explored. I watched as the shaped moved towards me. It looked like a man... I wondered if this was a message from something or someone, telling me to wait a while longer. I decided to wait and see. I was just sitting on a park bench, hardly an arrestable offense.
As he got closer, I could see that he was in his mid-forties, wearing sweatpants and a sweater, almost like he was out for a run. But he wasn’t running, he was walking, making a beeline for me, his face bent downwards, keeping up a brisk pace.
He stopped about a meter in front of me and looked at me. I looked at him. He looked around, as if checking for something. Satisfied that we were alone — or at least, we weren’t about to be attacked, he pulled his sweatpants down...
