Gillian
24 stories
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Below you can find the list of all stories written by Gillian sorted from newest to oldest. You can use page navigation at the bottom of this page, filter by author or tag.
The Match - Part 2
By: Gillian (31 Jan 2006, Tuesday)
Note: This story contains Female Desperation, Accidental & Deliberate Wetting, Humiliation, Bondage, Masturbation, Foreplay, and Sex. Part Two The polished hardwood floor of the ballroom glistened; the lights from the chandeliers overhead were reflected in the varnish of the wood. Spacious, the room stretched from one end of the old mansion to the other, high ceilings adorned with artwork, sculptures embedded in the royal columns that supported the old roof. A long bar, covered in black velvet formed the right border of the room, in the back, a double doorway led to the hallway of the old mansion. Before the doorway, still in the ballroom, a small antique table with an old lamp on it and a set of ledgers…
Read →The Match - Part 1
By: Gillian (31 Dec 2005, Saturday)
Part One "Mmmmmmhhheeewwwwwwwww. MMMMmmmmhheewwwwww. Mmmmmmhhh." She moaned loudly, sounding like a wounded cat as she did so. Another bead of sweat rolled down her forehead, her bare legs clenched together, tightly, tensed, her pulse quickening, breathing rapid, eyes dilated, face twisted. Her left hand waved through dark brunette hair, tied up in a single ponytail that flopped against her back and then rapidly grasped her thigh, finger–nails biting clutching her skin. Her body twitched, she shivered. Goose bumps rose on her bare legs, the cool air chilling her. She struggled again, breath held tight, eyes widening as the pressure came again. Stinging. Pulsing. She twitched violently, the shrieking pain…
Read →The Job
By: Gillian (31 Mar 2005, Thursday)
The sunlight shone in from the east, filtering through the white curtains, casting patterns upon the hardwood floor of the upstairs bedroom. The window was open, the cool morning breeze wafting gently throughout the room, birds chirping as the new day began. Next to the window, to the left, stood a cabinet, filled with picture frames and mementos. On top of the cabinet sat an old alarm clock, manual wind, a worn cell phone, and a hairbrush. A few bobby pins lay next to the hairbrush, along with a torn piece of paper with a phone number on it. To the right of the window there was open space; only a faded picture of an old Elle magazine cover hung sloppily in a cheap frame. Within the wall to the right of the…
Read →The House - Part 2
By: Gillian (31 Dec 2004, Friday)
The hallway in the school of business building was brightly lit and full of busy students as the morning classes were about to start. The classrooms in the concrete building lined the outer walls while the center core was offices and other rooms. A large twenty foot wide corkboard with notices and advertisements lay on the inside wall, across from room 304, where economics 102 was starting in ten minutes. Windows into the classrooms had curtains on them so the class had the option of closing them for privacy. 304 had the curtains open, the room was still mostly empty, only a few students had gathered to sit down. Across from 304 were the restrooms, men's on the left, ladies' on the right, with a unisex…
Read →The House - Part 1
By: Gillian (30 Nov 2004, Tuesday)
Kandra put both of her hands onto the rails of the lifeguard chair and lifted her body up into a standing position, her bare feet curled onto the rungs of the chair below. She arched her back to stretch and she tilted her head back, her long straight blond hair flowing straight down, shimmering in the remaining rays of late afternoon sunlight that shone through the large plate glass windows of the indoor pool. She looked like the letter "C," her athletic body arched as she paused in the position, working the kinks out of her back after sitting for so long. Her red official lifeguard one piece bathing suit fit tightly against her slightly tanned body, her toned abs taut underneath the red fabric, her legs…
Read →Game, Set, and Wet
By: Gillian (31 Aug 2004, Tuesday)
No resemblance to any living characters is intended or implied. Kristine had two fingers pressing on the track's hard surface, her other arm cocked at her left side. Her Nike track shoes were pressed against the starting blocks, white socks barely showing above the edge of the shoe line, her calve muscles taut, her perfectly shaped, sleek yet athletic thighs tensed as she awaited the starting gunshot. A slight sheen of perspiration shone on her legs and arms. A single drop of perspiration fell from her nose, falling to the tracks surface, a small dark circle where it fell. Crouched in starting stance, her face stared down the straightaway of the track, her butt sticking up in the air, her short green nylon…
Read →Birthday Shopping
By: Gillian (30 Apr 2004, Friday)
She rubbed her fingers over the imprinted logo; then slid her index finger into the slightly loose corner, tearing the envelope along the top edge, already knowing what was inside. The card, off white with a pink and blue speckled background with specks of silver glitter attached, simply read "Happy Birthday" with a big blue number "18" embossed in the lower right. Firework–like designs surrounded the big "18" emblem. She opened the card and quickly scanned the message, looking for a check she thought might be in there. "Happy 18th, honey. To a wonderful daughter on her special day! Love, Mom." Scribbled in black, from Mom's treasured 1940's fountain pen her grandmother had passed down to her. More importantly…
Read →Jessica's Horror
By: Gillian (31 Jan 2004, Saturday)
The automatic door of the van hissed with air escaping loudly from the hydraulics, and creaked on old bearings as it slowly opened. The cool night air rushed in to greet the passengers as they stepped out of the vehicle in front of the hotel. Grasping the chrome handrail, they each stepped onto the black stair platform and then onto the asphalt parking lot. The high–rise building was new, the crowning jewel of the airport hotels, rising 15 stories into the clear night sky, suites along the very top floors and well appointed rooms below. Twin miniature man–made lakes were in front, framed by the granite entrance, a pair of palms framing the lakes. The blurred words "HOTEL SHUTTLE" were visible, reflecting in…
Read →Christmas Agony
By: Gillian (31 Dec 2004, Wednesday)
Saturday, 3:15 PM 18F. The number and letter on the worn sign, high above the light in the parking lot. The cold December wind rattled the worn metal of the sign against the cold gray light pole. Lisa stared at the lines of cars, gray with soot and dirt, and then gazed at the mall off in the distance. Parking was difficult this time of year. A few weekends until Christmas, and everyone headed out for their holiday shopping, all intent on getting the latest toy or the latest fashion, cutting one another off, swearing at each other all in Christmas joy. True holiday fashion, she thought, people being mean to each other. She loved the idea of Christmas, but the nature of the holidays wore on her. Clutching her…
Read →Our Date (For the Gals)
By: Gillian (31 Oct 2003, Friday)
Our Date (For the Gals) I'm twirling around, somewhat slowly, finishing a decidedly amateur version of a camel back spin, the announcer blaring that "open ice is over". The other skaters begin to clear the ice, the overprotective mothers hovering over their next superstar wunderkind child, the harried parents yelling at their hopefully NHL destined little boy, the romantic couples skating a few extra laps lazily around the rink, arm in arm, seemingly oblivious to the announcers call. The dusk sky slowly rolls in, yet it's still somewhat warm out. The rink, a public outdoors facility, shuts down early on Fridays for maintenance. I'm still amazed they kept it running today. While the ice was a little slippery,…
Read →Our Date ( For the Guys )
By: Gillian (31 Oct 2003, Friday)
Our Date ( For the Guys ) The strong smell of chlorine fills the air. The concrete walls echo with the screaming of children, teens and nervous parents. It's two o'clock and my shift is over. I survey the scene on this busy Saturday; take the empty water bottle with me as my replacement shows up. As I climb down the ladder from the watch chair I'm aware how badly I need to use the bathroom. No breaks today, another lifeguard called in sick, and it's been four hours without a pee break, and with as much water as I had, I'm about to burst. My red lifeguard bathing suit fits tightly over my 5' 6" body, my long dark hair tied up in a bun. I fidget as I sign out, the tight fabric of my bathing suit clinging to my…
Read →Amber's Shame
By: Gillian (31 Aug 2003, Sunday)
The wind whistled through Amber's hair as she drove her red convertible down the interstate; her long brunette hair flowing in the slipstream as the sun shone overhead, the blue sky clear that Saturday afternoon. The dial read 75, the speed limit sign read 60, but Amber kept on speeding, the traffic was light and the highway smooth. Grimacing, she pushed the pedal further, up to 80. She took a last sip from her quart of water, tossing the empty bottle into the passenger seat beside her. She clenched her legs together as best she could while she drove, her bladder swollen full with pee. Amber was desperate, her bladder sending SOS signals, her tummy swollen, her tight tan khaki slacks pressing against the…
Read →Interview Distress
By: Gillian (31 Jul 2003, Thursday)
10:00 AM. Jenny rose off her couch, still in her nightgown, barely out of bed, and walked over to the window. She peered outside at the early summer day, clouds puffy and white in the sky, people walking along the busy street in the harried pace of the office employee, heads down, moving with purpose along the sidewalks. Moving from the window to her dining table, she picked up her resume and read it once again, double–checking for spelling errors and considering yet again rewriting her summary to put a different slant on her skills. The interview was at 12:00 noon downtown, about a mile away from her upscale apartment and Jenny was nervous. She needed a job, and the economic woes had made them scarce to come…
Read →Mortified at the Reception
By: Gillian (30 Apr 2003, Wednesday)
(Based upon a true story) The narrow hallway in front of the theater was crowded; families, college students, high school kids, a few teachers, family, friends all crammed around and between each other. The ticket counter was at one end of the hallway, the performance reception, put on by a local arts association was at the other. That's where I saw Sarah that night. Working behind the reception table, serving punch to the many visitors, all alone, trying her best to keep up with the masses eating the cheap cookies, home baked cakes and drinking the fruit punch (non alcoholic, to my dismay). What made me notice her? I'd love to say she was the most gorgeous girl there but she wasn't. Oh, she was certainly…
Read →Park Ranger Desperation
By: Gillian (30 Nov 2002, Saturday)
The fog was lifting from the skyline, the fir trees outlined against the hazy early–morning sky. The far window in the room was open, the fresh smell of pine needles and the pure mountain air wafting through the small room. The dormitory was eerily silent at this hour, the sun was just coming up and most of the dorm's inhabitants were still cozily in bed, sleeping. Elizabeth got up out of her bed, quietly stretched her limber arms to the ceiling, trying not to wake her roommate. She yawned and looking at the clock on her makeshift desk, pulled off her pink underwear and lavender nightshirt and stumbled sleepily into the shower. Her roommate lay in bed, still asleep while Elizabeth started her day. Towel…
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