A lovely girl

A Rotten Night’s Sleep

A Shocking

A Shudder

A Side-Turning

A Struggling

All This Mainlining On Words

Cabinet Mirror

Catha Suddenly

Face Up

Fair Enough

Fair- Mindedness

Flying Buttress  in Bronze

For Chrissake

Fuel Cables

Full Of Echo's

Gold Chain Around His Neck

Half- Stefan Crossing

Having To Work


I Never Went Back

I Want To See You

In a Minute

In Frankfurt

In Hertfordshire

In Marxist

I could feel his tongue in my ear.

In Sussex

John Marx Stefanovitch


Kiss the envelope  for luck

Letter from Alison to Stefan

Letter  from Stefan to Alison

Listen Darling

Malleus malefactum

Mmmm’ Noises.

Mortality In Relation

My Beloved

Nancy Friday

‘Observe the wolf pack.

Our Relationship

Out- Stretched

Own Glass Still

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I looked down to see the lines round Stefan’s mouth had softened.  His head pillowed on my stomach, he toyed  with the wine, floating a mushroom on it.
‘The theatre critic smiled  at me.  His eyes did not.  From this I realized  that my knee was pressing into his  leg.  I discarded the idea of an apology in favour  of joining in a little chorus   of protest led by his wife about the  addition of Value Added Tax  to the price of a theatre seat.  Under the table my slit  was being gently parted.  By the time the poached salmon was being served from its wet silver platter a tongue was working  its way  along the  length of my groove.  Up and down, up and down, pressing  harder.  I was glad of the little breeze the Countess was making by fanning herself with a card which red, Today the Chief recommends…..The rest of the words were a blur.  My breath came faster.  Suddenly the Countess said that if anyone doubted   that she  suffered  from palpitations they should feel her heart now.  No one made a move.  She murmured something about  British Inhibition and looked sadly in sussex down into her low decolletage.  Personally I would have obliged her  but the muscles of my thighs were rigid with the effort  of self-control.   the tongue  had forced its way into my  opening.  The man from the BBC reacted to the  Countess’s  suggestion by asking the waiter with the  platter  whether  at any point in Scotland or on the journey  down from Scotland and salmon had been frozen.  I pressed  my napkin to my lips  in an attempt to stifle   a moan.’
I paused  as Stefan rolled off my stomach and swam down the fur rug  till his head was between my legs.  He began to tongue me rhythmically.  His arms reached down to my ankles and he  drew my legs  up and further  apart.
‘The waiter assured the man from the BBC that  the salmon was fresh.  Indeed it had not been put in a freezer  until then leave it had got to the Ritz.  “High-homosexuals,”  said the man from the BBC.  The theatre critic shrugged Sympathetically, as he  expected  the bill to be paid by the BBC.  Suddenly strong hands  gripped the cheeks of my buttocks, fiercely pulling me closer to the greedy  tongue.  My head fell against  the chair-back.  I was now moaning on each exhalation of breath.  The man from the BBC asked  if there was anything he could pass me.  I heard the word “Mayonnaise”  escape on my breath like a scream.’
Stefan, finely judging the pressure of his teeth, was making them tremble minutely as he nibbled  my clitoris.  My concentration was going .  I reached  down to the black curls of his head to push him away.
‘Go on,’ he said.  He pushed a finger inside  me as he spoke then his  tongue my beloved went back to work on my clit.
‘The theatre critic got out a packet of Rennies and pressed me to take a tablet.  He said he had suffered from  the agonies of indigestion.  In fact he had  suffered from  dyspepsia through every single  play he had ever had the misfortune to watch, much his worst attack having been suffered during an all-women  revue  in Kilburn.  I clutched at my stomach.  The muscles of my pelvis were beginning to contract involuntarily.  The  Countess leant towards  me.  She wondered if I had palpitations  too.  All sisterly concern.  In gratitude.  My  hand slid inside her dress to her warm breast.  I fondled.’
Stefan looked up at me through the fuzz of my pubic  hair.  ‘Don’t stop.’
‘Then you stop.’
I held my breath.  While he talked he was using  his  fingers to do more roughly the myth work of his tongue. 
He said, ‘Go under the table.’
‘Yes.’  He forced a second  finger into my opening.
‘Ah, Stefan.’
‘Go down on the Countess.’
‘I slid.  Under.  A pool of wetness.  Stefan, please.’
He looked up briefly,  ‘Try the theatre critic then.’
‘Opened his fly.  He held it wide  open.  There was nothing face up there.  Ah.’
I came.  I had left the party at the Ritz.  ‘Stefan, for Gods sake.’



Remember celebrating

Seafood Filling



Seymour Warned


Socio Economic

Soul Love

Stefan to Alison

Stefan winked.


Stefanovitch speaking

Straggers Backwards

The Best Nurturing

The Heart of Paris

The Insidiousness

The Myth of the Vaginal Orgasm,

The Priest and the Penitent

The Shutters

The Sorbonne

Then Leave It

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You Basterd