"Thank you!" she cried, a malice hidden behind her sparkling eyes and beaming grin. It was not the bus driver that had bothered her, a docile elderly man with a penchant for friendliness, but the stresses of the day coalescing into a contorted ball o...

That itch again. The itch to get messy, sloppy and filthy. That familiar niggling which causes you to succumb - I want to. Do you? I don't think I'd prefer to see anything else right now, than my boyfriend's parents living room, slung with polythe...