<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>Maxtoby Bluette on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/authors/maxtoby-bluette/</link><description>Recent content in Maxtoby Bluette on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><atom:link href="/authors/maxtoby-bluette/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Liona's Ski Holiday</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/lionas-ski-holiday/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/lionas-ski-holiday/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Well here it is my first erotic story.
I don’t care what happens to it so long as no-one makes money or personal
gain from it. It is of course fiction.   Feedback would be welcome
– to &lt;a href="mailto:maxtoby@hotmail.com"&gt;maxtoby@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I want to tell you what happened a few years ago when Steve (my husband)
and I went skiing in Europe.   We had been married five years 
(I was 22 and he was 30) and until our holiday he was the only man I had
ever been with.   Not because of any lack of offers.  
I was voted “sexiest girl of the year” at  in rag week at college
and I often get guys looking me up and down. No, I guess my shyness and
innocence - naivety or stupidity some might say - come from my strict,
sheltered upbringing.   My parent wouldn’t let me out after nine
unless it was a church meeting and maybe that’s why I wanted to get married
so soon after I was 18.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>