1. Primal Urge


    Date: 4/26/2016, Categories: Hardcore, Author: TraceyAmes, Rating: 26, Source: LushStories

    Prologue The term “ Primal Urge ” brings up various sexual connotations. Acclaimed science fiction writer, Brian Aldiss, penned his science fiction novel titled “ The Primal Urge ” in 1961. The novel was a satire on sexual reserve where society had to wear headbands known as emotion registers. These emotion registers glow when the wearer experiences sexual attraction. Another definition of “ Primal Urge ” is, “The measurement of the animal side of a lycanthrope.” A lycanthrope is a delusion in which one imagines oneself to be a wolf or other wild animal when it comes to having sex; the higher the urge, the higher the delusion. Throughout the ages, man has always fantasised over women when it comes to sex; what position to have sex, how much force to use and what sexual aids can supplement the act. This story is indeed one about the “ Primal Urge ” or men behaving badly. Story I was born and bred in a small country town in Victoria, Australia. My primary and secondary schooling were attended at a small country town named Yallourn (an aboriginal name meaning, brown coal). After completing my Year 12 (Matriculation year) in 1980, I left the country to study journalism at the University of Melbourne the following year; at the tender age of seventeen. My parents were relatively poor and I did not have any scholarships to help me financially through university. Adding to my financial woes was the fact I had to find accommodation somewhere in Melbourne. Preferably, the ...
    accommodation needed to be in the inner suburbs thus making travelling by tram an easy way to get to university as I had no car. After much searching, my choice of accommodation was a shared arrangement with two other women who had rented a house in South Yarra. We each had a separate bedroom and the place was clean. My house-mates were Gayla, who was twenty-four; and Stephanie, who was in her mid-forties. Just prior to starting my first class, I found a part-time job, waitressing at a trendy restaurant in nearby Chapel Street. Working Friday and Saturday nights were ideal as the work did not interfere with my lectures or my study habits. The weekends are a busy time for Melbourne restaurants and the money I earned paid for my accommodation and living expenses. The tipping from the wealthy customers was the cream on the cake. These tips were more profitable than the lowly wages paid by the establishment. In late November 1982, just having successfully completed my second year at university, the restaurant was burned to the ground. Two rival gangs fighting for territorial supremacy saw the restaurant torched in the early hours of the morning. Without a job, there was no income; facing me with the possibility of not being able to pay my rent. In a depressed state and crying on my bed, I was approached by Gayla. “Tracey, what’s the matter? Is anything wrong?” Gayla asked in an understanding way. Looking up and still sobbing, I replied, “The restaurant where I work was burned down last night ...
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