I anxiously tapped my foot in the foyer of our large suburban home in Lemont Furnace, Pennsylvania. It was Friday night and my best friend Gina was supposed to be picking me up at 8 p.m. It was already five minutes after, so obviously she must be having problems with her new babysitter again. God, it was times like these when I was happy I didn’t have children. She always seemed to be putting out fires of one sort or another. Thankfully, my husband David only brings up the idea of having kids sporadically and a nice, slow, blow job is a quick way for me to ‘change the subject’ when he does. I’m only 33, so I know I can stall him on the whole kids thing for a while longer.
Description: A young versatile university PhD professor is tired of being the object of derision as the pocket protector guy. When offered an opportunity to join a unique company, he takes a chance and enjoys the transition.
Steve stood, his muscular posture erect in the white, terry-cloth robe that draped over his solid frame. He strode in large steps from his dressing ensemble over to a tier of electronic controls. The controls were inset in a panel at the head of a ottoman settee upon which he reclined. He picked up a remote control from an end table and pressed an audio feed and said, Hi you guys, hows everything going in there?
Bob and David had been friends since they were jerking-off to Spice Girls and Alanis Morissette album covers back in the day (Meanwhile, I was rubbing myself cross-eyed over visions of Bob and David jerking-off to Alanis). When it came time to do more than masturbate, I found it impossible to choose one, so I literally flipped a coin and started spreadin’ ‘em for Bob. Dave was typically great about it. He would go for a long walks to nowhere while his two best buds boned in the back of his car. Wow, what a patient and lovely person he was (some of the stains never came off those leather seats). We also boned in his room when his parents were away. The day we got married, Bob boned me in the Narthex while Dave distracted the priest with a string of questions about the 7th Ecumenical Council. Of course he was our best man. As I looked over at him, I wondered whether he was the “best man” period. Well, too late to worry about that now. Besides, at that precise moment, I could feel blotches of Bob’s spunk dripping out of my quim, down the inside of my leg and onto the altar floor. I’m not Catholic myself, so I’m not sure whether they have a commandment against that.
I guess I’ve always been a bit of a bitch but what choice did I have? I was a real looker, right out of the womb. Cute baby, cute kid, a really interesting adolescent and a world class knock-out babe by the time I got out of high school. Sigh. It’s tough to get a real grasp on reality when everything you’ve ever wanted is just handed to you by guys (and plenty of girls) trying to get into your tight-fitting jeans.
The fantasies flashed through his brain in little lightning shocks. Lips caressing the backs of upper thighs, licking softly, a white leg rising up an inch or two with each wet kiss… the aroma of untapped moisture from a steaming body, a hot fragrance. His testicles filled to bursting… plunging for the blessed snarl and gulp of the sticky mouth bath… spreading and splitting those thighs apart, burying his face against the drenched and turgid cavity… his tongue wet-sliding, dipping into the naked throb itself, toying there with the fire-hot vulva heart, licking and encircling the clit in a feathery rage… the candy taste and the swallowing of the creamed pussy.
As I get older, I find myself remembering the “old days” and many of the crazy events of my youth. This is a true story that happened after I graduated from college. Everything is true, except for the names, which I have changed.
As I walked to the counter to return some library books I was brought up short, the girl…well, woman waiting to service me took my breath away; and I have no idea why. I like my ladies tall, slender and dark complexioned with black hair. This lady was probably five feet nothing tops, red headed with a complexion like clotted cream. A spray of freckles over her pert little pug nose, emerald green eyes and full heavy breasts and she was round, I mean everything seemed to be round. Her glasses were round, her breasts were grapefruit sized orbs, her bottom cheeks perfect moons; she was nothing like my idea of the ideal woman yet I was smitten.
While it was in progress, it would be called World War III. After it was all said and done, it would be called Armageddon. Whatever it was referred to as, it would go down in history as the bloodiest, costliest, most destructive event in human history. Though not a single nuclear or fusion weapon and not a single chemical warhead would be used during the ten long years of the war, more than six hundred million people would be killed as a result of the fighting.
My wife Melissa relayed to me that she would love to find a guy who was a heavy cummer. Melissa loves to be creampied both vaginally and anally and she also loves the feeling of cum being spurted in to her hot mouth.
I was bored out of my mind. I had no interest at all in the game on TV and the rest of the offerings were just plain shit! I searched the streaming services and found nothing I wanted to watch. Earlier I had jerked off to some hot lesbian porn and didnt feel the need to watch any more. I needed to do something! I read shit-loads of stuff and just didnt feel like reading anything at the moment.
Rebecca Larson shifted nervously in her chair, gulping a vodka tonic to settle her jitters and numb her nerves. The thirty-eight-year-old woman didnt know why she had agreed to this in the first place. Now she was having serious, second thoughts about staying here.