She knew he wanted her.
She strode efficiently between the workstations; her eyes never wavered from the door to her office, she walked with purpose and confidence. She acknowledged him, but only in a curt professional manner, she wasn't here to be anyone's friend. His eyes followed her to her office, she knew he watched her and she enjoyed it.
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His Side
She was surprised when I walked into the room; she actually jumped a few inches and turned around blushing. I had caught her standing in front of a full length mirror without any clothes. I could see the flush on her face, and the wetness on her fingers told me all that I needed to know. She'd been masturbating!
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He was 34 and had been in her sandwich shop a few times now. And he was handsome too; but running a busy shop and with a family of her own, most conversations with customers were cordial. So when the franchise company had their annual meeting at the hotel and she saw him there, they had a laugh but it was all very cordial. At 42, she didn't think she had much appealing about her but she was wrong.
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Sunlight in my eyes, burning through the eyelids, hot on the rest of my body, bad case of cotton-mouth, and an overwhelming need to take that nice long first leak of the day. Not the best way to wake up in the world, but not bad by any means.
Last night came back slowly, and I recalled I was on the deck where I had curled up with a bottle of Bailey’s Irish Cream as the party wound down.
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"These aren't on the menu buddy! Only the refills are free," snapped 19 year old Giselle Potter, as she caught yet another onlooker staring unashamedly at her gigantic teenage titties as they were molded into her skin-tight Mamma Mia's Pizza white tee shirt with the restaurant's name stretched widely across her colossal endowments.
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From the moment Delia entered the room I could sense something different about her tonight. And what an entrance she made into the room! The door had flung wide open and she posed in the doorway with one arm raised up to the sill, her left hip provocatively angled to caress the wooden frame, her legs tall and lean in gleaming black boots and fishnets slightly spread so that I could see the faintest bulge in the wedge of her tiny, shiny black and rose panties.
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My sister Kathleen is a real bitch. I don't know where she got the idea that she is the center of the universe, but she acts like anything she does is the most important thing going on. Everyone has to do what she wants, and she gets all huffy when they don't.
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It wasn't until Wednesday that I felt like I was no longer walking bowl legged. On the past Saturday I was a target for over one hundred men as the ejaculated on my head. My entire head had been wrapped in one of those cones a vet uses to keep a dog from biting itself. Towards the end of the evening I was made to drink almost a gallon of cold wet slimy cum.
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I was lost deep in thought as I worked on the month end reports for the VP when I heard my office door softly opens and then shut. Curious as to who would be bothering me at this time of the month, I glanced up from my cluttered desk to see who was disturbing me when I saw my girlfriend Meghan standing at the door to my office dressed to kill, or maybe I should say tease all the men (and women). Meghan has long curly brown hair that frames a beautiful oval shaped face, with the deepest brown eyes you've ever seen.
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I've always been a hairier-than-average guy, and I've always been grateful that, in the body-type lottery, I was given a hairy one. Mind you, I'm not the hairiest guy you'll ever meet -- not like those guys who get nicknames like 'Bear' or 'Ape' -- but my chest and shoulders have a nice, ample covering of hair, and my arms and legs, too.
I was 'That Kid' in junior high -- the first guy in my class to hit puberty, the guy the other boys gawked at in the showers after gym class.
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