She glanced once more at the dashboard clock, squinting at the amber lights that were barely visible in the impending darkness of dusk. 5:20.
"Damn."
She looked at the speedometer. She was already doing 63 in the 55 mile per hour zone. She bumped it up to 65 and stared in the mirror as if that would tell her if a cop was nearby.
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You sit in your apartment. You can hear the rain driving against the walls. The phone is on the coffee table, laying there restlessly. Beside it, a goblet half-full of whatever the bottle next to it used to contain. You stand up, stretch, and pace back and forth across the room. You're still thinking of the last thing your lover had said before she hung up and got on the plane. It was so common yet such a mystery.
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"Hey Babe, have the kids gone to grandma's yet?" I asked as I finished whisking up the fresh whipped cream for our dessert. Dinner was spread out on the table –herbed steak and a garden salad – and the dessert was done except for the cream in the bowl. It needed to whip up and then chill.
You watch out the window as Jill and Sydney, our two girls meander next door to spend the night with their grandma.
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I was determined to make it the best summer of my life.
I'd graduated college the first week of May and immediately received an offer for a dream job in San Diego. It meant moving clear across the nation, but it was too good an opportunity to pass up.
The job started in September, so I had several months on my hands. I'd be working fifty hours a week come autumn and probably for some years after, so I decided a prolonged vacation was in order and had just the place in mind.
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I got a call from Rachel and she was upset, her and Adam had gotten into a huge fight, she had tried to get a hold of Randy and couldn't, so she called me. She had had enough. She couldn't take it anymore. She wanted to come out here for a while to get away from all of it. She had no where else to go, and needed out. The problems was, was that she didn't have the money to come out here.
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"Oh god yes... fuck me with your fingers. Harder..."
My two fingers dug into Sandra's juicy cunt each time I slammed them up her slimy hole. I was pressed against her back with one hand down the front of her shorts fingering her pussy and the other under her top squeezing her tits and pinching her nipples. I could feel her body tremble and knew that she was quickly losing control.
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Sunday, November 28, 2004
Michael called from the airport earlier than when he was expected in so we sent Simone, Monica and Katrina to retrieve him from curbside.
It's about a 20 minute drive from where we are to the airport so it would be a quick trip there, but a longer drive coming back as Monica and Katrina had a special gift to give to him for the ride home.
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Late one afternoon a few summers ago, and just before dusk, the door bell rang. I must tell you that I was a pretty miffed at the time.
My wife, Betty, was away visiting her sister in Boston -- we're both retired -- and I had the house all to myself. I was enjoying some really hot porn on my computer, which I usually have to sneak around to watch when Betty is home since she finds the stuff disgusting. So, the interruption was not welcome.
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Bill and Beth carried their bags into the luxurious San Francisco hotel room. Both offered flattering remarks about the room and the view as they walked through the living area, past the wet bar and into the huge bedroom. They threw their bags on the bed and met at the large window overlooking the ocean. Beth placed her arm around Bill.
“Isn’t this marvelous?” she asked her husband. “This is going to be SO much fun.”
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I had been lost in the woods for more than two hours when I finally saw the gate of the infantry brigade's garrison I was stationed in. It was about 1.30 in the morning and the silent emptiness surrounding me felt ghostly and hostile. It was snowing heavily. I had left my coat - and along with it my wallet containing all my money and papers - and my fur hat in the bar I was thrown out of, and I was cold, sick and exhausted.
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