"Bad news."
I looked up from the chart I was perusing. "Never a good thing to say in a medical clinic," I replied.
Sally, my administrative manager, grimaced. "Sorry, but true nevertheless. We overscheduled today."
I set the chart on the counter I was leaning on and groaned. "Let me guess. My turn?" She nodded in sympathy.
It didn't happen often, but occasionally, too many nurses would be scheduled for a shift. We took turns on who went home (without pay), and I knew I was next up.
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I notice on the map that there was a tennis court located in a very secluded area. You agree to go. Now either one of us is any good at tennis but it was exercise that we found to be fun, just hitting the ball back and forth.
We weren't there long before two young guys show up wanting to use the court. Their names were Dave and Steve; both were in their early 20's. They asked if we wanted to play doubles with a twist, for every point the losers had to take a shot of whiskey.
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Let's start by describing the ladies in this story. Linda is a gorgeous 26 year old blonde. Big blue eyes and full " Angelina Jolie " lips. Petite body with wonderful 34c boobs. Flat stomach and a sexy round firm ass.
My wife Sandra is a very stylish and beautiful 39 years old. Dark long hair and sensual brown eyes. Full 36c boobs topped by big round nipples. She is tall with the body of an athlete.
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Poor Theresa, just divorced, cute and sweet. I had to take pity on her, but not in a pitiful way. I suppose I guessed that her slightly meek nature was by choice rather than nature, as if she chose to be that way because she could make something of it. She was quite short, but she had this amazing smile that made her look ten feet tall – maybe other people didn't notice it, but I did.
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My wife Angie and I have been married for seven years and despite having had two children Angie had kept her figure, she was a slim 34 year old woman with long blond hair and small to average, but beautifully formed breasts. We have had a good but not very adventurous love life. Angie would give me oral sex, usually while I was returning the favour but never allowed me to cum in her mouth. We had discussed anal sex but she had considered it too painful and dirty.
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I had just started working for a small little publishing firm. Being a part-time writer myself, it was enjoyable work reading other writers manuscripts, all hopeful of getting their works printed in book form. It was a relatively small office too, something else that I quite liked as it was a fairly laid back and comfortable atmosphere. My job was basically to read the manuscripts, critique them and then pass on my recommendations to Larry Somers my boss, or on to his wife Christine who partnered the business with him.
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Rene and I were sitting at a sidewalk table in a small town near our home in Southwest Ohio drinking a flavored water when she approached us and introduced herself. She was typical of this town, a place inhabited mostly by aging hippies of the artistic type. We come here often to browse its many art and cultural shops and just for fun to count how many people were wearing Birkenstocks. She introduced herself as Kabbie, a nickname given by a college professor that just stuck.
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I have invited a few friends over to share an evening with us. It’s supposed to be a surprise for your birthday, but it’s difficult to keep a smile from revealing all. You’ve asked me about my suspicious behavior and I make a vague reply. I don’t want to spoil the moment.
You’re wearing my gift to you, a sexy pair of black silk boxers, with turquoise piping. The matching robe was whisked off as soon as you had modeled it for me.
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"You sure that's okay, Joe? You don't mind?"
I thought to myself for a minute. What the hell was there to mind? My business partner, Frank was simply asking me to look after his daughter for a few weeks - well, asking me and my wife, Jenny - while she attempted to get over her latest disastrous affair. It seemed that Frank wanted to put a bit of distance between her and the low-life that she had been seeing, and my house out in the country seemed like the obvious choice.
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Beverly was crying. Her bosom heaved up and down as each sob wracked her body. "I've got to leave you, Gary. I can't live a lie anymore!"
I cradled her in my arms, wiping away the tears streaming down her cheeks, her farm girl freckles magnified by each drop. We sat on the couch, in the third year of our marriage, as I tried to make sense out of what Bev was saying. This often was not easy, as she was no rocket scientist. But Bev's simple, kind nature more than made up for her lack of mental prowess. She loved me truly.
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