Paris would have been my first choice, With perhaps Rome or Amsterdam second. But Hamburg? It was hardly tourist-land. But Wendy's name had been on the entry form and she had chosen Hamburg.
"We've been to all the others." She said.
It had been one of those "You have been chosen..... " things, which come through the letterbox most days. I had always thought that nobody actually won anything. Wendy had been in one of her 'enter everything' moods and had won second prize.
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I hung up the phone and waited to be buzzed in, maneuvering the box in my left arm so I could see my watch. Shit. Five after eight. Almost on time. Well, if I was going to be late, this was the night to do it. The normally frigid March weather was glorious. Most of the snow had melted and I'd opted for sandals instead of my usual choice of sneakers. How'd I gotten stuck babysitting on a Saturday night like this again?
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In hindsight, my divorce, combined with a new start in a new city, had probably left me somewhat emotionally vulnerable by the time I first met Lisa and her husband, Cameron. But whether or not that vulnerability was in some part responsible for the nature of our encounter, I'm not sure. In the end, I'm just glad it happened.
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It was a brilliantly sunny May morning and so the three had decided to take advantage of the unexpectedly warm weather. Marie and Brad were going to pick up Vince, and then drive to Point Reyes and spend the afternoon at one of the beaches out there. Afterwards Marie intended to bring the two young men back to her place and lure them into yet another torrid round of boy-boy sex, with her, of course, right at the center of the carnal frolic.
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When I was a junior in college, I had an experience with two senior girls I would never forget. I had never really been one to put in a lot of effort at school, but when Melanie asked me if I'd like to come to her place and study for our biology exam with her and Lauren, I said yes in a heartbeat. Both girls were good friends of mine, but of course this didn't stop me from ogling at them, or even fantasizing about them as I masturbated.
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I knew I got the spa for a reason. I'd just spent a pretty rare afternoon at the pub and came home to see my wife Jean with 2 of her sexy mates reclined comfortably in our new spa. Luckily for them they were all sipping on a couple of glasses of champagne. As I came into view her Friend Stacey saw me first and in her usual outgoing manner told me to get my kit off and jump in with them.
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A few weeks ago, I went to a local 'fast food restaurant' for breakfast, which is the norm for me. I am divorced and live alone and I see no profit in buying eggs, bacon, bread, sausage, and all that stuff, taking the time to prepare it and then cleaning up afterward. So shoot me, I am going to eat out for breakfast.
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François Renard was a stagehand and handyman at the theater of the Ballet De Paris. He was a huge man, almost seven feet tall with wide shoulders and hands large and strong enough to crush a coconut, but he was very gentle giant. Most of those who saw him thought he was slow witted because he seldom spoke. Also he had a foolish smile which came out any time Monsieur Tibault the theater manager scolded him, or if one of the dancers from the corps de ballet made fun of him.
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I felt a moment of uncertainty about the experience I was about to let myself in for, but the sight of Carl removing his jeans to reveal a gloriously hard cock protruding through the slit of his boxers swept away my twinge of insecurity. Well, stricly speaking I wasn't about to let myself in for it; that moment had come twenty minutes ago, in the club, when I agreed to his crazy suggestion.
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Faith smeared on the remainder of her lipstick as she tossed the slender silver tube into a nearby trash can. She sighed to herself, adjusting her hair in the mirror. She didn't even want to go to this party. Switching colleges her senior year had been extremely hard for her, and she wasn't so quick to make friends. The only girl who had befriended her was Amy.
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