Julie Davidson arrived back at her apartment block just after midnight. She paid the taxi driver and stomped towards the entrance door. She was in a foul mood. The 41-year-old divorcee had been looking forward to this night out all week. It was a rare chance to get out, dress up and enjoy herself. She had been out with her friends Louise and Pamela and after a few drinks they had all started flirting with guys, to her horror both she and Louise had ended up going after the same guy and he had brushed Julie off with a comment about not dating older women while Louise had her tongue in his ear!
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My stomach was churning and a headache was starting to form just above my eyes. Nearly 20 years later, that building still gave me fits of trepidation:
Bradford James High School; home of the Fighting Navajos.
Of course, here's a tip for the people that name schools and figure out the mascot names: think like a high school kid. Going to school at Bradford James and being called the Navajos is a problem when you're always referred to as the "B J Hoes" by the other schools and kids.
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It began in silence. She was the Priestess and she was in charge. Her four young, male acolytes stood around her at the quarters of the circle watching and waiting. She was covered in a long, dark robe whist they were naked.
With her eyes closed she began to turn, slowly, staying at the centre of the circle. She raised her arms, the robe flowing out about her. She experienced a slight sense of dizziness even though she was turning very slowly.
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Mike couldn't wait to get home. Working third shift at his new job was tiring, but he would be able to get on another shift soon. He looked at his watch, and he knew it would only be another few minutes before he got to Ron and Lisa's house. They were friends of his wife, Jeannie, and he was staying with them until they moved to the new city he was working in. Both Ron and Lisa were teachers, and very well respected in the community. They were not nearly as wild as Mike and Jeannie, but very nice, nonetheless.
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"M...m....Melons..."
My stammered exclamation hung there in the laundry room as the young woman and I stared at each other. I could not for the life of me recall her real name. She was, after all, not my son's girlfriend. If anything, she was a hanger-on, an occasional presence drinking beer or occupying a lawn chair while the boys worked on trucks. All the guys just called her "Melons" because of the balloon like breasts she so proudly paraded in front of her.
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The summer was only half over and I missed Shauna. We had been keeping in touch both by phone and e-mail, but I decided a trip to Vegas was in order. I decided to give Shauna a call and ask her if it would be OK.
"How about some company one of these days?"
"Are you serious?"
"I think its time for a little trip. Don't you?"
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My lover has an Afrikaans accent. His breath whispers against my neck as he speaks gruffly in my ear, pinning me to the living room wall. I push my behind into his groin as he cups my tits, groaning he is "so glad he met me."
It's a rainy summer's night, all sticky and we're slick with sweat. We're both in singlets, he's in jeans and I can feel his thick length as he nestles it between my shorts clad cheeks.
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Funny it happened when we tried "The Invisible Man." I've always wondered about that.
Everybody's tried auto-blow, bending into a pretzel, trying to suck your own cock. Everybody's tried it, especially when younger.
A flexible guy like my Chuck-o can lie back, roll his hips up, bring his feet back over his head, knees to his chest, and get his own dick down between his lips. Gives himself a blowjob.
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Paul's a mate of mine. He's a genuine nice guy and that surprises people when they find he's a mate of mine. Most people think I'm a bit of a bastard, but Paul doesn't mind that. He just says that's who I am. Like I said, a genuine nice guy. Like me, he's in the building trade. Difference is, he's concreter, where I'm a carpenter.
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Life certainly has its ups and downs as everyone can attest to. It just feels like my life has had more downs than ups over the past few years. For instance, my parents had been killed in an auto accident three years ago when I was twenty-three. A semi-truck had veered into their lane when the overworked driver fell asleep at the wheel hitting my parent's car head-on. The doctors assured me that they had died instantly, which was a blessing I guess.
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