"VALENTINE'S DAY STORY CONTEST 2012"
All characters depicted are of consent age.
CHAPTER I
"No you didn't."
"Yes, I did."
"No you didn't."
"I did. I swear I did."
I was arguing with my best friend, Rose or Rosie, as I liked to call her. She just told me she'd sucked her first cock.
"Okay," I said. "Whose cock was it?"
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I had taken Friday off work with the intention of going to Cobblers Beach for the first time this summer, and was pleased when it turned out to be a hot, sunny day. I got the bus there, arriving at around 11am, and as I made my way down the rocky slope which leads to it, there was as usual a tight feeling of anticipation in my stomach.
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I'm a well to do 56 year old professional. My home is very nice and nearly paid for. I'm not married anymore, but not by choice. My wife of 32 years, Sherry, was in the wrong place at the wrong time while riding her motorcycle out in the countryside one day. Some kids came hauling-ass out of a grove and pulled right across her path. Thankfully, she died instantly in the accident. I miss her company very much, but I'm not a lonely kind of guy.
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Stretched out on your couch you look so sexy, so confident, and so proud of your masculinity. Your cock is beginning to swell because you know what's coming; we've done this so many times we've lost count. We aren't in a hurry; there is no need to rush. No one knows what we share. I'm seated comfortably across from you, still clothed, gazing at you - your manhood. Drinking in the beauty of your lovely cock!
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I was on my stomach. My tongue nestled in Georgie's ass crack as she also lay on her stomach on the bed in front of me. She was sucking Chas's cock – her husband. Behind her, I was slowly moistening her anus, in preparation for what I was about to give her. Around my waist was my new blue jelly dong, complete with the strap on attachment that would allow me to fuck my best friend in the ass.
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Jodie had been recommended to a special clinic by one of her friends when they had shared their sexual problems over a few bottles of wine. She had been a bit reluctant and was nearly put off completely by the high fees, but Abbey had persuaded her that it would be worth every penny if she went with a positive attitude.
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Neal wasn't the sort of guy people noticed much. He could walk through a room of people talking—even a room full of people he knew—and get to the other side without being greeted or noticed. He could have conversations with strangers and then the stranger wouldn't recognize him if they met again. He was a guy of no standout talents, no distinctive looks other than being smaller of stature than his age. He wasn't ugly; he was just plain and forgettable—and a little scrawny.
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About two years ago, while working for the space agency, I was sent to a one week training/workshop in Huntsville, Alabama. I stayed at a hotel within walking distance of the Marshall Space Flight Center, where the workshop was to be held. There were about 75 people there, composed primarily of engineers, technicians, research scientists, a few administrators, and some military personnel.
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He was the perfect gentleman. I'd been working at Junior's, an old fashioned ice cream parlor in the tourist trap part of town known as The Riverside for a couple of months. He came in at least once a week, had a single scoop of chocolate ice cream and always he made me laugh.
His name was Craig. I'd guess his age at about 50. He looked his age, but in all the right ways. He had thick hair, black at one time but now going white.
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I walked into my Civil War history class on the first day of the fall semester. I enrolled in this class as a crip credit. My Dad was a Civil War buff and I spent my entire life hearing about the various battles, participants, what should have been done, stupid mistakes that were made, and endless trivia.
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