I still don't know exactly how I got myself into that situation. It may have been a bet, It may have been a dare, or it might be that I was tricked. The upshot of the entire affair is that I found myself with my neighbor's 18 year old son manhandling me and eventually fucking me senseless.
Perhaps I need to start at the beginning with a description of myself and my marriage to Jim. We had been College sweethearts who married and have been together for 10 years this November.
I'm so done with this school, with these ridiculous uniforms and my jackass classmates trying to look up my skirt and down my shirt. (Who picked these clothes? I mean the skirt is halfway up the thighs for god's sake. And these shirts must have been designed for girls who, well, didn't develop as early and as, uh, fully as me - which, trust me, is not all it's cracked up to be, big tits are huge pain even in clothes that weren't poorly designed for someone a lot _smaller_.
This is a continuation of Ella's story. She is a real person (as is Gabrialla) and chapter 2 moves from fact to her fantasies. The story focuses on a dominant interracial lesbian theme. If this is not to your taste, thank you for stopping by but please pass on this and move onto a different story.
"What a conniving bitch" was all I could think. When I had turned eighteen in June my foster mother could have kicked me to the curb but she hadn't. Relief first struck me then suspicion. My foster mother wasn't exactly Mother Theresa, there had to be a catch. It wasn't obvious at first what was really going on. The condition for my remaining was simple, I had to pay my way. Plus she would need a little for rent. No problem.
Madison felt a little self-conscience. Somehow her boyfriend, Billy, had talked her into wearing her collegiate cheerleader uniform to the frat party. She had reluctantly agreed because she knew some of the other girls on the team would probably be wearing theirs. Billy had on his football jersey, all the boys wore their number when they were together and out among fellow students, so it helped Madison not feel so alone and awkward.
Ted groaned as he hit the snooze button on his alarm clock. He didn't have to go into work today, but he wasn't particularly motivated to start the day either. He'd gone to bed forty-six years old and woke up forty-seven and felt rather blase about the whole thing. His sex life was practically non existent, his wife gone nearly ten years, and a single daughter who was getting ready to leave for college.
Brooke asked if I would write this story. The theme is interracial lesbian domination. All the characters are real. All references to people and photographs are real. I've simply inserted myself into her world. The story ends at my last point of contact with Brooke. There may be more to come.
Judge Thomas Oakley slowed the car as he crossed Martin Luther Key Street on St. Catherine where it turned into Jefferson. He often slowed down here, in passing the King's Tavern Lounge—although he'd never gotten up the gumption to go in there. It was too close to home and he was too well known.