Part of me hates this man, whom I'll call "X" for now. We didn't get along as a couple, which is why we broke up in the first place. I didn't even hate him when we broke up- it was very amicable, the old ‘we're just in very different places right now,' blah blah blah… but very soon after the split, I found myself fantasizing, over and over again, about the sex we used to have. It became totally consuming, to the point that I finally found myself breaking down and calling him on the phone one day.
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I hadn't been home in nearly three weeks and it felt good to be alone in my beach house finally, as I lazily began to strip off my clothes and make my way to the staircase that led to my bedroom. Past all the unopened mail that lay scattered across my pool table without a second glance at it, I flung my clothes haphazardly as I peeled them off sending my grey tee across the leather chair in the corner and my bra somewhere behind me as I reached the staircase.
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"Hello. I'm Mr. Devereux to see Ms. Hill," I said to the receptionist. My voice was clear and authoritative, but not overly aggressive. I was standing in front of her desk, which had the usual assortment of secretarial accoutrements; a large phone, pens, paper, rolodex and computer, which she was busily typing away at.
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Tina arrived home to a quiet house. She knew her girlfriend Shay was home not only because her car was in the driveway, but Shay had called her at work and told her to hurry home for a surprise.
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On the third try I managed to get the key into the hole and unlock my apartment door. Amazing what half-a-dozen Malibu and Diet Cokes will do to a girl's head. I stepped inside with my two new pets hot on my tight little tail. I had decided that one cock just wasn't going to be enough for me tonight, so I brought home two.
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Six o'clock came quickly. Donna ran to the phone to make the call she was told to make. She dialed the number only to get a recording that had been made just for her. Listening carefully, making sure of the address she was supposed to go to at 8 P.M. that night. The sound of Michelle's voice made Donna's legs weak with desire for more of what she had experienced earlier that day. She smiled as her mind wandered back to the most sensual experience of her life and it was with another woman, which was a first for her.
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Summer classes had always been a drag for me. The students were always more captivated by the rays of sunlight crashing through foggy classroom windows than with my explanations on how context was one of the most important aspects to master when translating a literary work. And more often than not the students were as fogged up as the windows were as they fought off the haze of the previous night's partying. Not that I blames them -- there were still parts of my early days attending university that were a blur.
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