Marie rolled onto her back and stretched sensually. Her back arched as her hands and arms reached out above her head, her hard nipples, perched at the tip of her firm breasts, reaching up towards the sun. She relaxed, resting back on the towel that was still cool despite the heat of the late afternoon sun, her hands still above her head, her breasts taut on her chest.
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Ah yes, Abby! She brings back such fond memories. She was a cheerleader when I first saw her. A short skirt, a bulky sweater, pom-poms, and a beautiful, vivacious, athletic young woman... what else could a man ask for? I spent wonderful hours watching her bounce around, kick her legs up, and do cartwheels almost every afternoon after school. We were both breathing hard by the time she finished practice.
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I've waited months to share this story with someone. I still can't believe it happened. You would think the details would have faded over time, but fortunately the events I want to share with you are vividly imprinted in my memory. I have never felt anything like this before in my life, a warm, fuzzy, tingly feeling deep inside of me and bubbles with happiness.
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The band's manager turned to Erin and smiled. "The guys like you."
Erin's brown eyes lit up. "Do you think so?"
This would be her fantasy come true.
"I know so," the tall, graying man stated and handed the young girl a cloth pass marked All Access in bold white lettering. "After the show," he grinned, "knock on the bus."
If she had won the lottery, Erin wouldn't have been happier than she was at that moment.
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My story started several years ago when my best mate Phil and I were out having a quiet drink while our wives, Tina and Laura, were on a hen night. The conversation always turned to sex as we both moaned that we never got enough. Our wives used to take our moaning in good spirit as "typical men's moans."
Anyway the conversation this night centred on our drooling over a work colleague of my wife whose legs seemed to go on forever.
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If you have never been to Copenhagen, I swear you should go. It is a truly wonderful city by the sea. The inhabitants are hospitable, fun loving and to a surprisingly abundant degree, exceptionally good looking.
The legend says that centuries ago, Vikings kidnapped the most beautiful women during their conquering visits to Europe, and deposited them back in Scandinavia to raise their offspring, resulting in the tendency for tall, blonde, healthy and attractive generations to follow.
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"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.
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Billy was shit out of luck. His problem was that he was just an average Joe - but he was really, REALLY average! He was twenty-five years old, working as a delivery man, and not a bad person. But he just couldn't get laid. It wasn't that he was ugly or fat or anything else like that. He had ordinary looks with an ordinary body (bordering on the chubby side, though).
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Henri smiled.
Susan liked the cheerful, guileless concierge-come-garçon de café that was as much a part of the pavillon as the faded, not-quite-peeling paint, the louvered shutters and the balmy salt breeze. She'd come to treasure this quiet little place on the Côte d'Ivoire. Henri's warm grin and genuine welcome greeted her every time.
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Every guy has had that one girl, the Wild One. The one that you probably still thinking about while fucking your wife twenty years later. The girl that your old buddies say "I wonder what happened to her. Probably ended up in porn or something." Lacey was that girl for me.
We met as freshmen in college. She lived on the floor above me. I was first introduced to her by her roommate, Mary.
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