I was sunbathing in my back yard, watching the boys doing yard work. Charley was my neighbor, an 18 year old who helped me out sometimes. He was sweet, and always was nice to me since my husband had run out on me. Ex-husband, excuse me.
It felt weird to be divorced at my age. 27 years old. It wasn't like I deserved it. Of course not. It wasn't my fault.
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"Come on in, Peter." Laura Rogers said with a big smile, "How was school today, dear?"
"Pretty good, Mrs. Rogers." Peter replied quickly, "I was so excited about our session this week, so my mind wasn't on my studies today. I did what you asked, and waited all week."
"How sweet of you." Laura answered while kissing the young lad on the cheek. "Lets go inside I have some cookies and milk." Laura cooed wrapping her arm around him, "I've been thinking of you all week myself. I have a special surprise for you today."
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Stephen lay next to Grace. She was too sore from yesterday but didn't let him know it. Lying next to her, his cock was hard again. He wanted her to have it and just as much as the day before. Horny as ever, he looked at her with the look of desperation and thought to himself how extremely beautiful she actually was. "She almost too beautiful for words" he said to himself.
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Alyssa braced herself for the effort, and then stood up. She cradled her swollen tummy — and the life growing within — taking a moment to rest before heading to the door of her office. She pushed an errant lock of dark brunette hair away from her eyes and gathered up her purse.
"Why didn't you wait for me to help you up?" Sarah asked. Her dark-haired assistant wore a scowl as she stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips.
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"Oh god yes... fuck me with your fingers. Harder..."
My two fingers dug into Sandra's juicy cunt each time I slammed them up her slimy hole. I was pressed against her back with one hand down the front of her shorts fingering her pussy and the other under her top squeezing her tits and pinching her nipples. I could feel her body tremble and knew that she was quickly losing control.
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"So, what are you going to do for a living?" Vivian asked the young man who was visiting along with her son from college.
"I'm retired," Paul Redman replied with a grin.
"Uh, you're kind of young for that aren't you?" Vivian asked in confusion.
"Yes ma'am, I am."
Vivian's son, Cal, said, "Paul was a millionaire by the time he graduated high school."
"More like five million," Paul corrected.
"Five million by the time you graduated high school! You must be some kind of a genius," Vivian said in shock. She had never met anyone worth that much money.
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I had driven 25 of the 50 kilometres of my way home from the Christmas Eve celebrations I had at my girlfriend's home. I decided to call in on old Miss Tomlinson, my old retired schoolteacher, she and I finished school the same year; I at 16 and she at 60. That was 12 years ago.
Why I decided to call in on her I have no idea still. Sure I saw her in her garden and waved as I passed her house on many occasions, but never once stopped.
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I thought at the time I had the worst luck in the world.
There I was, standing on the shoulder of an interstate somewhere in Western Pennsylvania, eighteen wheelers rumbling by as I stared at my 1982 Toyota Celica. I'd opened the hood to see if I could figure out what was wrong, but had no clue. A few minutes earlier it started making a worrisome thumping sound and then stalled out. I was barely able to maneuver my way onto the shoulder safely.
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Let's start out with a joke this time, to evoke a light-hearted mood.
The guy goes to the check-out counter of the supermarket with a salad for one, a pre-wrapped sandwich, and one can of soda.
The cute young clerk eyes his purchase and says to him, "You're single?" The customer grins and nods his head. "You can tell by my meal, huh?"
And the girl says, "No, you're fuckin' ugly."
It was that round, tight, perfectly sculptured bubble ass that caught my eye in aisle six of the Food Lion in Fairfax, Virginia.
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Christian sat in the back of the class, his eyes glued to the back of his teacher's skirt. She wasn't really his teacher, just a substitute. Every once in a while one of his normal teachers would be out sick, or take a personal day, and nine times out of ten he'd walk into the classroom and there would be Miss Anderson. Sometimes one of his buddies would have her in an early class, and they'd let him know at lunch what he would be looking forward to.
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