"Hi. I came to see you before I go."
Fiona was the daughter of friends. We had watched her grow up and go out on her own, been to her twenty-first, seen her get her first job and become an attractive young woman. She stood on my front doorstep on a hot summer's day and she looked good enough to eat. My wife was away for a couple of weeks in Perth, and I was batching.
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The muscular buttocks did not even pause in their rhythmic tightening and loosening as the strongly built young man continued fucking the helpless young woman he had bent over the back of the couch. He was semi crouched over her long white back and had one hand under her pelvis, his forearm muscles bunching as he abused her clitoris while his other hand alternately milked each of her elongated teats.
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I walked up the sidewalk in the rain towards the lighted porch. The weather matched my mood. I had come home from my office on campus and found a note. "Sorry, I don't think this is going to work our. I've gone back to Tennessee. Karen." I guessed that she had gone back to stay with her aunt.
She had left me and I was stunned and angry and depressed and sad-and somehow lighter and freer. But I needed to talk to somebody and that's why I was walking up to Greg and Rosemary's door.
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My first semester in college I was worried about what kind of roommate I might have like most people on their first time away from home. I spent 3 nights by myself in the two man room before my roommate, Shane, finally showed up. It came out later after we got to know each other that he was worried as well and was spending the nights at a frat brother's room before he got enough nerve to show up. We had become good friends by then and had a good laugh about it.
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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 remember it as being one of 'those' weeks.
Sunday was my twenty-second birthday and my mother took me to lunch at The Connaught. On such occasions, my mother likes to take charge. I think that the elderly couple at the next table thought that I was her Toy Boy. Oh well, if it brightened up their outing.
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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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About two weeks after my sensuous and successful aptitude test with 'Manon', the company which provided discreet escorts for ladies. I was
contacted by Ron Vincent, who told me to call at the office the following evening as he had my first client.
I had already spent some time with Ron, getting a few pointers on what would be expected of me.
He also had me fitted out with a couple of outfits, a smart dark blue suit and a more casual jacket and pants, with shirts to match.
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