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She walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge, seemingly
unconcerned over her partial nudity. She made no attempt to cover herself
at all. “I remember you from the crowd at the vollyball game. When I lost
my top I was embarassed as hell, but I was going to be damned if I’d let
anyone see that. I saw every male in the crowd was drooling, but when I
looked around and saw you… there was something else in your eyes. You
looked so incredibly sad.”

“I didn’t know it showed.” Harold mumbled. “I was… well… thinking
just about the same thing as everybody else.” He turned red and averted his
eyes in shame.

“Oh, I know that.” she replied matter-of-factly “I’ve been getting
looks like that since I was twelve years old. I’m used to getting stared at
and hit on a lot, so I just learned to deal with it without getting mad.
Actually, it does a lot for my ego. I don’t know what it was, though, but
you really stood out in that crowd, at least to me. I’ve always been good
at picking up feelings.”

“And you felt sorry for me.” Harold said baldly. He should have known
he had misinterpreted that look. “When our eyes met that time, I almost
thought, well…”

She smiled and patted a place on the bed next to her. “Why not come
over here and sit down? You can’t be too comfortable all curled up in a
ball in the corner.”

Harold sighed and got up painfully. She was right. It wasn’t too
comfortable. He sat on the bed about two feet away from her. It took
considerable effort to keep his eyes off her chest. He was surprised to
find his mouth had gone dry and his heart was pounding. “Um, can I ask a
question?”

“Sure” She answered.

“If you were so, um, embarassed when you lost your top earlier, why
aren’t you wearing it now?”

“Because it’s uncomfortable. The damn string’s been digging into my
neck all day and it’s sore as hell.” she lifted her hair up and showed him
a red weal as the base of her neck. “I should have worn a nice, sensable
tank top. And I was embarassed because I got caught by surprise. Otherwise
I wouldn’t have cared. I’m not ashamed of my body at all. Does this bother
you?”

“No.” Harold said quickly. Then he reconsidered. “Well, a little.”

“See?” she smiled, “I told you you might like it better with the light
off.”

“Oh, not at all.” Harold said hurredly, “They’re definitely worth
looking at.” then he winced, realizing what he said. “I mean, YOU’RE
definitely worth-”

But she was laughing, a very pretty sound indeed. She waved him off,
“I know what you meant. I’m flattered, really. You know, red’s your color.”
she said, making Harold blush even harder. “But that’s nasty of me.”

The talk died off and the silence stretched between them like putty as
they both sat alone with their thoughts. Finally she said, almost shyly,
“You know, I didn’t entirely feel sorry for you. You’re not that bad
looking.” Harold looked at her wonderingly. She moved over until she was
right next to him. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re no Tom Selleck or anything,
but I decided a long time ago that most of the really good looking guys are
too hung up on themselves to give a woman the attention she wants. You seem
really nice.”

Her shoulder and hip pressed against his warmly. Her weight on the bed
pulling him towards her, her very presence, that oh so luscious body, all
burned in his mind like a red-hot firebrand. Almost without thinking, he
put an arm around her shoulders. “And I think you’re very beautiful. What
else can I say?” his other hand came up and froze, uncertainly. Her eyes
locked on his and without a word she reached up placed his hand on her bare
breast.

“Why say anything?” and she silenced any possible reply with an open
mouthed kiss.

He massaged her breast tenderly, feeling it’s weight, it’s smoothness,
running his thumb gently over the rapidly hardening nipple. Her tongue
darted playfully into his mouth, only to retreat. Then it came out again
more slowly and met with his, intertwining in powerful intimacy that made
his head spin. Then she withdrew slowly.

Ending the kiss, he ran his open mouth gently down along the line of
her jaw, to her ear, which he explored, making her giggle. He moved to her
neck, taking a moment to kiss away the pain of the weal there, before
moving farther down.

Nor was she idle while he did this. Her hands ran along his sides, up
under his shirt, exploring. Then she reached down and undid his pants,
reaching inside to caress his blossoming erection with a light, tingling
touch.

He had moved down to her chest now, and he roamed freely with his
tongue, using a feathery touch that made her shiver. Around and around the
curving softness of her breast, finally centering on the fully erect
nipple, which he plunged into his mouth, sucking gently. Again and again he
did this, finally moving over to the other side. His hands explored her
back, her sides, her thighs, moving with smooth surety.

With a sigh she reclined back onto the bed, grasping the zipper on her
cut-offs and pulling it down slowly. The fabric parted gladly, after
straing all day to hold together, and golden feathery pubic hair poked
through the gap, glimmering faintly in the light from the dresser lamp. She
grasped the sides of the shorts and pulled them down over her long legs,
finally kicking them off onto the floor. Harold was not surprised at all to
see she wore no underwear. With a great sigh she stretched out on the bed,
glorious in her nakedess. Harold could only stare until she looked back at
him and said, “Well…?”

He hesitated for the slightest of instances. Something deep inside his
mind gibbered. This is just like before, it said. Get out of here now. Get
out before you humiliate yourself again! Now, fool!

And he almost listened. Almost, until something much older and
stronger took control of his thoughts and squashed the voice completely.
All doubt dissappeared as he stripped off all his clothes, put the light
out, and climbed onto the bed.

“Why did you turn off the light?” she asked in a breathy voice.
“Why not? Habit, I guess.” he replied, turning his attentions back to
her. Suddenly he stopped, “I just realized, I don’t know your name.”

“I was wondering when you would get around to that.” she said. “I’m
Julie.”

“Pleased to meet you, Julie. I’m Harol… Harry.” On a moment of
whimsey, he added, “Would you have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

“Sure.” She replied, “But right now let’s fuck.” And they both broke
up laughing.

But the laughter quickly faded as Harry returned to the matter at
hand. With his mouth and hands he continued to explore the soft curves of
her body, her hips, her navel, slowly, inexhorably moving towards one
definite spot. His fingers playfully toyed with her pubic hair as he moved
his tongue slowly up along her inner thigh. Her breathing had speeded up
noticably as she bent her knees and spread her legs. Harry settled himself
down with his face between her thighs. His fingers pulled aside the labia,
exposing the delicate folds of flesh within. Gently he began to probe
inside with his tongue.

Her breathing became even more rapid and her hips began to move up and
down in sensuous rhythem. His tongue explored deeper until he found what he
was looking for, the fleshy knob of the clitoris. His nose pressed hard
…End of the part1. To be continued..

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it successfully and see how she handled it. He ran a gloved hand over the

frosted intercom panel, stopping and pressing one labeled “9 – Sanders” and

cleared his throat.

“Yes?” It was the sound he’d fallen in love with – the voice of this woman he’d

never met, but knew as intimately as he knew himself.

He immediately assumed the lazy Southern drawl he’d been practicing, covering his

normally flat voice. “Phone company, miss. You a ‘Ms. Sanders’ who wants a

second line installed?” “Oh, yes; you’re early – the person at the office said

this afternoon-” the disembodied voice replied.

“Well, yer lucky; my first call was supposed to be a repair job that’d take all

morning, but they cancelled.” He was having trouble not adding small things like

“darling” or “my lovely lap-dancer”.

“Good; the sooner I get the line installed, the sooner I can log-on and-” The

rest of her plans were drowned out by a harsh metallic buzz. He grabbed his

toolbox and reached to open the door, unable to suppress a grin at the irony of

her statement. He breathed deeply as he mounted the half-flight of stairs,

shaking his head to rid himself of any stage fright. He’d always worried about

the wrong things before – surely this meant that all would go well? The hard

part was getting his body to believe it.

He concentrated on projecting the image of an American phone technician on his

first job of the day. A coil of cable was over his left shoulder, a large

tool-case in his right hand and blue, insulated coveralls obscuring his body from

neck to ankle. A hard hat covered his dark hair – ’she’d spot that right away

after what she said upon getting my picture’ he thought – and to complete the

facade a worn, weathered clipboard in his left hand.

He stepped to the correct door, stuck his gloves in a pocket, placed his toolbox

on the floor, and rapped on the door. To add to the illusion, he stood on his

toes – adding to his apparent height. He also grabbed a pen from his chest

pocket and started ‘writing’ on the clipboard held *just* in between the fish-eye

and his face – right-handed to further lull his prey from detecting her

“Grammar-Checker”.

He was rewarded with a series of clicks and the door opened. “I’d like the plug

near the table over there-” she said as she pointed back into the apartment, and

gasped as the ‘phone technician’ dropped his things and hugged her, surprising

her with a deep, passionate kiss. She felt the bristle of his moustache,

myopically saw the small scar on his cheek, and stopped resisting. When they ran

out of breath, they separated and she cried out his name with a child-like look

of delight on her face. “What ARE you doing here?”

“Gee, what do you THINK, lover? We’ve both been champing at the bit to meet

finally.”

“How’d you do all this?”

“Simple – you mentioned that you were finally getting an ISP and extra phone

line. I stayed at that motel just outside Geneva and waited to see a phone

company van to go by – handy thing, you living in a small town. I was lucky

enough for it to pull into a gas station on the way. When the driver went in to

pay, I slipped up and took a peek at the work orders.”

“But what if I’d have been the first client of the day, or if he hadn’t stopped?”

“Just lucky I guess – there’s only so much planning you can do. Anyway, happy

birthday.”

They kissed again. “Thank you; it’s not ’til Wednesday, but I think this is a

wonderful gift. One question remains – how could you even afford a plane ticket?

You never got that work term in Kansas City!”

“Well, there’s an interesting story that will explain my ability to be with the

one I love…but that will wait for lunch; right now we’ve got some things to

attend to.” His mouth curled into a salacious, wolf-like grin – showing her what

he’d meant every time he added “” to an email comment. He turned to grab his

things in the hall and was rewarded with a slap on the buttocks.

…End of the part1. To be continued..

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[Father Goose #1]

There were three Medieval kingdoms on the shores of a lake.
There was an island in the middle of the lake, which the kingdoms had
been fighting over for years. Finally, the three kings decided that
they would send their knights out to do battle, and the winner would
take the island.
The night before the battle, the knights and their
squires pitched camp and redied themselves for the fight. The first
kingdom had 12 knights, and each knight had 5 squires, all of whom were
busily polishing armor, brushing horses, and cooking food. The second
kingdom had 20 knights, and each knight had 10 squires. Everyone at
that camp was also busy preparing for battle. At the camp of the third
kingdom, there was only one knight, with his one squire. This squire
took a large pot and hung it from a looped rope in a tall tree. He
busied himself preparing the meal, while the knight polished his own
armor. When the hour of battle came, the three kingdoms sent their
squires out to fight ( this was too trivial a matter for the knights to
join in ). The battle raged, and when the dust cleared, the only person
left was the lone squire from the third kingdom, having defeated the
squires from the other kingdoms.

I guess this just proves that the squire of the high pot and noose is
equal to the sum of the squires of the other two sides.

[Alternate version:]

It seems that there were these 3 pregnant Indian Squaws, all due to give
birth at about the same time. The first squaw gave birth to a boy, and the
birthing was done on a deer hide. The 2nd also gave birth to a boy, but this
was done on a bear hide. And, the third had twins, two boys, and
she did this on a hippopotamus hide.

I guess *THIS* shows us that the sons of the squaw on the hippopotamus hide
is equal to the sum of the squaws on the other two hides.

[Father Goose #2]

There was a new driver for the bus on Sesame Street. His first
day on the job, he awoke bright and early, went to the garage, got
the bus, and set off on his route.

At the first stop there was a chubby little girl waiting for
the bus. She climbed the step and got on, and said,
“Hi. My name is Patty.”
The driver replied,
“Hi, Patty. Please take a seat.”

At the second stop there was a second little girl, even chubbier
than the first. She got on and said,
“Good morning! My name’s Patty.”
The driver answered,
“Good morning. Please sit down.”

At the third stop there was a little boy waiting. He was dressed
in a white shirt and tie, and a suit with a vest, and he had a
calculator holster on his belt. He said,
“Hi. My name is Ross, and I’m special!”
The driver wasn’t impressed, but he managed a smile and said,
“Please sit down, Ross.”

The fourth stop rewarded the driver with a grubby little boy
with dirty jeans and torn sneakers. He got on the bus and said,
“My name is Lester Cheese.”
The driver replied,
“Please take a seat, Lester.”

Well, he’s driving along and he looks in his rear-view mirror
and sees that Lester Cheese has taken off his sneakers and is
scratching at his foot. The driver pulls the bus over to the
side of the rode, stops it, and says,

“I can’t take this any longer! I’ve got

two obese Patties,
special Ross,
Lester Cheese picking bunions
on a Sesame Street bus!

[Father Goose #3]

A while back, there were two kingdoms situated close by each other.
One kindgom had a powerful king, and the other had a relatively weak
king. The difference (or so everybody said) was that the powerful
king had a magic throne, which had the property of making people
powerful.
Well, the weak king wanted this throne, so he had a trusted
count get up an army (you know, knights, pages, reporters, that kind
of thing) to fetch it.
The army trudged along for a day or two (only the reporters
would know for sure) and came upon the powerful king’s castle.
The castle entrance was guarded by a huge yellow monster
with huge yellow hands. The army (being an army and all) attacked!
The huge Yellow Monster ate them all, except for two pages
who did not engage in the fight. The pages, being very frightened,
hid until nightfall.
When night came along, the pages peeked from their hiding
place and saw that the monster was asleep. The only thing guarding
the entrance now was the monsters huge hands draped in front of the
opening. The pages, being only 8 years old and all, were able to
squeeze through the yellow fingers and gain entrance into the
castle.

Moral: let your pages do the walking through the yellow fingers.

[Father Goose #4]
Once inside the castle, the pages had no trouble finding the
throne. Combined, they were just strong enough to lift it, and were
able to carry it out of the castle. (The monster gave them no
further trouble, since they had the throne and everything.)
After having walked half the night with the heavy throne
between them, they were very tired and stopped at a grass house
to rest. The farmer who lived there, wanting to steal the throne for himself,
let them spend the night in the barn. The throne was “hid” in the
farmer’s attic.
Some hours later, the farmer stole into his barn and killed
the pages.
The farmer went back to bed. A few minutes later, the
throne crashed through the ceiling, crushing and killing the farmer
and his wife.

Moral: people who live in grass houses shouldn’t stow thrones.

[Father Goose #5]
When the powerful king found his throne missing the next
day, he ordered HIS army to kidnap the other king’s count and force
him to tell where the throne was being hid. The session went as
follows:

king: Where is the throne?
count: I cannot tell you.
king: Then I will have you killed! Executioner, cut off his
head!
count: (as the axe is swinging down…)
Ok! I will tell you!
THWACK!!!

Moral: don’t hatchet your counts before they chicken.

[Father Goose #6]

A wild life photographer goes on an expedition to South America to photograph
the legendary and hitherto unseen foo bird. On the way he attempts to hire
porters from a tribe of Pygmys. They warn him of the dreaded curse on all
who look upon the bird and refuse to join. Undaunted the intrepid photographer
…End of the part1. To be continued..

Suddenly and abruptly, I feel a hand being placed on my
shoulder and look up in surprise to see two handsome
men in jeans and tee-shirts standing there. One of them says
he didn’t mean to disturb me, but they knocked on the front
door and there was no answer, so they thought they might
as well try to look around in the back to see if anyone were home.

He explained that they were here to fix the filter in the pool
and that my husband had called them this morning from his
office. “Oh yes!”,I said, the filter is broken. Go ahead.”

From where the pool filter was located those two hunks had a
great view of me and feeling kind of horny, I thought I’d give
them a show. I undid the strap of my bikini top so that just a
little tit was showing and I pulled my bottoms tight up into my
crack. I knew they could see and that I was having an effect.

One of the guys, a blond who said his name was Pete, walked
over and asked to use the bathroom. “Right through the door and
to the left.” I said, sitting up a bit and letting my top fall
free exposing my large ripe breasts. The look on his face was
one of shock and embarrassment. “Oops!” I said, and winked at
him.

He just smiled and headed to the bathroom. While he was
gone I called the other guy over, Jeff was his name, a tall
muscular fellah with black hair. “Could you put some sun tan
lotion on my back” I asked as I rolled over onto my stomach.

“Sure!” he said. Slowly he massaged the oil all over my back and
legs. Then I turned over and asked him to do the front too, which
he did with a grin. His large firm hands began squeezing and
rubbing my tits. As he did that I reached up and unzipped his
pants revealing a thick hard ten inch cock! I sat up on the
lounge chair and slid his hot meat into my mouth. I sucked
slowly on the head of his fat dick, slipping it in and out
between my red succulent lips. By then his friend was back and
was already taking off his pants. I laid back on the lounge
chair and removed my bottoms. I spread my legs wide and the
blond guy took his big hard shaft and plunged it into my
dripping cunt.

The other guy stood over me and fucked my large aching tits
and mouth with his giant prick. The two of them pumped away
filling my mouth and pussy with their cocks. I wiggled and
moaned as they thrust in and out of me, ravishing my hot naked
body. My pussy clamped down tight on the thick tool between my
legs brought me orgasm after orgasm. I could feel the cock in
my mouth swell and I sucked faster until the guy shot a hot
creamy load of come down my throat. Then the guy fucking me blew
his wad deep in my cunt. I laid back, basted in their love
juices, and smiled.

After all of that exotic lovemaking, we all went for a cool
refreshing swim and did it again before my husband got home.

CANONICAL LIST OF ‘HOW THEY DO IT’s

A king does it with his official seal.
AI hackers do it with rules.
AI hackers do it breast first.
AI hackers make a big production out of it.
AI hackers do it with robots.
AI hackers do it robotically.
AI hackers do it artificially.
AI hackers do it depth first.
AI hackers do it with robots
APL programmers do it with stile
APL programmers are functional.
APL programmers do it backwards.
APL programmers do it backwards.
Accountants do it with double entry.
Accountants do it with balance.
Accountants are good with figures.
Acrophobes get down.
Actors do it on stage.
Actors do it on cue.
Actors play around
Ada programmers do it by committee.
Ada programmers do it in packages.
Advertisers use the “new, improved” method.
Advertising majors do it with style.
Aerobics instructors do it until it hurts.
Aerospace Engineers do it with lift and trust.
Agents do it undercover.
Air Traffic Controllers do it in the dark.
Air Traffic Controllers tell pilots how to do it.
Air traffic controllers do it by radar.
Airlifters penetrate further, linger longer, and drop a bigger load
Alpinists do it higher.
Ambulance drivers come quicker.
Analog hackers do it continuously.
Anglers do it with worms.
Animators do it 24 times a second
Ansi does it in the standard way.
Archeologists like it old.
Architects have great plans.
Arsonist do it with fire.
Artillerymen do it with a burst.
Artists do it by design.
Artists are exhibitionists.
Artists do it with emotion
Artists do it with creativity.
Assassins do it from behind.
Assembler programmers do it one-to-one.
Assembly line workers do it over and over.
Astronauts do it in orbit.
Astronomers do it while gazing at Uranus.
Astronomers can’t do it with the lights on
Astronomers do it with Uranus.
Astronomers (astrophysicists) do it with a Big Bang.
Astronomers do it under the stars.
Astronomers do it with thier Telescopes (Refraction periods?)
Astronomers do it in the dark.
Astronomers do it with stars.
Astronomers only do it at Night
Attorneys make better motions.
Auditors like to examine figures.
Authors do it by rote.
Auto makers do it with standard equipment (or optional equipment).
B&Ders do it with their hands tied behind their backs!
BASIC programmers GOTO it.
Babysitters charge by the hour.
Backstrokers do it face up
Bailiffs always come to order.
Bakers knead it daily.
Bankers do it with interest. (However, there is a penalty for early withdrawal)
Banker – Past performance is no guarantee of future potential…
Bananas do it in bunches.
Band members do it in front of 100,000 people.
Band members do it in a parade.
Band members do it in sectionals.
Band members do it all night.
Band members do it on the football field.
Band members do it in public.
Barbarians do it with anything. (As do orcs.)
Barbers do it with shear pleasure.
Bartenders do it on the rocks.
Baseball Players (Sports people) Do it for alot of Money
Baseball players make it to first base.
Baseball players hit more home runs.
Baseball players have leather-covered balls.
Basic programmers do it all over the place.
Basic programmers do it all over the place.
Basketball players have big rubber balls.
Basketball players dribble before they shoot
Basketball players score more often.
Beekeepers like to eat their honey.
Beer brewers do it with more hops.
Beer drinkers get more head.
Beta Testers do it looking for mistakes.
Bicyclists do it in 10 speeds.
Biochemists make better lovers…want us to make *you* one?
Bio – Does that mean your offering to make a better lover than the one I alrea
dy have, or to improve ME?!??
Biologists do it with clones.
Bo Jackson knows doing it.
Boardheads do it with stiff masts.
Body-builders do it with muscle
Bookkeepers do it with double entry
Bosses delegate the task to others.
Bowlers have bigger balls.
Breaststrokers touch with both hands
Bricklayers lay all day.
Bridge players try to get a rubber.
Bridge players do it with finesse.
Broadcast/Cable Majors do it on film.
Broadcast/Cable Majors do it to epic proportions
Building inspectors do it under the table.
Bus drivers come early and pull out on time.
Butchers have better meat.
Butchers do it with dead meat.
C programmers continue it.
C programmers do it with lint.
C programmers SWITCH often.
C programmers SWITCH and then BREAK it.
C programmers SWITCH and then BREAK it.
C programmers continue it.
C’Bers do it on the air.
C++ programmers do it with their friends, in private.
CIA operatives do it with a security blanket.
COBOL hackers do it by committee.
COBOL programmers do it very slow.
COBOL programmers do it very slow.
CS111 students do it with interspersed comments.
CS111 students do it in binary.
CS111 students do it with ORGs.
Californians do it laid back.
Campers do it in a tent.
Cardiologists do it lightheartedly.
Cardiologists do it halfheartedly.
Carpenters hammer it harder.
Carpet layers do it on the floor.
Cartoonists do it with just a few good strokes.
Cavaliers do it mounted.
Cheerleaders do it with more enthusiasm.
Cheerleaders do it enthusiastically.
Chefs do it in the kitchen.
Chefs do it for dessert.
Chemical engineers do it in packed beds.
Chemists do it reactively.
…End of the part1. To be continued..

Section One – The Early Years
Chapter I – Baby Bimbo

Everyone in Larchmont knew that Chance was a tramp the day she came home
from the the hospital. At that point in her life it wasn’t the rubber pants
that gave her away, or even the fact that when someone picked her up for
burping, she blew in his ear. Let me put it this way: She did things with her
pacifier that most women still haven’t done with their husbands. Is that a
tramp, or what?
It was almost unthinkable that we would ever become friends, especially
to my mother. She considered anyone who wore open-toed shoes an exhibitionist.
Chance and I were SO unalike. I mean, when I had diaper rash, she had
herpes. I’d fuss about going to bed; she’d hit the mattress the minute
someone unzipped her bunting. I slept with stuffed animals; she slept with
real ones. You get the picture.
Chance stayed different from the rest of us. She never went through a NO
phase (her first words were “Sure, sailor!”), never sucked her thumb if she
could suck someone else’s, and when she waved “bye-bye,” it was with her
panties.
Even before she was toilet-trained, that tramp’s name was on bathroom
walls!

Chapter II – Toddler Tramp

Before we even entered kindergarten, Chance was raising eyebrows as often
as her skirt. Think I’m exaggerating?? Well, how many four-year-olds do
you know who’ve had their birthday parties raided by the police? I’m serious!
She jumped out of her own birthday cake!
My mother never let me go to any of Chance’s parties after I told her
about the one where we played Simon Says with a whip. (Simon says, “DO THIS!
DO THAT!”) She’d probably never have let me see Chance again if I’d told where
that preschooler poptart had hidden the marshmallows for the treasure hunt!
Like men in later years, Chance’s toys said a lot about her; all of it
unprintable. Her dollhouse had a red light on it! Her coloring books had dirty
pictures! She was the only kid in the neighborhood who had an anatomically
correct G.I. Joe doll – and it was battery operated!!
She also had an advanced Erector set. What she did with that is better
left unmentioned.

–

I’d been mulling over the physical evidence we had… and it
wasn’t much.

My attention had shifted to the booze as it made oily swirls
through the smoky amber, just like it always did. I’d heard the
tap of high-heels, and unconsciously glanced up and smiled as
Janine carried a tray of fresh drinks to the table in the corner.
Somehow, she always drew my attention. It was her long tapered
legs I suppose, or maybe the way she filled out her blouse.

I’d been stopping in to have a drink a few times a week ever
since I moved into the neighborhood. A nice enough place, but
nothing special. I suppose it was a combination of their chili
and Janine’s muscular calves that kept me coming back. It’s
unbelievable when you think how fast a year can pass. One day
blending into the next, on and on. ‘Maybe your booze consumption
has something to do with the way the days run together,’ I
thought, as I sipped my drink.

I was always coming up with brilliant ideas like that. “Stop
smoking. Stop drinking. Start exercising. Win the Lottery.
Write a book about some interesting case and make a million.” I
was a real fountain of great ideas.

So far tonight, Janine had been to my table twice. The first
time to deliver a glass of my usual, and the second when I waved
her over to pay the check. Both times we played eye games, and
flirted, like always.

I’d gathered up my raincoat, from the empty chair across the
table, where I’d tossed it in a sodden heap. I said my goodbyes
and gave Janine a wink, . I was in the process of shrugging on
the soggy coat, and trying to open the front door at the same
time, when it crashed open…. And everything changed.

Like I said, I was leaning forward, shrugging on my beat-up
London Fog, so the door smashed into my forehead, and I fell flat
on my ass. I knew what had happened, so I looked up to see what
kind of ill-mannered son-of-a-bitch had whacked my melon. Little
did I know…

From my vantage point on the floor, my eyes flicked up and saw
what looked like a full acre of firm, tapered, nylon encased
inner thigh that went up and up until it disappeared in the
darkness under a short navy blue skirt.

“I’m so sorry,” were the first words she said, as I scrambled to
my feet.

“Forget it,” I growled, as the adrenalin rush started to pass,
and a whole different set of hormones kicked in. I brushed
myself off, with a little help from the lady, and mumbled
something about getting another drink.

“Oh, let me buy,” she said. “It’s all my fault!”

“Okay, okay,” I grumbled. “That was my table over there,” I
added pointing.

She set out walking toward our objective, and I followed. About
this time it struck me that this lady didn’t walk. She
“moved”… What I had taken for a navy blue skit was really the
bottom half of a knit dress that hugged her body like the skin
fits a grape. And the skirt wasn’t a typical knit. It was split
up the side, nearly to the hip.

I suppose my mouth dropped open, because when I checked out the
guys at the bar, that’s what had happened to them… We all
looked like frogs catching flies.

My attention quickly shifted back to the lady’s back, or rather
her backside that shifted alluringly with every step. Her skirt
ended above mid-thigh, and her trim ankles, sculptured calves,
and trim tapered thighs flashed, as the split displayed nearly
their full length, in the subdued lighting, as that tight knit
bun-hugging, ass-emphasizing skirt showcased her tight, rounded,
undulating butt; that moved like two well-oiled footballs.

She turned, as she reached ‘my table’, pointed at a chair, and
raised her eyebrow, asking if her choice of a seat was
acceptable. I nodded. She sat, as I approached, and crossed her
long thoroughbred legs, as her skirt rode even higher on her
thighs.

I sat, and I guess I stared, because she asked if I was all
right.

All right was hardly the term to describe my condition. If you
placed your emphasis on HARD, it would been much more accurate.

I waved to Janine, who by now was glaring daggers at me, and as
she made her way to ‘our table’, I asked my companion what she
would like.

“Black Jack… And have her bring the bottle.”

As we waited for a now surly Janine to return with our drinks, I
introduced myself… “By the way, I’m Eric… Eric Thornquist.”
I always was real smooth with the ladies.

“Nice to bump into you, Eric,” she laughed. “I’m Candice.”

“I’d enjoy bumping into you too, Candice… repeatedly, but next
time I’d use something other than my head.”

She laughed, at my attempt at humor. Little did she know how
honest I was being. Shit, I’d been checking her out, during our
stroll to the table (which I thoroughly enjoyed), and again as
we faced each other across the expanse of ‘our’ heavy oak table.

She was about 5′-7″ and probably weighed 125-130 soaking wet.
(Was that a Freudian slip?). Her hair was long and blonde,
falling in soft waves until it ended, below her shoulders. Her
complexion was flawless, and her lips were full and friendly.
The top of the dress accentuated the rich fullness of her
breasts, and maybe it was the chill, but just saw a hint of her
nipples, when the light was just right. And her face was as
perfect as the rest. Open, and honest, with sparkling green eyes,
there wasn’t even a hint of pinched meanness. Maybe my luck was
finally changing.

“So, Mr. Eric Thornquist. What are you doing here tonight?” she
queried.

“Just stopped for a drop of the usual,” I answered. “And you?”

“I saw this place written up in the Arts and Entertainment
Section a while ago, and thought I’d give it a try. I thought it
had a cute name…”

“You mean, The Broken Drum?”

“Yes, but that’s not the cute part. The cute part is the
rest..’You Can’t Beat it’. That’s what the article said too.
That you couldn’t beat their steaks.”

“They are pretty good,” I answered lamely, and then plunged on,
with what I thought was a suave segue. “But, by yourself? What
about your significant other?”
…End of the part1. To be continued..

A young man wanted to buy his sweetheart a birthday present. So, after due
consideration, he decided on a pair of gloves. Accompanied by his sister, he
went to the ready-to-wear shoppe. He bought a pair of gloves, while his sister
got some panties for herself.

In the delivery, the packages became mixed. She got the gloves while he got the
panties. Without examination of the package, it was sent to his sweetheart.
The following note accompanied the package…

This is to show you that I haven’t forgotten your birthday. I chose
them because I noticed that you are not in the habid of wearing them
when we go out in the evening. If it hadn’t been for my sister, I
would have gotten the long ones with buttons, but she said the short
ones are more in style.

These are a very delicate shade, but the lady I bought them from
showed me a pair that she had been wearing for three weeks, and they
hardly looked soiled. The clerk tried on a pair and they looked very
smart. When you take them off, blow in them, as they may become damp
from wearing. How I wish I could put them on you for the first time.
No doubt many men’s hands will come in contact with them before I have
the chance. I hope you will like them and wear them on Friday night.

P.S. I just think of how many times I will kiss the back of them in
the following years…

–

29 Reasons why
Beer is better than men

1a. Beer makes you feel better when you have your period.
2a. Beer stains don’t smell funny the next day.
3a. Beer goes where you want it to.
4a. Your beer will always wait patiently for you in the car while
you try on shoes at the mall.
5a. Your beer never suffers performance anxiety.
5b. When your beer won’t get a head up, you can toss it out.
6a. Beer doesn’t stand there tapping it wristwatch.
6b. No woman ever got stood up by a beer.
7a. A beer doesn’t start a fistfight with an ale.
8a. Puking will rid you of that queasy feeling you get when
you made the wrong choice.
8b. Beer doesn’t get drunk and call you at 3am to beg.
8c. You don’t need a restraining order with bad beer.
8d. I never met a beer with a criminal record.
9a. Beer labels come off when you want them to.
10a. When you go to a bar, you can pick up a beer without worrying
about that tan line on his ring finger.
10b. You can pick up a beer in a bar right in front of your mom
and she won’t mind.
11a. Beer never has a bad temper.
12a. A beer won’t throw you into the back seat of a 76′
Datsun and dry hump you under a mercury vapor lamp.
12b. A beer won’t toss you in the passenger seat of a
Mazda RX7 and show you it can go 100MPH on a flat stretch.
13a. A beer doesn’t bring strange people home with it.
14a. Its easy to give beer good head with minimal shaking up.
15a. You don’t have to worry about a gag reflex with beer.
16a. You can have more than one beer in a night without feeling sore.
17a. You can talk to your girlfriends about your beer without it getting
pissed off.
18. You have a good idea where that beer has been before you got it.
19a. No one ever had to sleep in a beer spot.
20a. Beer doesn’t dis’ you because you are a babe.
21a. A beer won’t shove its hand up your dress at your graduation
party.
22a. You don’t have to fake it for a beer. Beer has no ego.
23a. A cold beer is a good beer.
24a. Beer tastes good.
25a. Beer doesn’t leave you. It snuggles around your hips for
a lifetime.
26. A beer doesn’t hate your cat.
27. You can get six at once without taxing yourself.
28. A beer doesn’t mind if you don’t finish.
29. A beer won’t leave the lid up.

–

Each of these sets of lyrics are to be sung to the infamous Barney tune that
we’ve all seen on the Barney TV commercials starting with the words:

“I love you, you love me, we’re a happy family…”

While showing a little girl running up to hug a man sized purple felt dinosaur
with a sappy voice over of the little girl saying: “I love you Barney.” (I get
emotional each time I think of that scene…. )

– John

– – – – – – – – – – -

Alternate Barney Song Lyrics

“I love you, you love me, toddler beastiality
If you touch me right, I’ll give you a big bone.
Just you wait till we’re alone.”
(Matthew Reinker)

“How about incest, don’t you see? Fun for you and fun for me.
Let’s go find Baby Dot, turn her over and see what she’s got.
We’ll take her out to the back lot.”
(John W. “Jay” Elmore Jr.)

“I love you, you love me, if I’m not on you’ll cry incessently
Tell your parents to buy only Barney
‘Cause tapes and dolls mean money for me.”
(Dale J. Miller)

“I love you, you love me. We’re a happy fam-i-ly…
You don’t need that other family anymore boys and girls.
We have each other now. That’s why we can touch each other like this…”
(Brad Bishop?)

“I hate you, you hate me, we’re the Manson family
With a nick-nack-paddy-wack,stab you in the back
Barney smokes and peddles crack.”
(Chris Krolczylk)

“I’ll squick you, you squick me, let’s squick our whole families!
With a rip, slash, whip it out, stick it in the wound,
Barney loves you, please stay tuned!”
(L.S.V.)

“I love you…you love me, cause you are…so tasty”
(sound of the purple one devouring one of the kids)
Kid1: “Barney, where did Cindy go?”
Barney: “She went on a little trip…to learn about nutrition!”
(Kevin J. Barth)

–

There’s nothing wrong about a boss and a future employee having an additional round of interviewing in a less formal environment, is there? It’s so nice to sit next to each other on the couch and discuss career prospects! These two had a very hot discussion, we gotta tell you! No wonder this sexy mature got the position she wanted!

mature debutants pics gallery 28

17) Did you see that?! Explicit scenes shot right at a job interview are right here! I wonder if that’s how my neighbor got her job…

mature debutants pics gallery 12

Mature bitches like this one always get what they want. This former secretary used every possible skill she had to prove she qualified for the challenging job! Well, if sucking on the boss’s cock and having him fuck you into your wet twat is not challenging, what on earth is? This mature whore showed her creative talent well enough for the interviewer to see she’d fit in perfectly!

mature debutants pics gallery 19

16 moms on camera movie gallery
Hot mature gets her pussy tongue fucked before hardcore
Nice quality pictures of nude sexy beautiful babes