I was twenty-six when Cheryl called and acted like we were old friends. We were from the same town, a thousand miles away, and I didn’t think we’d ever talked. She was the most beautiful and popular girl in high school, the homecoming and the prom queen in her senior year. I was a popular athlete, but just a humble freshman Stories.
When I started college in 1966, I was surprised to see her on campus. I didn’t know she was also a student there. I started to say hello, but she stuck her nice little ass in the air, turned her back on me, and kept talking to the sorority sisters. Boy, it hurt me! After that, I snubbed her before she could snub me. We were old friends now.
We had so much in common, growing up a few blocks away, and she wanted to have lunch. Sure, I said, why not? I was wondering what twenty-eight looked like. Probably fat and faded, the mother of several brats, she lives among the frogs with her hands in the pan and her tired, bouffant hair.
She came to my apartment with a gourmet picnic basket. Shrimp on ice, duck pate, champagne, and it was prettier than ever. He drove a Mercedes and although he had his long dark hair in a ponytail, no makeup, in jeans and a T-shirt, he looked like a million dollars. And those big brown eyes, so happy to see me! I didn’t have much to say about myself.
I was still a hippie, unmarried, and despite my degree in history, I worked in a restaurant kitchen for a near-minimum wage. She had married a dentist several years her senior and although she was still childless, she had a wonderful life. Couldn’t ask for more. Except for one thing.
“I don’t know why,” she explained, “but I can’t get pregnant. We’ve been to specialists. There’s nothing wrong with either of them.
It does not make sense. He’s a great guy. “He frowned, pouting sadly and sighed.” He’s so busy, he works so hard. Four, sometimes even five days a week. His only pleasure is golf.
And bridge. It is almost at the crack of dawn almost every day and is heading towards the valley. “The Valley Country Club was the most prestigious around here.” We get together, if I may say it that way, maybe once a month.
Sometimes less. The last time was three months ago. He likes his golf buddies better than I do. “He sobbed, a real loser.
We were sitting on my old worn out sofa. I patted her well-toned shoulder. He worked.
I didn’t. “” That was all I could think of saying. “There, there.” “Fuck me!” She begged. “Please! Please, fuck me! Fuck me hard, you fucking hippie!” ‘more in a dick. We started on the sofa and ended up on the floor. Her boobs weren’t big but they were bold, firm and bouncing all over the place, thick sexy tips pointing up like puppies hungry for little affections.
I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a well-groomed kitty, trimmed and shaved at the edges, much less seen, but you can see her mature slit and bud hard, open and wet and begging for attention. “Put it in!” She pleaded. “Oh, God, put it in! Fuck you! Please, fuck me!” My tail is tiny, just three inches long, and has been buried all the way down in her love hole. I did not care. I shot about a gallon of boiling baby up her sweet snatch.
At twenty-eight she still looked tense: Even at twenty-six I was a strict Johnny-One-Squirt, but before it finished I came three times, until my boys shot blank. A dream come true. More than this.
I would never have in my wildest teenage dreams I had ever imagined that Cheryl’s hot cunt would someday crush my weenie and milking my balls dry. When we finished, he raised his legs, knees above his shoulders. I thought he wanted something weird, head stuff and tried to pet Junior again, but the boy was finished and about an inch long, an exhausted tortoise poking out of his shell.
I didn’t know it then, but she wanted my sperm to swim in her primeval swamp, without going out. The only way I knew I was satisfying women was by mouth and I dropped it. Licking and munching on her back door button with my tongue, then her juicy Lucy, then sucking on her love button until she came. “Damn, Peewee,” he told me as he dressed. Peewee was my high school nickname.
I am six feet tall. “I’m glad I don’t know about you at home. We would have a dozen children and we would live in a trailer.” I was sure he would call me the next day. It was true love. When he didn’t, I cried.
I cried for a month. Sometimes I still cry. Not many losers like me see the impossible dream come true.
I fucked the prom queen. And she liked it! When he returned three months later, he brought an even better picnic basket. This time, however, no champagne. Couldn’t drink. It has been turned upside down.
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“I did it with you and three other guys that day. The last one was my husband,” she said. “You were the first. I hope it’s not yours.
Your carnage is pitiful. If he’s a boy he’ll never find a good woman. “” I’m sorry, “I said.” I like what you did with your tongue, “he said.” Eat my pussy, little twerp. “I did.
happy together, behind her husband, for many years ..
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