202 lines
14 KiB
Plaintext
202 lines
14 KiB
Plaintext
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<<<<<Orphan Annie's 4th Adventure>>>>>
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Larry gave me the robe. It was lightweight and cool, just what
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was needed when the nights never really cool down. I noticed
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that when I pulled it snug it showed off my nipples, but I really
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think Larry liked it because when it gaped, it gave him just that
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little bit of cleavage that men find so much more exciting. I
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liked it, though, because it smelled of Larry, who much to my pleasure
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was turning out to be a regular. Since I would be away for almost a
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week, I took the robe just to remind me of him. I was running
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this convention--well, part of it-and hotel living is supposed to be a
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bit more modest than tromping around the house with nothing on. Not,
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mind you, that I expected to have any real time to socialize, since it
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was going to be a series of 18-hour days. Well, there WAS going to
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be this ONE dance, the second night. I at least would have
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enough time--if I wasn't already exhausted from two days of work AND
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a day of preparation--to try out the floor. The band was going to be
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halfway decent, so this one respite was coveted just a little. Have
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you ever noticed how when you're content with things on the home
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front is when you get some REALLY interesting attention? I know men
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complain about it, saying that just when they're relaxed with one
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woman is when they really get hit on, and I know there's something to
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that, because when they're self-assured (or maybe just assured of
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pussy?) they're just that much more attractive (there's this other
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theory, which says that since they're involved elsewhere it's safe to
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fool around with them; maybe that's true, too). Well, I was pretty
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comfortable with Larry, seriously had no plans to fool around
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(not out of commitment, out of contentment), and I was attracting an
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unusual amount of attention. This older guy, not fat and horny like the
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stereotyped out-oftown salesman, but trim, gray, cultivated, and
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probably about 50, didn't say much but kept his presence known. He
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was just frequently around, and more than once I caught him just
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looking at me...not STARING like the psychotics, just an appreciative
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glance. None of my coworkers knew him, and he wasn't ALWAYS around,
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so I just put it down as nothing unusual. I had his nametag checked
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out ("L. K. Kendricks"), and he was a rep from some obscure
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manufactory back in the Ohio Valley, certainly no one I'd know. And
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certainly no one I'd go out of my way to meet. I did go to the dance.
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Some of my coworkers had to drag me away from reworking
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(admittedly, for the THIRD time) the preparations for
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the next day's activities, but I did go. I thought I'd have a
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couple of drinks and chat it up with them. Some had their husbands,
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and one or two had found someone at the convention. What ended
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up is that we got a table near the rear (like I said, it took a while to
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get me out, so we were late) and before I knew it I was abandoned
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there. The girls talked for only a few minutes, then dragging their
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guys out onto the floor they had left me nursing a scotch. I was a
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little tired and the scotch only accentuated it; before long I was
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thinking about things long ago and far away. The reverie was
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interrupted by this rich tenor "Good evening." It was
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old LK, "Lawrence Knight" it turns out to be, another Larry. Deja vu
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I was not prepared to deal with tonight, but I couldn't just give
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a cold brush off to a kindly introduction. I got
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permission to call him "LK"--he winced when he said OK, but I
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couldn't stand the idea of "Larry II." He wasn't merely a sales
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rep; he was in engineering and there was some new process here he
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was checking out; he had done his job, in fact, and was leaving next
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noon though our "show" had another three days to run. He was
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efficient and professional. More importantly, though, he was
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generous, getting me to talk and, soon, even laugh. I switched
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from scotch to Calistoga and before long we, too, were on the dance
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floor. LK was a good dancer but didn't make me feel like the klutz I
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know I am. When we were dancing apart he'd flash this smile that was
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becoming quite charming, and when we were dancing close he kept me
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smiling with a few bon mots. I was soon laughing as he'd point out
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someone on the floor and give a complete description, based
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entirely on their appearance, as to where they lived, what they were
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here for (professionally AND otherwise), and what they were like at
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home. It was hilarious: he'd start talking about another person,
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then spin me around so I could see over his shoulder while from memory
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alone he spun this incredible web of fact and fantasy that fit like a
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wet T-shirt. And he moved so gracefully, I could feel through his
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jacket he was fit without being rough; he was certainly easy going
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enough. When we took a break I got these sly, "I told you so"
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glances from my friends. What could I say, they had me! When I
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explained it to LK, he sort of smiled, and said he'd come to the dance
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just to see if he could meet me, and I did feel flattered. When we were
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back on the floor, I told him I had to be back reviewing
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preparations early the next morning. It wasn't late, but I was
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really enjoying this and I'd let it GET late if I didn't extract
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soon. LK sort of frowned, but let it go at that. He said he could tell
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I was tense and tired, more relaxed than an hour ago, but still tense
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and tired. Well, thanks a lot, guy (but it was all true)! He'd say
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goodnight, then. By the way, though, would I have a break tomorrow
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morning and could I come by his room before he left? 1402? Well, I'd
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see. With a small kiss on his cheek I grabbed my purse and left. But
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back in the room the bed (a HUGE king size number--god, what was
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the hotel expecting, a menage a quatorze?) looked
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particularly lonely. Sure, Larry would have been great, but Larry
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was not here and Larry was--well, not permanent. Maybe, though, his
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robe would make me feel better--no, in fact the smell just made it
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worse. Calistoga or not, two scotches (were they doubles?) had
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gone to my head and I was alone, lonely, and getting horny (it
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had, after all, been three days!). I rang 1402, then hung up when LK
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answered; he was there. And he was leaving tomorrow; this, too, would
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not be permanent. I put on the robe and not much else, put in a diaphragm,
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and went for a massage. I figured there had to be a great
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masseuse in 1402. When he answered the door LK was still dressed,
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though out of his jacket. He'd been sorting through his briefcase,
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and I could see that my arrival was an unexpected brightener for his
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evening. As I asked if the masseuse was still in I saw his eyes
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glance down to my chest and it didn't take long to get an
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affirmative answer. First, though, he showed me around--probably
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just to convince me there was no one else there, and that there
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had been no one else. Not that I cared, for he'd made his
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availability very clear. I handed him a bottle of baby oil (all I could
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find--I really hadn't been expecting a need for the scented stuff).
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Larry--no, LK-- took me to the bed and helped me out of the robe. He
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didn't grab for my tits right away, a little touch of class there, and
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had me lie on my stomach. He sat beside me and slowly opened the
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bottle as he talked about how my work reflected my self-confidence
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and how he really disliked mousey women. Then he stopped, rolling up
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his sleeves as sort of an afterthought; it took me a moment to realize
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the pause was just him caring for his clothes. He began to rub the baby
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oil over my back while talking about how good my back looked. The man was
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class all the way--he dressed well, he talked well, he kept after
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himself, and he made me feel really appreciated. Just what the doctor
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ordered. He finished my back (a few tough spots he worked out
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so gently I hardly knew they'd ever been there!) and started down my
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arms, stretched out over my head. I opened my eyes and saw him
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really throwing his body into it. A little music? Sure, and he found a
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soft jazz station. When he came back I lifted my arm up and rolled
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over just enough to pull off his bow tie (NOT a clip-on job!) and undo
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the studs on his tux shirt. Then I just fell back onto the bed and
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let him finish my arms. I told him my butt was special--I'm
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really aroused by contact there and I wanted him to take some
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care. As I helped him slip the panties off, he said not to worry.
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The man was at once gentle and generous with his attention. By the
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time he'd finished and started down my thighs I was really squirming.
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I wouldn't even let him finish my calves, I was really ready for him.
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I rolled over and reached up to his shirt, pulling it
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quickly off. I sat up and reached for his trousers, startling him
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with my speed. He slid his shoes off as I undid the fasteners
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and with the suspenders down they just dropped to the floor. I
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laughed when I saw the polka-dot boxers, but everybody's got a
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quirk, somewhere! When he figured out what was so funny he joined in; at
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least I'd had the smarts not to laugh and point! He climbed on the
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bed and we took each other in our arms. First a tentative kiss
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and then a longer, deeper, exploratory one. I put my leg over his,
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and felt the hair on his leg awaken every nerve on the inside of my
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thigh. His hands moved from my back to my side to my boobs, and then
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his mouth went from my lips to my throat to my nipples. I lay back
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and felt this almost primal suction bring me to full alertness.
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His lips and tongue worked my nipples, and his hands worked my breasts.
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My mouth was open and I was gasping, already. Then, soon, too soon
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(don't stop!) he was continuing down. His tongue explored my
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navel and that made my legs start sliding up and down on the bed.
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His hand came up between my legs and cupped my mound, gently, then
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squeezing firmly, and then a finger started exploring. His mouth
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was kissing my entire abdomen and soon his middle finger was sliding
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up deep inside me. He brought his mouth down and his tongue played
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my clit for a while, then replaced his finger. God, such a tongue! I
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had to return the favor. I pulled him up and then rolled him over
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onto his back. I slid one hand underneath his waistband and found what
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I'd been looking for and then with the other just pulled the
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waistband down. It was gorgeous--erect, waving in the air, all pink
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and throbbing. I kissed the tip, then the shaft. I licked the shaft
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and massaged the tip. It was getting wet on its own and I had my
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first taste of this man's love juices, something I always find hard to
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resist. I took him into my mouth and started sucking and
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massaging, my lips running up and down his length as I took him all
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the way back in my throat. My head was bobbing up and down, my
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breasts were brushing his thighs, one hand had his balls and the other
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was rubbing his chest. It was a one-man band and he was making great
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music! He had me stop and I couldn't figure why--I was really
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getting going. Then I understood, as he turned around and put his
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head between my legs. Again, this fantastic tongue worked all over my
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mound, inside and out. I had him almost swallowed and was feeling
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great. We must have gone on that way for twenty or thirty minutes,
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and I remember coming at least three times. But he stayed with me--I'd
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never had a guy stay up after so much stimulation. Is this what
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you get with older men? His attention to me told me he was still part
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of my team, so I guess this was just a virtue of experience. But after
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three orgasms I really wanted him inside and we'd find out just what
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he was really made of. I let go and turned around--now both of us had
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our feet at the head of the bed. I took him in the traditional method,
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as his weight fell right on me and he'd probably be able to pump
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just that much better. I was right, for he slid right in and began a
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rhythm that had me coming again and again almost immediately. Soon, his
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face screwed up and his breathing changed and suddenly he was
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spurting these fabulous warm gobs all the way up through me. I was
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writhing and must then have passed out, between the pleasure and the
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scotch. I've NEVER done that before! I wasn't out long, because the
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next thing I knew he was slowly pulling out. Ohhhhhhhhhh.
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His smile was right next to mine and with a last kiss I just rolled
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into him and went to sleep. I vaguely remember him turning me
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around on the bed and his pulling the covers up and over us, and I
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clearly remember getting my leg and arm over him, but until he woke me
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gently at 6:00 (god, I could have slept till 9:00, and missed
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everything! what a wonderful guy) I don't remember a thing. We had a
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little quickie and then I stumbled off to my room. God, I could
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hardly walk! First Larry I and now Larry II. There has to be something
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in that name!
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******************************************
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From the collection of -=*<Rough Rider>*=-
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******************************************
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