Beverly was from Iowa. Eighteen and new to the city. He didn’t make many friends, he said, because he wasn’t used to going out at night. I met her on the bus while traveling to and from work. We went back and forth at the same stop. Although he was a little younger than me (I am 42) it seemed to hit us out. It was a delightfully refreshing change from some of the most messed up women I know. However, my feelings towards her were not entirely paternal. She was very thin, with short blonde hair and blue eyes I’ve ever seen. Due to its thin light frame, its breast was small enough. I was eager to see exactly how small. It was 5'8" tall and the legs were magnificent. She looked like a dancer. Long legs that disappear in the narrowest round bottom you can imagine.

Joni and I were married several years when the subject of black men came for the first time. She told me one night, while we were fucking, that she fantasized on a very hanging black dick. He said he always wondered if what they said about black men’s dicks was true. I told her what I saw in the showers on the ship while I was in the Navy. Some of those boys had dicks that would make a green horse with envy. That really turned her on. He climbed over my dick, closed his eyes and fucked my brain. I could say with his hectic pace that he was thinking about what I told her.

I think my sex life started one day during the summer of my thirteenth year as I did my chores. I was in my brother’s room to put his clothes away, and I found a pile of pornographic magazines in his underwear drawer. By curiosity about what might be so big about things like that, I beat them, and I went to my room. I closed and closed the door, then I sat in the bed and started looking through the magazines. There was the image after the image of naked or semi-nude girls in erotic poses, and stories from readers on their different sexual exploits. After reading and searching a little, I started thinking that if sex was so exciting and mysterious as these magazines did out of being, then maybe I missed (I imagine that for the first time I started to become cornea). I began to wonder how my body compared to the bodies of the girls in the photos, so I took off the clothes and kneeled before my mirror to the whole length with the magazines scattered in front of me. I did well. My hair was the length of the shoulder and the reddish blood, my blue eyes, and my lips were full and soft. My form of five feet-two was smooth and solid with youth. Being summer, I was tanned a brown rich by milky white triangles over my smooth round ass, soft blonde pussy, and pert, peach breast.

Joanna made her way along the darkened streets as she ran home, her heart beating and lungs burning by effort. The rubber soles of his sneakers slapped against the shiny, wet and humid floor by a duvet. Some drops were still falling. The girl was grateful for the raindrops that gave her her hair and shirt. With every luck, he could tell his mother that wet spots on his shirt were simply rainy.

My best friend’s mom was the last thing I thought about when I went to her house. I played the bell and answered the door. I asked her if her son, Tom, was home. He said I just lost him while he left with a girl and they were about to hit the mall.

She said I didn’t have to leave, like she just made a coffee and invited me to a cup. He worked in one of the city’s hospitals and was still in uniform. I asked her if she worked another double shift. He smiled and said without a second salary to help pay the bills, he needed to work all the hours offered to her. As I ran into my cup of coffee, I told her her her feet must kill her. She said she was quick and she left for work in her stiletto boots. I told her every male patient must have liked to see her, though. He said he would do his day if this was the situation, but with the exception of an OD, all his patients during the shift were women.