I knew soon I wouldn’t make her happy. Our sexual units seemed out of sync. When I was tired of work and I wanted to sleep, she wanted to have sex. When I was rested and ready, he was in a mood less and less often.

When I left school and worked full-time (two jobs), and she was finishing school, our social lives were very different. My social life turned around e-mail to my friends and family, 2000 miles away. My day off every week was spent with her and her family - church and dinner. He spent the evenings with his friends, presumably being the “sensitive” as they drank and pursued men. He also spent many weekends out of town with his school clubs and visiting his mother.

My wife is a beautiful woman, with long hair and red ardents and green crystal eyes. Her name is Karen and she has long legs. Its figure is perfection with full and solid tits of 39" requiring a D-cup bra. Its hips measure 39" also but there is no fat ounce on them. He’s got a softer, tighter, rounded ass you’ve ever seen. Although its wide flanks give her a big ass, her small 24" life ends with her hourglass figure.

When I left the University I had a degree in photography, and I was looking forward to becoming a full-time professional. What I didn’t count was that for every job, there were at least twenty qualified candidates. And my sex was definitely an obstacle, too, as they seemed to favor male photographers. I became desperate and desperate, then I met Tish..

She was a model coming and we became fast friends. She suggested I should take some glamorous pictures of her and try to sell them to men’s magazines. He thought being a woman was a resource in glamorous photography. I hired a studio and while Tish changed I set up the dressing room dressed in jeans and a shirt, but it was a very different Tish that came out. Talk about sexy, black fishnet stockings, black lace panties, a suspender belt frilly lacy and high heel shoes, a long string of pearls around her neck, dazzling on her breast. “I like it?”, she purified, waving her lips while she walked through the room. “Do you think they’re sexy enough?” I whistled in the appreciation. She was really a beautiful woman with soft breasts, and a sweet smell. If I were a man, I would have jumped on her right there and then. God!

Illeana is one of the hottest actresses in Bollywood. It was not only that, however, it was the way she smiled, the way she walked, and above all, her sexy and young throat. She had to have it. How?

He’s been haunting her for months. He followed her around in his big black van with tinned windows, always with night binoculars at the ready. She watched her come and go from various sets, from restaurants and cafes, and also from her house and regular hotels. She took pictures of her and especially her beautiful face and her young throat. He put some photos in his van and his little apartment. She knew what she wanted to do with her and she knew she wanted it, even if she hadn’t met him yet.

It happened in the middle of the ’90s when I was dating a beautiful girl. I was just entering the biker scene, and I was a little young and naive, I suppose. My girl of time, Jane, was already a long time biker, even in the rally scene and had friends in many clubs. I loved it madly; it was an ex model, and it was really sexy and petite, with long dark hair and the most beautiful imaginable face, more perfect small tits and a feminine and subtle figure. She had a tougher edge for her though; she was quite extraneous and assertive self, and she had this certain flirty, way jaunty on her that no red blood man might not fall for.