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Perfect black boobs

Administrator — Thu, 19 Jun 2008 10:45:55 +0000

Reflecting back over their year together, Janice realized that Mark was selfish, and self-centered, but when he put his mind to it, a pretty good lover. Janice turned the corner to the ladies restroom, blinking at even the dim light. She saw bare feet under one stall so she took the other. She'd just begun when the other toilet flushed, and the feet moved to a shower stall. Water began running, and a few moments later, amidst the splashing sounds, Janice could feel the steamy heat of the warm water. Janice finished up, and flushed the toilet, pulling her jogging pants and panties up. Her tee- shirt she tucked into the elastic waistband, and then left the stall. Janice blinked.

Screwing Aboard

Administrator — Tue, 30 Oct 2007 15:17:30 +0000

When the bastard left, I went wild with frustration without the daily sex. I started dating friends-of-friends, or so I thought. You really find out who your friends are when they start shoving men at you. At 35, most of the men had either been married and divorced or it was obvious why they had'nt. I went out a few times but never really hit it off with them. They all seem to want to get into a "meaningfull relationship". Hell, I just wanted to FUCK. After a few tries, I vowed to stay away from men for a while and resorted to full time masterbation. That was the best decision I've ever made.

Bicycle Orgy

Administrator — Wed, 15 Aug 2007 10:15:39 +0000

Lena was riding her John Player Norton. I, as usual, was on the LeMans.
The big Guzzi throbbed between my legs as we swept through the turns one after
another. The Goose has a stiff suspension; there’s something very sexy about
the way the firm seat fits between my thighs, how the bike bucks over big
bumps. It’s almost like riding a man. Needless to say by the time we reached
the coast highway I was ready to lure my Lena off into the beach grass and have
my way with her.
But when we pulled off at one of our favorite overlooks what should we spy
but a gorgeous blue-and-silver Ducati and next to it, dressed all in black
leathers, one of our favorite riders. Frank was someone we knew through the
European Motorcycle club. We both liked him, but whenever we had talked it had
always been in the middle of a crowd. Today he was alone. After chatting a few
minutes Lena and I had evidently come to the same conclusion, for she invited
him to join our picnic.