Another Life – Chapter 7

I was over-thinking it. It didn’t have to be complicated. So when my Dad and stepmother made plans to visit friends for a weekend, I made a phone call. Sam didn’t sound too surprised to hear from me. She accepted my offer without giggling or saying anything foolish.

Friday, after work, I biked home. I showered, and cleaned up. Dad gave me instructions for the weekend, and contact information for where they were staying. My stepmother gave me a list of chores she wanted done. They left. I ate my delicious meal of leftovers.

Then I walked over to Sam’s house. It was only 15 minutes away, if I cut through the park behind the elementary school.

I rang the doorbell, and Sam answered. Tanya wasn’t home, thankfully; she was over at a friend’s. Caroline said hello. Her mother simply said: “Have a nice time. Don’t be too late!”

– “We won’t.” I promised. One of the benefits of having come over so often with Marty, I suppose, was that Sam’s Mom wasn’t too curious – or suspicious – about me.

Sam and I walked back to my house. It occurred to me, as were crossing the park, that she hadn’t said anything stupid yet. I’d asked her how work shift had gone, and a few other simple questions.

– “Sam? Can I ask you something else?”

– “Yeah. Of course.”

– “We’ve been walking for … ten minutes – and you haven’t giggled. Not even once.”

– “I know.” she said.

– “And … pardon me for saying it, but you haven’t said anything … silly, either. I mean, I’m not asking you to, but … how come?”

– “I don’t know. I think it’s because my sisters aren’t around.” she said.

– “Tanya?”

– “Caroline, too. They’re always telling me how stupid I am. And they tell our friends. They tell everybody: Mom, Dad. So I try to say something smart … only that usually just makes it worse.”

I felt for her. Without thinking, I reached out and took her hand. We walked on, in silence, for a while.

– “And the giggles?” I asked.

– “I don’t know.” she said. “I guess I just want guys to like me. Only I never know what to say, or I say the wrong thing. Don’t guys like it if girls laugh at their jokes?”

– “Sometimes.” I said. Only Sam giggled at everything I said.

– “I overdo it, right?” she said. “I know I do. It’s like I can’t stop. I guess I just get nervous, and that’s how I react.”

– “But you’re not giggling now.” I pointed out. “So does that mean you’re not nervous with me? Or not as much as you used to be?”

– “No, I’m not nervous with you, Joe. Not so much, anymore.” She gave my hand a squeeze. “Because I know you like me. You do, right?”

I pulled her to me, and kissed her. She responded passionately. We were just down the road from my house – actually, only two doors away from Anne’s house. I didn’t care if any of the neighbors were watching. Sam’s face was radiant when I finally released her.

– “You’re very pretty.” I told her.

It was the first time she’d been to my house. My stepmother wouldn’t let me have friends over unless I got permission first – and there was often a reason why ‘Now isn’t a good time’. Sam got the 10 cent tour, and then followed me to the basement. I got her a drink.

It was decidedly odd. I had just discovered that I didn’t have to talk to Sam. In fact, I liked her best when she wasn’t giggling or saying something stupid. It remained to be seen if she was comfortable enough around me to relax and … well… Wasn’t it Elvis who sang: ‘A little less conversation, a little more action please’?

So I kissed her. Sam kissed me back. She wasn’t shy, but she wasn’t aggressive, either. I had already learned that much, from our necking session in Marty’s car.

When I searched out her tongue with my own, she responded in kind. And when I put my arms around her, and pulled her close, she wrapped her arms around me. As a test, I slid a hand down to her butt, and gave it a squeeze. A moment later, I felt her little hand settle on my ass, and give it a rub. I came up for air, and leaned back.

– “You trust me, don’t you, Sam?” I asked.”We’re not going to do anything you don’t want to – okay? You tell me to stop, and we will.”

– “Okay.” she said, leaning forward to kiss me again.

Sam didn’t protest when I pulled her close, and let her feel my erection through our pants. When I pressed forward a bit, against her lower belly, she responded by grinding her crotch on my upper thigh.

I lifted up her shirt, and she raised her arms so that I could pull it over her head. Then I took off her bra. She helped, and threw it on the chair, next to her shirt.

For a very slim girl, Sam had nice boobs. She let me cup, fondle, and gently squeeze them. I traced paths with my fingertips. When I bent over to kiss her breast, Sam cradled my head with her hands, and ground her crotch against my leg a little harder.

There was no hurry. We had all night. And Sam was obviously just as turned on as I was. I probably spent twenty more minutes kissing her and her breasts. Then I undid her jeans, and slipped them down her legs.

Her panties followed, and Sam was standing naked in my basement. I stepped back.

– “Can I look at you?” I asked.

– “Yes.” she breathed. No giggle. She put her hands up behind her head, making her boobs perk up very nicely.

Sam was bit too slender: no hips to speak of – her waist was almost wider than her hips. But she had nice legs, those delightful boobies, and that pretty face with the abnormally bright blue eyes. I had no complaints.

– “Don’t ever let anyone say you aren’t beautiful.” I told her.

 

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Murder Mystery Weekend – Chapter 8

Friday 

Leo and I got off to an early start, beating most of the holiday traffic. We arrived at Eliza’s cottage by mid-afternoon. She and Claire were already there, and so were Teresa and her friend Lena. All four of them came out to greet us, and to help us unload.

Teresa introduced us.

– “Colin, Leo – this is my friend Lena.”

– “Umm … hi.” was the best I could manage. It took me another moment to gather my wits. You see, Teresa had neglected to mention that Lena was tall. Like, over 6 feet tall. (I learned later that she was 6’1″) She was remarkably attractive, with long, straight blonde hair, big brown eyes, and those classic east European features: a narrow face, accentuated by long, straight hair, and high cheekbones.

– “Hello.” she said, offering me her hand. “I have heard much about you.” Then she corrected herself. “Teresa tell me much about you.” If Lena was learning to speak English, she had a lot of work to do, but her accent was quite appealing.

– “You too.” I said, shaking her hand. “I mean, Teresa has also told me about you.” Damn, I was having trouble concentrating. If her pretty face wasn’t enough of a distraction, she had long arms, and incredibly long legs. She made Eliza look like a hobbit.

Leo was no better. He just stared, with his mouth open. I gave him a nudge. “Let’s get the car unloaded.”

Eliza’s cottage was a very large 2 storey, 4 bedroom house, with an attached garage and a basement. It was more like a house than a cottage. Leo and I carried the beer downstairs, where there was a second fridge specifically for the chilling of sudsy beverages.

Upstairs, Teresa inspected the wines we had brought, and gave our selections the seal of approval. “Great job, guys.” she said.

Eliza was going through the liquor bottles. “White rum, dark rum, spiced rum … yeesh! Did you get enough rum?”

– “If you need more, we can make a liquor run tomorrow.” said Leo.

Eliza rolled her eyes. “I was being sarcastic.” she said.

– “So was I.” said Leo.

– “Can we do anything to help?” I volunteered.

– “We’ve got everything under control here.” said Teresa.

– “How about outside?” I asked Eliza. “Did you want the grass cut?”

– “That’s right. “answered Eliza. “You’ve been here for closing before. Sure, the grass needs to be cut this weekend. Might as well do it now, if you’re willing.”

– “I’ll help him.” said Leo.

We got the lawnmower out of the garage, and filled it up with gas.

– “Did you see that girl?” he said.

– “Lena? Pretty face, right?”

– “Face? I couldn’t see that high! Christ, her tits were over my head.” said Leo.

Eliza’s cottage sat on two acres of prime lakefront land. There was a copse of trees behind the house, but most of the grass was out front, between the house and the lake. There was a boathouse and a dock, and a large stone patio with a firepit and a massive barbecue. Overlooking that was a large deck, adjacent to the kitchen. Still, there was quite an expanse of grass to cut. It took us well over an hour, with Leo taking over about halfway. I used the trimmer while he finished up.

By the time we were done, we were both a bit sweaty. I realized then that with 11 people staying over, hot showers were not going to be easy to come by.

– “Feel like a swim?” I asked him.

– “You nuts? It’ll be fuckin’ freezing in there.”

I explained the shower issue. “Besides,” I said, “it’ll be a great way to wake up in the morning. Hell, we’ll have to go in tomorrow to get the dock out.”

– “Somebody will have to go in tomorrow.” said Leo. “Why do you assume that person is going to be me? Even if I have to go in, I can wait. For now, I’m grabbing a shower.”

Undeterred, I changed into shorts for swimming, and got my towel. There was no point in delaying the inevitable: I dove off the end of the dock. It was cold enough to make me catch my breath, but as I surfaced and began treading water, I realized that it wasn’t that bad. Our unseasonably warm summer had phased into an unusually warm autumn.

Teresa and Lena had heard the splash, and were standing on the deck when I emerged.

– “How is it?” called Teresa.

– “Better than I expected.” I told her. “Too cool for swimming, but a quick dip won’t cause heart failure.”

She laughed, and then translated for Lena. As I dried off, another car arrived. It was Craig, arriving with Ben. Eric was with them. I shook hands with all three, and thanked Craig for bringing Eric, as I had asked him to.

– “No problem. Glad to.” he replied.

– “Hope you’re ready to go, Colin.” said Ben. “Of course, I’m going to win this thing, but it’s always better if you make it a challenge.”

– “I’ll try my best.” I answered. I was never quite sure how to take Ben. In my humble opinion, he was an arrogant asshole. But others seemed to like him, so I might have been wrong.

 

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Another Life – Chapter 6

Marty was treating Caroline like the protagonist in a fucking Jane Austen novel – in another eight or nine years, he’d have progressed to holding her hand.

I had no problem with Caroline. Actually, I didn’t know her all that well. I’d been trying to stay away from her – and to keep her sisters with me – to give Marty some room. Lord knows what he was doing with it.

He kept asking me to go to their house with him – and I kept going. I asked myself why: really, I did. Maybe 60% of it was loyalty to my buddy. The rest? Fucked if I know.

Tanya was jailbait. Avoid at all costs. That didn’t mean that I was blind. She was funny, with a caustic sense of humor and a sharp tongue. Ron was probably right: one of these days she was going to turn into a proper little hottie. Couldn’t fault her taste in music, either.

Sam was a conundrum, shrouded in a mystery, wrapped in a nutbar. I couldn’t figure her out – and I couldn’t decide how I felt about her. Dumb as a bag of rocks. Pretty. Sweet, at times.

Best left alone.

Against my better judgment, I took up with Anne again. That was a mistake. We both knew it, right after the first time we ended up in bed. But it took a second fuck, in her bedroom, before we were smart enough to call it quits.

Then Marty invited me to a cottage party.

– “I’ll drive, if you can get us a case of beer.” he said.

– “Let me guess: we’re taking the sisters.”

– “If that’s okay with you.”

It turned out to be a massive party, with incredibly loud music, over 100 people, and a beautiful night sky.

– “Sit near me.” I ordered Sam and Tanya. I didn’t want either one getting into trouble.

Quite a few beers were drunk that night – many of them by me. I was feeling a bit … melancholy. Maybe it was breaking up with Anne again. But I snapped out of it when I heard the first chords of Heart’s ‘Barracuda’ blaring over the speakers.

– “Listen to this.” I told Tanya. “The drums. Everybody hears the guitar – or Ann Wilson’s voice.”

– “She’s awesome.” said Tanya.

– “I know – but the listen to the drummer. He’s kicking the shit out of this song!”

Tanya just grinned. She loved it when I talked to her, made her the centre of my attention. She listened to me for twenty minutes solid, as I switched to Zeppelin, trying to explain what made John Bonham such an incredible drummer.

– “Tanya? Could you get Uncle Joe another beer? And one for yourself and your sister, if you don’t mind.”

– “I’ll get them!” yelled Sam, as she sprang to her feet. She was no longer a brunette – she’d dyed her hair blonde again. Off she ran. Tanya watched her go, and then turned to me.

– “Joe?”

– “Yeah?”

– “If I was 18, would you go out with me?”

Shit. Shitshitshit.

– “Tanya – you’re a bright girl.” I said. She could tell that I was building up to a ‘but’.

“I think you like me.” she said.

– “You’re smart, and you have you good taste in music.” I told her. “You still have to recognize why Neil Peart is a fucking great drummer, too … but you’re pretty cool.”

– “You didn’t answer my question.” she said.

– “What was the question?” I asked. I’d already had more beers than I needed.

– “Here you go!” shouted Sam. She handed us both a fresh beer.

I have to admit it: I was on my way to getting seriously blitzed. I hadn’t intended to. But keeping track of Sam and Tanya was hard work.

We ended up sitting around a huge bonfire. Sam was drunk, and clingy. Tanya was drunk, and growing incoherent. I was drunk – and not sure what was going on.

I do remember someone hijacking the turntable, and putting on ‘Achilles’ Last Stand.’ Martin found us there. While Caroline glared at us, he got us to our feet. Somehow, we got the drunken sisters into the back seat of his car. I ended up in the middle, with a sister on either side of me.

Tanya was fairly wasted, and a bit queasy. We rolled down her window, and made sure that she got a steady supply of fresh air. Sam wasn’t so far gone.

I was. I saw her pretty face, hovering near mine. And I leaned forward – and kissed her.

Lord knows what I was thinking. Maybe I wasn’t thinking at all. Her lips tasted sweet, though. Sam tickled my lip with her tongue. I did what any red-blooded male would have done, and slid my tongue into her mouth.

Yes, I was kissing Sam. French-kissing Sam, to be exact. Marty drove, while Caroline talked to him. I kept Tanya’s head near the open window, in case she was tempted to spew. Other than that, I necked with Sam. I did have the occasional lucid moment, and I did ask myself: what the fuck are you doing?

I ignored myself, and kept smooching with Sam. She was a good kisser. I did pull back, once, to look at her. Maybe I was drunk. Actually, I was quite drunk – but she looked just fine. And she tasted very nice.

On my other side, Tanya was snoring. At least she didn’t puke.

Marty got us home safely.

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Murder Mystery Weekend – Chapter 7

The days crawled by. I saw just about everybody on the list in September, individually or in small groups. But it proved impossible to find an occasion when all 11 of us were free.

Finally, Thanksgiving weekend loomed. Leo and I both skipped off that Friday. We packed our overnight bags and the costumes in the backseat, along with some food supplies Teresa had asked us to pick up.

Then we went shopping for the booze. Everybody had given us their requests. We got six cases of beer (two-fours, in Canadian slang), and three cases of wine. I wasn’t sure that we had enough wine. Then we added a case of liquor. Most of it was rum, or flavoured rum, but there was also vodka, tequila, scotch, and even a bottle of peppermint schnapps (Leo was on a schnapps kick).

– “Schnapps?” I asked him. “For pirates?”

– “It won’t go to waste.” he said. “Just imagine that we’re sailing past some German island.”

As you can probably guess, geography and history weren’t Leo’s strong suits.

– “You psyched?” he asked me.

– “Just a little.” I admitted.

While he was rearranging things in the backseat, I saw that Leo had packed a box of 12 condoms in his overnight bag.

– “Somebody’s optimistic.” I commented.

– “Hey – Be Prepared. That’s my motto.”

– “You have about 100 mottos, Leo.” I said.

– “You can never have enough mottos.” he replied.

– “That’s 101.”

I didn’t kid him too much about the condoms. After all, I had packed a dozen of my own. I was hoping for an epic weekend, too.

 

 

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Murder Mystery Weekend – Chapter 6

I met the three of them downtown. We exchanged hugs and greetings.

– “Ee,” I said, “it’s really nice of you to host us all for the long weekend.”

– “Are you kidding?” she replied. “You guys are doing me a favour. I can’t close the cottage by myself. As for the murder mystery, Teresa is doing all of the work.”

– “It’s going to be so much fun!” enthused Claire. Was she looking at me when she said that?

– “Epic.” said Leo. “C’mon, wingman – let’s get this show on the road.”

It was fun. Leo found his costume quickly, because he knew exactly what he wanted: Jack Sparrow. I tried to talk him out of it, but for once, Leo was right. He looked like Johnny Depp’s shorter and uglier brother, but he did bear a bit of a resemblance to Keith Richards. He also insisted on every accessory he could find, stuck in his belt, tucked into his sash, or somehow dangling from his coat. He looked like some kind of pirate Christmas tree.

The overall effect was quite comical, but the more I looked at it, the more I began to think that it might work. The girls laughed, of course. But then Eliza said: “You look great!”. Leo turned to me with a look of pure triumph, and preened like a peacock.

With his gear stowed away, we could then turn to a more enjoyable pastime: watching the two girls try on costumes. Eliza didn’t think she could pull off a pirate, and they didn’t have much in her size anyway. But then she had an idea.

– “What if I went as a tavern wench? A tempting trollop, or something like that?”

– “A tempting trollop?” I echoed. “Did you just say that?”

– “Shut up Colin. You know what I meant.” She punched my arm playfully.

Eliza tried on a couple of costumes, each of which featured low-cut tops. I’m not ashamed to say that Leo and I both stood up to get a better view.

She found a pair of high-heeled leather boots, and a brightly-patterned skirt, with a fluffy petticoat. Then she uncovered a broad leather belt, and a supple leather vest. It was probably a couple of sizes too big for her, but she needed room for her oversize chest, and the belt held it all together. The piece de resistance, though, was the frilly white shirt. It left her shoulders bare, and revealed a considerable expanse of her bosom.

Leo and I were too afraid to say anything. She looked … scorching hot. Did I mention that costumes were an aphrodisiac? If this had really been the 17th century, I would have wanted to take her into a back room, bend her over, flip up her skirts, and fuck her from behind like a madman. Forget the 17th century – I wanted to do that now. I glanced at Leo. From the look on his face, he was having similar thoughts.

Claire saved us. “Oh, Ee – that’s it. That one.” Her neighing laugh broke the spell. The girls went for a closer look in a mirror.

“Ho-ly shit.” whispered Leo.

– “Amen, brother.” I whispered back.

Luckily for me, Eliza kept her provocative costume on while Claire continued to go in and out of the change room. Lucky, because Leo’s attention was occupied while his sister put on a show. And what a show. The little minx kept trying on more and more revealing combinations.

Claire found a scarlet head scarf, and a huge pair of hoop earrings. She really liked a dark red skirt with black trim, and liked it even better when she pulled up one side and tucked it into her little belt. This revealed one leg to the knee, but the other leg was uncovered to mid-thigh. If you’re old enough to remember Cyd Charisse, you can imagine what Claire looked like.

She added a little black bustier with laces that looked like crossed bones, attached to skull-shaped buttons. She found another shirt like Eliza’s, with short, puffy sleeves, that left her shoulders and upper chest bare. She wasn’t showing much cleavage, but the little bustier lifted her boobs and thrust them forward. That’s when I noticed the magic of the shirt she wore. It did nothing to hide her breasts. Instead, it simply accentuated their shape.

Claire looked incredible. Just looking at her made me think of sex. I would have to rethink my costume, if I was going to have an erection most of the weekend.

– “Jesus, Claire!” said her brother. “How much skin you gonna show?”

She struck a pose, with one hand on her hip. “I didn’t hear you complain about Ee’s costume.” she said.

Eliza and I moved a bit further away, to let the siblings have one of their traditional arguments.

– “Is this too revealing? What do you think, Colin?” Eliza asked me, indicating her costume.

– “Ee, you look fantastic.” I answered. “Very, very sexy. A tempting trollop indeed.”

– “What about you? What are you going to get?”

– “Already did.” I told her. “It’s at home.”

– “Aww.” she said. “You get to see ours, but we don’t get to see yours?”

– “You will.”

If Eliza and Claire were going to look like this, I could only imagine what the four other women would be wearing. I was going to be rock hard the whole weekend.

 

 

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Cherie – Chapter 42 – Cheer Me Up

“How was your night with Cherie?”

Me: “She rode me like a stolen bicycle.”

Last weekend Cherie came down and we went to the movies. It was great. We had finally carved out a little time to go on a real date again. I loved it and so did she.

But this weekend Cherie is coming for something else. That thing that she needs so very much. I need to prepare for this event. Fresh sheets, towels, air freshener, candles, and soft music.

She rolls into town around 7:30pm. Scores parking down at 19th and South, and is walking towards my place. I pop down to meet her and think I’ll see her halfway, but she’s right outside of my walk up when I reach the ground floor.

I’m very happy to see her and as usual she looks beautiful and sexy. I notice she’s wearing the black shirt with the criss cross pieces of fabric across the front. (See: Cherie – Chapter 4 – Ribbons) Of course you can’t wear a bra with that top, so her ample bosom is well in sight.

She enters the bedroom. The air conditioning is on so it’s nice and cool on this July afternoon in Philly. She drops her bag at the foot of the bed and sits. We normally do this. Just sit and chat and catch up on what’s been happening in each others lives. This goes on for a bit and then the serenity in my room starts to kick in. She realizes that for the next twelve hours, there will be no children to deal with, no patients, no studying, no stress.

Just the unadulterated relentless pursuit of sexual pleasure. The pursuit is my favorite part. The beginnings. Gathering the kindling. Getting the spark, and then watching the fire in her loins explode before me.

But I can’t just run at her with a torch and a can of gas. It must start slowly. Slowly relieving her of her clothes. Tender kisses everywhere on her firm lean body. Like soft clay in my hands she yields to my every touch.

But tonight’s different. after our conversations and re-connection, she tells me she has to use the restroom. She grabs her bag and heads in. I walk to my desk and adjust the volume of the music on Pandora. The Music for Lovers mix. So cheesy but we like it.

I get a text.

It’s from Cherie.

“Your adopted daughter Jasmine is coming home soon and wants to see her daddy.”

 

Here we go…

 

Cherie comes out of the bathroom wearing a full high school cheerleader uniform. She looks hot as shit. It’s red and white and looks like the real deal. I love this role play stuff she pulls on me. It’s always unexpected and men hate surprises but if your twenty something shows up in a cheerleader outfit and wants to play, I doubt any man would turn this down.

I’m sitting at my desk and she comes over to me and it’s on. Here we go. She comes over to me and plays the precocious daughter role. She says that mom yelled at her because she wanted to go to the mall and get some stuff and it seems like mom has been really mean lately.

Jasmine loves her dad and knows that mom hasn’t been taking care of daddy and she’s sad about that.

This is classic role play and Cherie has clearly worked it all it out in that pretty head of hers. She comes over to me at the desk and looks exactly like a cheerleader. She’s upset with mom. I am trying to be careful here I don’t want to cross over into sex blog from dating blog. But this is very exciting and mind-blowing

She rubs her lovely brown firm thigh against  mine and tells me she wants things at the mall, and I tell her no.

She says she’s been thinking about her daddy and that she’ll so anything to make me feel better.

I’m doing my best to be a good actor but I absolutely love Cherie’s performance. She’s planned this and has a story line. She’s begging to help me and knows I desire my adoptive African American daughter and how its ok because she loves her daddy and how my wife is a bitch and sucks. (not a stretch for me in regard to my ex-wife)  I’m sitting at my desk in my underwear and my adopted daughter Jasmine is pushing on me and I’m putting my hands on her and as I run my hand up her thighs I feel that she is not wearing any panties.

She pushes my hand towards the moist junction between her legs. Then she pulls off my shorts and attacks me.

 

I’m going out of my mind.

 

I was happy to go to the movies with Cherie last week, and now my love has become a 16 year old cheerleader hell-bent on giving me oral.

I resist but of course I have to play it out. How lucky am I? I scan my mind of the laundry list of people I know and what is happening to me right now. Blessed.

Jasmine pleases her daddy. My god it’s so dirty.

Jasmine wants to know how a man pleases a woman.

How do I describe this other than a cheerleader skirt hiked up around firm hips and a rasping pervert between her thighs playing her lady parts like a symphony.

She mounts me and all I see is Jasmine in her uniform. This is a classic fantasy come true. Blow up the outside world. It’s actually feeding into an old fetish of mine. Jasmine is here and ready to go and be accessible to whatever I want.  Jasmine says she’ll do anything I want. She’s just a younger Cherie that wants to please me. She’s so willing. She is exquisite in her role and plays it perfectly.

This is a new role play for Cherie. If you’ve been following this series, you’ll remember her first character was Riley Carter the bad little school girl. That was mind-blowing. Totally different role. (See: Cherie – 2016 to Present – After School)

Cherie stays in character until we mutually decide to stop.

I know this is a dating blog, but making love to Cherie is amazing. It’s like Christmas morning when you’re a child. It’s on that level of excitement and celebration. Cherie is the most in tune with her mind and body than any woman I’ve ever been with. I think black women in general don’t have all the bullshit in their heads that many other women have. They know what they want and they know it feels good, so if they can get a lot of it, so be it.

She’s the most orgasmic woman I’ve ever met. It’s like a dozen times in one session. Can you imagine if men could do that? Cherie is astonishingly orgasmic. She needs a man with stamina that can go for a long time so that she can enjoy all of these multiple orgasms that she has. I assure you that phicklephilly can deliver the goods.

Which would dismiss the sexual chemistry thing where Ambria couldn’t get her train to the station. That had nothing to do with me. (See: Ambria – Atlantic City) I also know for a fact that Michelle’s inability to orgasm with a man was partly in her head and from over self stimulation. (If you get what I mean) (See: Michelle – A Brand New Day)

I’ve never seen anything like Cherie. She has all of these little ones and then has like a massive climax near the end of the act. Like a grand finally! Then there are lots of encores later that night and the next morning. I’m usually tired the next day after a twelve-hour visit from my sexy little vixen.

 

I feel like Cherie is more beautiful and precious than ever to me now.

 

Unfortunately she has to be up and out at 7:30 tomorrow morning. She’s only parked two blocks away so she gets up, showers and hits the road. For me it’s same thing, then back to the salon for the Sunday shift.

That night my buddy Church called me: “How was your night with Cherie?”

Me: “I rode her like a stolen bicycle.”

 

 

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Another Life – Chapter 4

It wasn’t so bad, living at home while working full-time. I biked to the garage, or took the bus in bad weather. I was able to put some money aside, even after paying my stepmother’s rent. I didn’t do anything foolish, like buy a car, or a new stereo. The money I saved could be used to go to college next year. Uncle Ray gave me some good advice, too.

My ex-girlfriend, Anne, was showing signs that she might be interested in getting back together. I wasn’t so sure. I mean, she was the one who had broken it off … if we started dating again, how long would it be before she remembered why she had dumped me in the first place?

Besides, I was pursuing a few other options. No, not Sam. Meanwhile, Marty was still ‘courting’ Caroline, at his own glacial pace.

– “I think you need to see her more than once or twice a month, Marty.” I told him. “Have you even been out with her alone, yet?”

– “All in good time.” he said.

He dragged me out with him several more times to see the sisters. We ‘dropped in’ on them again, took in another movie, and – to my horror – an antique auction.

The next time we went over, it was to find that Sam had dyed her hair. Brown.

– “She thought it would make her look smarter!” howled Tanya. She was clutching her stomach, bent over double. “She said she didn’t want to be a dumb blonde anymore! Ah! I’ve been laughing for days – it’s killing me!”

– “I think it looks very nice.” insisted Caroline.

Sam had her arms crossed, but the expression on her face was easy to recognize. She was so vulnerable, at that moment – I could have slaughtered her with a word.

– “You look … so different.” I said. Sam bit her lip.”I never imagined you as a brunette.” I added. “You look good.”

The odd thing was … I couldn’t tell her the truth: somehow, she did look smarter. Maybe it was just because she looked so different from the blonde ditz I had become accustomed to. Or maybe it just highlighted how pretty her face was. Damn – I wasn’t going to say that.

Sam seemed happy enough with my answer.

A few weeks later, Marty persuaded me to invite the sisters to my cousin Ronnie’s Christmas bash. It was guaranteed to be loud, and fun. There would be plenty of opportunity for Marty to be alone with Caroline.

 

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