Author: rbb-user-675653 / Rich Bad Boy

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A long time ago, in a quaint little town nestled between rolling hills, our two mischievous souls named Andrew and Jacob formed an unbreakable bond of friendship. Our journey began 

Bosom buddies

Ann, my bright and ambitious colleague, was the type of woman who liked to get it all, and now. She was a beautiful young lady, full of self-respect, and gave the impression of an u

Editorial Adventures

A long time ago, in a quaint little town nestled between rolling hills, our two mischievous souls named Andrew and Jacob formed an unbreakable bond of friendship. Our journey began in the first grade when we sat beside each other, eagerly clutching our oversized backpacks and wearing nervous smiles.

Andrew, with his curly red hair and freckled face, was known for his infectious laughter that could brighten up even the gloomiest days. I, on the other hand, was a lanky boy with glasses perched on my nose, always armed with a witty remark to make others chuckle.

Our friendship blossomed during a science project on plant growth. We giggled as we stuck toothpicks into an unfortunate potato, transforming it into a makeshift, spud-tacular masterpiece. From that day forward, we were inseparable.

Every summer, the duo embarked on grand adventures. We built forts in Andrew's backyard, our imaginations turning simple blankets into majestic castles. We caught fireflies and had contests to see who could hold the most in our jar, our laughter filling the night sky.

As we grew older, our friendship endured, even as we ventured into the turbulent world of middle school. Andrew discovered his love for painting while I honed my skills in the school band. We found solace in each other's presence during awkward school dances and cheered each other on during nerve-wracking spelling bees.

In high school, our friendship faced its biggest test. Andrew was offered an art scholarship to a prestigious academy on the other side of the country. Although thrilled for him, I felt a pang of sadness, knowing that our daily escapades would be put on hold.

But true friendships have a way of standing the test of time. Andrew and I made a pact to stay connected, promising to write letters and share every detail of our lives. At that time, we didn't have smartphones to take countless selfies, but we had letters.

Andrew's letters were filled with tales of his colorful art classes while I shared hilarious anecdotes of my band performances. We sprinkled our words with humor and wit, ensuring that distance couldn't dampen our spirits.

Years flew by, and Andrew returned home after completing his studies, armed with a backpack full of memories. As he stepped off the train, he spotted a familiar figure waiting on the platform—me, wearing my signature grin.

"Hey, long-lost artist! Ready to take on the world?" I exclaimed, pulling him into a warm embrace. Andrew laughed, his heart overflowing with joy.

Our friendship continued to thrive as we navigated the ups and downs of adulthood. We attended each other's weddings, where my speech had everyone roaring with laughter while Andrew's artwork adorned the reception hall, capturing the essence of our journey.

We supported each other's dreams, celebrated promotions, and comforted each other during setbacks. We traveled together, exploring far-off lands and embracing new cultures, our laughter blending with the sounds of bustling streets.

And when our hair turned gray and our steps grew slower, Andrew and I still found reasons to giggle like children. We played pranks on each other, swapped funny stories, and reveled in the shared history that spanned decades.

Our friendship lasted a lifetime, a testament to the power of love, laughter, and the unbreakable bond forged in childhood. I like to remember our story at times when I have a little sadness in my heart. Andrew passed away 9 years ago, but still, I know that true friends are the rarest of treasures, bringing warmth, joy, and a touch of humor to our lives, no matter the distance or the passage of time.

Ann, my bright and ambitious colleague, was the type of woman who liked to get it all, and now. She was a beautiful young lady, full of self-respect, and gave the impression of an unapproachable rock. Although women of her type won't tolerate your weakness, worshiping power instead, at the same time, they like men falling to their knees. Our views on the world, politics, and society differed significantly, but despite everything, I’d wanted her for a long time. I'm not one of those skirt chasers you meet. I know my worth and love to win over women like Ann. Frigid broads never turned me on, really.&nbsp;

Ann and I worked together for almost a month, but neither word nor gesture spurred lust between us. However, being a connoisseur of female psychology, I had a feeling she was into me, and ever since our acquaintance, my subconscious mind kept pitching the delirious idea of growing chemistry. And believe it or not, it was close to the forthcoming reality, but everything went entirely unexpectedly.

We were returning from a neighboring city from a business meeting with a few drinks, nothing too boozy, though. Our chief editor was behind the wheel; his deputy was by him while Ann and I got the back seat. We chatted a little, discussing the materials we were lucky to gather, avoiding names, though, when suddenly I thought Ann was losing the plot and was into something different. Maybe because we both were a little drunk, I was almost positive she was trying to guess my current plans towards her, her body, to be more precise. A less sensitive guy wouldn't have noticed the enchanting light of her eyes, but I have never been suffering from rigidity, believe my word.

Rather voluntarily than not, I held her hand, and our fingers interlaced, finding warmth from each other on their own. I preferred our lips to do the same, but the night was still young, and I must admit, this was the first time I touched her, not by accident.&nbsp;

Meanwhile, J&amp;J, Jack, and Jim, our bosses, were arguing about something, but we had no interest in the conversation in the front seats. Instead, I gave a subtle touch to Ann's hair. Its amber silk gloss mesmerized me from tip to toe. I've always loved blondes, by the way, and they paid me back right on time.

When we got back to the city, I reiterated my plans because now things had changed — I was no longer alone but with Ann, a stunning girl in her late twenties with a perfect physique, who was worshiping my wordsmith talents, and never interrupted my heavy policy speeches.

In short, I knew our relationship would develop at the speed of light, but I didn't see the speed limit. And I didn't want to; all I wanted was to bang her, simple as that.

The next day, I caught her alone in the office, our eyes met, and within a moment, I got her beautiful body into my arms. Our lips met, and she drilled my mouth with her wet tongue. I’ve remembered these first, very blessed moments for the rest of the days, even though we were interrupted by the footsteps outside the door, reminding us where we had been. However, the rest of the working day was a timid but irreversible cascade of subtle touches and kisses.&nbsp;

That day, I no longer had doubts — Ann was mine.

She stayed at her mother's while she was away at her relatives’ home for a week. I wouldn't beg for an invitation to get in — it had been such an evident flow of events which, without a doubt, Ann unconsciously accelerated.&nbsp;

Surprisingly, once in her apartment, we didn’t hop in bed like in the final stage of puberty. No, we instead had some red wine and laughed a lot. I even invited her for a dance after dinner with a candle (there was just one, better than nothing). I could hardly restrain my desire to extend that quality time with Ann.&nbsp;

Back then, I had never in my entire life had sex with a coworker. It’s not even close to any of your school hookups because, as adults, you team up with people you might not like but have to do the things together, helping one another make the way up to a bigger paycheck. We were people who knew a lot about real carnal love and enjoyed every moment of the dance, every touch of our bodies, every kiss, but never let our passion grow into something more spiritual. From my perspective, we were different to a greater extent than we were alike. The future has proved the unambiguity of these contemplations, unfortunately.&nbsp;

Ann ceased my reflections, taking me to the shower. There was nothing in there except that I saw her naked for the first time. I anticipated genuine intimacy, and I was horny. But so was she! At least, otherwise, she wouldn’t float over me, wrapped in anything but her scent, with her long nips sticking out as hell.&nbsp;&nbsp;

In bed, I pulled Ann towards me and dissipated my kisser’s talent all over her tanned body. God, she liked it! I just saw it by the swift reactions of her skin, the way she responded, with a shiver without shivering, with that fire inside, which wasn’t evident due to her timid nature.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;

I could no longer control myself and felt Ann was already on the edge of reaching the new depths of filth. I finally smacked her lips with a heavy juicy kiss I could hardly imagine delivering with another gal. Finding her tongue with my tongue, I began to tickle it gently. Ann’s passionate moans revealed her hidden potential of a slutty sex addict, at least what I’m thinking now after so many years.&nbsp;

Since Ann, not a single lady in the Universe, including my ex-wife, has ever given rise to such a storm in my chest, abs, and limbs. I felt like the God of sex in his prime. And I still believe I couldn’t do better.

I was showering her with kisses, starting from the tender pedicle of her neck, licking the trace through the thin petals of her shoulders, lacking symmetry a little, but only seen by an anamorphic guy, like myself, at that very moment, and then, gradually going down to finally meet the turgid buds of her с cups — and just eat them, finish them off right in place. How delicious they seemed to me! But I had to go deeper underground, aiming the sport right below her waistline, wasting no second risking watching Ann suppressing a yawn, which I strongly remembered she was vulnerable to with most of the guys she’d met (including her ex, but not from the start, though).

Gently sucking her left breast, I moistened her swollen nipple with my tongue while stimulating the other boob by gently drawing circles around the nip with a moisturized little finger till it blossomed. At the same time, my left hand slowly crawled along the inside of her thigh, sliding up and down, approaching the crotch and leaving immediately. I was caressing her tits, holding a kiss for a while, and tickling her tights, but being frank, I could hardly resist squeezing her soft hips, feeling the silk of their tiny hair shoots.

Ann moaned, stroking my hair with one hand, and with the other hand, she was trying to pull my dick out. But I didn’t let her. Instead, I lingered a little, licking her navel, going lower and lower.&nbsp;

By then, I had held her tights firmly with both hands while she had been squeezing her boobies and groaning. Her eyes were wide shut.&nbsp;

If you want to know the truth, as a heterosexual guy, I had never really grasped the idea of pussy eating but never minded spewing the jizz in Ann's mouth. But that night, I wasn't my true self, or, more precisely, did want to be somewhat better than I thought of myself and prove it to Ann — since so many years passed, yet have no idea why. Nevertheless, I jerked her clit with my tongue, its wet flesh; its taste didn't cause rejection in me.&nbsp;

I found her puffy folds so beautiful I put my finger on her clitoris and pushed it. As my finger circled over it, Ann couldn't wait any longer. She grasped my head with her clenched legs so tight I couldn’t pull it back. In a moment, she poured out all her liquid on me. Checkmate.

Ann was lying motionless, staring in eternity, her legs were spread apart, and I could hardly wait any longer to mount her. Soon she guided me into her, and both my penis and my tongue pierced her limp body.&nbsp;

She wanted it slow, and I waited a while between each push. I heard Ann's moans every time my cock got into her vagina. Every time I twitched inside, she took a deep breath. I hope it was blissful for her. Her pussy was so tight, like that of a virgin. I wished Ann was a virgin, and I had never had sex with a virgin before.

I was pulling out my sword slowly, making Ann groan again. Then, I pushed it back, ramming into her with a stud’s vigor. I thrust the girl like never before; Ann could sense me cumming and squeezing me with her hips. She lifted her legs behind me, allowing my jizz to pass inside her.

I made a few more shots before pulling my penis out, but Ann didn’t let me, and I fervently kissed her lips. Her beautiful long legs trapped me. My mind was in turmoil. She reached out a hand to touch my hair, and I could hardly ignore her naked pair of breasts.&nbsp;&nbsp;

I haven't seen nor heard anything from Ann since I quit the office almost two years after our first date, but I never looked her up. But I have carried these good memories of her through my life and could just hope that she was OK. I was a fool to let her go. Now I know it.

I remember the last sex we had. Ann looked at me with a barely concealed resentment and then gently placed her hand on my crotch, squeezed it slightly, and pushed away. I was numb. True, our time together has been fantastic. We enjoyed each other’s bodies and all our indulging experiences. I’m still asking myself — if it wasn’t love, then what?

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