Thunderstick

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Simon

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There are many ways to fall in love these days, and as days go by, I fear this feeling of love is harder to ascertain. Some people say that love are the memories that we create and 

A pondering thought 

I remember about 15 years ago I was working in an office. I happen to see a woman in the office. She was cute, but what attracted me was her nice round butt. I decided I wanted her.

I was a very naughty boy

I lived in the small town of Pawtucket, nestled amidst the rolling hills of Pennsylvania. I am an ordinary guy with a penchant for bad luck. My bald head shines like a freshly polis

Pie In The Sky

I lived in a small town in the heartland of the USA. It was the early 1980s, a time when adventure and laughter filled the air, and children roamed the neighborhood streets on their

Bike Blunder Bonanza

At
4pm we agree to meet downtown for dinner, we both agreed to find our own way to
the destination and thought this would be a fabulous way to start our evening
adventures. I though

The Bus Trip

Life’s too short to read stories. Let’s face it — life’s too short to read this story too.

Life’s too short

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

I have just some question, why younger girl need an older man and older girls need a younger man?

i never go to club never , i was meet online 

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

It’s snowing in the mountains while here in the valley petals, camouflaged as snow flakes, fall in waves as wind passes through blossom laden trees. The flowers of our magnolia and 

Petals as Snow

There are many ways to fall in love these days, and as days go by, I fear this feeling of love is harder to ascertain. Some people say that love are the memories that we create and share with each other.

I say this with a single thought, can long distance love exist? It may seem difficult for vivid memories to be created when a person is not present at the moment. I did have a long distance relationship, someone I held dear to during my troubled times. Sometimes that support is important but unfortunately it didn't last. Such a breakup left me with anyone for a long time and I've come back again. But I wanted to ask, in this age of connectivity. How can love survive to tell the tale?

It is true, that many people focus on different aspects in their lives. Either their career, maybe even their family (bless they are well), but knowing that a person is a good fit is just as hard as landing a good job, maybe even harder!

It feels as though, there is pressure to get it right! Finding a match is difficult, everyone understands that. If you don't enjoy your job, you may leave when your contract expires, but there is no escape when you made such a decision with your partner! You man up and deal with the consequences. Which comes back to my question, how can love survive to tell the tale?

Please share with me experiences that people have had, because at such a young age, so much can go wrong :(

I remember about 15 years ago I was working in an office. I happen to see a woman in the office. She was cute, but what attracted me was her nice round butt. I decided I wanted her. I don't remember how I introduced myself, but I pride myself on being a gentleman. Anyway, we went out to lunch a couple of times and soon after she invited over her house to watch the Soprano's.&nbsp;

I had been to her home a few times and left in a normal fashion thanking her for her company. Well, there was one night were we are watching TV and then see climbs in my lap and starts kissing me passionately.&nbsp; I was totally shocked and returned her advances. The next thing I know she turns the TV off and grabs my hand and takes me upstairs to the bedroom! I slowly undress her kiss her as she moans wildly. I pick her up and place her to the bed. I kiss her passionately between her legs and up to her stomach, her full breasts, to her soft supple lips. At that point we both are ready for the inevitable passion and I thrust myself inside her.

After we are finished our first session, I wake her up in the middle of the night for some more of her sweetness.

I wake up the next morning a little shocked at what happened. I kiss her and leave to go home so I wouldn't be late for work.&nbsp;

We worked for the same company in different sections.&nbsp; We starting dating seriously after our night of passion. After about a month we decided to take vacation together. We decided on the Bahamas. I never realized how uninhibited she was until our flight!

&nbsp;So we boarded the plane and got to our seats. She asked for the stewardess to bring her a blanket. I had put my hand on her thigh and she placed the blanket over it. The next thing I knew was she had unzipped her pants! She grabbed my hand and placed inside her panties and I started massaging her. I watched as she tried to mute her reaction to the stimulation I was giving her. Then it happened, she climaxed in her seat next me! I removed my hand and she kissed me passionately. After we landed and arrived at our hotel, we decided immediately to go to the beach.&nbsp;

As we are sitting on the beach she grabs the towel and places over her and grabs my hand and puts it between her legs again! My fingers stimulate her again as she quietly moans. After she climaxed, I grab her hand and take her back to the hotel room.&nbsp; We passionately explore each other until we are both covered in sweat.&nbsp;&nbsp;

Needless to say, our vacation was one filled with romantic evenings of her not wearing panties and telling me at dinner and sometimes letting me check because I did not believe her! Dinner was always cut short when my hand discovered her "juicy box" was free of the lace panties I bought her!

I lived in the small town of Pawtucket, nestled amidst the rolling hills of Pennsylvania. I am an ordinary guy with a penchant for bad luck. My bald head shines like a freshly polished bowling ball. My personality could light up a room, but I was often left alone in the darkness of my own misfortune.

I used to work as a traveling salesman, peddling my wares from one end of the country to the other. During one of my business trips to a sleepy town in rural Iowa, I stumbled upon the woman who would forever change the course of my – Eloise, the quirky owner of a pie shop.

Eloise was a whirlwind of vibrant colors and infectious laughter. Her pies were legendary, each one filled with a secret ingredient that brought tears of joy to anyone who tasted them. Being a connoisseur of pies and lonely hearts, I was immediately smitten. So I decided to try my luck and woo the enchanting Eloise.

With a bouquet of sunflowers and a heartfelt speech rehearsed, I marched into the pie shop, determined to win Eloise's heart. Little did I know that my plan was about to go awry in the most comically tragic way imaginable.

As I approached the counter, my sweaty palms trembling with nerves, I accidentally tripped on a rogue slice of apple pie that had fallen on the floor. In a moment of slapstick glory, I flew through the air, my outstretched arms knocking down a tower of freshly baked pies. Blueberry, cherry, and pecan flew through the air, covering me in a gooey mess of delicious despair.

Eloise, with a mix of surprise and amusement, burst into laughter. "Well, I must say, you have quite the entrance!" she exclaimed, trying to stifle her giggles. I was covered head to toe in pie remnants and could only manage a sheepish smile as I tried to clean up the culinary disaster surrounding me.

Despite the messy introduction, me and Eloise began spending time together, sharing countless slices of pies and exchanging stories of our lives. I couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope amidst my often-foiled romantic endeavors. But as fate would have it, tragedy struck once again.

On a warm summer's evening, while Eloise and I were enjoying a moonlit picnic in the park, a swarm of rambunctious raccoons invaded our peaceful spot. The mischievous critters scurried about, knocking over their picnic basket and absconding with our pies, leaving behind a trail of crumbs and chaos.

I, always quick on my feet (sometimes too quick for my own good), gave chase, slipping and sliding on the grass as I tried to catch the thieving raccoons. It was a slapstick spectacle with onlookers laughing and applauding, but my heart sank as I realized the raccoons had disappeared into the night, leaving me empty-handed and defeated.

Despite losing pies, Eloise laughed uncontrollably at my valiant yet unsuccessful pursuit. "Oh, Stanley, you truly are a one-of-a-kind character," she said between fits of giggles. "But perhaps this is a sign that our love was never meant to be."

And so, I faced the bitter sting of an unhappy love again. As I trudged back to my hotel room, pie-less and heartbroken, I couldn't help but wonder if I was destined forever to be the protagonist of my own tragicomic romantic tale.

But little did I know that love often has a peculiar way of surprising us. Perhaps, one day, I would stumble upon love as sweet and unexpected as the pies Eloise used to bake. And until that day, I would continue my adventures, leaving a trail of laughter and pie crumbs wherever I went. Also, now I am still practicing baking different pies myself. I think I'm doing great.

I lived in a small town in the heartland of the USA. It was the early 1980s, a time when adventure and laughter filled the air, and children roamed the neighborhood streets on their trusty bicycles.

I was a pint-sized daredevil with a wild mop of curly hair that always seemed to have a mind of its own. I possessed an insatiable appetite for mischief and an unwavering determination to conquer any challenge that came my way. But one challenge seemed to elude me—the coveted possession of a brand-new bicycle.

My yearning for a bicycle was insurmountable. The thought of whizzing through the streets, wind rushing through my hair, made my heart race with anticipation. Unfortunately, my parents were not entirely enthusiastic about fulfilling this desire.

However, fate intervened one fateful summer day when my eccentric uncle Jack decided to pay a visit. Uncle Jack, a self-proclaimed adventurer and joker, had just returned from a mysterious expedition deep within the Amazon rainforest.

With a twinkle in his eye and a mischievous grin, Uncle Jack announced, “Tommy, my lad! I’ve heard tales of your bicycle dreams. Fear not, for I bring you a gift from the jungles of South America!”

Eager with anticipation, I watched as Jack rummaged through his backpack. Finally, he pulled out a rusty, creaky contraption that resembled a bicycle but seemed to have endured a century of wear and tear.

My face fell. This certainly was different from the shiny, sleek bicycle I had envisioned. But uncle, undeterred by the disappointment on my face, assured me, “This, my boy, is the legendary 1974 Schwinn Suburban! With a bit of love and luck, it shall be your noble steed.”

I reluctantly agreed, deciding that even a rusty bicycle was better than no bicycle. I began cleaning and oiling every inch of the Suburban, determined to bring it back to life. Soon, the bike started to look marginally more presentable. However, its rattling sound made it seem like a distant relative of a pneumatic drill.

Finally, the day of reckoning arrived—the moment I had been waiting for. I hopped on the Schwinn, my excitement soaring as high as the sun in the sky. I kicked off with a burst of energy, expecting the wind to caress my face as I rocketed down the street.

But fate had a different plan. As soon as I started pedaling, a series of disastrous events unfolded. The Schwinn’s tires protested with a loud screech, causing the entire neighborhood to turn their heads in alarm. My legs churned with fierce determination, but the bicycle barely moved an inch.

To add insult to injury, the handlebars suddenly came loose, spinning wildly as I desperately tried to steer. With panic and hilarity, I zigzagged down the street, narrowly avoiding mailboxes, flower beds, and the occasional bewildered pedestrian.

The neighborhood erupted in laughter, creating a symphony of amusement at my expense. Dogs barked, cats scampered, and the birds seemed to chirp in rhythm with the chaotic comedy unfolding before their eyes.

Refusing to admit defeat, I hopped off the Suburban and dragged it back home, vowing to fix it once and for all. I spent countless hours poring over bicycle repair manuals, seeking guidance from anyone with even a shred of bicycle knowledge.

Days turned weeks and weeks into months, but my determination never waned. Eventually, with a dash of mechanical ingenuity and a pinch of pure luck, the Schwinn finally transformed into a semblance of a functional bicycle.

I proudly rode my 1974 Suburban from that day forward, conquering the neighborhood streets with my newfound speed. Although far from perfect, the bicycle became a testament to my perseverance and unwavering spirit.

As the years rolled by, the Schwinn became a legend in its own right—a testament to the amusing and unforgettable childhood tales shared by the townsfolk. My misadventures with the Schwinn remained etched in the memories of those who witnessed the spectacle, forever bringing a smile to their faces.

And so, in the small town in the heartland of the USA, my bicycle misadventures became folklore—whispered with laughter and fondness. It reminds everyone that determination and a good dose of humor can turn the ordinary into the extraordinary, even in the face of chaos.

Also, now I have a couple of mechanic stations where I gladly repair old and vintage bikes for young pals with bright eyes.

At
4pm we agree to meet downtown for dinner, we both agreed to find our own way to
the destination and thought this would be a fabulous way to start our evening
adventures. I thought instead of taking the car I would take the transit
system, unfortunately this time of day rush hour was starting and the buses
were packed full of people.

I
got on the bus and there was no room so I had to stand and hold onto the hand
strap to prevent myself from falling over. At one stop the bus hit the brakes
very quickly and I was moved into the person ahead of me, it was embarrassing
because I had a hard dick and the person in front of me was a women. I thought
to myself she must have felt my cock press against her ass from behind, I was
embarrassed. But pretended it did not happen.

A
few stops later as people were getting on and off the bus, this women reached
her hand down and without anyone looking purposefully grabbed my cock then let
it go.

This
is crazy I thought to myself, but I never acknowledged this because I know I
was meeting the love of my life Lidi for dinner downtown and i am very loyal to
her. As I got near to my stop the bus was even more packed and now and I was
almost against this women and she could now feel my big sausage and she kept
pushing herself back on purpose so her ass would touch it.

Finally
my stop approached and I got out, I turned around to see where this women was,
and she was now on the street in front of me. I shook my head and thought to
myself what a crazy bus experience, as I got close to the restaurant I called you
on the phone and you said you were already there. As I entered the restaurant I
saw you sitting inside waiting for our seat. One thing I noticed was you had
the same coat on as the lady on the bus... it turns out that was you!!! You
just looked at me and smiled and laughed. 

Just then the waitress showed us to
our seats. We sat in a private booth.

The
waitress came over and you ordered a nice wine and I had some ice water, just
after the waitress left the table I could feel your bare foot start going up my
leg towards my balls ,and I was surprised and aroused at the same time. Finally
your beautiful foot was rubbing my cock, and I was so hot that cum was dripping
out of my dick hole. You looked at me and said, David I want you to shoot your
load on my foot right now!!&nbsp; I couldn’t
believe this…….

I undid my zipper to expose my cock
under the table, we then held hands across the table and looked into each
other’s eyes, and it was magical. At the same time that you were stroking my
cock with your foot you started to sense I was so close to releasing my juice.

The waitress came back with our drinks
just as my juice started to shoot out, I made a loud noise and it scared her,
the waitress sat our drink down then smiled at you and said ‘you are a very
lucky women’.

After eating we got up and walked by
everyone and no one even noticed my juice on your foot.&nbsp; 

Skim it. Go and look at some pics. Nobody reads long reads anymore.

Sometimes, I have this crazy fantasy that some story goes out. And it hasn’t been read by anybody. And, hidden down somewhere in paragraph 13, is a typo revealing the secret of the universe. But nobody gets it. Because nobody reads stories…

Anyway, I want to tell you a story. It’s up to you to read it or not. But it’s ok, it’s just a story of how bikes can not only ruin lives but also make matches for life.

60 years ago, my father was known for his reckless behavior on his motorbike. He loved the thrill of the wind on his face and the rush of adrenaline that came with speeding down the road.&nbsp;

Despite his love for adventure, he was a responsible young man who knew the risks of riding fast. However, one day, his recklessness caught up with him. He hit something going around 80 mph and ended up in the hospital with serious injuries.

As he lay in the hospital bed, he couldn't help but think of his lost wallet. He had lost all of his personal identification and cash in the crash, and he had no idea where it was.&nbsp;

Meanwhile, my mom was walking along the road when she stumbled across the wallet. She looked inside and saw that it belonged to my father. She knew she had to return it to him.

She found my father's room and knocked on the door when she got to the hospital. A nurse let her in, and she introduced herself as the person who had found my father's wallet.

"Hello, sir. I found your wallet on the road. Are you okay?" asked my mom.

My father was surprised and happy to see her, and they started talking. "Oh, thank you so much. I've been looking everywhere for it. Yes, I'm doing okay, just a few broken bones. How did you come across it?" he replied.

"I was walking along the road and found it lying there. I thought it might be important, so I opened it to see who it belonged to. I'm glad I could return it to you," said my mom.

They quickly realized they had a lot in common. They both loved to travel and explore new places.

"So, do you like to travel?" asked my father.

"Yes, I love it. There's something so exciting about exploring new places and meeting new people," replied my mom.

"I couldn't agree more. I've always been an adventurer at heart. I think that's why I love riding my motorbike so much," said my father.

They talked for hours, and my father felt like he had known my mom for years. She was kind and gentle, and he was drawn to her beautiful smile. She was also impressed by my father's courage and adventurous spirit. Despite the circumstances that brought them together, they felt like they were meant to meet. They exchanged addresses and started seeing each other after my father was released from the hospital.

They went on their first date to a local diner, where they talked about their hopes and dreams.

"I've always wanted to see the world," said my mom.

"Well, then we'll have to make that happen. I want to take you to all the places you've ever dreamed of seeing," said my father.

My mom blushed and smiled. "I'd like that very much."

They continued to date for a few years, and eventually, my father proposed. My mom said yes, and they got married in a beautiful ceremony with their family and friends in attendance.

They have been together for 62 years, and their love was strong all those years. They have traveled the world together, raised a family, and built a life full of love and adventure. Whenever they tell the story of how they met, they smile and remember that it was fate that brought them together. If it wasn't for my father's reckless behavior on his motorbike that day, they might never have met. They believe that sometimes accidents can lead to the most wonderful things in life.

In the end, my father's accident was the best thing that ever happened to him. It brought him a lifetime of love and happiness with the woman of his dreams.

BTW, you’ve seen that typo in this story, telling about the secret of the universe, right?

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.

And heart breaker need a loyal man , and widow need a man just for desires , and every thing need a soulmate , but where is love , you just finding you lack to fill the holes , that's not love love is blind ..... So the same I have a story she think that I looked her photo's which attract me but to be honest I can't see her photo's or video's ,, I just looked her inside .. In her inner world ,, and I ready to take any risk just for her without knowing her how she behave or what her reaction , a stranger person write a nonsense about himself , she don't notice him , his honestly , sincerely , passion , soulmate , just because&nbsp; I don't have job , I tell her all I'm ,, did I wrong to her , if you say yes? You are not able to love .. Right now , because I want to start honest and sincere with her , that the strongest key of successful relationship for man and woman too.. So I tell her everything about my self .... But she was afraid to me I thought ..Or something else .. But just because I'm employed person , do you think this is the reason , but I'm very skilled full and experience person , or just this is all my fault , to tell her about myself everything , should I hide or lies about me .. Just playing game's or just with her .. Used to her , and you want to know that .. I can do that , but I don't think so I want to hurt her cause I love her soooooo much , I love her infinity , that was love just one sided or she though the same about me ... I don't know , why she not find me , cause she want a series relationship and she wrote me a letter's , she said just take my hand and she'll follow me to the end of earth , and I'm trying to take her hand but like I'm dead , I don't have a body just my spirite&nbsp; I think , or she just need a lack to fill her desire's , for her relation , looking for someone who deserve her , yeah I told her the same , she need deserve&nbsp; bitter then me ... All I want to know why , we are looking for someone to fill temperary joy and care for 1 hour ! Why ! She could enjoy everyday , everyevening , everymorning , you know what my age 20 a young passion forever your..

How is that , and accourding to me age don't matter , I just want to look her inner world and desire for long - term relationship forever my girl ... I want to die for her , fight for her , yearn to her , learn to her , support to her ,&nbsp; ........................................................Why......... The question is why and where is problem , ...... And I have advice for everyone .... You alway's love sincerely ... If she cheated on you or not ...... That's make you strong beacuse you derseve love ..... And anyone do mistake if you're a good lover then you need to try on youself , to make her happy to not let her go

And if you don't have gunt , you can't tolerate , then you're just lover , but today on one tolerate ... What guarantee her she do it again .... Alway's be a good lover ..... To let her go ... I think that's a love , and the rest of thing automatically come , everything you want to , you dream to ,....&nbsp;

Should I talk more .... I hope that's enough for you ............&nbsp;

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?

It’s snowing in the mountains while here in the valley petals, camouflaged as snow flakes, fall in waves as wind passes through blossom laden trees.&nbsp;The flowers of our magnolia and pear trees have begun to drop and soon the spent blossoms of their blushing cousins, the apple and cherry trees, will join them. When soft winds blow, their petals will fall and blanket the ground like a light winter snow. Proof we can’t always believe what we see.

At this time of year, Pacific storms push cloud formations behind existing ridges where they rise behind the Coburg Hills, creating a vision that looks for all the world like Himalayan peaks that have been thrust from the valley floor. In other places and other worlds, mirages

shimmer on the desert floor and black ice looks for all the world like asphalt. The eyes play tricks on us, but so do our ears and the limits of our language.

A horned toad is not a toad, a French horn is not a horn, and as it turns out, those shooting stars on which we wished as kids aren’t really stars at all. We once believed that all men are created equal, but a racial and religious codicil seems to have been added to the creed and now, at least for many, equality is granted only to those like ourselves. The Bible enjoins us to help the poor. “Let the man with two tunics share with him who has none, and let him who has food do likewise,” but once again it seems we have heard what we wanted to, rather than what was said. And, so despite living in a country where the poor, the tired and the hungry were once welcomed, we toy with walls and embargoes and an isolation that will one day be our downfall.&nbsp;

What then is real? For me, it is the small hands that grab mine and the scrape of chairs that gather round my table. It is a respect for words as they were written and not bent to my belief. It is the quiet of a garden and the fragrance of petals as they fall like snow upon the ground. It is friends and this place I call home. The blossom snow of spring brings with it a hope for eyes that can truly see, ears that can truly hear and hearts that are open to share the bounty and promise of the season.

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