From the couch I heard the door close as Saidee’s last friend left. Lisa’s door remained closed and locked, and for the first time in hours the apartment was silent. At the crack of the light switch the room went dark, the couch end illuminated by the blue glow from the TV. Saidee padded softly back in view and approached the couch, eyes laser focused on mine. She briefly paused, and in the darkness a knowing smile faintly crossed her lips. Instead of plopping down next to me, she straddled my lap and sat down facing me. As I mustered the obvious question, her hand shot out to press her finger to my lips, gesturing for my silence. Saidee’s smile grew mischievously, and without breaking eye contact she reached down, grabbed the edge of her shirt and pulled off her top.
Author: discipleofRati
[MF] One drink can’t hurt.
If you’re at the point in your life where you’re looking for a steady supply of promiscuous sexual partners and illegal narcotics, you need to go work in a restaurant. Seriously, put the keyboard down, go find an Olive Garden or something, and throw applications at them until you get hired. Even the ugliest person can easily find someone to bang and a decent weed hookup at the minimum.
At this point in my life I had worked in food service for almost 10 years, and having burnt out from serving I had found a position as a line cook with decent pay. Nothing glorious, I wasn’t Anthony Bourdain, but as a cook you can fuck with everyone because they all need something from you; their food. Bartenders hold a similar position of power, and it’s a fun position to hold.
[MF] Don’t disappoint the birthday girl.
Back in my 20s I made a lot of bad decisions. But they say bad decisions lead to good stories so here we are. Names have been changed to protect the lustful.
One summer I met Liz at one of those free concerts they hold downtown in a park or empty lot. You know the event, always produced by Bud Light or some such peddler of swill. We made eyes at each other a few times from across an open area and next thing we were chatting each other up at the beer tent. She was exactly my flavor; short with long dirty blonde hair, skin tan from hours at the pool, big tits pushed up into a low cut top that was one size too small, a fat ass, and thick soccer-player legs that needed to be wrapped around my head. She thought I was handsome; I’m tall, athletic, clean cut with killer eyes and an even better cock. She told me it was the eyes that got her interested, and the dick that kept her around. That night I met Liz was another blurry, primal evening where instinctual lust ruled over us and orgasms were the currency.