[1-37] July 11 -- He was watching baseball when I came over. I borrowed his shower. And his soap, shampoo, a towel, and a tshirt. I sat on his couch and watched big men in tight clothes hit little balls with sticks. I didn't want to be ignored.

So I lay my head on his lap and ignored him. I put my hand under the big shirt and remembered riding his cock. I think he might have asked what I was doing, but if he didn't know what masturbation was by his age it wasn't my place to tell him. I think he enjoyed the show. Or maybe he watched baseball. I wasn't concerned either way.

I did let him lick the spoon after. (Ok, my finger, but that's an idea.)


[1-38] July 12 -- I heard her before I saw her. I was at alone at a breakfast restaurant. My face buried in the newspaper. I had heard the server bring someone to the table in front of me, but I didn't bother to look.

"Fuck him. He'll do it and he'll like it."

Yeah, that got my attention also. I lowered the paper to pick up my hot tea. She was on the phone and had realized she had spoken too loud. She looked at me and smiled as she continued her conversation.

Before I started this challenge I might have let it go. This time I decided to explore. I went to get another part of the paper from my favorite hostess. We chatted a minute as I looked over the back of my telephone friend.

Her hair was in a french braid. She was either a true blonde, or had a wonderful hairdresser. She was wearing a summer pantsuit. Golden creme and fitted. She knew how to shop. I returned to my table. She was still on the phone. She was pissed, but controlling herself. I could hear words here and there enough to know some guy was in serious danger of losing his balls.

I watched her through breakfast. I saw her turn on the girly charm to the men she met. I marvelled how quickly she steeled herself when they didn't agree with her. When she stood to leave I envied her carriage; her style and taste. She was 5-7 or so, thin, but her clothing emphasized her curves.

At work I thought of her on occasion, but that night I imagined her coming into my room. Of course, she would be wearing a camisole and thong. She directed me to stand and walked around me. Inspecting. I could feel her warm hand as she traced my curves. She leaned down and kissed my neck. She whispered into my ear to kneel. She pressed herself into my face and told me to breathe in. I could smell her scent. Her hand tightened in my hair. "Lick." One word. An order.

I did as told. I licked once. Twice. I let go. I started to lick the fabric. Her skin, soft and pale. I licked high as the edge of her stomach. I let my head lower and licked the seam down her front as low as I could reach. I pushed my tongue under her panty and licked her wet...and was pulled away.

She pushed me down and told me to crawl on my bed. I did. I lay on my stomach and she taught me how to lick another woman without tenderness or love. She was rough. Her fingernail bit into my skin and she used her tongue like a probe. I resisted. I refused to let her take me. She wasn't giving up.

I was turned over. She stood in front of me. Her face flushed like I remembered from the phone. Her lips wet with me. She wasn't smiling. Her breasts pointed naturally slightly to the side. I wanted to lick them. Softly.

She wasn't allowing that. She pushed me up my own bed. Her thighs wrapped my right leg. Her pussy wet against me. She leaned close and licked the center of my chest. She never touched either breast. Her fingers wrapped into mine and she pulled my hands above my head and thrust herself into my thigh. She didn't need a cock to fuck me. She rode me. My pleasure secondary to hers. What irritated me in a man excited me in her.

She came. When she did she simply whispered, "Fuck" once in my ear. Like a shot or a knife thrust. Her left hand let go of me and I felt a long slender finger enter me. Her thumb on my clit. Her mouth down to my nipple.

I gave up. I let go. I let her.

As I did I said only "fuck." Like a shot or a knife thrust.

She climbed off the bed. She stepped into her clothes. She picked up my panties and smiled as she put them in her purse. She left. I slept.


[1-39] July 13 -- She was stoned. You know the type of stoned. Everything was funny. She moved too quickly from subject to subject; from place to place. She was beautiful and knew it. She told us she was a cheerleader in high school. I believed her. She walked with that confidence. She was used to being observed. Whatever she was on removed her internal censor. If she thought it she said it. If she felt it she showed it. The problem was that she was our waitress.

She was flirty. She flirted with the boy at the table next to us. She flirted with the older man behind us. She flirted with my dinner companion. She flirted with me. Dinner was only so-so, but the show was a hoot.

As I lay in bed I decided she should be my fantasy. Not one of my most original or my longest. I was back in my old locker room. I was changing and heard a sound. I went to investigate and found my cheerleader friend on her hands and knees. Behind her was my high school crush -- the quarterback. (OK. I had many crushes. Not all that I am proud of.) looked and confirmed that he was as big as the rumors promised. (It is my fantasy.)

She was still dressed in her cheer outfit. Those pleats gave the quarterback something to use for leverage. I stood in my boring panty and watched. I was quickly discovered though. The field leader took control of the situation. he instructed her to lay on her back and I was told to come over and 69 her.

It was late last night. I don't remember if I came to her licking my clit or feeling my old fantasy fill me. Let's call it a tie.