The girls still flocked to Paul. Josh was a red-head, five-ten, and a bit stocky. Me, I’m five-eleven, eminently forgettable brown hair, and an even more forgettable average body. We ranged in age from 22 to 24. None of us displayed any symptoms of hypogonadism. That’s a fancy word for “testosterone deficiency.” We fucked our way through everything in a skirt, everything that owned a skirt, and everything that could spell skirt in seven tries or less. OK, maybe eight. Or nine. Some girls just deserve extra chances. After six weeks we had all acquired steady girlfriends. Not that we were looking for love, but it beat the shit out of nightly quim-hunting and muff-trapping in the local bars. And it was infinitely better than buffing the banana every night. Paul, of course, got the beauty queen. She was statuesque – just half an inch shorter than Paul, - black as midnight and had a smile that rivaled a supernova. Lucy worked as a financial advisor in her uncle’s firm downtown. She was so. Up and down. Back and forth. I use my hands to pull you further apart and I bite lightly on it. Taking it between my eager lips, my tongue dancing around its edges. Hearing your soft moans and feeling your body tremble with excitement. Our eyes meet as I continue to give you the pleasure that we both crave. As I look into your beautiful brown eyes so full of excitement, you whisper “please take me”. Your hands in my hair pulling me up toward you. I come up from below you and slide you further up the bed, kissing you hard, your lips tasting the flavor of your wetness on mine. As I move over you our eyes connect, our breathing becoming quicker in anticipation as I slide myself inside of you, slow and deep. I hear you take a deep breath and let out a soft moan when it happens, the sound of your pleasure is like beautiful music written just for me. I thrust slowly into you, the movements accentuate the feel of every curve inside and out of your body. My lips return to your neck and my.
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