Mass Transit

I cursed mass transit. More than a half million people in this city
and they all insist on driving to work, it seemed. So I, in deference
to my civic duty, took to traveling on the bus and light-rail system.
Not only did I save money, I had more time to read and listen to music
during the trips.

Mass-transit; Tri-Met as known in the Portland area, is very popular.
Too popular, I say. I pay a full fare, and here I stand in the aisle
of the train, while men and fat women take up seats.

Assholes! Haven’t you men ever learned of manners? You sit there
like fat, roasting pigs staring mundanely and absently out the fogged
windows as if I am not standing inches from you! I’d like to say that
out loud, of course.

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Late for Dinner

EEEEEEeeeeeee! Kathy bolted upright in bed. She didn’t remember
setting her alarm clock. She quickly shut off the offending noise and
quietly slid out of bed. She didn’t want to wake Christi, who obviously
hadn’t been bothered by the alarming alarm.

The sleepy girl stretched and yawned as she padded to the bathroom.
Seating herself on the toilet, Kathy was just about to let nature take
its course when she made a startling revelation: someone had slipped a
pair of white panties on her as she slept. She almost messed them
before realizing they were there! Who would pull such a sneaky prank?

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Vintage erotic dreams

I am sitting against a large tree reading a newspaper.
A nice looking 30-something guy walks toward me. I
move my right leg up, which pulls the material of my
cut-offs away from my left thigh. Instantly I feel
the heat from the sun directly on my slit. I watch
the guy as he gets close through a little hole I put
in the newspaper. He stops in front of me. His eyes
are looking between my legs. I look down to see how
much of it he is looking at. When I look back up, he
is running down the street, trying to flag down a police
car that is parked at the corner. I flee. My heart
is pounding in my chest.

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Mother Maggie a Cougar On the Prowl

Margot Covington was a wealthy widow in her late 40s. She was of Filipino-American decent, golden-brown skinned, and raven hair all packed into a slender, muscular frame of about 115 lbs and petite 5’1”. Her phenomenal but small figure was the result of intense, regular workouts which had become her daily coping mechanism following the death of her husband. Margot enjoyed working out, it made her feel powerful and she became a bit of a health fanatic. Her husband had been a crypto investor in the early days of the fledgling enterprise and amassed a sizeable fortune before his untimely death in motorcycle crash out in California.

After the death of her late husband, and her son Bryon moved to Vienna, Virginia to be closer to family and to ensure Bryson was in the best schools. She became depressed and threw all of her energy into fitness and education. She earned two Master’s degrees one Mechanical Engineering and another in Business Finance. Margot never dated, but instead focused on raising her son Bryson and staying busy. Margot didn’t swear off sex, but found between working out, managing her newly acquired assets, and raising her son she had little time for the distractions and complications romance would have brought into her life. Margot frequently had men hit on her and make sexual advances, but she was always careful to keep them at a distance for her son’s sake and to stave off any gold diggers in search of a quick payday. She had needs like any woman, but she chose to pleasure herself through masturbation, toys, literature, and eventually porn.

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Sex with a brunette

Dissy was (and still is) a pretty brunette with gray eyes, an
appealing, healthy body and an irrepressible sense of fun. She had
just recently finished her dissertation and gotten her degree, and was
working part-time for a trade association while she evaluated her
career options. She was currently mulling over a sales position. Even
if that wasn’t what she had planned to do when she grew up, she was a
natural — everyone who knew her agreed to that.

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Celebrity Trainers: Megan Fox

“How did I get myself in this situation?” wondered Michael Bay. AT 47 years of age he seemed to have it all. He had a loving wife. He had a very successful career as a film director. He was one of the biggest names in Hollywood. Yet Michael Bay had a big problem.
“The bitch is blackmailing me” he explained to the mysterious office worker who called himself Smith.
It was not the first infidelity Bay was guilty of. Young starlets who want to make a good impression on film makers are nothing new to the Hollywood scene. Bay was not the first director to have slept with a young actress, nor would he be the last. And a beauty like Megan Fox did not come around every day.
But this bitch was smart. She made a little film of her own, videotaping Bay coming on to her and then having sex with her. Now she held the tape as collateral, threatening to release it to his family and the rest of the world if Bay did not give in to her demands.
Over the years the price of her silence became bigger and bigger. The bigger it got, the harder it became to hide this expense from his family. At the rate it was going, his wife would find out about the affair without Megan saying a word.
“Well, Mr. Bay, we are more than willing to help. Our service is not cheap, but results are guaranteed. Our mutual friend, Mr. Pattison, will testify to that.

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