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| A big kiss to Lauren Hynde for the edit. 'I'd give anything for summer,' I recall muttering under my trembling breath. My nose was practically freezing with every intake of air. My body was stiff, and my cold, white hands were shoved in the pockets of my mid thigh, black leather coat. No gloves, no hat, no scarf, just a fashionable red turtleneck, and jeans. I was in University after all, and had an appearance to keep-up. I teetered back and forth on my heels, and as I anal sex stories glanced over to the nerd in the lime parka, salivating at the warmth anal fucking of his (or her) oversized mittens, the wooly pink scarf and faux fur lining, I convinced myself that I was better off, even if I was practically frozen to death. Finally, the bus pulled up to the outdoor platform. The big metal monstrosity, bearing a red and white logo, and with the local newspaper advertised prominently below the windows, shuddered to a pulling halt, and threw a hot puff of exhaust in my direction. I winced, as the diesel raced into my lungs and I contorted my face in disgust. I heard a bellow of laughter and turned around, abruptly. I hadn't expected 'him'. I had noticed him at the clubs. He was the kind of guy I couldn't help but notice even if I were a bit drunk when I did. I deep anal had seen him at Gord's on Wednesdays, Midnight Club on Thursday's, Jerry's Alley on Fridays and The Mansion on Saturday's, but we were in different crowds. Of course, I didn't know which crowd he was in exactly, but he wasn't in 'the art crowd'. He didn't hang in the green room of the theatre department, the cinema of the film department, or the studio in the fine arts wing. In fact, I don't think I had seen him in that wing of the school forced anal anal fucking at all, and yet I had seen him at school. Possibly in the cafeteria, or maybe in one of the larger classes I was taking. Psychology or geology, perhaps. He smiled at me. He was gorgeous. I could practically feel his eyes burn a permanent place in my heart. The bus doors swung open. "Ladies first," his voice was deep and lyrical, and his smile lustrous. I could have warmed myself on his smile alone. He swept his hand in front of him as if laying out a path, and hard anal I said thank you as I climbed the steps and walked to the back of the bus. He followed. I sat in the back corner, and he sat on the opposite side of the bus, on the bench stretching at least six feet lengthwise, facing me. We sat there. We sat glancing at each other every anal penetration once in a while, our eyes meeting briefly with a smile. He was cool, with straight sandy hair, all one length, falling across his eyes, his blue eyes, and almost reaching his shoulder. He was wearing a tan suede jacket, with a cameo-colored lining, brown leather gloves, and a pair of jeans. It's funny that I can remember all these details, but I don't remember his shoes. Not that his shoes are important or anything, I'm just surprised I missed that detail. The ride to the University was 15 minutes, and we sat there for the duration, which seemed an eternity. I looked at him occasionally when his head was turned. I looked intently at his slightly bristled face, his strong red lips, and his clear skin. When he first sat down, his cheeks were rosy from the cold, and he sniffled a bit, but the warmth of the bus returned his skin to a natural, warm flesh color. He was tall. I loved that he was tall. I am tall, well, not an Amazon or anything, but 5'11 with my heels, and I always wear heels, so generally most of the guys I date are slightly shorter, or about the same height. We sat there. We just sat there, and when our eyes met, words almost left my mouth, but instead recoiled into a smile, which he returned. I am sure he saw me staring, just as I caught him staring at me every once in a while. On the other hand, maybe he wasn't staring... He may have just been looking out the window to the ebony anal snow blistering against the bus. I wanted to say something, but didn't know what to say to him. I was a bit nervous, really. Well, more than a bit nervous, which was unusual for me. I had never had trouble speaking to anyone before, and yet, as my heart pumped out of my chest and my pulse practically ran out of my skin, I couldn't think of a thing. Of course, I remember trying to think of something to say, but everything that I came up with seemed silly. Maybe I was thinking too much about it beforehand. I wanted to know his name, to find out if he was interested, but 'I've seen you at the clubs' seemed a bit slutty, 'What's your major,' a bit on the nerdish side, and 'God, don't you hate winter,' a bit whiney. No, I kept my mouth shut for that whole ride, for each painfully long streetlight to change, for every slow motion corner that the bus turned, I stayed quiet contemplating something to say, anything to say, and yet I couldn't just say 'anything'. We arrived at school, and cordially smiled as we rose from our seats. Again, he was a gentleman, and let me pass first, and when we exited to the main entrance of the school tower; we both hesitated, and looked at each other. I could feel the tension, the wanting to say something that neither of us seemed to be able to speak. None of that matters now. It's April. Final exams are over, and we met through a friend at a party on Saturday night. He asked me out! PETER I still remember, in the same manner you remember all events in your life when you know deep down that you had an opportunity but failed to make the most of the moment, the first time I really 'met' her. It was outdoors, and it was cold that day. That odd time of the year when you're never sure how cold it will be, but I was still surprised to see her in such a thin, even if stylish, jacket. Most of the girls walking the campus that day were dressed in parkas, which, looking back, made her stand out even more. Still, she looked cold, and I watched as she exhaled and her warm breath hung as frozen mist in the air, waiting for the bus to arrive. As it pulled up to our stop, a blast of exhaust kicked out at her, and she turned her head and coughed in response. I couldn't help but chuckle. She glared at me, and I promptly averted my eyes. I don't know why I did that. I've never been uncomfortable with returning someone's gaze, but for some reason, she made me nervous, jittery, and I didn't want her to think I'd been laughing at her misfortune. Of course, it was painfully obvious that I had been. I looked back at her and smiled. Our eyes locked. She smiled back. God, she was beautiful. I didn't know what to say, or do, as the bus doors swung open. "Ladies first," I said, as I stood aside to let her in. That was lame. She smiled and thanked me as she entered the bus. I decided deep anal to follow her in and try to continue the conversation. Now that I had a chance, I didn't want to lose it. Of course, she anal intercourse went and sat way in the back hardcore anal sex of the bus. I sat across from her, smiled again, and my mind raced trying to think of something interesting to say. I'd seen her all around campus. We weren't in any classes together, and we didn't run in the same circles, but still I'd glimpse her at different times - in the cafeteria, at several of the clubs I attended (we both seemed to share a penchant for drink specials) - although she was always with friends, as was I, and I never found the opportunity to approach her. I was staring at her, with her thin, black, leather jacket held tight. Her hands were white with cold - she probably wished she'd worn gloves - and her fingers were long and thin, like those of a pianist or flutist. I found myself wondering if she played, but I thought that might seem a silly question to ask. 'Gee, I couldn't help noticing your long, thin fingers, given that you aren't wearing gloves on this very cold day, and I was wondering if you might play an instrument?' No. That wouldn't work. She looked right into my eyes again, and I thought for moment she might say something, but then just smiled again. I was feeling awkward now, and yet again I smiled back before looking away. Have you ever been in a moment that built itself up so much, the expectations so high, that everyone and everything freezes? Like rigor mortis. That anything said or done would only be a letdown, so no one says or does anything and the moment passes and all that's left is empty sense of unfulfilled opportunity? Suddenly, I realized the bus had stopped. Had we arrived already? We couldn't have! I glanced at my watch. 15 minutes had passed. I had had 15 minutes but hadn't done anything. I didn't even know her name. She rose and smiled at me again, and repetitively, I smiled back and followed her off the bus. We walked together - but not 'together' - up the main entrance of the school. She turned and looked at me again. She was waiting for me to say something, but I had beaten myself up and down from the bus to the university and, aside from regret, I had nothing to offer. We parted ways. As I left her, I made myself a promise, that if I ever ran into her again there'd be no excuses. I'd walk right up to her and ask her out. If I ever ran into her again. Of course, fate being what it is, even though it seemed I had seen her almost daily prior to the bus, I didn't run into her again the rest of the school year. By conincidence, I received an invitation to attend a party with a friend who was desperately trying to meet a girl from his art class. He wasn't free anal pics really an artist, but he had needed to finish up some general credits before graduating and this seemed to be an easy win for him (it actually wasn't), and in the process he fell head over heels for one of the girls in his class. Turns out she just happened to be friends with the girl from the bus. As soon as I saw her, not ten minutes after I'd gotten to the party, I ran over to meet her. "Hi, I'm Peter. We rode a bus anal virgin pain together once, back in winter? Would you like to go out with me?" She said yes! MICHELLE Bang! Bang! Bang! "Stop jerking off, Kevin, and get the fuck outta there!" I heard one of my roommates yelling over the Cure's 'Fascination Street' as she practically broke down the bathroom door. Living in a house with four other people was not easy, particularly when you had one bathroom. Somehow, we had all managed over the year, but I'm not sure if any of us wanted to continue the arrangement for the next semester. "So, where are you going with Peter?" Lisa plopped down on my bed, grabbed my copy of Marguerite Duras' 'The Man in the Corridor' off my side table, and started flipping through it. "He just said out," I laughed, holding up a black tapered blouse in one hand, and a white, Marilyn-Monroe-type halter in the other. "Black," she said glancing up and then looked back at the book. "I really need more color in my wardrobe," I sighed as I turned to put the halter in the closet. "Oh my God. Nice," Lisa giggled and dramatically read a sentence from the book. "'When it reaches her sex, it gets stronger again and crashes into her heat, mixes with her juice, foams and then dries up.' If this is any indication, then you'd better wear the halter." "You think?" I was only half-listening, but nervously changed my mind, and hung the black blouse up. "If this is what you study in English, I'd better start taking some courses," she bolted up and sat on the edge of the bed. "We read 'The Lover' but I wanted to read more of Duras," I smiled, removed my bra, put on the halter, and looked in the mirror. The halter was classy, low cut and backless; perhaps a bit too much for a first date. "I need to dress it down," I muttered, grabbed a pair of worn Levi's and slipped them over my silky black panties. They were low cut, just enough to expose my navel underneath the halter. anal fist I grabbed a black belt and looped it around my waist. "Sexy," Lisa said, placing the book back on the side table. "I wanna be your date. In fact," she stood behind me, her body snug against my ass, her hands on my hips as she thrust forward, "you're very fuckable." We both started laughing as I pushed her away with my ass. "Really. Is it too much?" "No, it's great, Shell." She picked up some of my perfumes from the dresser. "Just don't wear Eternity. Everyone is swimming in it. It's too strong," she cringed and put the bottle down, as I painted my lips with a light gloss. "Well," I stood in front of Lisa asian anal and took a deep breath, "I'm ready." Peter arrived on time, and we caught a taxi to a place downtown. I was a bit confused at first. It looked like a fifties diner, which is cool if you are drunk and needing something to eat at two in the morning, but not on a first date. "I think you'll like this place," he blonde anal said as we approached the glass door. "I'm sure," I forced a polite smile looking at the grey brick, and the big, bright white sign reading 'Oyster Boy,' which reminded me of a Chef Boyardee label. Suddenly, my mother's words rang through my head: 'if a guy can't take you to a half-decent place on a first date, then you can bet it will be MacDonald's from then on'. Relief washed over me when we walked inside. Light jazz played, the lighting was almost sepia in tone, classy, romantic. We walked to the back, my heels clicking on the wood floor, and I sat on the booth side of the table. "They specialize in oysters and martinis, but there's a lot to choose from on the menu." Peter seemed hesitant, touched his hand on the back of the stool, but changed his mind and sat on the booth side, his leg practically brushing mine. "I've only had Oysters Rockefeller, but I'm willing to adventure," I told him, trying not to appear nervous, but my heart was pounding across my nipples, and pulsing between my thighs. The waiter, dressed all in black, set down the white, laminated menus, "Can I get you something to drink?" I wasn't sure if I needed a pitcher of water to cool me down, or a drink to calm me. I did know that if I was going to have a drink, it had better not be one of those fruity martinis that slip down like pop. "Is it vodka that slides the oysters down your throat?" I searched Peter's eyes, knowing that what I had just said may have been a bit on the side of slut. Too much Duras. "Better to taste them," he smiled. "How about a couple of Dirty Martinis?" "Lots of olives," I smiled and winked. PETER Lots of olives? God, this was a girl after my own heart. And again, she hits me with her smile, complemented with a wink. Our date was only just beginning and already she had me swooning. "Lots of olives it is. Have you ever had them stuffed with bleu cheese? It gives them a nice bite." I needed to relax, to slow down, as it seemed most every comment made could be construed as a sexual innuendo. "I haven't. But I do like bleu cheese. And this seems to be turning into a night for adventure." There she goes again. My mind raced with possibilities. Down, boy. I ordered two Dirty Martinis for us, with the promised extra olives bursting with bleu cheese, along with a sample platter of select oysters. The drinks arrived quickly, and I watched Michelle as she sipped her martini and gingerly tried one of the olives. "You like?" I hoped. "Mmm. Tasty. Any other surprises up your sleeve?" "Maybe. You'll have to see how the oysters go down first." I downed my drink much sooner than I should have, which was a nervous habit of mine. Not a problem if we were just drinking water, but I'd have to watch myself with these martinis. They were both strong and smooth. I ordered another round as the oysters arrived. There were four different varieties in the sampler, with several accompaniments, including the traditional Tabasco, a horseradish mix, and the house specialty - a champagne and salt based sorbet. Michelle watched me as I picked up a half-shell and added a little bit of the sorbet to it. I stabbed it with my oyster fork, scooping it up and out of the shell. It dangled in midair off the fork. "It's best not to try to bite right into it, it moms anal adventure could explode..." I explained. Michelle's eyes grew big. "I'm just kidding, but they are pretty slippery, so it's better to try to keep it all in your mouth." I demonstrated by opening my mouth wide and taking the entire oyster in. This one was from the Bay, and the natural sweetness of this variety mingled with the saltiness of the sorbet. My eyes closed as I savored the flavors, gently swirling the oyster around in my mouth until the sorbet was melted, and I swallowed. Delicious. When I reopened my eyes, I found Michelle watching me intently, and she was smiling again. "You really like your oysters, don't you?" she teased. "You look like you're in heaven." I blushed, which rarely happened but the alcohol must have been taking effect. "Uh huh. You try one. And this time I get to study your reaction." Two could play at that game. She picked out an oyster, one of the largest ones, and added a bit of the sorbet just as I had. She tried scooping it anal induced orgasm out with her fork, but it kept sliding off. I couldn't help but laugh. "Stop it! It's not as easy as you make it look!" She was laughing at herself as well. "Here, let me help." I leaned over and held the oyster shell in one hand, and her hand with the fork in my other. I guided her fork up and under the oyster, and slowly scooped it. She opened her mouth wide as I guided it in. Her lips closed around the fork and I slowly pulled it out clean. Her reaction was priceless. She had closed her eyes like I had, but she was rolling the oyster around in her mouth and looked as if she didn't know if she should be eating it or not. Then she smiled, and swallowed. A small bit of the juice drizzled from the corner of her mouth. "Mm. That was fab," she said. "Are you going to help me with another?" "Absolutely," I dabbed the corner of her mouth with my napkin as she licked her lips. I felt myself hardening. I quickly downed my martini again. "Do you like spicy?" I asked, reaching for the Tabasco. She nodded. I shook a bit of the hot sauce on a new oyster, and scooped it out for her. She opened her mouth, eyes wide, waiting for it. I think I actually stopped breathing for a moment. I gently slid it off the fork into her mouth. She closed her eyes again, then quickly opened them. "Mm!" By the way she was fanning her hands I guessed she wasn't expecting how hot the Tabasco was. "Mm, mm!" She swallowed quickly, then grabbed her martini and downed it. At least I wouldn't be the only one a little tipsy. "Whoa, that was hot! I wasn't expecting it." Her face was almost red. "Yes. I like to alternate them for the contrast." She took a bit of the sorbet and put it on her tongue. "Ooo. That's better. Ok, now it's my turn." She picked up the Tabasco and shook it onto an oyster. She shook a lot on the oyster. I quickly motioned to the waiter for two more martinis. "Are you sure you can handle one on your own?" I smiled mischievously at her. "Just close your eyes and open wide. You'll find out." I acquiesced and waited. "Any day now..." Suddenly I felt the oyster slide into my mouth. I closed my lips around it and immediately tasted the Tabasco, and... something else? I swirled the flavors around. Horseradish! I smiled and swallowed. Opening my eyes again, I was glad to gay anal sex see the waiter had been quick with the martinis. Michelle was sitting back, smiling again. "You like to experiment, huh?" I asked her, knowing full well the answer. "And adventure," she winked. MICHELLE Peter picked up another half-shell, stabbed the flesh with his pronged fork, and brought it to my mouth. "There are a hundred varieties of oysters," he told me as his hand moved closer and closer. "This one is from the Atlantic - Malpeque." We had already tried the Pacific Kumamoto anal sex advice and an Olympia from Washington Sound. This one was bigger than both, its flesh dangling off the edge of his fork - hovering just in front of me. I didn't know much about oysters except that they change their sex one or more times in their life, which is probably what led to the myth of their aphrodisiac qualities, and is certainly a feature I found intriguing. |
