"Unlike any other" meant specifically "unlike any other prize we were offering." You got a notebook for your trouble, and no, it's not a computer. It'... a fucking paper glued to the spine notebook. The only way to salvage this venture is if this turns out to have notes by someone famous, like songs Elvis never got around to recording, or an unpublished story by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.When you finally get home, you pop open the notebook to see if there's anything worthwhile written in it, and. He was looking down at me waiting. I kept stroking his cock feeling his fingers play with my wedding ring. I wondered what was going through his mind at the moment. Here I was, a gorgeous thirty-two year old blonde housewife kneeling down on the floor in a cheap motel room. A tall handsome black man with a huge black cock stood in front of me waiting for me to take his cock inside my mouth. If that wasn’t enough! It was my husbands’ fiftieth birthday! My husband called me his trophy wife. We. They would meet again to discuss hours and duties prior to starting. Michael felt good as he walked back to his dorm, it was close to 6pm and dusk was falling, bringing an amazing mix of pinks and reds to the sky, which contrasted in the most unusual way with the deep greens of the heavily treed campus. Michael walked up to his door, ‘time to get to know the roomy he thought,’ as he opened the door to Bon Jovi being played at an appropriately high level. ‘Yeah this will work out well,’ he. A casual grace suffused from her, filling the air and the room with a radiance that these mere stones only wished to match. Her eyes glittered like moonlight on the ocean, an endless world of blues and greens hidden beneath a turbulent surface. Wispy curls of brown were her hair, like mist on the surface of a lake at dawn. Beside her, invading her glory, unworthy, sat he. I burned him with my eyes, shouting in my mind of his insulting existence. There was no part of my being that could be more.