Petersen and young JennyI was still a newby indeed and completely naive - she needed to explain me in private about PetersenI still remember that char...cter very well: owner of an adult bookshop in England with spanking mags!I am a muse for my first female friend: the elder gentleman Mr. Peterson is me! - I still blushI learned from her private messages that she modelled that chap Petersen to the image she had of meIndeed my apartment is a bit similar: shelves with books everywhere, many with. But right under the dazed blanket of indifference little voices started to make themselves heard. It got more and more difficult to shut them up.She had been a fool, one of the voices said. It was the most moderate. Others assured her she was a cheap slut and whore. And also an incredibly stupid one.Tears ran down her face. She tried to keep them back. Could things get worse, she thought. The next moment she knew they could. Across the road a woman stopped. She stared at her, calling her name.. Until then..."She turned back to her suitor, a shirtless gent with several tattoos. Isighed and looked at the guy who was gunning for me. He was huge, likesome kind of bodybuilder. I didn't see any tattoos, but he had themodesty to still have his shirt on. I sipped my drink, and he talkedabout himself. A lot. Without asking."You seem uncomfortable," he finally said."I've had better days." Would another drink help?" Why not?" I said.This time he treated me to a pina colada - again, blended,. I smiled thinking, I’d definitely be back.Letting myself into my apartment, I could still feel the intensity of my orgasm, thoughts of who the woman was, or women, ran through my imagination. I cracked open a beer, and opening the balcony door, I let my self out. Just as I stepped out, I saw Kacie turning to step off her balcony, she was wearing a tight pair of jeans, and a bra, a baby pink bra, barely holding her breasts from falling out, as satisfied as I was from the gloryhole, her tight.