He was a few inches taller than me, standing at around 6'3", and his eyes were a beautiful, piercing blue. He was just my type. He was into rock music... like me, but he didn't have long greasy hair and he didn't wear baggy black clothes. He was totally different. He was sporting a Ramones t-shirt and a pair of jeans. His hair was light blonde and cut into a mohawk, but tonight he didn't have it spiked up. I thought we were perfect. I was 5'11" and my hair is rich ginger, wavy, and very long. I. I groaned with pleasure, but soon I begged, “Please let me put it in you, Barbara, my dearest.” “Ih ih ih mmm,” she mumbled. “Please,” I laughed, begging again. She released me and sat up. Her hands stayed on my thighs, and she braced herself as she put her legs outside mine. She lay on my chest; my penis snuggled in the crease of her vulva, and we kissed—tasting each other. Then she slid higher and held my aching penis to the entrance of her vagina, bathed its glans in her fluids, angled it. ..he was on his way...and she had to prepare for his arrival.With that thought she stopped a moment, setting her mobile down on the kitchen counter, she wondered, "Why do I have to prepare? Why am I doing this? I don't know this guy from more than just a brief chat on the Internet, what the hell am I doing?" the words ran through her head as her fingers worked almost of their own desire setting the plan into action.Her name was not important, her profession was not important, the only thing. I'm too meek on my own. But if ... once, just once ... he died a year ago. I guess that's the crux of it. I should've started with that. I haven't had a whole lot of fun since then. But if I could ... just once ... that would be a good beat to die on. Yes. That would be fine."This was brilliant! I tried not to burst into laughter. Or start crying. The man had come up with the one counteroffer we absolutely couldn't accept. And, simultaneously, he had all but nullified our threat. Great, just.