Six feet tall. Maybe a bit more. You are blonde. At least you were truthful about your appearance. I’ve heard stories of…well, let’s just say th...t not everyone is as truthful. Sipping a coffee as you wait for me to arrive. I walk over to you and sit down. You put down your book and we begin to talk, each of us looking at the other, checking each other out, continuing our conversation from our chats, our emails, our half hour on the phone. It is now dark outside. The sky is cloudy and the air is. The wife was threatening to go public with the location and to name names, which of course was bad for business since her clients demanded utmost discretion.I made it all go away, and for that she was grateful. We’d set up a meeting at one of her apartments for me to deliver the final paperwork and for her, of course, to pay me. As it turned out, on that day, she was called out of town on business, which was a shame because I always liked spending time with her and sharing stories.She insisted. Immediately, their lips met. Her leg swung over his, and his hand grabbed onto her ass roughly. He squeezed her soft, smooth cheek, as their tongues danced against one another. He slipped his fingers into her thong along the crack of her ass and slowly ran them downward. Again, he found the hot moisture of her pussy and he dipped a finger inside. She moaned into his mouth again, kissing him even harder. Subconsciously, her leg was pulling his crotch closer to hers, as if they were both naked.. My one hand furiously rubbing my hard prick while the other turned the pages. It never occurred to me that one of life’s finest pleasures could be derived from the taste of a woman’s pussy. The turning point in my life came when I was 16 & saw my first true girlie magazine. I remember that it was a Mayfair Magazine from the UK. There was a picture of a woman squatting with her skirt up around her waist and her see-through yellow panty for the entire world to see. Her pussy hairs were matted.