I had become a regular at the gym on Tuesday nights, and this 40-something businessman named Clint, who was also a regular on that night, and I had gotten to where we spotted each other through our bar bell work. He was in great shape for his age, leaner than I was, but with well-defined, ropy muscles and chiseled square-cut features. I’d been trying to save the money for some time to get out to the beach for a couple of weeks to cruise chicks with my friends, but emergencies kept cropping up an
I was reveling in a false ending, having been sucked dry by Clint. He wasn't finished yet. His mouth had gone straight down to my butt. He was still holding me under my knees and he pushed my legs farther out and was kissing and licking my asshole. I came back to the real world in a hurry then.
"Clint, no. This was great, but we're at $750 and that should do me. I never intended to go this far even."
"Do you?" Clint raised his head until our eyes met. "Precisely. I
"Can you confirm? That's your, um, uh, rear end?"
"It is," I replied confidently.
The lead detective, a balding white guy in his forties, was having trouble choosing his words. And using them. Not so his partner, a black woman in her early thirties with a gymnast's build sitting on the very edge of my couch.
"How can you tell?" she asked.
I laughed-involuntarily. "Well...I've seen it before, many times. It's mine. Besides, those are def
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