Walked back down the corridor, out into the city. He looked about at the blue sky, a sky that matched perfectly the colour of his skin and smiled. "What a smurf of a day!" he smiled and began to walk home.
-- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | [email protected] | [email protected] | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/> .../assm/faq.html> / granted to repost it electronically, provided that it is posted in its entirety. Any deletion or alteration without the express written permission of the owner is a violation of domestic and international copyright law. **WARNING**WARNING**WARNING**WARNING** There is a message at the end of this posting that could be construed by some as offensive. If you do not smells like teen wish to expose yourself to this, please do not read smells like teen *any* of this text, as you may be offended. **END OF WARNING--BEGIN SMUTTY STORY** Finally, it had come
To this. I paced the busy corridors of the airport, glancing at the arrival monitors as I walked. Delayed another twenty minutes. Damn! I had gotten to the airport over an hour before her flight was scheduled to arrive, and now she was going to be over an hour late. Should I go have a quick beer to help pass the time? No--I wanted to keep a clear head. This was crazy, I told myself; sure, we had exchanged hundreds of letters since we first "met" online, four months before. They had been quite innocent at first, but then vague sexual innuendoes had started to appear. "I love to tempt men," she had written in one letter. "I must be some kind smells like teen of slut, huh?" I had smiled when I read it. "I've just gotten out of the shower," she wrote in another letter. "Gave myself a nice, close shave--and
I don't mean my legs or pits!" She told me how much she loved going down on men--how much she'd love to go down on me. Finally, a letter from her telling me she planned to be on my side of the country. Could we get together? I stared at the screen for a long while. Could we get together? It was the stuff men dream of on the Net--it seems as though everyone trolls for women, but what do you do when you finally *catch* one? I wrote back and said I'd be delighted to meet her. Now here I was, waiting at the airport for a flight that was over smells like teen an hour late. We had never exchanged photographs, so I smells like teen had very little idea of what she looked like. She had told me what she'd be wearing, and I knew I could stand in the crowd and make
An assessment of her looks before revealing myself. If she was a real dog, I could simply sneak away unobserved. Too cowardly, I decided. Besides, we had revealed so much of ourselves to each other in correspondence that we had become friends. I couldn't leave a friend--even an ugly friend--stranded in a strange airport, far from home. Suddenly, the plane was at the gate and passengers were arriving--some running joyfully into the arms of waiting loved ones, others trudging slowly, defeatedly into the terminal. Then I saw her. She was a small woman with long dark hair and olive skin, and she struggled under the weight of two large carry-ons. I stepped into her path. "This would be Angel," I said,...
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