I had tied her up plenty and fucked her in every position that occurred to either or both of us. I came in all three of her holes, several times each,...not to mention on her tits. We had fucked, showered, eaten, fucked some more, sixty-nined each other repeatedly, rimmed each other, and Gods knew what else in the past three days. It was certainly the most intense sexual tryst that I could imagine or recall in my life, and it was with a TV actress from a series that I never watched!“Oh, I imagine. She looked up at me, I looked down into her eyes. They were blue. Very blue. I felt as if I was being carried away in the ocean. I felt myself swallow nervously. The light behind her eyes seemed to change, though I can't describe what I was now seeing. "You are a really good guy, Ryan." She whispered to me. "Any girl would be lucky to have you..." Her voice trailed off. "Sure, sure," was my usual semi-sarcastic response. She was always encouraging me to date girls, and find my soul. He was ashamed of himself, and didn’t know what to do, so he shoved it back under the bed, and went to her drawers, where he kept more of his magazines in his room. He opened one, jeans and shorts, and closed it again. He opened another, t-shirts and sweatshirts, and closed it again. He opened a third, smaller one and found her underwear drawer, where every guy and girl he’d ever met (his age) kept at least some of their porn. He lifted up a handful of assorted color panties, all cotton little. ”“Ah, okay,” Roger answered, “first. He grabbed my arm and pulled it. I was holding a timer in that hand; I was timing a practice race heat and watching the swimmers to check their techniques—cadence, stroke, that stuff. He interrupted me. He ignored my request to wait, so I removed his hand. I’m fairly strong; I may have used a bit too much pressure, but my concentration was elsewhere. Tell me, sir, if he were to try that with the football coach—let’s say he was watching the team run a complex.
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