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Worth Remembering before/after Went to the computer repair store today. They could do nothing for me.� At least they are not charging me.� Integrity.� Anyway, they had a new receptionist.� Or perhaps one just filliing in for the mean other receptionist.� Bad demeanor on that one, especially considering her job. As I walked out, she chirped at me, "Nice car,". I fumbled with a little small talk, "Why, do you have one?" She smiled, lots of teeth.� Straight auburn hair shoulder length.� Young, but not too young.� Likely just got a good job, decent car, and feeling empowered. "No," she said not letting me get out of the door,"I hit a zr-2 (?!)�the other day--uh, or rather, she hit me...and it didn't hurt me at all," She motioned to a very large shiny black pickup truck. "Her car was messed up."� she said. Cute this one.� Some moxy. "Oh.� Really."� I said, nodding�at the tv,�"You shouldn't watch Rosie,"� "Why!?" "You have to ask?"� I said incredulously and walked out the door, mugging at her through the glass. Then I didn't think of her for awhile, until I thought about why she wouldn't let me leave the store when my business was finished. I didn't get deep into until I started having this lurid fantasy involving her.� Being suave and aggressive when I go in tomorrow to get the peice of crap computer, "Hey, want to take lunch with me?"� batting my eyes, acting cute. "Sure," she'd say� "Let's go." I'd say. Walking out the door, I'd say something like, "How about we go have lunch at your house?" and I'd follow her there.� Get in the door, grab her by the back of�her hair, pull her to me,�pause looking deep in her eyes feeling her soul, and then laying one on her with passion. Rip open her blouse, hear the buttons pop and�bounce off the floor.�� Slide a hand inside her bra, grab her breast roughly.� Putting her hands under my shirt, feeling her grab at my skin. Unzip my pants, putting her hand on my cock.� Pin her against a wall, pull her panties down and put it in.� Fuck her against a wall.� Hard. Sweep off�the dinner�table with a wild swing of an arm.� Throw her down on it, catching her head, and screw her hard.� Slapping flesh and deep moans.��Talk dirty into her ear.� Hear her gasp. Feeling the climax coming, pulling out and coming on her tits and belly in a messy display. Feel that moment that borders on embarassment, that few seconds of humanity when its all done, its all out there, it sets in what transpired and tenderness is all, smile a bent smile.� Tongue her pussy breifly with long strokes, getting the taste of her, making her twitch and moan just a little bit more.� "Thanks, honey." I'd mumble standing up. Pull up my trousers. Turn as I walk out the door, "What was�your name, anyway?" But likely I won't say anything tomorrow.� Unless the chemistry is there, I guess. Watch she's there, but she's like the owner's kid or something.� Nothing like having dad hang around when your plotting to fuck the hell out of his daughter in a casual and semi-anonymous manner. That always goes over well.� Dad smells it coming every time.� Its kind of a shock when they don't, or, like, they seem all right with it.� Like they know, and are almost happy about it.���Perhaps when you're in a relationship that's just starting. and they sorta' know. Or, even more strangely, right off the bat.� But this is a weird area, and blocking the action sometimes seems to backfire on some fathers.� Backfired like a motherfucker on my parents and me.� Don't ever tell me I can't fuck a girl. I suppose that's worth remembering.
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