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EXCERPT FROM THE BOOK:
MOST PEOPLE TALK BULLSHIT -
One Primate's Search For Intelligent Life -
(EXODUS)
Trish was a Dish
I met
Trish the first day that I had inquired for a job at the
Seven-Eleven down at Sweetbriar in King of Prussia. She was
working there at the time and the moment we locked eyes, there
was an unspoken attraction and knowledge all the way down to the
cellular level that we would eventually make the two-backed
beast.
I don’t know how that works, but it usually does. Trish reeked
of sin and sexuality. She had blonde hair, blue eyes very red
full lips, with pale translucent skin, sexy smile with very
white teeth.
My other female friends, the ones that I had sex with regularly,
did not like her. They told me about the rumor that she had been
confined to a mental hospital a few years previous and besides,
it was reputed that she was very promiscuous.
Oh not that!
As it turns out, the rumors turned out to be a pack of vicious
facts, and I of course was delighted. She was a very uninhibited
lover. Like Angelina, she loved to have sex often and in
everyway possible. Come to think of it,
I was
being blessed with most of my female friends being that highly
sexed.
There
were a few drawbacks to being her lover. Trish took the longest
time to reach orgasm. She actually required intercourse to be
very fast, with very hard long strokes, and without a letup for
at least thirty minutes to an hour before she could cum. If you
deviated in any other manner, the wave could be lost, and you
had to start over. She was the toughest woman I have ever met
that had such trouble getting off.
However, once you got her off, she would cum like a dream…her
orgasms powerful, and often, like every five minutes.
Having regular sex with her required that I was in the shape of
an Olympian…my lower back was ripped and my abs and ass looked
like Brad Pitt’s. Honest.
A second drawback as her lover was that despite her fetish for
cleanliness, once she started to sweat, her skin tasted bitter,
astringent, sort of like alum. I don’t know why that was; she
didn’t taste that way before working up a sweat and her mouth
always tasted good and clean.
Yes, aside from that, Trish was a dish. She was ever eager to
initiate sex, even at work. At the Sweetbriar Seven-Eleven,
there often were predictable down times, when business was slow
or non-existent. It was during those times that I had to take
the opportunity to go into the back cooler to stock up and
clean. Trish use to like to follow me into the cooler with the
pretense of helping, and help she would. She would use every
feminine wile in her arsenal to get me aroused. (I guess in a
way that is helping). Trish was an insatiable tart. I cannot
count the times she convinced me to service her doggy style in
the back cooler as she supported herself on a crate of milk.
Admittedly, she didn’t have to twist my arm too hard for me to
comply.
Another of her favorite distractions was that she would
invariably squat down under the counter by the register so she
could hide from the public as she gave me head. I remember
distinctly the first time she surprised me with this little
number. She went under the counter, under the register, with the
pretense of cleaning or some such thing.
We had just got done railing away in the cooler when we noticed
a customer pulling up.
I went to stand dutifully at the register and chat with the
customer, directing him to the merchandise that he was searching
for. Suddenly, Trish was stroking my still hard member through
my pants and then she quickly unzips and pulls out my unit. She
commences to give me head. I nearly fainted from pleasure,
surprise, and mortification. I mean, for God’s sake, the
customer was talking to me as he shopped. Her oral talents were
supreme. With in minutes of her lavish attentions my body was
shaking; my breathing was harsh from pleasure and fear, my blood
singing in my ears.
The customer asked me something but the buzzing in my head had
deafened me.
He
looked at me quizzically, and again he asked “Are you okay? You
look sweaty and flushed. Do you have that Flu-bug that’s going
around?”
I
gurgled a horse reply at the same instant that Trish brought me
to the brink of orgasm and backed off.
“I think so, I croaked.
I took
his money with shaking hands, and with shaking hands, I handed
him his change. He looked at me with uncertainty and fearful
suspicion. Then he left and within two minutes Trish brought me
to an explosive orgasm, sending a flash of light screaming into
my skull, as I bellowed in sweet agony and collapse on the
counter, my legs quaking.
Trish came out from underneath the counter smiling and licking
her lips, “Did you like that? Kind of fun to do this in a
Seven-Eleven, huh?
I couldn’t respond. All I could do was think, “Now
this is what I call a convenience store. Oh thank heaven for
Seven-Eleven!”
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