Fantasy

I was in N.Y. by visiting a friend who lives in a large building in the center of the city. I arrived at noon for lunch and spent all day talking about old times. I watched my watch and saw it was almost midnight! I can’t believe that time is fast! We said goodbye and I left.

When I arrived at the elevator, I noticed that, for an expensive apartment building, there was not much light in the corridors. As I pushed the button for the elevator, I saw a group of men standing in the hall saying their goodbye to a bunch of people. They must have had a good time because they laughed all and spoke. They left to the elevator. I looked at them and they said, “Hi.” Of course, being the friendly person I was, I said, “Hi” back. We were waiting for the elevator to come. I heard the movement behind me but I pretended to ignore it, when I felt an arm reach around me and stop the elevator and look in their eyes, I knew what was going to happen. I was scared, but deep down, I was so excited! The oldest of men seemed to be in charge.

As is my custom, I was walking late along the hiking / mountain biking trails. The temperature of mid-January at 10:00 was 35 degrees F so I wore my warm clothes and polar hood. I walked for about 30 minutes when I spent a small parking lot; one of the many scattered paths. The road to the lot was making a turn and bringing a street to a block. During the day there were usually several hikers, runners, joggers, skaters, etc. who often used the trail. The last time I saw a vehicle at the end of the night, it was two years ago. As I approached the lot a truck passed on the nearby highway. It is a badly aligned lighthouse that swept the beam over the parking lot that made a silhouette appear on the windows of a mini-van parked in an isolated section of the lot. I have a glimpse of a pretty ass in the air and a hard dick underneath. I knew someone was getting fucked in the back of that minivan.

I asked the woman to attend the prison. Candidates must have small, soft, delicate hands with polished manicure nails in red. Good pay. Room and tray included. Benefits.

Tammy needed a summer job. The announcement in the newspaper seemed that it might be in his alley. She wonders why they stressed their hands. A little strange, she thought. Tammy is a 16-year-old high school. She is an attractive, short 5'7", 110lbs, black hair, and innocent. Her mother and sister did most of the work, cleaning and dishes. Tammy’s hands match the requirements except for one thing. She didn’t wear a varnish.

The good thing about hindsight is how clear it is. The wrong thing is you don’t have to go back doing things differently. Now that I graduated from college, I had time to think about the things of my year and one thing in particular that I could do differently.

I wasn’t your student. When I graduated from high school, I decided not to go to college right away. Instead, I joined the army. My parents were not satisfied with this decision and announced that if I had decided to go to college, I should pay myself. The G.I. bill would take care of it once it came out of the army. But the whole question of money became awkward when a plane crash took my parents away a few months before I was released at the end of my second enrolment.

It should not have happened, normally there was no way that it would happen, but I only have to blame myself and what it could do to my life. It was my 25th birthday and for a reason that this one really hit me. I was fortunately married, my husband was great with me and we both had very good jobs. I guess everything was so good that I didn’t know what it would be like not having the things that got me back as I asked them. For a few weeks after my birthday, I was in a slum and I couldn’t get out of it. Even my husband Wayne noticed that I wasn’t myself and he asked if it was something he did to me. I felt bad for him because he had nothing to do with my feelings. I don’t know if it was hormones or anything, but I wasn’t happy with my life, but I knew everything in my life was as good as possible. Nothing in my life could prepare me for the wild journey I was going to take just because I thought I had problems that were really not there.

It was too obvious.

But I stopped. I haven’t taken a autostop since I was in college. I always thought a pretty girl standing on the side of the road with her thumb in the breeze had to have a 250-pound boyfriend in the bushes, ready to order my car at the knife point.

I see from a distance that you’re cute, your long brown hair whipping on your face in the wind. When I get closer, I can see your faint cuts, cut so short that the cheeks of your ass whip invitably.

Barb told the team that it would be last year. They had been an inspiration, given her confidence in herself. Some of them would continue to play, she hoped, but what she really knew was that they would all do positive things. Some might move and some would find new options to check. “Hey, girls. I went to basketball after the coaches shouted for years to keep my hands off the ball.” They were laughing. Carl was always surprised how she would have told them “bad” when she meant “bad.”

At home, Carl was torn between shock and confusion. Kathy? Sex? There was no claim that Barb had inferred otherwise. Barb would have taken the thoughts that were not sufficiently nailed. She couldn’t have projected teenage fantasies. She talked to Andrea and Kathy wouldn’t lie to her best friend. Barb had spoken with the knowledge that such things happen. Why shoot the messenger?

Fathers can’t think of their child, can they? It’s not natural. Maybe it’s biologically natural, but it’s not supposed to happen. It’s not fair! Everyone knows that. It’s wrong to make love together. Sex is something…

Like Barb’s work, the girls called him “Coach.” Carl was his assistant and the girls called him “Carl.” Barb knew soccer, knew how to make their butt work and love him. Barb could drop a corner at 5 feet from the net. Carl was not particularly athletic, but was happy to trotter, the promoter. “Nice pass, Heather. Look at the offspring, though.”

On the ground, Barb was also “Coach” in Carl. “You bet, Coach,” he would confirm that he drilled his band on the crossovers. “Not until you see the ball in the air!” said with certainty. He hoped the girls knew him himself. Barb, the ponytail pushed his cork back, gave him an inch.