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She was so hot. I just loved to look at her as she left her apartment. No matter when or for what reason she looked very sexy. She had the kind of body that just screamed ‘fuck me’. And that is what I wanted to do. She was kind of short but had those perfect legs that gave the illusion of going on forever. She had that long, thick hair that was just perfect to nuzzle in too.

I watched her every day, and I knew her habits. On weekday mornings she dressed in a short dress type suit. All stiff and business-like, the type that made men and women equal in the workplace. Later she would come home and change for jogging. She wore some tight sweat pants and amorphous shirts. Because she had some huge breasts she wore one of those tight jogging bras. Every day she came back all hot and sweaty making me really horny.

Some would say, “If you wanted her so much, why don’t you get her?” Well for sure I wanted to but she always seemed to have another guy. And did she go through them. She never had one for more than a few weeks, and I wanted to be more than that. That is why I watched and studied her for so long. I knew her ins and outs, including her favorite sex positions, via a telescope bought for the purpose. As a matter of fact I finally decided that I would confront her with my love as soon as I found out one last bit of information. I didn’t know her name. I vowed that when I got it, I would get her.

One day she did not follow the usually routine. She went out to work did not come home for her daily jog. I saw this as an excellent chance to figure out her name. I knew for sure that her name would be on her mail, which she usually picked up from her box before jogging. Inconspicuously I slipped down to the mail boxes. The apartment owner either was a trusting soul or cheap because the boxes did not have locks. Lucky for me! I glanced and saw no one around. I quickly popped open her box and scanned her letters. Finally I say what I had been waiting for. Among the letters to occupant I found one addressed to ‘Miss Betsy Bryant’. I am ready to make my move. I knew in my mind I was going to get this woman and I would start the next time I saw her.

About 4 o’clock the next day I saw Betsy getting her mail. I slipped out of the apartment and came up the road as if I was going to the apartments. I walked up to her and pretended to ask her the direction to a friend’s place. When she was about to answer I said,”Wait a minute? Aren’t you Betsey Byrant? Don’t you remember me? I’m Jim, from school.”

This had her thoroughly confused and I moved in for the kill. I rambled on about some made-up school career until she invited me to her place. I had never really seen her place except from the windows, and I was impressed. She had impeccable taste in decor that seems the mark of the successful woman.

After we got on the couch I admitted to really being her neighbor and used the school mate bit as a ploy to get in her apartment. Betsy was shocked and I was afraid that she would kick me out. Finally, at my urgings she cooled down, and admitted that she knew I was BSing her anyway. The she started spouting off info on me! She knew everything about me. Of course I was surprised. It turns out that she used the computer at work to find out about me when she noticed me spying on her.

“Well, I bet you don’t know my favorite sex position,” I finally said.

“I bet I can find out,” she said slyly.

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With today’s new competitiveness in business, more and more hard work is going into our work weeks. Often I find myself working weekends in order to satisfy the need for additional work efforts. Recently, however, I was delighted by a turn of events which made this weekend requirement easier to take. Our company, like most, has be undergoing constant reorganization in an attempt to become more effective and with this comes the inevitable procession of changes in upper management. In addition the general age of my bosses had been declining. A recent change found me working for a good-looking woman about five years older than myself. I wondered how this was going to work out, and as you will learn it not only worked out great but has provided me with some of the most interesting work experiences in my life.

It all started, as I said, with my new boss. Jane was a good-looking dark-haired lady with nice tits and a great figure. While she looked nice she wore very conservative suits around the office and I did not think of her in especially carnal ways. Jane had brought with her a number of women who formed her inner circle, and while some of my peers thought this was a sign that the guys were going to get the shit jobs, I waited to see how things developed. Soon after Jane took over I received a number of interesting and sensitive assignments which were due in short time-frames. I was assigned one of Jane’s people to work for me and we began to work the project. Sue, the woman assigned to me, was a pretty, slim woman about 23, and while she wasn’t Bo Derrick she seemed to always to give off a very sexual aura which attracted me to her from the first. We ended up spending many evenings working on our project and I got to know Sue quite well. Sue had small firm breasts which she almost never covered with a bra and while her dress was never overtly sexy I found myself drawn to her and wondering how she would be in bed.

When the project was nearing completion the work effort intensified, and in addition to working nights, Sue and I were getting together on the weekends to complete the work on the required schedule. Sue invited me over to her house so we could work on the project in some more comfortable surroundings and since she was single I thought it would be nice. I arrived about 8:30 Saturday morning, Sue greeted me at her door wearing a short t-shirt nighty and apologizing for over-sleeping. I told her it was ok and how sexy she looked in her short nighty. Sue’s small firm tits were clearly visible under the thin white cotton and her nipples poked out against the fabric, making my cock get stiff.

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Walking along the dark street, I thought for a moment to the almost daily occurrences that seemed to dominate the news. Numerous bodies had been found in the recent weeks. Bodies savaged physically, and sexually. Bodies of mostly women, but a male or two as well. Grinning to myself I walked on, shrugging my shoulders and pushing my hands deeper into the pockets of my overcoat. The tabloids were shouting about rampant vampires and wolfmen. Right. Even though the reputable papers did mention, from time to time, the disturbing fact that the victims did seem to be a bit on the anemic side, the whole thing seemed pretty outrageous. Here at the beginning of the 21st century, old ghost stories were dominating the papers. Chuckling lightly to myself, I turned and started across the street, heading toward the little bar that I usually frequented.

As I walked in, swinging my coat off my shoulders and hanging it on ‘my’ coat hook, the bartender gave me a nod. As I reached my stool, I found a draft waiting for me, and I casually tossed back a swallow, looking around the bar. The TV was on, over the end of the bar, and the late news was on, more jabbering about yet another body found just after nightfall today. Pity, I thought to myself. “It’s your buddy at work again, Slade,” the bartender jibed toward me.

“Can’t you put some other trash on Tom? Don’t you get sick of this shit?” pushing my empty mug toward him, he picked it up, and soon, I found it back before me.

“You know I only put it on to annoy you, Slade,” he grinned broadly at me and went to the other end of the bar, taking a drink to an old man sitting there. He always bugged me about this shit, knowing how I felt about sensationalism. We had talked often of how these losers would pull some cheap stunt, grab some publicity, and get credit for being so strange. And a vampire impersonator certainly had the attention of the city now. “You know they found that gal,” he gestured toward the screen which showed a body being carted into a waiting ambulance, face covered, “about a mile from here?” He grinned at me, and I just shrugged. No sense feeding his mirth.

“Yeah? You’re hitting them close to home, eh?” He laughed as I ducked the wet bartowel that soared toward me. Eventually, thankfully, the news changed to more mundane matters, and I watched silently as one little tragedy after another was shown. Pity.

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This is a story about my wife and me. I’ll try to tell it as it happened, but since 13 or so years have passed since our first meeting, some of the memories have probably gotten better with age.

It all started with a chili-eating contest at a local bar… You know, one of those silly things that one does on a dare. Your friends saying, “sure sign up, I’ll be there to help cheer you on.” Bull! It was just me, 2 beers, a quart of chili, and about 15 other contestants.

I won’t go into all of the gory details about the contest. The winner did it in a minute and thirty three seconds, and then threw up on the guy standing next to him. I did it in about 33 minutes.

Winning second place, was ok, I guess. The photographer was taking pictures of me and the winner for some newsletter, and he kept saying one more, one more. I looked at the winner, and he looked at me… We both turned around and dropped trou for the camera. He wanted to see a smile. How about a vertical one?

Time to pick up the beer cooler, and the six-pack of long necks, and head home. Another chapter in life is closed. Or so I thought.

A couple of weeks later I’m sitting at the bar of the local watering hole, nursing a beer. Checking out the ladies in the mirror that runs the length of the bar, I see one a few stools down that keeps looking at me (or at least I think she is looking at me), and then talking to her friend sitting next to her. I happen to glance over and see a stack of papers on her lap. Recognizing them as the newsletter from the beer distributor that sponsored the chili eating contest, I ask her “Is that the new SilverBird?” She says no, and then a look of surprise comes across her face. She then says “I know who you are, I’ve seen your picture before. Both FRONT and REAR!”

Now I’m trying to think fast. Where had she seen my picture before? Especially from the rear. She then tells me that she works for the PR firm that handles the SilverBird account. And that the photographer had brought in the proof sheets from the contest. She said that she had a good time looking at those tiny little pictures. A bit more interesting than the ones the photographer usually brings in.

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“I hereby give myself over to chronic masturbation”, I announced to myself. My words were chopped up in the ceiling fan and then fell dead in the silent flat. Traveling alone to Cairns, Australia was exciting in one way. I mean there is the barrier reef and islands and topless beaches. But in other ways, such as at nine at night and being in a place where there were strict blue laws, well it was not so exciting. But laying in bed and lubing my prick with baby oil was giving me very little satisfaction. I felt restless. I had to move.

That is why I ended up cruising the bars. One was sort of fun. I danced with some women but nothing seemed to spark and the music and noise became too much to bear. Finally I stumbled on the sidewalk of a storefront (oh yeah, I guess I drank a few blue tinnies also) in which the window was blackened out. It was about a block from the docks where the reef boats departed and it looked deserted. There was an “ADULTS ONLY” sign on the painted black glass. I decided to give it a shot.

The inside was much cleaner and brighter than the outside would have suggested. The walls were covered with racks which contained soft porn magazines. Directly in front of me was a glass case which contained various dildos and fake vaginas (one that even pulsated!). To the right was a curtained entrance way which had a handwritten sign over top: FIVE DOLLARS - ALL DAY.

What really caught my eye was who was behind the counter. I couldn’t believe that a woman who looked like that could work in such a place. She appeared to be in her mid to late twenties, slender, with short blonde hair. Contained in a loose string tie top were two perky, firm looking breasts. She was busy SEWING! of all things and every time she pulled the thread there was a solid but definite tremor under her top. Her nipples stood out as they rubbed against the fabric like the tips of two pinkie fingers.

“What does five dollars all day mean”, I interrupted her conversation and pointed to the sign.

She looked up, her eyes were blue, and she smiled.

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