Selfie Ho To Aisa

’ Joan looked beautiful. Her hair was shoulder length in soft cascading curls, she was wearing lipstick and light makeup on her face, and I could tell she had perfume on, Chanel No. 5. She had on one of several silk blouses she owned, a translucent white shade which just enabled you to make out the lines of her bra if you looked hard or she put her shoulders back. Her skirt was a slim, black number which ended about three inches above her knees. Neither the blouse nor the skirt was new, but I hadn’t seen her wear them in at least two years. What’s happened? How long has it been since I’ve looked at her? She couldn’t have lost so much weight or grown out her hair in just a few days! I know all this happened in just a couple of seconds, but I felt as if everything was occurring in slow motion. She was moving toward me, putting her arms around my neck, kissing me, extending her tongue into my mouth. She never kisses like this right out of the blue. My penis, which obviously has a mind of. Ricky was right, I am good for business. Back at the scene of the crimes and debauchery, I went to the same intersection I was now so familiar with and looked into the theater's straight section, it was depressingly empty. I stepped to the gay section, one guy asleep, and was about to call it a night. Then, one by one, nasty daddy after nasty daddy, came in. In no time I turned around and sat in an aisle seat just ahead of the couple's section on the straight side. The first guy was dark, portly, not from the USA, and seemed to be a voyeur or curious. He sat in the front row and turned to face me. The second guy was aggressive and walked up to me and smiled as he turned to look around the theater and then began fondling himself.The third and forth guys looked similar- light colored hair, fairly fit, and middle aged. One in shorts and a long sleve shirt, the other in a white t-shirt and black pants like a casino worker. They both came up and sat near me and then each in his own time.
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