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Please email me if you like this story. Hell even if you don't. But please don't be dumbasses. Some prodigy emailed me to say "yeah right that happened to you." and went on to say something derogitory about me which frankly I can't even remember. I had saved the email for the time when I respond but a week or so ago I finally got sick of seeing it in my inbox and filed it in the appropriate place. So to you dipshit I ask how can you be talking shit to me when you're logging on just to read my story your pathetic little pecker in hand. I'm reminded of a tool song. Jimmy I think it is. Anyway here's the fucking story.

"C'mon in Rob. This is my friend Karen. You want a drink?" Greta was looking good as usual. Her reddish hair hairsprayed into position and jeans and a blouse unbuttoned low. Walking in I sat down in my usual spot. Greta and I had been fucking for a couple of weeks. Nothing serious. She wanted to fuck, I wanted to fuck. We fucked. She's divorced and has a son who goes to school during the day. Which is when we meet. Greta hands me a cold beer while I sit down opposite Karen on the couch. Karen is a little younger, early thirties, and has a nice body. Tan and lithe she's wearing a short skirt outfit thingy with a belt. And heels. Me being the sex fiend I am part of my mind starts running through various fantasies.

"Rob, I hear you are the man responsible for keeping Greta so happy lately. That's good, she deserves it." She sips on her bloody Mary and I can tell It's not her first of the day. Greta sits on the overstuffed ...

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