She was in her late fifties. ‘I met Vicky in Paris. She’s a model and travels the world.’ ‘Is she the one that picked out that gorgeous suit y...u bought?’ ‘Yes, she’s kind of a special person to me.’ ‘I hope to meet her someday,’ replied Ruth. I just smiled back at Ruth. I had no idea what to say. Another week went by and I happened to open my desk drawer and the card from Vicky was setting there. I picked it up and read it a half dozen times. I couldn’t shake her memory out of my mind. I. I’d made my own reservations.“I sort of found out about the trade show when I was scanning things to be sure I knew as much as I could about what was going on there. You were on the plane and I knew you’d need a cover story, so I called the Venetian, pretending to be your assistant.”“You are my assistant,” I said.“I’m Deb Riley’s assistant, but technically not Riley Finn’s. I said I’d been on vacation and found out you’d made your own reservations and you’d be so mad at me when you found out. “My favourite book. I've read it a few times.” I smiled, “Me too,” I answered, “I particularly like Tom Bombadil and Goldberry, the river woman's daughter.” We laughed together for a moment and I continued.“This place reminds me a little of that part of the story, the trees, the sun, I can almost imagine a babbling stream.” “That's not your imagination,” she laughed, “there is a stream just beyond those trees.” We were quiet then, for a moment after our laughter had died away, until I asked,. Now that I understood sex more I started to want it more. I wanted my best friend, lets just call him Sam, to fuck me. One night I was ready to take it to the next level. My parents were out for the night, so this was perfect. We started our “sex” normally, with me licking his dick through his pants. This time though I wispered “Let’s do the real thing” and pulled down his pants and underwear. Although I had felt his dick through sam’s pants, I had never really realizd how big it was. It was 8.
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