Gah. "I am not gay and he is not my boyfriend." Imade my way out of the restaurant and there Ryker was, waiting for me. Hehad a sack from the store... you know the type. They carry everything frombeach towels to souviners. He said, "Let me walk you back to your room,"and again took my hand in his. I did not know if I liked it or not. No,that's not true. I loved holding his hand, but I knew I was not supposedto like it. This was all messed up.We got to my room, and I did not know if I. One perk was getting to go to a convention in Dallas-- travel and fancy dinners on the company dime, hurray-- as one of about a dozen people from all over the company. I didn't know any of them.We met up in the lounge of the Westin to get our credentials and meet each other, and it was then that one of the women, a tall, somewhat well-padded but still shapely blonde turned toward me, and we looked at each other for a moment, and then we stared, not believing what we saw, and then--"Richie?". The pool house was equally striking. I had imagined four concrete walls surrounding a little pool. The four walls were about the only thing I had right. Three of the walls were twenty-foot tall windows, with solid partitions that could be raised and lowered for privacy or sun exposure. Behind the other wall were the bathrooms, jacuzzi, and dry sauna. When I was younger, I bit my nails to placate my nervousness. Witnessing firsthand the powerful wealth of someone I actually knew, replaced. She needs me in her. She needs me to stretch her and fill her and leave a bit of myself in her. She used her fingers to ease my boxers down, and I lifted my hips slightly so she can get them off. When they are off, I settled back in and she is treated to her first glimpse of my firm member. It is just the right size, just the right width, with a glistening drop of juice at its tiny hole. She kissed her way down my stomach and, with a feather light lick across my tip, she takes the salty juice..
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