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A catalog of memories that is somewhat instructive.

She kept looking at me and then down at her own fingers and then her eyes would find mine again. Almost as though she were inviting my questions.

"I did, honestly, try to say something before you jumped at the chance to sleep on my couch." She managed at last.

"It isn't that I am a slut, or easy. I just have always loved having sex!"

Lindsey paused for a moment, almost as though she expected me to condemn her life choices or some stupid, quasi-parental, bullshit. When I just continued drinking my coffee, saying nothing, she carried on. Sharing with me the stories of her first few times. Then going onto explain that the guys she brought home were, indeed, flings but that she would never risk bringing home a guy with whom she was not familiar from one of the few pubs that she frequented on the nights when she was not working at the diner, or devoting to her book.

"If you are interested in meeting someone, and since we are both off today, I would like to have a day out with you."

Having said that she stood up off of the couch and padded back into the kitchen.

While I was certain that if we met a guy that I liked, and was sure was not a scum bag or an asshole just looking to score, that it was unlikely that I was going to drag him into bed with me just the thought caused some heat to rise from between my legs and my stomach to clinch up at the idea! Before I could caution myself, I heard a strange voice agreeing wholeheartedly to this idea. Only once Lindsey had excused herself to go take a shower did it dawn on me that it had been my voice!

Aside from anonymous sex, or one night stands, however you want to characterize what Lindsey was doing, I had also never been one much for hitting the clubs or drinking. That kind of behavior just made the other all the more likely. I also liked to be sober during sex so that I could be in control of my own body and enjoy what I was doing - or what was being done to me. It was not until our second bar then that Lindsey brought a couple of guys over to where I was sipping my third mineral water and watching as she flirted, outrageously, with any guy of her passing acquaintance and with a good enough sized bulge in their jeans or slacks!

"This is Andrew." Lindsey said by way of the first introduction.

The sandy-haired, business-suited, young man shock my hand gently while his eyes never got any higher than my b-cup breasts. You just had to want to jump into bed with someone that only wanted to get to know your tits! Thanks, but no thanks.

"And this charming specimen would be Ian," Her second introduction was done as Lindsey were showing off a new model car.

Dark haired, nicely built, and with storm-cloud grey eyes. That was Ian. He looked me right in the eye when he said hello and then offered to buy me my next round. Detecting a spark of chemistry, Lindsey guided Andrew away toward the billiard tables and left Ian and I alone to get to know one another a little better. The reaction building between my, tightly closed, legs was not a good sign for my resolve lasting much longer, but even I had to admit that the guy was not an asshole. . .

I barely managed to kick the door shut on the apartment before Ian was back at me with more of those infuriatingly, sensual, soft kisses along my neck and collar bone. Whoever had taught him to make-out with a woman had better be sainted because they had done the female portion of the population a huge favor! We, Ian and I, had spent the remainder of the afternoon and early evening together. Sharing small talk and trading rounds at the bar. He laughed at the idea of someone walking into a bar and only drinking mineral water. I had laughed in return as his assurances that he had not come into a bar with his friend - on their lunch break - not looking for a quickie.

We then progressed to dancing to what was playing from the jukebox and the next crack in my resolve had come when he ground against my butt and I felt the f

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