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This is just a little story about how I ride. I mean, the way I like to live my life. And one of the things that really defines me a lot is what I wear. If I’m awake and kicking then I’ve got on my 501 jeans. And not a stitch underneath them.When I was young I would wear almost any kind of jeans. Just as long as they fit and I could afford them. But as I aged and lived my life I learned what I needed to do to make life good. One thing I learned is what button fly jeans could do to make life happy.So anyway, this is just a little story. Sort of an illustration you could say. Showing you all how sweet it is to wear the clothes that display your philosophy of living. And help you achieve it.A few years back I was shooting some pool in a bar in Barstow, right on route 66. It was a hot day outside, but the A/C was taking care of business, rus escort and so were the cold longnecks I was taking gulps from.I had just finished my third beer, and won my fifth game of eight ball, when I saw her up by the bar. She was on a bar stool with her curvy legs crossed. Her foot was bobbing up and down with a high heel shoe dangling from a toe.My eyes traveled up her legs, enjoying the way they were not too skinny under her short skirt, then up to her butt. Round and juicy looking for sure. Then on up to her tits underneath a tank top. Not huge, but I could see she was proud of them. She should be. Her long, tight ringlets of black hair spun out around her dark face.On her face was a tiny smile. And I could see it was directed at me along with her crinkled eyes.I always yenimahalle escort hung right, with my little buddy comfortable in my own tight jeans. I had been leaning over the table after my last shot sank the eight ball, and I now straightened up. I held the queue stick in my left hand and casually, but intentionally, rubbed my right hand over my meat, stretching it out for her. Then I returned her smile.She turned away and started sipping on something on the rocks. I gathered up my winnings from the edge of the pool table, stuck it into my hip pocket, and made my way over to say hello.”Hey Bert, I’ll have another, ” I said to the bartender. I was next to her. “Hello. Doing alright?” I said to her over my shoulder.”I’m fine,” she answered as she turned to smile again. “Not too exciting around here, is it?””Can be. Doesn’t take a lot to get it real interesting. You just have to be open to your own bliss,” I grinned.”Oh dear,” she laughed loudly. “My bliss? Hon, you got to be kidding.””Just a little joke. But I did enjoy hearing you laugh. You have a pleasing voice.””Is that so? Well, I’ve been known to sing once in awhile.””Mind if we take this over to a booth? Bert will bring you another of whatever you’re drinking.””Sure, let’s go,” and she picked up her drink as we both walked over to a corner booth. The bar only had about five or six patrons at this time of the day. We settled in, with both of us shifting around the bench.We talked idly for awhile but it was clear we liked each other. I was sure of it when her left hand rested on my right thigh for several minutes, and then moved up to my bulge. My now growing bulge. I glanced around the room. No one seemed to care what we were up to.”Tell you what, I need to get rid of some beer. What about you,” I asked her as I started gliding out of the booth. She was moving also.”I could do the same.
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32