1. THE ADVENTURES OF LITTLE DICK - THE GRAND CANYON


    Date: 3/15/2017, Categories: True Story, Author: cyrano, Rating: 86.2, Source: sexstories.com

    side note: I always pay close attention to a woman's appearance. It pays huge dividends down the road. I don't just take mental notes, I write it down as soon as possible, or in today's world of smart phones and mini-recorders, dictate it. Either Lisa had a date after our dinner, or she was dressed this way for me. If it was the latter, I hit the jackpot. In either case, it was time for The Dance. If a woman is dressed like Jessica Rabbit, she expects to be treated like she's hot. Lisa was asking for The Dance, so I gave it to her. "Wow, Lisa! That you?" I tap danced around her like a bellhop working for a big tip. I got the door, pulled out her chair, acted speechless - the whole nine yards. It was time to find out if this display was for me. "Hey, would you like to take some salsa classes with me?" A blank look spread across her face. This was not good. "I don't think so, Cyrano, I'm a little clutzy." This could have been her way of politely rejecting me. "No, trust me on this. I've seen you move. You were born for this. We'll take it slow. If you break an ankle, we'll call it quits, okay." A little humor goes a long way. THE TEN COUNT Lisa really took to the salsa classes. And she was giving me serious hard-ons. I didn't show up for the fifth class. She called me for two days before I returned her calls. "Cyrano?" "Yeah, Lisa it's me." "What happened to you? I've been calling you for two days." It was time for the knockout punch. "You know what happened." "No, honestly ...
    I don't." "That fucking red dress is what happened! I can't think about nothing else. I keep seeing the hem inching up the back of your thighs, the fabric melting into your hips when you sat. These salsa classes have been a nightmare. Fighting like hell to keep from getting hard-ons with you rubbing against me. I can't concentrate at work, I'm beating myself raw at home. This has to stop. Look, this is my problem. I'll get over it. I'm a big boy. In a couple of weeks I'll bottom out." I just sat back and waited. This is silver bullet stuff. You can tell a woman how hot she looks and it'll just make her uncomfortable at best - even if she likes you. She didn't pick her parents, and age and gravity will ravage even the best of genes. She'd much rather be complimented on something she's accomplished, something she has control over. And putting together that jaw dropping outfit WAS an accomplishment. "Cyrano, It's nothing to be embarrassed about," she said after seconds of awkward silence. I never said I was embarrassed. What the hell was she talking about? But the fact that she was still on the line spoke volumes. I was purposely graphic to cut through all the bullshit. If she wasn't at least flattered by the idea of being my sexual fantasy, she would have hung up. She didn't want me to bottom out. "Lisa it's okay. I'll be fine." "Don't be silly, Cyrano. What are we in junior high? Let's meet for coffee and talk about this like adults." And down goes Lisa! THE ULTIMATUM I hate ...
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