"How would you like to sit down, after, and watch a videotape of the game, right there at the ballpark?" I don't understand. You mean -- the same game..." Here's the thing, Paul. You know I'm wanting to do play-by-play broadcasts, in the future, and not just color, like now. I told you that already -- right?" Yeah." Well, I need to make a first-class demo tape. A tape of me, doing the play-by-play. Something my agent can send to the clubs that might be in the market for a new sportscaster, next. She moved aside and un-buckled my jeans, and pulled out my cock and licked it. She asked me to unbutton my shirts, and I followed her instructions obediently. She started kissing my chest and stroked my penis with her hands. She sat again on my lap, as before, and we continued with our smooch. I caressed her bare back with my hands and she was moaning and pulling my hairs. I moved my head aside towards her neck, and I started kissing her neckline towards her cleavage. With each kiss she started. To pounce as Sally Bowles recommended, in the movie Cabaret. While I was away, Michelle had opened a second bottle and refilled our glasses. “Nice package,” she commented as I sat down, her knee making contact with mine the moment I sat down. I blushed, I am sure, or at least it felt like it. “Your six pack,” she added leaning forward and patting my stomach. I was in such a state of anxiety that I was sweating and my T-shirt had stuck to my ribs exposing a bit of my stomach. I covered her hand. She was always on my fucking mind. I constantly jerked off thinking about fucking this hot ass Asian behind the store. In the stockroom. She flustered me. And that shit never happens. Finally, one day walked right over to her department. She was wearing an all black ladies business pant suit. She had these black pumps on that were at least three inches. I walked up to her..."Do you wanna have dinner with me after work?" She paused...she didn't look at me when she said "I can't get with you!" I,.
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