Art Of Sex Viv Thomas - My Life, My Job, My Career: How Seven Simple Viv Thomas Nude Helped Me Succeed

This is my first and, likely, last entry here. I've enjoyed the stories here and figured I might contribute, though my story differs from most posted here substantially. Regardless, I hope you enjoy it. I was commuting to college, back and forth everyday. She was a loser, working the behind the counter at an Italian deli. For this story, you can call me Steve, and her Kristy. I'm a tall guy, 6'3", lean, with brown hair, glasses, and really long eyelashes. She was considerably shorter, mid 5' I'd guess, with brown hair, green eyes and C-cup tits. By far her worst quality was the gap between her two front teeth. But, I suppose, the story begins years before that; in high-school. She had been a senior when I was a junior and she would bug me constantly, flirting and the like. I was never interested and when she graduated I was rid of the problem. Until about six years later. I was still in college, living in suburbia and commuting daily to the city. One day, my younger brother told me she had friended him on facebook and that she lived just a few blocks away. I didn't think much about it. He hung out with her a few times and eventually convinced me to tag along (you'll see why). She lived in a rickety old house with her fiancee and another guy, a really nice guy from Italy. There was another guy that lived in the basement and in the 3 months or so that this story spans, I never once saw him. Well, they liked to get high. And so did I. So that's what we did. So high I'd end up face down on the carpet. Too high to care that their stupid rat of a dog was lapping at my face. Maybe it was the weed, but for some reason all we'd ever watch was the Food Network. Blaah. This went on for a number of months, it was almost like a never ending party. There were hints that, looking back on it now, I should have noticed. But, honestly, this all took me really off guard. It was just like any other day. Kristy and I sat on the loveseat watching tv, trailer park boys maybe. Her fiancee, (I can't even remember his name) let's call him Alex, was at work. She had been feeding me vodka all night and after 6 or so shots, a few bongs, and a blunt, I was pretty far gone. So we sat in relative silence, until she slowly reached over and placed her hand over my dick. She started to rub through my jeans and my bulge grew and grew. She gave me a quick smile before pulling my cock out and giving the head a quick kiss. "Oh... shit," was all I could manage. I've always considered my length average, maybe 6". I've made a girl or two gag and their eyes water, so at least I can take pride in that. She took it all, with ease. She stared up at me with her beautiful set of eyes and watched as I squirmed underneath her, my cock in her throat. I can't remember how long I lasted, I don't remember much in fact. But when I had cum she gave me a smile and stuck her tongue out, showing me all my cum and in the next moment it was gone. It was then that I knew she was a little slut. She took my hand and led me up the stairs to the bedroom. Dropping her yogapants to the floor, she bent over the bed reaching back to spread her ass for me. I didn't wait long before I was inside her. I grabbed her nice, fat ass with both hands and worked my cock inside and out. She was so wet I can't remember feeling all that much. She moaned my name over and over again. She took off her shirt and bra and let her tits hang free, bouncing with every thrust. "Cum inside me baby... I need it," she'd whine between moans. I was scared, but she told me she was on the pill. (man, I was a dumb kid) With one final thrust and grunt I blew my load as deep inside her as I could and we both collapsed on the bed. Fast forward a few days and I had begun to feel guilty about the whole thing. It's not like I didn't like getting my dick wet, of course I did. I just felt bad for her fiancee. I don't recall ever thinking about him while I was deep inside his fiancee. But it was a nagging thing. He wasn't all that cool – really, he was pretty lame. But I knew I wouldn't want that shit happening to me. So on one hand, I felt guilty for fucking Alex's fiancee. And on the other, she'd text me like 100 times a day asking when she could suck my cock next. Well, of course, I went back. Kristy had a bong already packed for me. I was wearing athletic shorts and she could easily see my bulge. I sat on the couch with the bong and she lowered herself between my spread legs. I lit the bowl and she pulled my shorts to my ankles. My dick sprang out and she took it with a firm hand before wrapping her lips around it. And still I smoked the bong. It was such an indescribable feeling. That's what heaven must be like. I came in her throat again and she swallowed with another gap-toothed smile. And then – BAM – a sudden wave of guilt and shame swept over me. She wanted to fuck, I did too. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. She was mad. I guess she didn't understand the concept of guilt. "You fucker," she yelled, "you only care if you cum!" I was speechless, for the moment, before I stuttered with a smirk, "Umm, ya." She yelled and screamed and pleaded but I had to get out. I left and never went back. She would text me all day, every day, for weeks on end; virtually begging for me to fuck her. Eventually, (before I blocked her number) I was so fed up I texted her, thinking this would be the end of it. "Your character is deplorable and your physical attractiveness is less than desirable." I still laugh at that. The next day my brother tells me that Kristy had texted him asking what 'deplorable' means. Last I heard, she married some other poor sap, not viv thomas girls Alex. And I haven't been laid since. Too funny. ApplesandEve [4