All cocks are different, I had learned that much about sex. Neal didn't have the fanciest set of equipment in the world, but..all the artists and composers be praised...Neal was a bass player, I learned, a stand-up bassist, a classical musician who did it with a bow.Oh! that man fucked me so nice. Never had him before, but I found ways to get together with him many times after.Judy: "I love it, I love to watch you fuck him, baby, that is so sexy..."My sister, in New York, had written me about her brief thing with Miles Davis and riding in his red Ferrari. That's what I thought about with Neal...all the Fords and Chevy's and pick-up trucks I'd been fucking, yeah mama, but now I was cruising with Neal in his Ferrari, and I don't think Miles could have done it any better, no matter how much he paid for his car.He fucked me that way, this way, the other way. UmmmHummm. He didn't come. He rolled around and fucked Judy, too. It didn't seem like he was in a big hurry to come any time. Then by shrewdly pinching the terry cloth fabric between her pixie chin and her suntanned collar bone this curvy aquanaut was then allowed sufficient autonomy to employ both of her hands when lowering the bodice of her swimming suit to a level somewhere between the belly button and her bikini line. Perfectly synchronized, both of those mischievous hands seductively recoiled up along the opposite edges of the terry cloth grabbing the beach-duster at her armpits, just before her chin and both biceps relaxed their hold. Everyone acquainted with this little vixen appreciated how this self induced scrutiny was morphing into grand theater owning to how her precarious modesty was working without the benefit of drapery safety netting and that just one inadvertent finger slip is all it would take to send that bath sheet facade plummeting downward thrusting her precipitous torso into the full light of day. And it was based upon such conjecture of how such a corporeal possibility could achieve.
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