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I have a great life but I'm missing that one special person to share it with. I also like to spend time with friends and family, swimming and runningwalking, I absolutely like sleep(I'm going to Alaska in July), wine tasting, dancing, concerts, watching, movies, bowling and attending sporting events. If you are longing for the same, I would love to hear from you. While I do live in Dallas, I do come to Austin regularly because I can't stand the pretentiousness and vanity of people here. I'm a retired professional. Whitejack dealer at Hard Rock Biloxi w4m Your name started with a B but I won't post it here.

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Just lunch Monday only I have tomorrow off, and would love to meet someone for lunch, maybe have a drink, and see what happens. Lets make a mundane Monday into something marvelous. If anything, youll have a great story to take back to your coworkers. Into men with beards, but not necessary. Put the name of the restaurant in the subject. If you cant follow simple instructions, are married, or unemployed, save us both some time and dont reply.

Im real it was cold and this weekend. Housewives looking casual sex South byron Wisconsin Hawkesbury. Englishman in town Hot wife want real porno Bayamon Puerto Rico. Saint Eustache Looking for the one horny black women fan. After I spent most of my day avoiding your messages, trying to find something to do with my time other than talk to you, I finally gave up.

I know that you knew that I would eventually, and I don't know why I even try. Talking to you is like being sucked into a giant black hole; unavoidable.

You asked what my plans were, and I told you that I was getting ready to go to dinner with my new boyfriend. The one that you have never met, will never meet, and who you still loathe. I it jealousy, you it 'I-know-a- -when-I-see-one'. I ask why you want to know what my plans are, because depending on the answer, I'd cancel my dinner plans in a heart. All you said was, "just wondering". An hour later, I'm sitting in a booth across from my new boyfriend and he's rambling on about cars; a subject I couldn't care less about.

I'm thinking about you, and how you never talked about cars, and wished that you were him, but only for a brief second. That's when I look up, and I see you and your girlfriend being seated at a table that is too close for my liking. You look around with a smile on your face, a shit-eating grin that you can't hold back. I send you a text, "what are you doing" followed by a million emoji's. You replied a few minutes later, "Man, you weren't kidding when you said this is where you bring all your new ".

I can feel my cheeks begin to heat up. My oblivious boyfriend either hasn't noticed that I've been texting for the past minutes, or doesn't care.

Either way, at this point, I've already decided that it isn't going to work out. Bonehead is probably going to want dessert". I stare at my salad throughout the next twenty minutes as "bonehead" still talks about cars. Eventually I look down at my phone and say, "I'll be right back, it's my mom". My phone wasn't even ringing, but he didn't notice. I have to pass by your table on the way to the exit, your girlfriend at me.

Poor girl, if only she knew. The cold air hits me in the face immediately, and I curse myself for not grabbing my scarf. This dress wasn't meant to be worn in the winter. As my warm breath makes a cloud around me, I see you round the corner. It's dark in the alley, and you're barely illuminated by dim streetlights. I started to answer, but you cut me off; forcing me to turn around so that my back was to you.

You kiss my neck, not my lips, to avoid messing up my. Your hands, cold to the touch, slide up my thighs and pull the lace fabric of my underwear down. You wrap and arm around my as you thrust inside of me, panting in my ear as your movements quicken. I can hear at the end of the alleyway, but you don't care at all as your hips smash into mine.

When you're finished, you place a kiss on my cheek, and apologize for being selfish. I laugh, because you are and always have been, and it's nice to know that you at least admit to it. With your hands still on my hips, you say "God damn you, woman". As if it's my fault.