When I was much younger, I really fancied this older woman, she was about 11 years older than me and an artist. I have to admit I pursued her, but man was she a piece of work, but when I think about it today I really should thank this ex for telling her friends and whoever else would listen about my huge penis.
At the time I may have been young and dumb but I had the right equipment, and was a bit bright lights and big city struck when I met Veronique. She struck a chord in me immediately and I inveigled myself into this artist bevy of followers.
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One day after one of her strange art exhibitions, we all went to her apartment, the entire entourage. We stopped for jugs of wine and I bought Durban Poison from my local dope dealer.
Eventually we were all half drunk and half stoned and people began to wander off, leaving me alone with Veronique. This time she was open to my sexual advances. She was forbidden fruit too, because this was in South Africa during the apartheid era; I was white, she was colored.
She ran a bath, lit candles and we got into the deep warm water and started fucking. Just as I was getting going, she topped me, telling me she wanted “artistic” photos, of me with my big beautiful cock, I was unsure, but relented.
Posing me how she wanted, she got the shots she needed and it actually turned me on, she assured me they would be private. By the time she returned to our fucking session I was rock hard and I just fucked her hard and selfishly, cumming like a young boy.
Wanting to see her again the next day, I was really hurt, she refused. She got her entourage to fob me off and tell me sh e didn’t want to see me again. I couldn’t figure out what the problem was. It took me weeks of moping to get over this, but eventually I came to my senses and got on with living, the first stop being my favorite bar, where I also had met Veronique.
Sauntering up to the bar, I placed my order with Shirley, the resident barmaid. She winked at me when she gave me my drink and said, “it’s on the house, I’m buying, because you have got such a nice cock”. “What” I replied, “look” she said pointing to the wall on my left. There I was, as large as life and as naked as the day I was born, only with a massive hard on.
“That bloody bitch”, she sold a blown up pic of our private photo session to the bar owner and it had been hanging there for three weeks, while I was being miserable. No wonder she didn’t want to see me again. After the initial shock, it all worked out really well, I had a bevy of girls to date who only wanted to fuck, and hardly ever had to buy my own drinks again in that bar. I suppose I should thank her
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