Indian Girl

I’m trapped in a dilemma of my own making, I don’t trust girls I meet really like me not my money, and consequently I don’t ever give them the chance to prove otherwise. Plus I really do work a lot, sometimes I tell myself its better this way, that a girlfriend or wife would just be another demand on time I don’t have. But when I’m sitting in my apartment at night hunkered down in dim light before my computer screen, I can’t hide from the reality of my loneliness. At least for a while I had companions in my loneliness, but now Eric was getting married. Now I was even alone in my aloneness. I kept striding an brooding until I suddenly realized the gym was nearly empty. I glanced at the wall clock: 1:30. Yipes! I’d been on the machine for an hour. I quickly rushed to the showers, dreading the baneful scolding awaiting me from my Blackberry as it was overwhelmed with messages for me. Oh well…it wasn’t like I wasn’t going to work until seven or eight o’clock anyway… —————— I went home. Each stocking was rolled down and off. She tried to look each of them in the eye, as Tamita had suggested, but she found it difficult. Marsha could feel her body temperature rise and her face burn as she unsnapped the bra and let it fall, her melon sized breasts bursting free to reveal large dark areolas surrounding even darker nipples.She saw the eyes of the men light up at the sight of her naked breasts and knew she had scored points. The women however showed no reaction. She turned away from them, bent over at the waist and proceeded to drop her thong. The men were now smiling and even Marlene showed a glint in her eye indicating interest. Marsha stood before them, totally naked. She slowly turned completely around so they might explore her body in detail. She had continued to work out, especially since her relationship with Chris had blossomed. She had been aware that, despite what he said about not being interested in girls his own age or other women, she needed to keep herself.
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