She had her beautiful blonde hair pinned up in a bun. She was wearing a tight white top that revealed just a little cleavage. She had very nice breasts, probably C or D cup. She had on a very short sexy pink mini shirt. I become aroused the moment I saw her. I just had to meet her. I was barely able to speak to her. I was so overcome by her sheer beauty. I finally couldn't take it anymore. I had to have her. I was desperately trying to work up the courage to ask her. I was so scared that she would say no. We had only known each other for a few weeks, but she seemed to really like me. I finally asked her if I could do her right there in the park and she say yes! I immediately jumped on top of her and started to passionately kiss her. I ground my hard crotch into hers. I undid a few of her shirt's buttons, pushed her bra back, and sucked on her nipples for awhile. Her breathing was becoming rapid and heavy and slight moans of pleasure escaped from her. I moved down and sucked on her. John was not a writer, he was a storyteller, and I was happy to be able to work with him. As far as I was concerned, the stories were his, and I was a glorified ghost writer. As we made progress, he’d have a family member scan and email the updates, while I’d email him my changes and new versions. He approved the final version of the stories before I submitted them. John had some funny ideas. He had notes and lists of what was right and what was fair. He wrote of levels of infidelity, and what that meant. Emotional cheating, one time affairs, ongoing affairs, infidelity with multiple partners, each had its own rating as to how ‘bad’ it was, and what the level of response should be. I always found these notes to be illuminating and thought provoking. Honestly, in many ways, he reminded me of Duna, with his constant references to other stories, and the types of cheatings and outcomes. In February of 2015 my good friend John had a heart attack. He was slow to recover. The timing was.
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