I was at a conference in Washington DC this week. As an industry luminary, I felt I had to attend the “Transit Caucus” reception and mixer. I find transit to be dreadfully boring, but I went because I would be missed. The reception was as dreadfully boring as I thought it would be. People who find transit issues exciting are dull people themselves, most usually near retirement, and even more usually quite ugly.
There was one attractive lady though. She had a quite tailored look, which I like, and was probably my own age. She was wearing a nice deep red suit dress, with a red jacket over a white button-up blouse. For amusement, I promised myself that if I were ever near her I would make up some lie and flirt a little for getting an anal creampie. I am a pretty good talker, but I hate mixers, so this was a stretch for me.
After eating a few greasy finger-sized eggrolls and chicken fingers, I set my plate down on a service tray. When I stood up, the tailored woman was right in front of me, facing mostly away. Well, those who read my anal creampie stories know that I have a “particular fascination” with bobbed hair, and this woman had a very nice bob. She must have had it cut right before the conference. So, I drooled internally for a moment, then remembered my self-promise.
“Excuse me,” I said to her, “don’t I know you?” I knew full well that I didn’t, but this is a decent opening line when at a transit caucus mixer.
Ceampie Eating
Vagina Filled With Semen
A Huge Load of Cum Inside Girl
She turned to me, her face flushed with pleasure. “Oh God, I was afraid you didn’t recognize me.”
Shit! We did know each other somehow! Not only that, but she remembered our previous encounter with some happiness. Just when I should have been thinking as efficiently as possible, my mind turned to mush. On top of her other attractive qualities, she had crystal blue eyes framed by perfect bangs. That accounted for much of the mushmindeness I had, but I was also confused because it seemed I wasn’t lying before getting the anal creampie when I thought I was.
“You know, I am horrible at names, but I remember faces,” I said, holding out my hand to shake hers and thinking about the anal creampie. “Remind me where we met?”
“C’mon Clem,” she teased, “you can remember, can’t you?”
“Was it that conference in Copenhagen?” I postulated. She shook her head, no. “Was it that Detroit project?”