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Hey folks! Buddy here. I'll tell you, this graduate writing program I'm in is really paying off in ways I never imagined. One of my profs--let's call him Fred--invited me over to his place for some drinks with him and his girlfriend Marla. Sweet little Marla isn't the sort of girl a 45 year old tenured professor takes to the faculty parties. Bless her heart, she's just 22 years old. Sure, she's a young thing, but she's got a hell of a mind, and a sense of humor bold and spicy enough to compete with the best of my drinking buddies. Plus, if you've ever known a gal whose mind's as fierce as her body, you know how she can work it. She knows just how her body affects a guy, she knows just the kind of power she has. She's got this rich blond hair, green eyes, and a booty that fills those one-piece satin dresses just right, and tits as smooth and sweet as cocoa butter.

Fred's hardly less interesting. He's about fifty, and has a sweet, distinguished look about him. I know with my earlier stories I've given some folks the impression that I have a thing for guys, and maybe Dr. Freud and his cronies could dig up some truth to that, but all I know is that I love ladies first and foremost. Even so, once or twice I've found myself drawn to this or that guy in deep emotional ways, and it's not something I'm ashamed of. Fred is one such guy. We've talked about this, and we've more or less agreed that I see him as a kind of a father figure. My dad left when I was a kid, and I never felt like he was proud of me, or loved me like a dad should. Fred makes up for that. He gives me the guidance and affection any boy needs from his ...

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