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How small would something need to be for the gravitational field of a human to significantly affect it?

At what point would something be attracted to someone or able to establish an orbit?

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He was my first love and we married right after graduation because I was preggers! And he was in love with me, which was a good thing, because we were having great sex! He had a long list of broken relationships with girls with tarnished reputations. After we had our first child, I cut back to just working lunch crowds, and I've been doing that ever since. I composed myself, went back and got caught up on my orders. I was furious, tossing plates and cups and flatware. I put the slice on a plate and I took out my pad and wrote a note on a 2nd ticket that was hid under Billy's bill. well." I walked away and from the counter watched Billy. It read, "My slice of pie is your slice of pie, whenever you want it." And below that I had given him my cell phone number. For the first time in my life, I had sex with a man other than Randy.

The last two years have been - long pause here, how do I - hell. And I'm hot, or I was until I got knocked up again. My normal measurements are 5-feet, 7-inches, 175 pounds, 40-32-44. I'm a big girl and I can take the big cocks and the hard, mean-pounding motherfuckers. It's like this, I was raised in a very socially repressed environment. I was looking for a classic bad boy, someone who had experience, who had a reputation for turning good girls into sluts. It was just him and the guys and as soon as this started the guys were paying more attention to me. His friends were flirtier and when he wasn't watching, some would make passes at me, saying inappropriate things like, "You got such a fine pair of tits, Terry, sure would enjoy tasting that." I'd say something smart in return to put them off, or something stupid depending on whether I was prepared for the remark. I marched straight into the women's restroom, opened a stall door, sat on a toilet and started crying. Here was a good man, driven to lust out of his loneliness, but also out of his knowledge (community knowledge) that my husband - My husband! " "I'm sure yours is a heap tastier than the one I ate in the diner." "Billy, my pie comes with everything it would be if Randy was on it. And you could help me make it ala mode." "I'd like that," he said.

I read that a supermarket won an award for its two-year-matured puddings.

So, what happens over two years to bring out the flavour? Where I live, I use five different bins and the collections are fortnightly.

A shapely, 30-something, small town, pot-smoking, beer-drinking Slut! My first boyfriend was clueless and I quickly lost interest in him. Me and the girls would separate and have our chats and he and his boys would play Texas Hold-em, or watch some DVD or play a little basketball on our dirt court. He became more selective about which guys came over and they stopped bringing their women. A hand would grab ass, caress my thigh as I came to the card table to serve drinks, I'd swat one hand away after another. This went on for the better part of one summer until one day one of his friends reached down to my crotch while I was at the kitchen sink washing plate and fingered my pussy and asked when was I gonna try a gangbang. Then he turned his head away, looking out the window.

So, I just feel more honest about myself this is me. I've heard it often enough now that I take it for absolute fact that I have a slut's pussy. Until I was 16 I wasn't allowed to have a boyfriend. His buddies would come by with their wives or girlfriends and visit with us, usually on a Friday or Saturday evening. I slapped him, I shooed the bunch of them out the house and Randy, my pervert husband, could be heard outside telling them he would calm me down, but they'd have to call it a night. Said he was sorry, and explained he'd been lonely and depressed of late. "Your husband ought not be telling people about what goes on in your bedroom, Terry." He was staring facedown at the table when he said it, too humble to look at me.

I've decide I'll write about my life instead, on account of I've so enjoyed my chats with men who visit Literotica. I lost my cherry to my 2nd boyfriend while I was still in high school. Then I met Randall in my junior year of high school. And I was encouraged that he always told me I responded better and was more sexual than any girl he had been with. Neither of us did better than a high school education. I worked as a waitress doing the breakfast and lunch crowds. Cheryl, one of the other waitresses, came in looking for me. Found me crying, I wouldn't tell her what it was about. When it came time to give Billy his check, I went to the dessert case, pulled out the apple pie, put the pie plate on the counter and cut a slice. But I explained that if he wanted, I could drive over to his place, first thing in the morning after I'd seen my kids off to school. And for the first time in my life, I cheated on my husband.

I'm 32 years old and six months pregnant, so I'm taking a long break from being a slut to carry this baby. More upside, the big upside: I get all the fucking cock and nasty talk I fucking want. I had dark fantasies about being the student of such a man. - was spreading word around town about what a hot slutty-in-bed wife he had, and did he tell them about the toys, about the gangbang fantasy sex? Why every where I go, there must be an illustrated sign over my head with a photo of my thighs parted wide and the words: "Public Parking" under my fucking ass! I put my hand up, a clear warning: Don't say another fucking word. He walked over to the cashier, paid his bill and left. "Hello, Billy." "I don't know what to say, Terry, except that you're too good for Randy." "I know," I said. "Yes, indeed, I would." I didn't have time that afternoon to see him.

I knew he was trouble, but when I caught his eye, I couldn't resist, didn't want to. After three years of marriage, the sex as getting kind of boring. I went to him and said, "Billy, the pie's on the house. I showed up at Billy's place in a loose-fitting floral print house dress, and open-toe, low-heeled leather sandals.

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