just a guy

Average guy, pretty vanilla.

[just a guy @RichardBranch69]

@VinnysCorner1 Gayle Sayers

[just a guy @RichardBranch69]

@LanieASassyVet Laura and Rob Petry

[just a guy @RichardBranch69]

@trumplicans2024 Democrats suppositories

[just a guy @RichardBranch69]

@SagedUpRadio Lou Boudreaux and Vince Lloyd

[just a guy @RichardBranch69]

@miles_commodore Children of Sanchez, wow.

[just a guy @RichardBranch69]

@oelma__ Two, three if I stood on the roof and held the antenna so my dad could watch the Cubs.

[just a guy @RichardBranch69]

@trumplicans2024 Cook bacon

[just a guy @RichardBranch69]

@LoveTherapis1 Enigma

[just a guy @RichardBranch69]

@lisasamxxm1 Ike, Jax, Max

[just a guy @RichardBranch69]

@Alinavibe1 Pizza

[just a guy @RichardBranch69]

He took his time undoing the buttons. One. Two. Three. The blouse parted. He pushed it off her shoulders and let it fall. Her bare breasts sat high and perky, small enough that his hands covered them easily. He cupped them, thumbs stroking the undersides, then bent and took one nipple into his mouth.

He sucked slowly, then harder, teeth grazing just enough to make her gasp. His other hand worked the second breast, pinching lightly, rolling the nipple between her fingers. Penelope’s hands came up into his hair, holding him there.

13/
He kissed lower—sternum, the soft plane of her stomach—while his fingers popped the button of her jeans and eased the zipper down. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband and worked the denim over her hips and the firm, meaty curve of her ass. The jeans and whatever she’d worn underneath dropped to the floor.

She stepped out of them, fully bare now except for the open blouse still hanging from her elbows.

14/
He turned her gently, hands spanning her waist, and looked at the inverted-heart shape of her ass in the green neon light. He ran both palms over it, squeezing the soft weight, thumbs pressing into the deep cleft. Penelope pushed back into his hands with a soft, needy sound.

He turned her again and guided her to sit on the edge of the bed. He knelt between her knees, pushed them wider, and kissed the inside of one thigh. Then the other.

15/
He took his time, dragging his mouth higher, breathing against the heat of her. When his tongue finally found her she was already slick. He licked slowly, flat and deliberate, then focused on her clit with steady pressure.

Penelope’s head fell back. One hand braced on the mattress; the other tangled in his hair. He worked her with his mouth—long strokes, then focused circles—while two fingers slid inside and curled. The wet sound of it filled the quiet room.

16/
She came the first time like that, thighs trembling against his shoulders, a sharp cry she tried and failed to muffle.

(Image: Black and white line art of the ex kissing her inner thighs)

He stood, stripped quickly, and pulled her up with him. They kissed again, messier now, her taste still on his tongue. His cock pressed hard against her stomach. Penelope reached between them and stroked him, slow and firm.

17/
Then she sank to her knees on the thin carpet. She had never much liked this—too one-sided, too messy—but the old hunger was sharper than preference. She wrapped her small hand around the base and took him into her mouth.

She worked him with lips and tongue, taking him deeper each time, eyes lifting to his face. He gathered her dark hair in one hand and held it out of the way, letting her set the pace at first, then guiding her when the need grew stronger.

18/
Spit shone on her chin. Her lips looked swollen already. She kept going until his breath turned rough, then pulled off with a wet sound and looked up at him, waiting.

(Image: Black and white line drawing of her performing oral sex)

He lifted her, turned her, and bent her over the edge of the bed. Hands spread the firm, meaty cheeks of her inverted-heart ass. He rubbed the head of his cock along her soaked slit, coating himself, then pushed in slowly—inch by inch—until he was buried.

19/
Penelope moaned into the bedspread, the stretch familiar and overwhelming all at once. He fucked her with long, deep strokes, watching her ass ripple with every thrust, one hand reaching under to find her clit again. She pushed back to meet him, voice breaking on every other breath.

When she started to tighten around him he pulled out, sat on the bed, and brought her with him. She straddled him without being told. Cowgirl was what she had always liked best.

20/
She reached down, guided him to her entrance, and sank onto his cock in one continuous slide until her hips met his. Her perky breasts lifted with the motion. She planted her hands on his chest and began to ride—slow at first, rolling her hips so he felt every inch, then harder, shorter bounces that made her ass slap against his thighs.

The wet sound of it was shameless. Neon light caught the sheen of sweat on her collarbones and the flush across her chest.

21/
He gripped her waist and thrust up to meet every drop of her weight. Penelope’s head fell back. She came a second time with a raw, open cry, pussy clenching hard around him. He kept moving through it, then rolled her beneath him, hooked her knees high against his ribs, and drove deep until he emptied inside her in thick, pulsing waves.

22/
He stayed buried, feeling her flutter around him as the last of it left him.

They lay without speaking for a long time. The ice machine rattled outside. Traffic moved on the highway. Penelope’s mouth felt used and swollen. Between her legs she was sore, wet, and full of him. The room still smelled like the past—smoke, detergent, sex, and the two of them.

23/
They went at it the way people used the Shamrock—by the hour, then another hour, then longer than they planned. No phones to check. No one expecting them. Just the two of them.

Back in the quiet house, I lived every one of those hours with them. The jealousy was a physical thing—tight in my chest, sour in my throat. I hated that I could picture it so clearly. I hated that I was almost certain she would succeed.

24/
And underneath the jealousy was something worse: the slow, grinding acceptance that I was the consolation prize. That she would come back to me, yes, but only after she had given the best of herself to him first.

The next day, just before noon, the phone rang. It was Penelope, her voice sheepish, asking how I was. She asked if I would come home for lunch to see her before she had to go to work. I went.

25/
She was waiting for me in a robe. This was make-up sex, her way of coming home to me after the night she had spent with him. She slipped the robe off and stood there naked, still carrying the faint scent of motel soap and another man.

She motioned for me to lie on the bed. Then she climbed over me and mounted my face, lowering her juicy, still-swollen pussy onto my mouth.

26/
It was red from recent sex and unusually gaping—clear evidence of how thoroughly he had used her only hours before. She only did this after she had been with her ex—like she wanted me to taste what he had left behind, to know he had been there first.

I licked and sucked at her, tasting the mix of her arousal and whatever of him still lingered inside her. I was loving it even as the thought burned.

27/
She ground against my tongue, soft moans escaping as I worked her clit, her juices coating my chin.

(Image: Black and white line art of facesitting scene)

After a while she lifted off, turned, and guided my curved cock to her entrance. The upward curve of my shaft pressed against her front wall as I slid into her tightness. She was so wet and snug that I came almost immediately, spilling inside her in short, hard pulses while she rode the last of my orgasm.

28/
Afterward I wondered if she had been wet in anticipation of our make-up sex or if he had just left and the wetness was mostly from the thick, creamy load he had pumped deep inside her.

She never offered details, and I never asked. She still smelled faintly of motel soap and someone else’s cologne. The soft flesh around her mouth looked a little bruised, the way it might after rough oral, and when she moved she walked carefully, as if she were still sore between her legs.

29/
That was forty-three years ago. We got married a few months later. I looked the other way then, and I kept looking the other way for the rest of our life together, because I knew—even on the nights she came home late, even when her mind drifted somewhere I couldn’t follow—that part of her still belonged to him.

I chose not to lose her. I chose the quiet version of the truth over the one that would have ended everything.

30/
And some nights, even now, I still wonder if she ever really stopped going back to that room in her head.

Various times after we were married I would find cigarettes by my side of the bed despite neither Penelope nor I being smokers. He wanted me to know that he had been with her.

31/end

[just a guy @RichardBranch69]

The Night She Left
(erotic story, 18+)

Penelope came home from work that Thursday evening with a strange, restless energy. She barely met my eyes as she set her purse down and told me, almost offhandedly, that her ex-husband’s divorce had finally gone through that afternoon. The papers were signed. He was free.

1/

[just a guy @RichardBranch69]

She went into the bathroom. I heard water running, the soft sounds of makeup being applied. When she came out she had changed into a thin white blouse—almost sheer in the right light—and a pair of jeans that sat low on her hips. No bra.

Penelope was a petite brunette, barely five-two, with small, high, perky breasts that sat up on her chest even without support. The outline of those breasts, the faint shadow of her nipples, was clearly visible through the fabric.

2/
She had done her hair and put on the lipstick she usually saved for special occasions.

She stood in the doorway checking her watch—this was years before cell phones—and said, “I’m going to the cops versus firemen softball game. He’s going to be there. Don’t wait up. I won’t be back tonight.”

No further explanation. Just the sound of the front door closing and her car pulling out of the driveway.

3/
We had been living together for six months by then, already talking about venues and rings and the life we were supposed to build. I sat in the quiet house and tried not to think about where she was really going.

But of course I did. The knowledge settled over me like a weight I couldn’t shift. She wasn’t going to a softball game to watch. She was going to win him back.

4/
The sheer blouse, the missing bra, the careful lipstick, the way she had avoided my eyes—all of it was deliberate. She knew exactly what would work on him. She always had. And I knew, with a cold certainty that made my stomach twist, that it would work.

I was plan B. The safe choice.

5/
The man who had been there when the marriage fell apart, who had listened and held her and slowly built something that felt real. But I had never been the one she wanted most. That night I had to come to terms with it.

The woman I loved was out there offering herself to the man she truly wanted, using every soft, familiar weapon she possessed. And I was left behind.

6/
The hours that followed were agonizing. Every minute stretched. I paced. I sat. I tried to read and failed. My mind would not stop constructing the scenes.

I knew the history. Once, early on, she had mentioned the Shamrock Motel—the cheap, hourly-rate place on the edge of town where they used to go when they were first dating. Thin walls, neon sign that flickered, rooms that smelled like cigarettes and desperation.

7/
She had laughed about it at the time, calling it “our little secret.” I never forgot the name. And I knew, with a sick certainty, that if she succeeded in drawing him away from the field, that was where they would end up.

That night I imagined her at the softball field under the lights. He wasn’t playing—just another spectator in the stands.

8/
They watched the game together, the thin white blouse catching every breeze against her petite frame and perky breasts. The way she looked, he was anxious to get to the main event. After a couple of drinks at the game they left early, before the final inning.

Then they drove across town to the Shamrock. The clerk didn’t ask questions. The key was still attached to a heavy plastic tag.

9/
The room was exactly as she remembered—worn bedspread, buzzing ice machine outside, the low rumble of traffic from the highway.

The key turned with a cheap metallic scrape. Penelope stepped inside first. The room smelled exactly as she remembered: old cigarette smoke trapped in the curtains, industrial detergent, and the faint damp of the ice machine humming outside. Neon from the sign bled green across the worn bedspread.

10/
He shut the door and didn’t reach for her right away. He just looked.

Penelope stood in the middle of the small room, still in the thin white blouse and low-slung jeans, perky breasts clearly outlined beneath the sheer fabric, nipples already tight. She was petite—barely five-two—dark hair falling past her shoulders, inverted-heart ass firm and meaty in the tight denim. The silence stretched until it felt deliberate.
11/
He stepped in close. One hand slid under her hair to the back of her neck. The other rested lightly at her waist. He kissed her slowly at first, almost carefully, tasting the lipstick she had put on for him. Penelope opened for him, tongue meeting his, the kiss deepening until she made a small sound against his mouth.

His hand moved from her waist to the front of the blouse, tracing the shape of one breast through the fabric, thumb brushing the peaked nipple. She arched into the touch.

12/

[just a guy @RichardBranch69]

@JessicaMari4s Knowing the difference between then and than

[just a guy @RichardBranch69]

@Luna_Jones79 They are not mutually exclusive!

[just a guy @RichardBranch69]

@FloraLuzz_ They already require ID for gun purchases and a background check and a waiting period. So yeah, I’m ok with it.

[just a guy @RichardBranch69]

@VinnysCorner1 Gayle Sayers

[just a guy @RichardBranch69]

@ivyessence_ Honestly, I think there was just as much Taboo going on since the world began. The difference is they kept it secret, now they post the video on instagram.

[just a guy @RichardBranch69]

He controlled billions of dollars of US Aid. He used that power to get scientists to change their opinion of where the virus came from.

You think it was just incompetence that news articles talked about wet market pangolin spread only? How about WHO saying it couldn’t be spread person to person?

Trump was xenophobic when he shut down travel from China after 5 people in nursing homes Washington State got “Covid from eating pangolin?”

[just a guy @RichardBranch69]

18 year olds that had teachers and school counselors preaching to them that if they didn’t get into a good school they had no opportunities. Then the lending institutions make it way too easy to get loans knowing that it is difficult to get loan forgiveness even during bankruptcy.