I was sitting in the library one afternoon idly thumbing the pages of a book on American history when Angela walked in to both the library and my life...The only word that comes to mind to describe her was “stunning.” She was statues at somewhere around five eight or nine with an hourglass figure. Her amber green eyes sparked, her jet-black hair shinned and her soft pink lips seemed wet. And her breast were, oh well, you get the idea. I was not into girls at all, but I was mesmerized by her. Again, I didn't protest. The second I felt his hand cup my pussy, I knew I really did have to make a decision. What would Bryan like to have happen and what, on the other hand, would put him in a jealous fit. From our many, many very erotic bedroom conversations, I knew he would get turned on by a stranger touching me—as I said, I had promised to do it so many times and never, ever had the courage to follow through—but I was letting it happen this time. Tonight, given the mood I was in, I knew. More

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