No one knows what it's like to be me. My name is Matthew Marquis. I'm a big white guy of Jewish origin who hails from the incredibly tough and resilient town of Stoughton, in the state of Massachusetts. I was raised by my absentee father and my guilt-inducing Jewish Mama. I finally escaped from my boring household when I went to Bay State University in Boston, Massachusetts. I stayed there for two years, got my associate's degree in Travel and Hospitality Management before moving to the city of Marquis, in the state of Michigan. I enrolled at the Northern Michigan Institute of Technology, where I moved into the dormitories. I have always been a very ordinary guy. I'm not extraordinary in any way. I love Baseball. I go to college. I have a passion for cooking. I'm completely unremarkable. And I was actually a virgin at the age of twenty four, if you can believe that.nnI like women, but they never see me as anything more than Mister Nice Guy. I'm the guy with lots of female friends yet never gets laid. Some people have even wondered if I'm gay or if there's something wrong with me because of this. I'm painfully shy, and I'm not that comfortable with my body. I have a thing for skinny white women who look like Julianne Moore or Jennifer Aniston. Even though I'm a fat white guy, I don't like fat women.

(This is a sequel to my story "Elegance". I don't think its absolutely a requirement to have read that one although I obviously wouldn't mind.)nnOh my god, its HER. My breath catches so suddenly I have to put out a hand to the wall and steady myself. My right hand of course. My left hand is holding my Champagne glass and although I want to catch her attention, the sound of breaking glass is not how I prefer to do that.nnMy name is Serena. My parents named me that in the fond hope I would be serene. I like to think I am. I don't think that they expected I would turn out to be a lesbian and a butch to boot. That's not always an easy road to travel, particularly when you're black. I think I've handled it though. I'm fifty, single with a full life and no real desire to settle down. I work for myself, running my store "Asides" where I sell a variety of products from candles to books of lesbian poetry to my own metal sculptures. I make a good living for myself and enjoy how I make that living.nnHow I make that living is why I'm here tonight at the first concert of the city Symphony Orchestra and incidentally for the reception after the music is over. As a local artist I rated an invitation. Sure, I'm paying for the seat and for the privilege of hob-nobbing with the intelligentsia but I'd pay more. If nothing else, the attempts to suppress the looks of surprise when I arrive are worth the cost of admission. I thought about tails and a top hat but simply went with my hand tailored tuxedo.

** Readers my find it helpful to read earlier stories in this series**nnGradually, my senses were returning to me. The flowery-fresh scent of a shampoo that I recognized though could not name, gently filled my nostrils. It smelled girly and clean, and seemed to send a message to my brain, which apparently wasn't in any rush to bring the other sensory systems on-line. nnEventually, I became aware of the warmth of the sunlight on my skin, and I realized that a new day was upon me. My eyes fluttered, and I squinted against the morning light in an effort to allow my eyes time to adjust to the brightness and the unfamiliar surroundings. My tongue felt thick and pasty, as though someone had knitted little sweaters, and somehow managed to slip them individually on my teeth without waking me from my recent comatose state. nnIt was then that I became aware of her presence against me; the smoothness of the skin of her leg against mine; the cotton of the t-shirt which separated her firm breast from my naked chest; and the softness of her auburn hair against my cheek and shoulder. Penny was still absorbed in the last minutes of the night's sleep, so I lay there quietly, taking in the surroundings of Penny's room; enjoying the feeling of her sleeping so peacefully, lying next to me. I grinned at the reality of my nakedness, in-bed with my sister, basking in the afterglow of an incredible night.nnMy dick was thick and hard, and it pressed firmly against the thin sheet that covered us. Glimpses of the absurd porn movie that I'd starred in, which was never filmed, were scattered like pieces of an erotic dream. nnI made no effort to distinguish why I was hard. Perhaps it was the nearness of Penny, or perhaps it was my dream. It didn't really matter, because in either case my boner felt good, alive, and virile, like a close friend eager to greet the day. and it wanted something to do. I took time to consider my rigid little buddy as he throbbed and pressed outwardly from my body, and I was pleased with how hard it felt, even without touching it. Memories of how wild things had gotten last night replayed in my mind, and for a while, I wondered if the load of cum I'd received from Eric had anything to do with why my mouth tasted like crap. nnI needed to brush my teeth but there was no question about it: last night was easily one of the best nights of my life, and I'd jump at the chance to do it all over again.nnSuddenly Penny's leg shifted over mine, and I could feel the soft fabric of her panty-covered crotch as it pressed against my muscular thigh. Her arm around my waist gave a loving squeeze as she snuggled against me, slowly waking from her sleep.

Renee's husband stopped over Saturday afternoon to invite me for a drink at Jets Bar and Grill. My first thought was to decline his offer, but I have already done that three times to him, so I accepted.nnI kept thinking about that one day Renee stopped over and we cuddled on my bed after she read two stories I had written about her and I. nnAll I could think of was "I wish this was Renee and I, I wish this was Renee and I, I wish this was."nnSitting at the bar and admiring all the cute young girls waiting tables or and hostesses wearing their tight tops propping up their titties, so that every guy in the joint could fantasize about sucking them off, was a treat for all of us.nnYeah, yeah you may be thinking, be immature about it, and ogle each little chick that shimmies around those tight areas in between tables. nnThen they will go up to the bar, prop their tits on top of it, so that their cleavage is even more noticeable to us all. We all want or hope they would allow us to stick our tongues out and lick their cleavage.nnThat is the type of joint this bar appears to be. However, it isn't always like that with each young lady working there; it only seems like it. It's a prerequisite of working there though.nnNevertheless, Cory, Renee's husband, and I talked about almost everything under the sun. nnHalf of that, I could care less about, but he seems to believe we are bonding and a friendship is forming between us. No, I was not doing that, I was only being polite.nnBetween different conversations, he's the one crudely pointing out how he wants to do an 'open face steak sandwich' type fuck on any one of these chicks. nnI suppose I'd agree with him, but I'm not openly, because I don't want to give him that impression that's the type of person I am.nnI'm 41 and soon to be, 42 and every one of these young women could be my daughter. Damn, I thought, life's a bitch. nnHowever, on the other hand, maybe they'd like to be eaten out. I was not telling Cory that because he'd become boisterous about it at that point, and embarrass me.