Second in the "Deb's Tails" series.
Second in the "Deb's Tails" series. Again, a repost, thanks to a number
of requests.
My wife, Deborah, often tells me "bedtime stories" of her sexual
adventures. Some of them I know are true, either because I was there, or
because she has corroborative evidence. Some of them, I'm sure, are fictional.
Others, I'm just not sure about. I'll vouch for the truth of this story. After
all, I'd never contradict a lady in public.
One of the nice things about living in an apartment in a big city is that
it affords you opportunities that a private house or a small town just can't
offer. Our apartment building, for example, has a glass-walled restaurant
taking up about half the roof. We don't go there often; we can't afford a whole
lot of visits to four-star restaurants. The rest of the roof has been covered
with patio tiles, and is open to the residents for sunbathing, stargazing, or
whatever. We've even had one person commit suicide by jumping off -- although I
don't think the management approved of that. Needless to say, the view from up
there is spectacular. You've got the lights of the city spread out all around
you, and from the roof you can people-watch into the restaurant. Of course,
that works both ways.
Anyway, this is the story as Deb tells it (albeit, with my title).
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