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.....and you?Me:...........nice to meet youShe: nice to meet you tooMe: where are you from?She: CanadaMe: wow that's cool, i have never met anyone from CanadaShe: really?Me: yes reallyMe: so what are you doing here?She: just came to see ViennaMe: and how long have you been here?She: just an hour agoMe: oh really? Then you are welcome to Vienna and to me tooShe: smile....Thank youMe: so how long you gonna stay?She: just 3 days Me: oh not so longShe: yesMe: then what will happen to me after you are gone? because i'm already missing youShe: missing me how? i don't think soMe: yes of course i'm missing you, can't you see that i can't take my eyes off you? So probably i'm missing something more from you!She: laugh.....you are funnyMe: I'm only being naturalMe: so do you have a tourist guide or something?She; No, but i wouldn't mind if i get oneMe: then i would gladly like to be your tourist guideShe: oh thank youSo i took her to most amazing places in vienna, while we were walking the. She moved like a model on a runway, swinging her hips widely. She pulled opened the fridge door, but instead of bending at the knees to reach into the bottom drawer, she bent at the waist. Her rather short skirt rode up her thighs and gave me a delightful glimpse of her tight little rounded rear end. Lucky she never looked that tempting as a teenager! (Note to self: no sign of any underwear. Thong a possibility.)She turned back towards me, twisting the top off a bottle of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale and I had a good look at the movement of her swinging tits under her T-shirt.“Sit down, Johanna. Tell me what’s going on. Are your folks still living down at the corner?”She stepped out of her flipflops and climbed onto the couch, sitting cross legged, giving me a generous view of her bare thighs.“Yup, still there, doing well. They’re away this weekend, so I’m have a party with some of the old gang. We’re playing a game of truth or dare.”“Well, Johanna, I’ll tell you the truth. You have really.
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Of course, the class dissolved intolaughter - including the teacher, who jokingly called me it for therest of the day, and soon the whole school joined in. The girls did sowith special glee; for a while, I was no longer Dylan to them, but"Vicky" or "Tori", the appellation normally being a prelude to tauntingquestions as to what boys "Tori" or "Vicky" fancied.The fear, and tears, soon came to me then when I saw that it was Rosswho had thrown me to the ground. There was also a certain resignation;I had become so used to his bullying that I no longer felt likefighting back, and any attempt to do so would only heap furtherignominy upon me. I lay there, then, on the gravel schoolyard, lookingup at Ross. He was a sturdy, well-built boy, but you could never callhim fat. There was something about his face, that although the merethought of it had come to terrify me, held a fascination for me. He wasextremely handsome, something that ensured that the girls always sidedwith him. My gaze was.

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