I noticed the raised eyebrows. I don't know why but I found myself telling her about my recent telephone conversation with Helen.She laughed, then imm...ediately apologised. 'Was that the woman you were with last night?'I nodded.'You aren't having a good week are you sir.' She said, trying, and failing, to keep the amusement from her voice.It was that amusement that helped me see my predicament from the outside, if it had happened to any of my friends I too would be laughing about it.'You're right. The guys looked at each other and said ‘lets go up to our room.’ We walked out of the bar with our catch, getting a thumbs up from the other two teams. We got up to their room in two minutes flat and everyone started ripping clothes off. We did some quick foreplay and moved right into some hard fucking. My guy did not last too long before filling my very hungry pussy with his man goo. I took a picture of my cum filled pussy with the dick still part way in it with my cell phone and sent it to. Have you, y'know, Had sex yet?.." she said hesitantly. I was a little surprised at her question and answered gingerly, "No.. not yet. You?" She shook her head. We dropped the discussion for a little while and talked about something else. We ended up hitting each other with pillows later on in the night. She had me pinned down on my bed with a pillow over my face. We were both laughing like crazy and then she finally got off of me and lied down next to me. I turned my head to look at her and. They began to talk – or, at least, he did. She smiled a little, shook her head, laughed. Paul was intrigued by the big man’s technique, his own chat-up line had always been deficient. He had a facility for words, but written on paper (or rather, a word processor) and nursed an ambition to be a successful novelist. So far he had authored five books, all of which had been firmly rejected numerous times. Meanwhile, he made a good living by writing scripts for a long running TV soap, ‘Cottingly’..