The term statuesque entered my mind. I'd just turned thirty-nine in May and my venus like figure on a six foot frame carried not an ounce of fat--at l...east not yet.My daily, early morning workouts and careful diet were the reason. My boobs, capped with rosy aureola and taught nipples, were larger than average, but not mountainous. My hips flared nicely from a narrow waist and I carried a tight ass behind me.I think my head of flaming red hair, which was full and hung down shoulder length, is. As she walked down the road from the campus, she spotted him with some of his friends at the local coffee house. She was contemplating whether or not to walk up and talk to him or to just leave and wait till later to talk to him. Before she made a decision, she saw him and his friends get up, leave a tip at the table for the waitress, and start walking towards her. She was so nervous about meeting him in front of other people that she decided to wait until later and hoped that he didn’t see her. By the time we parked and made our way into the lobby, the news media had already set up, they were waiting for interviews. I stepped in front of Mr. and Mrs. Timmons, trying to shield them from the chaotic activity. One female reporter forced her way forward, placing her microphone inches from my face.“Brian, can you tell us why you decided to choose this hospital, why limit your foundation to just one project?” she asked.“Everyone, I will make a statement just before the dedication, now. Putting both hands on the sides of my hips, my lover turns me to face him, his glance taking in the now transparent t-shirt which is clinging wetly to my braless breasts. Nipples hard, areolae plainly visible, I feel more conspicuous than if I were naked.But my self-consciousness is diverted by the lump in the crotch of his jeans. My hand reaches out to stroke his turgid rod and after a moment, my fingers find the tab of his fly and pull the zipper down. Before he can stop me, my hand slides.