She wasn't afflicted with hyper-ovulation.There was something different about Sharron. Something I had never encountered in another woman before. She ...was almost like one of my own daughters, immune to the effects of my pheromones. Only I could have sex with Sharron. We weren't related by blood at all.My dick throbbed hard.“Oh, wow,” moaned Sharron. “Oh, Becky, that's nice and... and... You're growing hard!”“Well, you are such a cute thing,” I said. This was so... different. It was almost like. “I would never do that, you have to know that. That’s why I had him come over. I thought someone with experience might be able to explain it better, that’s all. Look, I’m sorry, just forget the whole thing. I just thought it might be fun, that’s all. You watch your golf on TV and I’m going to make dinner.” She turned and walked into the kitchen. I did not sit back down on the couch and act as if nothing had just happened. Instead, I went up stairs and started to pack. I had a suit case and a. The feeling of his firm hands on my ass made me breathe in, the perfection of the moment was intoxicating. As he kissed my neck, his slight beard brushed against the tender skin on my neck. He slipped his hands up my back over the delicate fabric of my satin lilac blouse. He leaned back to look at me, brushing my curls off my shoulders, admiring my looks. I looked up at his eyes. With out a word he let go, and with a deafening crash, he pushed two chairs off a table.He turned back around,. You don’t hear that every day. I have a question for Black women. Actually, a question for all women. Why is it that good men of all ethnicities are ignored by women everywhere? I don’t think my problem is race specific. Well, please judge for yourself. First let me tell you a little bit about myself. I am that rare law-abiding and hard-working, educated brother you never hear about. I attend Carleton University part-time because I work as a security guard in the Carling sector of Nepean. I.