A neighbor has just returned from work and is walking her dogs. Her name is Michelle. A bit plain, with a thicker, womanly build. Perhaps in her mid 40s, like my honey blonde girlfriend Wendy. Her long reddish blonde hair has captured my attention again. The late afternoon sunlight plays upon the golden mane cascading halfway down her back. Thick and lustrous. I fantasize briefly, of Wendy and Michelle, stripped down to bras and panties, fighting over me. And savor an image of Michelle in lilac or lavender, on her hands and knees wailing as my girl in sexy black lace towers above, one hand wrapped up in Michelle's soft, long yellow hair, yanking her head back and slapping her face again and again with the other.
