She then lowered herself in to the pool to join me.The pool was lovely and cool as the hot French sun beat down on us, and we talked for maybe an hour about business: what I do, what the company does, clients, deals etc. All the while I was able to drool over her fantastic body, her awesome boobs and her nipples, which were lovely and dark and would get erect if they were out of the water for longer than a few seconds with the cool wind bringing them to attention. My own bikini bottoms were as wet on the inside as they were on the outside while my pussy got moister and moister through the chat. The conversation ended with Esme asking if she might be able to get work experience with us in her breaks from uni. Knowing my boss and his liking for hot young girls (hey, it helped me get this job) I thought I should be able to organise it.Esme was so happy she moved towards me, threw her arms in the air, and gave me a big hug. Even now, just the thought of those gorgeous breasts pressing. “Why do you write this absolute shit?” he asked.Sean McLaughlin was my best friend – always had been, ever since primary school days. We’d met when we found ourselves seated next to each other in our very first classroom; two very small, very apprehensive and quite scared boys, both missing our mothers, but also curious to find out what this big school thing was all about. We bonded in the sand pit, when we shared out a few toy cars and tried to build the Masters of the Universe parking garage, and were firm friends from then on.In the years that followed, we were the Terrible Twins, both red-heads, always in trouble but always with each other’s back. The trouble was never really bad; usually the result of an impulsive idea that, astonishingly, somehow turned out to be no brainwave, but we were always there for each other.So when he asked me that question when we were both in our forties, it never crossed my mind to take offence. Things had moved on a long way since those school.
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