Russell lives next door to me. I've known him, like, forever. He's about a year older than me, nearly twenty. It's funny, but even though he's smarter than me I win nearly every argument I have with him, even when we both know he's right.
It's not that I'm better with words than him and I'll admit he knows more than me, but Russell depends on facts and logic when he debates a point, and that's really an incredibly silly thing to do when you're arguing with me. (Or most women, come to think of it.)
Russell will make a sound and logical argument justifying his position, and it really irks him when I just totally ignore everything he says and approach the subject from a different direction. Usually a highly emotional direction. I can make arguments based on the fact that it feels right and, if it's not, it should be.
This sort of logic has the same effect on his arguments that a sandbag would have on him. Knocked for a loop and I win again. It's a real hoot. I'm quite prepared to argue that black is white, pointing out that grey is just a darker shade of white and black is just a dark grey.
Would you believe that after all these years he finally came up with an argument I couldn't beat? It happened like this.
I was over at Russell's place and we were having an argument. Again. It was a case of, um, a case of, ah. . . OK. I'd screwed up and I was trying to prove it wasn't really my fault. I was waving my hands about a lot and talking fast, not really listening to what I was saying, just flooding the argument with words so that Russell couldn't contradict me.
I wasn't paying particular attention to what Russell was doing, either, which proved to be a mistake. The first indication I had that things weren't taking their normal course was when Russell calmly lifted up my dress and pulled my panties down.
As you might be able to guess, my words dried up somewhat at that stage and my attention was full on Russell. Without even blinking he dropped his trousers and stepped out of them and he had an erection. Russell had an erection and it was pointing at me.
He took my hand and closed it over his cock. I couldn't believe he was doing this.
"Rules have changed," he told me. "You seem to know everything so you'll know exactly where you have to put that. If it's not done by the time I have you naked I'll put it away myself."
Then Russell started undoing the buttons on my shirt, leaving me holding his cock. Did he really think I was going to put it in me? I suspect he did because after he undid my buttons he reached around behind me and unfastened my bra.
I had a moments respite when he took my hand off his cock, but that was only so he could slide my shirt and bra down my arms. Then he handed me his cock again while he unfastened my skirt and pushed it down.
I'd been standing there, mouth open, trying to come up with the proper word to bring him to his senses but I couldn't think of anything. For crying out loud, what do you say when an old friend just starts undressing you?
Next thing I know his hands are holding my bottom and he just picks me up and pulls me towards him. I could feel my skirt and panties falling away from around my ankles when he did so.
Then he was holding me tight against him, my hand still holding his cock and he was telling me to put it away now.
