The Interview (And An Introduction To Dallas)
Beautiful, glorious morning greeted Dallas as he awakened from sleep. He took immense pleasure in stretching his arms and legs, and then smiled, knowing the greater pleasure that was soon to follow.
Dallas looked down to find, of course, the familiar 8-inch monolith that rose from his sheets. He whispered a quick thanks to a power greater-than he that his brother had since left for college, and vacated the bedroom. Dallas' newfound privacy afforded him many innovative ways to find enjoyment for himself-whether by himself or with the aid of others. He started to slowly stroke himself, moaning a bit.
"Come on, Dallas, get up!"
Fuck, what a downer.
"I am up, Mom!" he yelled. Dallas smiled at his horribly cheesy double entendre. He jumped from his bed, put on a pair of boxer shorts, and grabbed a creased photograph from beneath his mattress. He walked into his bathroom, promptly dropped his boxers, and unfolded the photo.
It contained the likeness of his sister and her two friends, Ashley and Eva. Ashley was the epitome of the American Blonde; large, full breasts, and a wonderfully plump ass. Eva, or Evita, a Mexican beauty, was similar to Ashley in drop-dead gorgeousness, possessing a full C-cup chest and an ass to die for.
In the photograph(which Dallas had "obtained" from his sister), the three were posing in a school hallway during a dance. Most fortunately for Dallas, his sister was on the far left, and she could be removed from sight with a fold. Ashley and Eva stuck out their chests and asses, both with mischievous looks on their faces. Since Dallas had studied the picture so many times, and his cock was so hard that he could come with a blow of the wind, he didn't really need it; but, none the less, photo in hand, Dallas came with a few pumps of his shaft.
"Oooh, yeah, put it between your tits…Fuck….Yeah, suck me…"
Dallas bounded down the stairs, decent, to the front door. His mother was waiting.
"Don't forget, honey, that the reporter from the
Press
is coming to interview you today at practice."
"Right, thanks Mom," Dallas said as struggled to make his why to the door, but his mother grabbed him around the neck.
"Aw, my basketball star."
"Sure, Mom…
---
This was his zone. The squelch of sneakers on the court, balls hitting off the backboard and being landed into the net;
Call me what you want, but I love the testosterone in this gym.
Dallas turned around as someone tapped on his shoulder.