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I first posted a series of tales about Donna on a blog called the Girls? Coffee Shop. I have made them a little more suited to a site of this type. I hope you will see the jokes although I know most are peculiarly British in style. If you need any explanations, do please ask. I first met Donna one evening in my local pub. A colleague of mine, Nellie, serves behind the bar and you will learn a lot more about her as time passes and you can be bothered. It was a Friday evening and the pub was busy. I was sitting reading a book when a somewhat manly girl asked if I?d mind if she sat at my table. There was something about her that disturbed me but I could not put my finger on it. She was wearing a pair of rather tight jeans and a white man?s style shirt with a button down collar. She was clearly tall and very slender, small breasted and with very short but glossy dark hair. Gorgeous. ?Reading something interesting?? I told her it was a biography of Lord Nelson. ?Bloody hell! I?m Donna.? I introduced myself and, looking more closely at her realised that she had mismatched eyes; one was a beautiful blue, the other green. ?Ah, I sense you have detected my genetic flaw,? she said, smiling. ?It?s not contacts, it?s natural. People often stare but I?ve got used Ataşehir Escort to it.? Obviously I was staring and lowered my eyes. ?Not to worry, I don?t mind someone like you staring.? I closed my book. We talked for what seemed a short time but was in fact a few hours. Somehow time in her company passed quickly. She made me laugh and she had a rather curious way of talking which may become apparent to you as this story develops. ?I couldn?t help overhearing you mention to the barmaid,? this was Nelly, ?who, by the way should not wear a top like that, there is a genuine risk her top set might break out.? I laughed, Nelly is incredibly well endowed. ?I couldn?t help overhearing you say to her that you were not doing anything tomorrow evening and I wondered if you might care to take wine with me?? I suspect she?d overheard more than that because I?d also been telling Nellie that I was gagging for a shag but sadly single, as I had been for some time. ?I?d like that.? ?I like intelligent women.? I said I made no claim to being intelligent. ?Au contraire,? she said, ?I know a brain when I see one. Would 7.30 be appropriate?? I said it would be fine. And so it was that the following evening, having got myself a bit Ataşehir Escort Bayan dolled up in preparation for meeting her, I went to the pub to find her sitting at a quiet corner table, nursing a glass of white wine. Her odd eyes smiled as I joined her and she immediately went to get wine for me. I followed her lovely figure as she walked across the pub and as she wandered back. ?Like what you see?? Who would not? She was wearing a pair of black trousers and a t shirt that said ?Front? across her breasts. She looked down and the back at me. ?Just in case you weren?t sure.? I was sure. I became even more sure later when, in my sitting room, Donna?s shirt came off amid a rather frenzied sexual encounter and there were her beautiful, small tits with their lovely dark tips open to my gaze. ?Hungry little thing, aren?t you?? Nothing wrong with that, I thought. Donna and Swans Donna, she of the mismatched eyes and I had first met on a Friday evening. It was on the evening of the following Friday that she rang my doorbell having invited herself by ?phone earlier that day. I opened the door and, as girls do, I immediately took in her black oxford shoes, a well cut pair of dark blue trousers with turn-ups, a crisp Escort Ataşehir white cotton shirt with double cuffs and links and a dark blue tie, loosened at the neck and with her collar button undone. This, together with a sparing but judicious application of makeup made me think, ?Phwoor? or something similarly erudite. I noticed that her gaze similarly took in my long, yellow summer dress and my long hair tied loosely back but, in her case, the examination went from north to south and lingered perhaps a fraction around the northern tropics where my diminutive hills were not quite completely concealed. ?Can I come in, College?? this was the soubriquet with which she had ultimately endowed me, ?I have brought a nice little Sauvignon fresh from the ?fridge which might appeal.? I followed her into my hastily tidied and surprisingly large sitting room and took a seat as she poured a glass of almost clear wine into a glass which clouded as the cool liquid filled it. ?There is another matter that I?d appreciate you to elucidate for me. It concerns swans.? ?Swans?? Indeed, the feathered aquatic birds.? Ignoring my quizzical glance she sat beside me and continued, ?I have read recently that they mate for life.? ?I recall hearing the same thing but I have to tell you that my degree in English Literature did not, so far as I remember, include any detail regarding the mating habits of the swan, nor any other bird.? ?I am not surprised but I know that one of your learning might have some knowledge acquired perhaps through the naturally enquiring nature of your mind.