My guy, Ray, is a rocket scientist. No, it's true. He really is a rocket scientist. We live in Southern California and he works for one of the big aeronautic companies out this way. Because he's a rocket scientist, it goes without saying that he's smart, and I like smart guys. He's also a few years older than me with salt and pepper hair and these blue eyes with crinkles around the edges that have seen a lot of the world. And I like that, too, a man whose knocked around enough to know his place. To top it off, he's pretty good looking in a brooding, Humphrey Bogart sort of way, reasonably fit (we won't talk about that roll around the midsection), and hairy in the right places. I like brooding and fit, and hairy chests and bellies and balls are a big turn on for me. You other girls can have those scrubbed down, lasered up boys—I want a noisy, sweaty, hairy man.If there's anything Ray's lacking it's creativity. Not when it comes to building rockets—he's plenty imaginative dressed in his white coat with calculator in hand. I'm talking about creativity in the bedroom. Don't get me wrong, he's lusty as the next guy, can even be a little kinky]]>
