Butterflies

This was written for me, by a good friend.  I love it.  I love his style and wanted to share it:

Butterflies. That’s what I feel.

There’s been so many. Drones. Sheep. They all talk the same too. Rolled off the conveyor belt by various television programs, hot trends, and American societal standards. Fucking mindless. Condemned to sit and giggle at my stupid jokes without a single original thought. Lusting after the idea that maybe one day their lives will be as “fascinating” as the lives they admire so much on their TV. Or maybe just seeking the validation that their more than just “average“. That their desire for the newest shopping trend at Nordstrom is somehow more interesting than the next ones. That their interpretation of the last episode of “dancing with the stars” is special, and more unique or insightful. And it seems like they always need a man to complete that illusion. Or at least a man to listen to it. It makes me feel like I should beat my head against a wall and scream in their well manicured face. Wake the fuck up.

Here’s a frightful thought. Maybe they don’t have any desires at all and they just “exist”. Destined to go through life with the same wants, and opinions as the Joneses next door or the Smiths down the street. Eat and consume. Buy more. Procreate and die. Instill the same obedience in your cruel little offspring.

It gives me the chills.

And when they get together they become powerful. Like a vacuum. Sucking me in. “Invasion of the body snatchers” except their snatching my mind. Begging me to stand in line with them.

Warm holes. That’s pretty much what it boils down to. Sometimes its hard for me to see them as anything more than that. Sure they’re nice, and they mean well. But are they really necessary? Do they have a purpose? Will they leave a mark? Maybe their purpose is to warn us of what we could become if we don’t stay sharp. I suppose that’s important enough.

I met a real person though. She gives me butterflies in my stomach. Really bad. The last time I had butterflies in my stomach was in junior high school. My first girlfriend maybe. Or maybe the first time some girl let me feel her up. Its been a long time.

Not another warm hole but a “real actual person“. The one in a million kind too. An Einstein maybe, or a Chaplin. With real thoughts and real dreams. Real interests. Real desires. Real opinions. And she has a real courage that lets her be honest about all of that. She’s the person TV shows are based on. She’s the idol women across America want to emulate. She’s the inspiration behind the trends waltzing down the catwalk. She’s an original. Like a priceless piece in a museum but she’s flesh and blood. And I don’t think she knows…

Sometimes the butterflies are so bad that I can barely talk and I stumble all over my words like a stuttering john. Or I don’t talk at all and pretend I’m really cool. She thinks I’m an asshole when I do that. She told her friend I was a “douche” one time and high tailed it away from me.

Its almost like she stands high above everyone else and looks down. Like an angel. Not in judgment, but in the hopes she’ll understand. That shell figure it all out and make sense of everything.

I believe she will. If she hasn’t already.

She’s beautiful. She sat on my lap this morning and the sun coming through the window of her living room reflected off her hair and made it look like spun gold. She let me hold her.

And she smiled.

When she smiles it seems like I’ve known her for a thousand years. (Maybe I have…) I feel a comfort and a solace and a warmth. It makes me wish I could crawl inside of her and we could just become one. A warmth seems to spread through me and it feels like everything is going to be OK. Like a good heroin high but without the kick and without the hustle. I always want more.

She thought I was another stiff dick. There are plenty of those walking around. Maybe even more stiff dicks than warm holes. I had to chase her for awhile to get her attention. I’m still chasing her. And to tell you the truth I’m probably going to chase her for years to come. I gotta convince her I’m not just another stiff dick…

A while back I saw a movie about a blind, retired army colonel who takes his temp-hired, prep school attending, teenage assistant on a romp around New York city. Al Pacino was the star. He described a woman in the movie as being “God Damn Beautiful”. With the familiar military “Hoo-Rah” at the end to emphasize. Being that the colonel was blind, for some reason, it made his statement stand out. It meant more. Like he used all of his other senses to make that description. Smell and taste and what she sounds like. What she feels like. All without ever even touching her.

Semper-fi to you colonel Al Pacino. The woman I met gives me butterflies and she’s God Damn Beautiful. Hoo-Rah!

Carefull like a torn, used condom

Looking back I see how I was as carefull as a mattress eating crack whore is when choosing between a collection of used, torn, slime filled condoms laying on the powder dusted motel floor.  My rational was only half used in Jamaica.  At least the crack whore in Fresno has an excuse of being… well… a crack whore and even in this metaphor the crack whore has more rational than me because she is driven by an addiction which is proven dominate to all thoughts of reason.  A crack whore is better than me in this scenario.  Fuck, I really need to work some shit out.

I went to Hedo II in Jamaica for a swinger’s Resort take-over.   I’m as wierd about germs as the next mom is, but somehow that sliped away with each layer of clothing.  I was completely naked about 3 hours after my arrival, but that’s for another story.  It was a  ’monkey see, monkey do” type of mantality.  This is at least my poor excuse for  retarded behavior.  Though, I must admit I didn’t give any outdoor blowjobs and they were as common as the middle finger is in LA traffic.  I guess I should say “When in Rome, do as the Roman’s do” but considering the circumstances it just seems too cliche.    Anyway… the point…  Everytime I went to the bathroom I lined the toilet seat with toilet paper and washed my hands with scorching HOT water.  Feeling more clean because I washed my hands and lined my seat.  Knowing the irony in doing it every time yet missing the more common guidlines of sanitation (like licking ass and wiping cum off a random body part), I didn’t stop to think about the lack of liners in a nudist resort.  I did think it was odd that there were directions everywhere detailing the most efficient way to wash one’s hands, and no toilet seat tissue liner.  I mean… these people have managed to congregate like-minded people to a secluded resort on an island far away from their home so that they can safely fuck each other for days at a time.  They all arrive with a suitcase full of condoms and leave with a pocketfull of business cards.  I think we can assume the 100+ hand washing signs is a little over the top.

My lack of intelligence is now baffling to me.  

I sat naked on beach furniture that had soaked up the sun along with seamen and pussy cum for many days in a row.  I sat naked along the rim of a large hot tub which was a breeding ground for all kinds of bacteria.  Actually to be quite honest, I had my pussy eaten right on the edge of it by such a beautiful woman who I kinda got taken away in the moment with.  Apparently I got taken away to a land I never want to go back to.   Luckily I had half a brain with my sexual activities and used condoms right outta the box and only played with the hot, clean ones.

The day I got home I realized I got a yeast infection the last day of my visit.  This being my second infection in my life, it was tragic to me.  So I see how the half effort was not enough and it serves me right.   Maybe to my next sex filled ecstasy of a vacation I will bring with me rubber gloves for the Fingering, ceran wrap for the Eattin’, plastic floaty ring for sitting next to the hot tub and antibacterial body wash.  Or… I could just use more common sense than a crack whore with mattress lint stuck in her teeth when reviewing a resort called Hedonism.

This is the hot tub... But it was packed. You were lucky if you could squeeze in. Of course the girl and I splashed around quite a bit and were givin a VIP pass to hog the entire hot tub.

Hedonism II, Jamaica

For a resort that is all about freedom and sexuality it seems like a tabboo to be so limited to “just work.”  I had to sneak away for sex with a turkish gentlemen.  I’ll write about him later as “Turkish Gold.”  For now, I need to write out my frustrations of being in a candy store and not allowed any candy.   I am in Negril, Jamaica at a resort called Hedonism II which is 85% booked with Swingers.  Both naughty and nice couples and a few singles are all roaming and sucessfully socializing.  I can’t “play” since I am working as a representative for Dream Pleasure Tours, it would be a conflict of interest I am told.  I think there is more than that as a reason.  I have some feelings this political move was inspired by desire and embarassment rather than anything political.  I do however understand the politics involved enough to know that I don’t know enough yet to make a decision outside of the experienced Host and Hostess I work with’s direction and “rules.”  It is their company.   So I abide by all rules.  Since I am scared of being in this new environment as a single, it can work to my benifit.

Marketing ones self is as easy as branding yourself.  Personality is key around this group… so long as it is followed up with a young, hot, naked body.  I gravitated to the good looking, younger group of about 14.  They kept a good eye on me and I must say they all kissed pretty good!  One of which, I was very much impressed with.  She and I made out and made a great show for everyone one night in the large hot tub. 

I have to host a catamaran trip for snorkeling and cliff diving tomorrow.  A naked tour.  I look forward to it, with my sunscreen, camera and sun hat.  Maybe I’ll do some serious swimming to relieve some of my pent up energy.

Virgin at the Swingers Club II

 This is a poorly writen “review” but my time has been spent elsewhere… Mostly preparing for the Hedo trip.  I’ll try to do better next time.  Hope you enjoy anyway!

Texas Players Club has an atmosphere that is encouraging and seemingly safe, I was somewhat surprised. It looks much different than the website and the photos I’ve seen, but not at all disappointing. A few stripper poles and dance cages make up for the loss of glam I expected. Our Reserved table was at an elevated level equal to the bar, which served no alcohol but the lady bartender was serving up her own style of mind alterations and the red bull on tap was keeping me alert.  

The club was scarce with prospects and I was freezing without any offer to be warmed up! Not that I would entertain such an offer, but I certainly would be entertained by the offer in bed later!  There was maybe 20 people in the club which holds a few hundred. I froze like a LA popsicle and was told that the heater would be fixed for our presentation tomorrow night. We both (Gary and I) came from out of town to promote DPT’s tour at Desire resorts this July. My real agenda was to be de-virginized at this “Lifestyle Club.” Little did I know, all the fun was to be held tomorrow at the clubs’ annual Christmas Party, with at least a hundred other people to meet.   

Mentioning that this was my first time at a Swingers Club, I was quickly told, “Lifestyle Club”(with the correction in his voice intended to help me, not reduce me) as if I were holding a sign that read, “This is my first time…take advantage of me!“ Being my only adventure thus far in all my 27 years of life to any place promoting such freedom, experience and encouraging sexual liberation, I was taking it in like a “down-home” boy at his first NASCAR race. I started introducing myself, with my thigh highs and garter showing as an invitation for some better conversation than small talk. My short, strapless black satin Christmas dress was accompanied by big blond curls, lip gloss and always friendly yet impish smile.   

Taking it all in I saw that this ‘members only’ venue ranged from young to old, thin to large, classic beauties to raw treaded hustlers.  From blue to white collar Gents and their decor of women. The similarities were in their civility… but not much more than that. It was almost reminiscent of Cheers, “Where everyone knows your name” and the humility of it all is shared and kept in tact by the very attractive managers, husband and wife team. Her smile could certainly light up any dark place, and her chosen green Santa’s helper outfit made her look like she just walked out of a Playboy magazine. He has an aire of confidence and strength which I must say left me a little wet between my legs and blushed color on my cheeks. I felt more respect from this group of people than that of my local LA posh restraunt bars. The owners are absolutely wonderful and make everyone feel at home in their club, which they have taken a lot of effort and pride in fixing up. I enjoyed my conversation with them in which I learned that they are soon to open their second club. I can’t wait to visit it.    

Surrounding the interior walls were artistic photographs showing off the female members in such a way that I was compelled to see each one and try to find them in the crowd, like “Where‘s Waldo“ but for sex fiends. I followed the pictures to the “green room” which is the home of the Symbian.  A sex toy with a motor that could mow the most incredible Texas lawns and turn the most stable debutante woman into a sex crazed nympho.  Maybe my next trip I’ll have more courage than inhibitions to try it out myself.  I continued down the long hall way and  jokingly decided they should re-name this passage “Hallmark” as it would be more fitting.  The walls were “hall marked” from either the excitement walking into this oasis, or from the exhaustion stumbling out of it. 

I came home and drew a stick figure drawing of the orgy I witnessed at the end of the hall.  It was the participants were leftovers all thrown in a cooking pot stewing something barely edible… unless you were starving desperate for survival.  Excluding the very hot couple at the front of the first bed who started the orgy.  Across the four beds was the smorgasborg (I described and later sketched) and ended with an oriental couple watching in bath towels. I awaited the finale, but was fiercely escorted out by the volunteer of the division… stoked bear witness of this recondite ambiance. Never once was I repulsed or left feeling undignified.  There is still hope for next time though!  My overall judgment is in the favor of The Players Club, “where everyone knows your name, but doesn’t tell.” 

 

I can’t wait for Hedonism II in Jamaica!  This will be my 2nd experience… which is held at a nudist resort.  I assume it will be much more adventure filled.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Virgin at the Swingers Club

I forgot to post this before I left this past Friday, and instead saved it as a draft.

Office Heels to stilettos

Pushin’ Paper to Gettin’ Kisses

Encrypted Dialog to Honesty Spoken

Fixing Problems to Letting Go

I will be flying into San Antonio, TX this Friday.  My new company rep will pick me up and take me shopping for the right clothes.  Since I’ve been working in the corporate environment… my style is pretty professional and boring.  Though, I have some pretty sexy secretary outfits… But those stories are for another blog. 

I imagine walking in a swingers club for the first time I will be a bit nervous.  Not to mention I am dressing in sexy, slutty and revealing clothes, but I hope this will gain me the attention I need to produce enough lust from people at the club to want to follow me to the next event in Jamaica this January… Which means, I can make some killer commissions and clients for Dream Pleasure Tours (www.dreampleasuretours.com).  I am making this my first review of what is to come and see if there is enough money in it (so I don’t have to sell out again and re-enter the terrifying gates of hell AKA Corporations and Business Finance).  I don’t really care about that though.  I want to experience as much as I can this weekend and see if this is what I want to do.  I want to talk to people, make connections and have FUN!  For the love of all that is holy, there will be people fucking in front of me… that’s AWESOME for a virgin of this territory.  It’s like getting tied up and trying bondage when loosing your virginity.

Thinking about how others find this completely different and scary (some friends have said so), and they judge it as “wrong” and deviant.  I compare it to what I was doing, and in my opinion it is way more moral.  I remember my boss would have me dress in a cute black fitting dress suit and take me around “the field” to impress and “flirt” with clients, that is actually the same deal here.  My old boss was scandalous about it though, and this new company just wants me to hang out and have fun which in doing so will leave impressions on those of like mind…  Everyone has fun.  I am asked now to be respectful compared to before I was asked to “seem” respectful – which made me shake and feel like my insides were fighting to get out and scream “this isn’t real!” I feel much better about this new venture showing respect and being respected.

Walking in knowing what is expected of me, is quite the same, however, what is better now is the fact that they actually admit it.  They say they want to fuck me, instead of beat around the bush and insinuate a business relationship should be built for blagh blagh blagh.  Funny how things aren’t how most people see them. 

I return on Sunday.  I will write my review, my thoughts and what was happening all around. 

Virgin at the swingers Club

Dance to the beat of your own drum

Dancing alone has always been a better party for me.  I think I may know why and how to keep it this way.

Luckily, I know that I must solidify my beliefs and keep them stemming from my own thought and experiences, and not that of what is placed upon me because I am a woman, or for that matter, what is expected of me by other people.

If one is going to dance to the beat of their own drum, which really is the way to live life, then they must have their ideas and beliefs of how to do that.  They must have their intentions and their motives at the forefront of their mind… So they must be mindful of their actions and thoughts. 

I have always had my ideas and my beliefs but they were so “outlandish” that I couldn’t internalize that which I desired, much less share them with the people close to me.  I will use the idea of “relationships” to explain because this has inspired my blog, which I have actually posted to another blog I write.  I think it is fitting for Romantic Vulgarity.

I believe the perfect relationship for me is an honored friendship without any fears imposed onto the other friend.  Intellectual stimulation is necessary for me to have a strong enough bond to attain enough of a connection with my partner to have great sex and a valued substance.  However strong a connection and deep a love, the commitment should never impede on the others’ freedoms.  If monogamy is agreed upon than that respect shall be given, unless I have already described my true ideal.  Above all else, to me freedom is the most important.  I learned by loving wrong that my heart and my spirit are mine alone.  It is my choice to share it with someone.  My heart may be broken (for now) but not my spirit.  I am willing to risk my heart breaking if this rare individual comes into my life.  My spirit could not be attracted to sickness so that may shed light on the sentence above.  This past experience of loving incorrectly I learned about the strength and weaknesses within myself, and the wrong and right way of loving.  It’s really just loving myself and opening that part of myself to someone I deem worthy and continuing on with my life as I wish along side being respectful and mindful of my partner. 

The drum beats with my heart and I dance when I hear it.  The goal is to dance my dance even through the times the entire village is dancing to a completely different chant of drums, and different rhythm. 

The most important lesson for me so far has been this.  To hear the beat of my heart through the drum that I play, and invite the Indians I choose to join in the pow-wow.  It is not about isolating myself from them because we’re different, but isolating the beat of my drum so that I can hear it and share it.  Sometimes even that isolation isn’t necessary, but when I can’t hear it due to the village sounds and outside music, I need to take a step back to dance alone. 

If I could find a fellow indian or indians to make an even better beat that would be awesome, and if not, I’m just as happy, and know my beat is all I need anyway.  I’m not looking, I’m just drumming away listening to the beat and finding out what rhythm I enjoy and dancing around to it all.

Corporate Whore

Sucking a dick in my cubical doesn’t make me a corporate whore, nor does fucking in the downstairs bathroom.  It is the bought and paid for soul that the Mortgage business tries to get me to sell that would make me a corporate whore, and I have yet to enter into negotiations.  How much is my life worth?  More importantly how much is my soul worth?

I think its worth at least the things money can’t buy… Like a chiseled body on top of mine (actually I could probably purchase this), a perfectly cooked Filet Minot and a side of good conversation that includes heartfelt laughter and not just me pretending to care to get to the end of the date, a drive in movie, a perfect wave I don’t have to get beat up for riding, a harassment free ex-husband, and/or some education to get me far, far away doing what makes me happy.  Mostly getting me away from this corporate hell spin cycle that will inevitably continue without much change for all of eternity.  Maybe I sold my soul in a past life, and that’s why the last office came with phones without the “mute” button and instead a 24 hour harrassing, high maintence Executive that is the biggest douche bag you’ve ever met as my director.

I cashed in this job I mention.  I got more than what I thought I would.  Experience of how to deal with pushy jerks and prepare for a wierd combat of deception being thrown on me like what you also get from the pent-up monkeys at the zoo.  

I’ve been proactive and decided to go a new route.  I have decided to sign on with Dream Pleasure Tours promoting and living.  I’ll be blogging about this new adventure of sexual liberation, while maintaining my spiritual beliefs that I’ve found for myself.  Thank goodness I’ve found something that is a nice balance and a little more solid in the realm of honesty…  So I think so far.

Mr. Fucking Perfect

Mr. Fucking Perfect,

It’s kinda disgusting to me how I want to be inside you when you put on some music that I want to get lost in.  It’s kinda fucking disgusting that I want to get a ’strap on’ reserved for my girlfriend, and make love to you.  I want to consume you and I’m not quite sure how.  I want to have a penis so I can explore you with it… Not rape you like I want to do to my GF’s, but just to get inside you.  It’s disgusting to me how far down the scale of bitter sweet S&M I want to go with you, which is not a thought, but a reaction you make me have.

Your “perfect” goes beyond what I expect from any human other than myself.  Even there, you’re a ‘Over Achiever’ which passes me up with skill and application in the real world.  You make my mouth water to the point of drooling onto your hand that is wrapped around my neck pressing into me the fact of your owning me.  You have the power to make me wet in both my mouth and my pussy and at the same time make my ass hole perk up to give your dick a big warm kiss.  Every hole wants to have you inside it.  I want perfection all over my face when your done and you’ve handled your business with my body.

Mr.Fucking Perfect you ware out my mind.  I await the day our adventure takes it to the next level and wares out my body.   I love the charisma you have on my thinking, and the invitation to be myself, truly vulnerable and independently strong.  My mind is like clay around you, and it is safe to be so.  It is possible to be like clay with other men, they always encourage it…   Those men do it so they can mold it like clay, with perversion, persuasion and manipulation…  Mr.Perfect, you want to see it displayed and working, even if it is against you in some way.   You find joy in watching it become what it is meant to become.

Mr. Fucking Perfect, I have Spiritual lust for you right now.  It may fade and I may move on. However, I say this knowing the uniqueness of your character and mind. Knowing what a slim chance I would have in finding another Mr.Perfect again. I know I may not find one of your caliber.  For a man to have the ability to hold friendship in the highest regard, over sexual exploration, is very rare.  I believe it is rare to find in anyone, man or woman.  The next time I am getting fucked, I will think of you.  When you fuck me I will think of nothing else, but you.

www.kink.com

Bikini Wax

I had visited a friend out in Valencia, CA.  She swore she had the best gal for bikini waxing.  Of course, I had to check it out.  Due to the contect of what I write, I’ll have to ask before posting their link here.  I highly recommend this gal if you get a chance to go.  She is not only trendy enough to make you think she is going to be only “pretend interesting” but she has a nonchalant attitude that enforces it.  However, after one minute of hearing where she takes a conversation you are happily surprised and interested in her enough to want to dive in between her legs much like she is going to do to you.  I’m not suave enough to actually say it either.  Maybe my next appointment with her, I can convince her to buy a swingers tour from my friends’ company and then I can handle it in the Caribbean or wherever she decides to go.  Plus she can get me nice and smooth before the trip.  I love mixing business with pleasure.

The appointment started with me walking into the wax room.  She says, “undress from your waist down and get on the table”  then she walks out of the room.  My experience with this kind of direction has trained me to comply within 30 seconds.  Heather, I think her name is, walked back in and rolled over this little table with the waxing stuff.  She asks what I do for a living and listens with intrigue and a bit of mischievous encouragement.  I tell her a little bit of the truth, that I write reviews for sexual liberating groups… Blagh blagh blagh.  She next tells me, “Put your legs in the air and hold your knees. ” At this point, she has stated to wax my lips and moving towards my ass hole.  I have to admit, with her directive and curtness, I was super excited and embarassed about it.  Then came the point where she has me put my legs over my chest and spread eagle.  When the waxing was finished she rubbed in a little cream to ease the puffy and irritated pussy and asshole I had.

When I got back to my friend’s house, she asked how it went.  I told her about the positions I didn’t imagine would be required…  My friend laughed out loud and said, “I have never had to do that!”

I love the idea of her dominating and exploiting me as a client, but I know she is professional and wouldn’t.  I look forward to the next visit where I can try to convince her of my scheme for my own agenda of fun.  For now, I’ll just masturbate my smooth, hairless, wet pussy.

Open Secretary Position…

5 minutes into the interview for the Secretary position

This is the day that the Secretary came out to role-play.  A first time “interview”, a first time experience.  I had walked in with my mind prepared to impress…  Unfortunately I had forgotten my resume. 

She was impressed with my desire to please her and my honest desire to work it off, I even asked her how I could make up for such a mistake.  She calmly ignored me which  made me feel completely in debited to her.  I received a tour of the front office, conference room and break room.  Then without warning, she grabbed my wrist and walked me into her office.  Moving her hand around my throat she pulled me in front of her desk.  Within a few minutes she had molested me, leaving me undressed and on all fours on top of her mahogany desk.  I didn’t say anything, I just followed her direction.  “Payment for your resume” she said as she pulled my red belt off my dress that was displayed on the floor.  She folded the belt and spanked me.  She made me confess my work faults and create a few rules I would have implemented in the office (We hadn’t discussed how this day would unfold, but the role-playing felt real and I loved that we were completely unscripted yet entirely ex-rated, especially for my first time girl-on-girl sexual experience).   I liked being her little whorish secretary interviewing for the Secretary Position, so I continued on without missing a beat.

I walked over to the white board, with my black laced bra, black silk stockings, red heels and black panties still on.  I felt completely naked and excited.  Cream filled my panties, I thought it was going to drip down my legs.  She sat on her desk chair while waiting for the rules to be written.  We hadn’t discussed how this day would unfold, but the role-playing felt real and I loved that we were completely unscripted yet entirely ex-rated, especially for my first time girl-on-girl sexual experience .   I liked being her little whorish secretary interviewing for the Secretary Position, so I continued on without missing a beat. 

I guessed she was testing my ability to manage and control the environment. 

“New Workroom rules:

1. Must obey boss.

2. NEVER stop working until the job is complete

3. Lunch and munch breaks every 20 minutes

4. Skirts & dresses with stockings and heels is mandatory dress code

5. Video and camera recording 24/7 throughout entire office

6. Overtime work load will be shared by team, no matter how many on team”

Once the rules were written, I decided I would show her how I can manage and take charge, I wanted to impress her with my skills.  I told her to spread her legs.  Fear gripped me a little bit, this being my first time, I wanted to please her.  I licked her body and kissed her perfectly plump lips.  Sliding down her neck, my hands slowly went over her breasts and my lips followed to her nipples.  I asked, “May I lick your pussy, Boss?”  She just shook her head yes.  Her legs spread open with feet on each side of the U-shaped desk which displayed her pussy to me.  I started to lick and bang her pussy with my fingers.  I could hear her moaning which made me more enthusiastic and hungry.  I banged her little pussy so hard that while I was sucking on her clit, she came in my hand.  It was like a beautiful gift she gave me.

I couldn’t bring my face up from between her legs.  I wished I was a man for a moment, so I could feel my dick in her pussy.  I asked if I could watch her fiance fuck her.  I wanted to see him ram his cock into what I was kissing.  I wanted to do everything with her.

“Knock, Knock, Knock”  Someone was at the front office door.  My boss was fully naked and she ran to the door to peek out the mail slot.  She told me to get dressed and fix my make-up and hair.  Sprinting back into her office, she covered up that amazingly hot body with her suit.  She walked over to the camera she had set up, and started to clean up her desk.  I was still so horny I was playing with my own clit.  My new boss removed my hand from my pussy and slowly sucked on my fingers.  Then she sat back in the wet chair and got out her compact and lipstick, looked up at me and said, “You’ve got the job.”

I await her call.