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I’ll never understand why men assume we want images of their penis. I want to ride it, maybe lick it, but not because it’s nice to look at.”
Seeing a woman on a job site is still too rare because if they put one in charge, she’d just be called a bitch for doing the exact same role as her counterparts. Probably doing it better, too.
I need to convince myself that you wouldn’t look perfect on your knees right here, right now. I wonder if she’d let me climb under the desk and hide between her legs for the next hour. Or two. I could clear my calendar.
What can I do to get this girl to smile like that for me again? I’d sell my damn soul for it.
Romeo. Hart. Beau. Each of them stands to greet me with panty dropping smiles. Speaking of panties, I’ll need new ones.
Bodies? Rideable. Faces? Sittable. Dicks? I haven’t seen them, but I'm betting they are fuckable. Or lickable.
Then again, when he says team, I hear train. And now I’m thinking about my bosses running a train on me. Is that on everyone’s fantasy list or just mine? Only with them though. It’s the group dynamic the three of them have going on. Their teamwork makes my wet dreams work.
“And I show up to not one blind date, but three. All of whom are my fucking bosses. Cupid is an absolute dirty fucking cunt.”
“This for me, Val? Did you get wet thinking about your punishment? Or by the thought of someone catching us?”
“When we’re inside, be as loud as you want, darling. Right now, I need you to be quiet for me. Shout into my hand as I fuck you with my fingers, alright?”
“That pretty little cunt takes my cock so good, baby.” The praise has her clenching around me. “You going to come for me?”
While the bow may have aimed true for me, Cupid is totally still a cunt.
