by the Evil Editors
Markie-Linda
batted her brown-eyed gaze at the man who she wanted to gobble up his whole
body especially the sexy scruff under his chin which she wanted to rub across
her giant, red tipped, sexy breasts which were even now hardening to diamond tips
that could cut glass under her own expensive dress she had shopped for all week
at her favorite store where they always offered her champagne when she shopped
there.
Who
would have guessed she’d meet her future husband tonight and he’d be a virgin.
She wanted him now. Her pointed breasts and shaved folds yearned and ached for his
thrusting penis to take control and dominate her.
“Does
this mean you won’t know how to find my cavern of moist love?” She wanted him
to know how many it meant to her to find her future husband and virgin lover
tonight here in this place.
“Let’s
dance,” she invited throatily. She grabbed his hand with her hand and handed
him over to her handy friend Imogene. “Then we can have a ménage. If you aren’t
afraid, that is.” She fixed him with a demon stare, daring him to back away, to
use his inexperience to fight their overweening desire for his giant cock which
even now wriggled in his pants in an attempt to find its way free from
confinement and bob happily against his belly in the cool air.
He
wrenched his hand away from Imogene who he found terrifying in her thigh high
stockings and thigh high stiletto boots and thigh high skirt and indented
corset. His future wife would never dream of sharing him with the woman with
the bullwhip clutched in her hand…would she?
For
a moment he imagined the dark and sultry Imogene was his future wife, but the
prophesy insisted his wife have blue eyes and her eyes were green. Plus the
bullwhip would leave welts on his thick cock or possibly his tender ass and he
didn’t like that idea one single solitary bit.
“No,
I wouldn’t,” claimed Markie-Linda, snatching him back and cupping his erection
through his tight pants. “She is,” she hissed painfully, “A baby broker and I
owe her a debt.” She was afraid he wouldn’t marry her when he knew what that
debt was, but they had kept their secrets long enough. She rushed back to the
still rotating stool and sat down on it, her parted legs baring her commando
femininity to the soft, cushioned, brown, round upholstered surface. Her pussy
wept with joy. Maybe if she had her stool she didn’t need him. NO. She dropped
her carefully made up face to the bar.
She
knew Imogene waited for her answer impatiently and angrily, her urge to tie
them both up and make them perform overwhelming her good sense. She fought
vainly and with valor, but decided she wanted it all and more. “Hurry up and do
it!” she chirped, enraged. “I can’t wait all week.” The stilettos made her legs
look hella sexy, but they pinched.
“What
is this all about,” Joseph demanded commandingly. “Are we or are we not going
to dance some more?”
“We
haven’t danced at all,” Markie-Lynn pointed out helpfully. “But now we need to
go to my apartment upstairs and get started.” She started for the door, her rounded
fanny twitching to and fro with her happy gait. He followed her closely, his
eyes on her ass, and she grinned proudly at his heated attention. The elevator
doors admitted the three of them and she waited for Joseph, with his swarthy
good looks, to comment on the other woman’s presence in the elevator with them.
The
doors closed on them and they were whisked away to her penthouse suite by the
elevator.
She waited for the elevator door to open,
walked out into the hallway, turned to the right, walked down the corridor,
stopped at her door, fished in her purse for her key, pulled it out carefully,
slipped the key into the lock, unlocked the door, turned the handle, pushed the
door open, and walked inside her home, admiring the décor while the others
followed, exchanging looks, their eyes boring holes in her back.
The
luxury apartment she earned by providing favors for Imogene and their ilk.
Until now, her luscious body had been enough, but now they made a scary demand
that could only be met by tapping the erotic potential of her future husband.
She
spun on all her heels, completely around three times and dropped to her knees
in front of him. Yanking down his zipper she tugged his satiny penis from the
confines of his oh-so-sexy plaid pants and wrapped her lips around it, being
sure to nuzzle his balls on the way. The enticing scent of his sweaty musk
filled her lungs and she sighed in excstasy and orgasmed. Things were looking
up…or going down.
If…he
could be convinced or coerced to put his back into the job. A shame he was
poor…if only… he were a secret sheik. Or a typhoon. Or a billionaire…or maybe
all three!!!!!?
Look!
There’s a disco ball in this room too! The cascading sparkles circled
artistically over the mushroom head of his giant penis, and she bobbed her head
down, taking him all the way down her throat, the delicious salty taste just
like the ocean in spring when she was on vacation with her friend Suzie.
11 comments:
LOL @ the disco ball. It's almost hypnotic!
That evil editor finds the best images! And don't you think every hotel should have a nice disco ball?
LOL Even more entertaining than yesterday. :)
Hahahahahaha You two are so bad!
I want a man who's secretly a typhoon!
ohhh Sara! You got it! I wondered if anyone would notice that lol
Jane Austen, watch out! Your literary prowers are nothing in comparison to the scintillant rhetoric of the egregious Evil Editors!
Oh, I saw that, Kate, and giggled. Typhoon might be interesting in bed. (g)
Hmmm he was a typhoon in bed, breaking wind at every opportunity :)
Ew! (g)
Sounds hella sexy to me lol. I'm sure you help them, if they'll let you, Janice.
Watch this weekend for the 'official review' of this story!
Post a Comment