Slag for use Part 2
- 4 years ago
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If I Asked If She Was A Slag, She'd Have Said free porn video
A more recent experience happened about two years ago…
I was advertising for an assistant for my business. Someone who could come in to the setting and do some of the basics to free me up for client contact etc. I work from home so I’m acutely aware of how women could feel threatened by this sort of setup. A few mates joked about it and I couldn’t see the funny side of my bed being a few rooms away from the office. I had to be strict with myself even on talking about it.
The woman, Claire, met me at a coffee shop. I quickly knew that she wouldn’t get the job on offer but when I mentioned that I was thinking about getting a Cleaner in, she said she’d look at those hours too. A few days later I called her and told her I’d seen some very strong candidates for the Asst role but I still had the cleaning hours. She said she was interested. She’s about 5’9” and if she was skinny, she could be pretty, but she was fat in a bad way.
As I was employing her, and I thought she was an individual with poor self awareness who abdicates responsibility for the things that go wrong in her life I called and asked her if she could find some cleaners overalls in case of bleach on her clothes. I didn’t want the expense of replacing her clothes as well as paying her. She responded to my request saying, “What you want me to do that for?” I explained again and she said, “Do you want me to get a French Maid’s outfit?” in a saucy way. She then immediately changed tack and said that my request was pervy. I pointed out that I’d asked for overalls but she was too far gone. She was triggered and felt she had power over me. Glad I didn’t give her a job of any type.
Having dismissed her, eventually with a mouth full of abuse, for her deliberate misinterpretation, I forgot all about her… until, she dialled my late on a Saturday night. I was surprised to see her number but didn’t answer. She called again and I messaged to say that I was bust. She texted and I blocked her until the next day when I texted to say, “What do you want?” “I was away for the weekend.” She’d had a traumatic week with some guy having shafted her and her best friend siding with the guy who’d hurt her. WHAT on EARTH made her think to call me at 11:30pm on a Saturday!?
After a brief conversation that evening… a Tuesday, I think… I said I’d pop round. I didn’t want her to know where I lived, and had sized her up as a dirty slag with little idea that she was. Self awareness is never a bad thing… I think she got the memo, but the daft slag probably couldn’t read it.
I arrived near her house and parked my car around the corner then walked up to her front door. She saw me through the front window and I didn’t need to knock. Seconds later, the door opened and I stepped inside.
She didn’t look like she’d been sat crying. She was wearing ill-fitting jeans, a hoodie and, probably, a T-shirt underneath. “Glad to see you made an effort.” I said sardonically. The comment was lost on her. She guided me to the lounge and invited me to sit. I declined, preferring to stand for now. She offered me a hot beverage and rather than wait for it, I went in to the kitchen while she made it.
“Why am I here?” I asked her, seriously.
“Well, you seem really wise and stuff.” “I was lonely on Saturday night and wanted to talk to someone.”
“I see… well I’m here now, is it advice you want?” “…and I don’t mean to be rude but my time is money.”
“I can’t pay you,” she replied.
“Who’s asking?” said I. “I’m just pointing out that I’m here and I’d like a little gratitude.” “Is that too much to ask for?”
She said it wasn’t and forced a “thank you” from the entitled mouth in her chubby face.
We sat in the lounge for thirty minutes and chatted. She laid it all out and I gave her some advice. Mostly to decide how she feels, make allowances for others and to stop getting upset because people are typically out for themselves. That shouldn’t be breaking news in your forties!
She was relaxed now and thanking me for my advice. She said she felt quite grounded now and she didn’t know how to repay me.
“Well, you could do something small for me.” Said I.
“What’s that?” she replied, looking serious.
“Um, well I have no intention of laying a hand on you, you’ve made your position quite clear.” “ I do have some further advice though and I wonder if, while I’m explaining it to you, you could change your clothes?” “We’ll call it payment in full.”
She looked more curious than angry and asked, “What clothes?” “Do ya not like the way I’m dressed?”
“I’m indifferent as to how you’re dressed but those clothes do you no favours at all and I think you know that.” “If it makes you uncomfortable then don’t even talk about it anymore, however, if you’d like a little appreciation for that collection of curves you got, without laying on of hands, then perhaps you could?”
She pondered for a moment. “What you want me to wear?”
“I’d like to see you in the shortest skirt you have, and the smallest top you have.” “…oh, and the highest heels too, I almost forgot.” “That’s all I said, smallest skirt and top, and highest heels.”
“Really?” she blurted. “What you wanna see me in those for?”
“I suppose I’ll put it in the bank.” “…and besides, you’ve just got some solid support and advice, what you complaining about?” and I started to chuckle.
She laughed along for a second then tentatively said, “I could, like, it’d be a bit chilly mind.”
I pulled out my wallet. It only had a couple of hundred in it but then gave her £20 and said, “Blast the heating and take the chill off.”
She saw the money in my wallet and jumped up, went to the kitchen and returned with the heat on.
“Put the fire on too.” I said. “It’ll warm things up fast.”
She did that too.
I continued, “Claire, how do I know you’re definitely going to wear what we agreed on?”
“What you mean?” she replied with a note of anger in her voice.
“What I MEAN is that you could go up, and not come down in your shortest skirt, or skimpiest top or highest heels.” “You could just wear what you like.”
“I would not,” she replied with tones of indignance. “I’ll do what I said.”
“No,” I said coolly, “You’ll do what I said. “Gawd,” I followed up. “Listen to me all high and mighty.” “Still though, what if we had some kind of forfeit if you get it wrong?” “I’m giving you all this advice and you get to be appreciated for your figure while I give you more advice… what if we have a dare if you get it wrong?” “How confident are you that you’ll get it right?”
“I’ll not get it wrong.” She stated determinedly.
“Okay, so we’re clear?” “All I want you wearing is smallest skirt and top and highest heels…. Nothing else…. Okay?”
“What’s the dare?” she asked.
“Are we clear?”
“Yes!”
She practically yelled it, like an irritated teenager.
“Okay, so we’re clear?” “I want you wearing nothing more than smallest skirt and top and highest heels…” She was looking annoyed by now, “…and if you get it wrong then you give me a blow job.”
“Whaaaat?” “Am not sucking your cock.” She looked kinda angry.
“I agree!” “You’re gonna get it right, you said you would.” “Are you gonna get it right?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Well then YOU got nothing to worry about then, do you?”
I was smiling and she was looking uncertain and still a little angry.
“Well, go on then…”
Then she went upstairs to change.
“I think you want to though….” I said as she went up the stairs.
“Want to what?”
“Suck my cock…” I said, smiling from ear to ear.
“Fuck off!”
That wasn’t a playful tone.
Things went quiet for a few minutes and she reappeared at the top of the stairs. At this point all I could see was heels. They were high.
“Go back to the lounge, I feel stupid.” “It’s not like I’m even going anywhere.”
I returned to the lounge and in about a minute, she slowly pushed open the door and walked nervously in to the lounge.
“Wow!” exclaimed I. “Look at you!” She was looking sheepish but clearly buoyed up by the appreciation and attention. “Look at those curves!” “I love this!”
She was wearing a very short black skirt and a vest top plus white high heels. She looked like the dogs, fucking, dinner. Still though….
“Do a catwalk walk…” I instructed.
“Noooo… all you’re going to do is look at me.”
“It’s all I’m supposed to do.” I said while laughing in a good natured way. “Hey, stand on the coffee table, I wanna get a good look.”
She resisted this too but she was standing right in front of me now.
“Ya know what?” I said.
“What,” she replied.
“I think you really do want to suck my cock.”
“No I don’t.” Her tone had changed and was more playful now.
“Oh, I think you do.” “Don’t you like to suck cock?” “Are you one of those girls who’s scared of cocks?”
“No I am NOT!” “I like it.”
“I bet you’re one of those girls who thinks she’s good at blow jobs but only sucks a guy til he’s hard and ready to fuck..”
She was pissed off now. She was caught between telling me I was right and confessing to be a slut. I loved it. So I continued…
“Anyway, I also bet that you’re a cum dodger and you got rules about where a guy can shoot his dirty load… and it isn’t your dirty mouth.”
“No I’m not.”
“There’s a reason why I think you want to suck my cock; wanna hear it?”
“I don’t, but go on.”
“Well, what colour knickers are you wearing?” “Do they match the bra?”
“Why?” “I’m not telling you that.”
“You made a deal.” “You said you’d only wear three things.. and I was clear that all I wanted you wearing was tiny skirt, top and high heels.” “You’re wearing bra and panties too.” “That wasn’t the deal and that means that you gotta blow me.” “Don’t you remember me saying that?”
“Yes.” She was looking at the floor.
“Was I clear about what you should be wearing?”
“No, you weren’t. More indignance.
“Was I inaccurate or did you pick it up incorrectly?” “Did I say bra and panties as well?”
“No….” She was upset and confused now and still looking at the floor.
“Well, Claire, let’s get you to where you should be.”
I reached around her back and unclipped her bra with one hand then, amidst her protest and squirming, pulled the shoulder strap out of her vest on one side and down towards her hand.
“What you doing?” She mumbled.
I stopped after loosening one side and looked her in the ugly face and said, “You’re still covered up aren’t you?” and immediately pulled the other shoulder strap out of the bottom of her vest. She dropped her shoulders. She was overwhelmed and looking more at the floor. Her nipples, which pointed at 45 degrees were very hard. I wondered if she knew.
“Okay so that moved things along..didn’t it?”
She seemed to be seething with resentment. I went around behind her and quickly squatted behind her, put my hands up the sides of her tiny skirt and despite her bending forwards and putting her hands on her hips to stop the inevitable, she was too late. Her panties were around her ankles and I nudged her bum forcing her to take a step forwards out of her panties or fall over.
I stood up and she turned to face me, angry and confused and looking like she was about to slap me. Good instinct, I stepped back and felt a draught on my face as she just missed me.
“I told you, you did it wrong so you could suck my cock.” “Get on your knees Claire.”
She didn’t look like she was going to do it so I put my hands on my shoulders and gently pushed downwards. She didn’t move so I ran my fingers in to the hair at the back of her neck until I had a handful.
“You said you like sucking cock.” “DO YOU like sucking cock?”
“Yes,” she whimpered, “But not like this.”
“You’re right,” I said, “You’re supposed to be on your knees.”
She relented and sank to her knees.
“Is your pussy wet?” I asked as I unbelted and unbuttoned my jeans.
“I don’t know.” She said, watching my intently as I got my cock out.
“It’s your pussy, how can you not know?” My cock was out now. I was wanking it slowly very close to her face.
“You can’t always tell.” She said.
“Okay,” I slapped her face with my hardening cock. “Then slide your right hand down your stomach , inside your waistband and down to your clit.” I slapped her face again with my cock which was hardening fast now. “You see what you’re making it do, slag?”
She complied and I watched her slide her hand down.
“Stick out your tongue, do it now.”
She opened her mouth and stuck it out. I began to slap her tongue with my now hard cock. I looked past her face and saw her part her knees so she could get her fingers to her pussy.
“Let me hear it, let me hear how wet your pussy is.”
It sounded like she’d just pulled her wellies out of ankle deep mud.
“Show me your fingers you dirty slag.”
She showed me the two she’d inserted and there were strings of pussy juice between her fingers. I pushed my cock in to her mouth. “Hold it open, don’t suck yet.” I pushed to test her gag reflex and it was irritatingly shallow. I grabbed both sides of her head and told her to suck.
“There, there, isn’t that better?” “You’ve got a cock in your mouth and I bet you feel better.” She looked at me with mixed feelings, anger, joy, satisfaction, and that lovely subby look that says, “You bastard, you got me to do this and I hate that I love it.” Merry fucking Christmas to me.
“Put your fingers back in..” She started to frig herself and consequently sucked more enthusiastically. She was finding her stride in a couple of minutes and I was ready to shoot my load. Everything had gone according to plan and I’d been thinking about it all day.
I didn’t tell her I was about to shoot my load.
“You’re a slag.” “You’re a dirty cock-sucking slag and you’re gonna eat my load, slag.”
She looked up. There was panic in her eyes. We didn’t have the spit or swallow chat. That tipped me over. I had a vice grip on her head and didn’t let go until I shot my whole load in her head. She gagged looked like she was gonna vom then spat the contents of her dirty mouth on to her vest top.
I quickly buttoned up and belted my jeans and started heading towards the door. She was still on the floor, eyes watering. She’d stopped playing with her pussy and was looking rejected.
“I though you had more advice for me, I thought that’s why I got changed.”
“Here’s your advice, as promised,” I said, “Don’t call me at 11:30pm and get funny with me.”
I opened the front door to leave.
“That’s it!?” “That’s all I get?”
“No, you got a mouthful of cum.” “See ya.” I said as I pulled her door closed and walked to my car.
By the time I got home, I had a vicious facebook message. I replied asking if she’d like any further advice on the matter.
I was advertising for an assistant for my business. Someone who could come in to the setting and do some of the basics to free me up for client contact etc. I work from home so I’m acutely aware of how women could feel threatened by this sort of setup. A few mates joked about it and I couldn’t see the funny side of my bed being a few rooms away from the office. I had to be strict with myself even on talking about it.
The woman, Claire, met me at a coffee shop. I quickly knew that she wouldn’t get the job on offer but when I mentioned that I was thinking about getting a Cleaner in, she said she’d look at those hours too. A few days later I called her and told her I’d seen some very strong candidates for the Asst role but I still had the cleaning hours. She said she was interested. She’s about 5’9” and if she was skinny, she could be pretty, but she was fat in a bad way.
As I was employing her, and I thought she was an individual with poor self awareness who abdicates responsibility for the things that go wrong in her life I called and asked her if she could find some cleaners overalls in case of bleach on her clothes. I didn’t want the expense of replacing her clothes as well as paying her. She responded to my request saying, “What you want me to do that for?” I explained again and she said, “Do you want me to get a French Maid’s outfit?” in a saucy way. She then immediately changed tack and said that my request was pervy. I pointed out that I’d asked for overalls but she was too far gone. She was triggered and felt she had power over me. Glad I didn’t give her a job of any type.
Having dismissed her, eventually with a mouth full of abuse, for her deliberate misinterpretation, I forgot all about her… until, she dialled my late on a Saturday night. I was surprised to see her number but didn’t answer. She called again and I messaged to say that I was bust. She texted and I blocked her until the next day when I texted to say, “What do you want?” “I was away for the weekend.” She’d had a traumatic week with some guy having shafted her and her best friend siding with the guy who’d hurt her. WHAT on EARTH made her think to call me at 11:30pm on a Saturday!?
After a brief conversation that evening… a Tuesday, I think… I said I’d pop round. I didn’t want her to know where I lived, and had sized her up as a dirty slag with little idea that she was. Self awareness is never a bad thing… I think she got the memo, but the daft slag probably couldn’t read it.
I arrived near her house and parked my car around the corner then walked up to her front door. She saw me through the front window and I didn’t need to knock. Seconds later, the door opened and I stepped inside.
She didn’t look like she’d been sat crying. She was wearing ill-fitting jeans, a hoodie and, probably, a T-shirt underneath. “Glad to see you made an effort.” I said sardonically. The comment was lost on her. She guided me to the lounge and invited me to sit. I declined, preferring to stand for now. She offered me a hot beverage and rather than wait for it, I went in to the kitchen while she made it.
“Why am I here?” I asked her, seriously.
“Well, you seem really wise and stuff.” “I was lonely on Saturday night and wanted to talk to someone.”
“I see… well I’m here now, is it advice you want?” “…and I don’t mean to be rude but my time is money.”
“I can’t pay you,” she replied.
“Who’s asking?” said I. “I’m just pointing out that I’m here and I’d like a little gratitude.” “Is that too much to ask for?”
She said it wasn’t and forced a “thank you” from the entitled mouth in her chubby face.
We sat in the lounge for thirty minutes and chatted. She laid it all out and I gave her some advice. Mostly to decide how she feels, make allowances for others and to stop getting upset because people are typically out for themselves. That shouldn’t be breaking news in your forties!
She was relaxed now and thanking me for my advice. She said she felt quite grounded now and she didn’t know how to repay me.
“Well, you could do something small for me.” Said I.
“What’s that?” she replied, looking serious.
“Um, well I have no intention of laying a hand on you, you’ve made your position quite clear.” “ I do have some further advice though and I wonder if, while I’m explaining it to you, you could change your clothes?” “We’ll call it payment in full.”
She looked more curious than angry and asked, “What clothes?” “Do ya not like the way I’m dressed?”
“I’m indifferent as to how you’re dressed but those clothes do you no favours at all and I think you know that.” “If it makes you uncomfortable then don’t even talk about it anymore, however, if you’d like a little appreciation for that collection of curves you got, without laying on of hands, then perhaps you could?”
She pondered for a moment. “What you want me to wear?”
“I’d like to see you in the shortest skirt you have, and the smallest top you have.” “…oh, and the highest heels too, I almost forgot.” “That’s all I said, smallest skirt and top, and highest heels.”
“Really?” she blurted. “What you wanna see me in those for?”
“I suppose I’ll put it in the bank.” “…and besides, you’ve just got some solid support and advice, what you complaining about?” and I started to chuckle.
She laughed along for a second then tentatively said, “I could, like, it’d be a bit chilly mind.”
I pulled out my wallet. It only had a couple of hundred in it but then gave her £20 and said, “Blast the heating and take the chill off.”
She saw the money in my wallet and jumped up, went to the kitchen and returned with the heat on.
“Put the fire on too.” I said. “It’ll warm things up fast.”
She did that too.
I continued, “Claire, how do I know you’re definitely going to wear what we agreed on?”
“What you mean?” she replied with a note of anger in her voice.
“What I MEAN is that you could go up, and not come down in your shortest skirt, or skimpiest top or highest heels.” “You could just wear what you like.”
“I would not,” she replied with tones of indignance. “I’ll do what I said.”
“No,” I said coolly, “You’ll do what I said. “Gawd,” I followed up. “Listen to me all high and mighty.” “Still though, what if we had some kind of forfeit if you get it wrong?” “I’m giving you all this advice and you get to be appreciated for your figure while I give you more advice… what if we have a dare if you get it wrong?” “How confident are you that you’ll get it right?”
“I’ll not get it wrong.” She stated determinedly.
“Okay, so we’re clear?” “All I want you wearing is smallest skirt and top and highest heels…. Nothing else…. Okay?”
“What’s the dare?” she asked.
“Are we clear?”
“Yes!”
She practically yelled it, like an irritated teenager.
“Okay, so we’re clear?” “I want you wearing nothing more than smallest skirt and top and highest heels…” She was looking annoyed by now, “…and if you get it wrong then you give me a blow job.”
“Whaaaat?” “Am not sucking your cock.” She looked kinda angry.
“I agree!” “You’re gonna get it right, you said you would.” “Are you gonna get it right?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Well then YOU got nothing to worry about then, do you?”
I was smiling and she was looking uncertain and still a little angry.
“Well, go on then…”
Then she went upstairs to change.
“I think you want to though….” I said as she went up the stairs.
“Want to what?”
“Suck my cock…” I said, smiling from ear to ear.
“Fuck off!”
That wasn’t a playful tone.
Things went quiet for a few minutes and she reappeared at the top of the stairs. At this point all I could see was heels. They were high.
“Go back to the lounge, I feel stupid.” “It’s not like I’m even going anywhere.”
I returned to the lounge and in about a minute, she slowly pushed open the door and walked nervously in to the lounge.
“Wow!” exclaimed I. “Look at you!” She was looking sheepish but clearly buoyed up by the appreciation and attention. “Look at those curves!” “I love this!”
She was wearing a very short black skirt and a vest top plus white high heels. She looked like the dogs, fucking, dinner. Still though….
“Do a catwalk walk…” I instructed.
“Noooo… all you’re going to do is look at me.”
“It’s all I’m supposed to do.” I said while laughing in a good natured way. “Hey, stand on the coffee table, I wanna get a good look.”
She resisted this too but she was standing right in front of me now.
“Ya know what?” I said.
“What,” she replied.
“I think you really do want to suck my cock.”
“No I don’t.” Her tone had changed and was more playful now.
“Oh, I think you do.” “Don’t you like to suck cock?” “Are you one of those girls who’s scared of cocks?”
“No I am NOT!” “I like it.”
“I bet you’re one of those girls who thinks she’s good at blow jobs but only sucks a guy til he’s hard and ready to fuck..”
She was pissed off now. She was caught between telling me I was right and confessing to be a slut. I loved it. So I continued…
“Anyway, I also bet that you’re a cum dodger and you got rules about where a guy can shoot his dirty load… and it isn’t your dirty mouth.”
“No I’m not.”
“There’s a reason why I think you want to suck my cock; wanna hear it?”
“I don’t, but go on.”
“Well, what colour knickers are you wearing?” “Do they match the bra?”
“Why?” “I’m not telling you that.”
“You made a deal.” “You said you’d only wear three things.. and I was clear that all I wanted you wearing was tiny skirt, top and high heels.” “You’re wearing bra and panties too.” “That wasn’t the deal and that means that you gotta blow me.” “Don’t you remember me saying that?”
“Yes.” She was looking at the floor.
“Was I clear about what you should be wearing?”
“No, you weren’t. More indignance.
“Was I inaccurate or did you pick it up incorrectly?” “Did I say bra and panties as well?”
“No….” She was upset and confused now and still looking at the floor.
“Well, Claire, let’s get you to where you should be.”
I reached around her back and unclipped her bra with one hand then, amidst her protest and squirming, pulled the shoulder strap out of her vest on one side and down towards her hand.
“What you doing?” She mumbled.
I stopped after loosening one side and looked her in the ugly face and said, “You’re still covered up aren’t you?” and immediately pulled the other shoulder strap out of the bottom of her vest. She dropped her shoulders. She was overwhelmed and looking more at the floor. Her nipples, which pointed at 45 degrees were very hard. I wondered if she knew.
“Okay so that moved things along..didn’t it?”
She seemed to be seething with resentment. I went around behind her and quickly squatted behind her, put my hands up the sides of her tiny skirt and despite her bending forwards and putting her hands on her hips to stop the inevitable, she was too late. Her panties were around her ankles and I nudged her bum forcing her to take a step forwards out of her panties or fall over.
I stood up and she turned to face me, angry and confused and looking like she was about to slap me. Good instinct, I stepped back and felt a draught on my face as she just missed me.
“I told you, you did it wrong so you could suck my cock.” “Get on your knees Claire.”
She didn’t look like she was going to do it so I put my hands on my shoulders and gently pushed downwards. She didn’t move so I ran my fingers in to the hair at the back of her neck until I had a handful.
“You said you like sucking cock.” “DO YOU like sucking cock?”
“Yes,” she whimpered, “But not like this.”
“You’re right,” I said, “You’re supposed to be on your knees.”
She relented and sank to her knees.
“Is your pussy wet?” I asked as I unbelted and unbuttoned my jeans.
“I don’t know.” She said, watching my intently as I got my cock out.
“It’s your pussy, how can you not know?” My cock was out now. I was wanking it slowly very close to her face.
“You can’t always tell.” She said.
“Okay,” I slapped her face with my hardening cock. “Then slide your right hand down your stomach , inside your waistband and down to your clit.” I slapped her face again with my cock which was hardening fast now. “You see what you’re making it do, slag?”
She complied and I watched her slide her hand down.
“Stick out your tongue, do it now.”
She opened her mouth and stuck it out. I began to slap her tongue with my now hard cock. I looked past her face and saw her part her knees so she could get her fingers to her pussy.
“Let me hear it, let me hear how wet your pussy is.”
It sounded like she’d just pulled her wellies out of ankle deep mud.
“Show me your fingers you dirty slag.”
She showed me the two she’d inserted and there were strings of pussy juice between her fingers. I pushed my cock in to her mouth. “Hold it open, don’t suck yet.” I pushed to test her gag reflex and it was irritatingly shallow. I grabbed both sides of her head and told her to suck.
“There, there, isn’t that better?” “You’ve got a cock in your mouth and I bet you feel better.” She looked at me with mixed feelings, anger, joy, satisfaction, and that lovely subby look that says, “You bastard, you got me to do this and I hate that I love it.” Merry fucking Christmas to me.
“Put your fingers back in..” She started to frig herself and consequently sucked more enthusiastically. She was finding her stride in a couple of minutes and I was ready to shoot my load. Everything had gone according to plan and I’d been thinking about it all day.
I didn’t tell her I was about to shoot my load.
“You’re a slag.” “You’re a dirty cock-sucking slag and you’re gonna eat my load, slag.”
She looked up. There was panic in her eyes. We didn’t have the spit or swallow chat. That tipped me over. I had a vice grip on her head and didn’t let go until I shot my whole load in her head. She gagged looked like she was gonna vom then spat the contents of her dirty mouth on to her vest top.
I quickly buttoned up and belted my jeans and started heading towards the door. She was still on the floor, eyes watering. She’d stopped playing with her pussy and was looking rejected.
“I though you had more advice for me, I thought that’s why I got changed.”
“Here’s your advice, as promised,” I said, “Don’t call me at 11:30pm and get funny with me.”
I opened the front door to leave.
“That’s it!?” “That’s all I get?”
“No, you got a mouthful of cum.” “See ya.” I said as I pulled her door closed and walked to my car.
By the time I got home, I had a vicious facebook message. I replied asking if she’d like any further advice on the matter.
Mckenna
- 20.04.2020
- 41
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