”“What’s up?”“Settling a freaked out girl. I guess her article got attacked pretty brutally by her editor.”“Not something you can relate...too.”“I wish they’d picked me apart sometime. I’m not perfect.”“Yes you are.”“Whatever. It’s still not easy for us girls.”“You think it was petty?”“I wouldn’t put it past the asshole. You want to talk to her? She’s a fan.”“Wait. Are you going to invite her over?”“Maybe. She is cute,” she giggled. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind meeting you.”Meaning yes, and. Something that I knew would make my boyfriend want to bury his cock into. Even the thought had made my pussy wet, as I slid the G-string into place. My breathing heavy, I had slipped the tight, black dress into place. My golden brown curls I pinned to the top of my head and my feet I slipped into my favourite pair of slut stilettos. They were too high for practical use, but I secretly relished the use of them when I was dressing up like a slut for Jake, my boyfriend. Everything had been ready.. More

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