Hard Worker
Hard WorkerOver the years I’ve worked really hard to get to
the top, sacrificing everything to become what I am
today, but it’s paid off. I’m one of only three female
vice-presidents in our company, and I’m making a ton
of money. Unfortunately, that’s all I have to show for
my hard work. Money, and the by-products of money.
Nothing else. No husband. No kids. Not even a steady
guy. Just a nice apartment, a Jag sedan, and a great
wardrobe. Sounds great, doesn’t it, but it isn’t. It just
isn’t enough. I need sex, and lots of it, and when I get
horny, I don’t want some politically correct suit to fuck
me. I want a real man. Or group of men. You know
the type. Construction workers. Truck drivers. Bikers.
Guys who know how to give me what I really want,
which isn’t a fucking “relationship.” What I crave more
and more these days is hard cock and lately, the more
the merrier.
Like last weekend. After a bitch of a week, I
went home, took off my conservative corporate
clothes, and put on my hunting outfit. I’m a brunette,
but when I’m after sex I wear a silvery blond wig, lots of
heavy eye shadow, rouge, and the sexiest clothes I
can find. Usually, like last weekend, I put on a see-through
blouse, with no bra, a black leather jacket,
black leather micro-mini skirt, black garter belt, black
stockings, and red bikini panties. Also, when I’m looking
for a hot fuck I never shower before going out. I like
my pussy to retain the sweaty essence of a long day at
the office, and just to add that last little tinge of
seductive aroma, I don’t bother wiping my pussy after I
pee, either. I like the damp feeling the last few drops
of urine cause in my panties, and I know damn well the
men who eat me like it, too, because they’ve told me
they do.
Anyway, as I was saying, last Friday night after
work I got all dolled up in my slut clothes and went to a
bar located in one of the more dangerous
neighborhoods of the city. The place is frequented by
guys who got there on Harleys, or in pickup trucks, not
in fucking Porsches or Beemers. I walked in and for a
moment conversation stopped. There were maybe
thirty or so guys in the place and I was the only broad.
I loved it, especially when I heard the guys making
nasty cracks about me as I walked up to the bar and
ordered a longneck beer.
My pussy was tingling, and when I hopped up on
a bar stool and spun around, crossing my legs so my
red panties were showing, I almost had a little orgasm
just from exposing myself like that. It didn’t take more
than thirty seconds or so before one of those nasty
looking bikers came up to me and asked...
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