His strong hands around my neck. His blue eyes looking down on me as I sucked on him. His gaze told me I wasn’t as much a women as I was a sex objec.... The look of pleasure on his face was a look of sternness. Ready to punish me for being a bad, bad girl. We met him in a dimly lit bar. I was wearing my most refined whore outfit: tight black pencil skirt with a high slit, tight back top, and sexy black pumps. He was tall. So very tall I wondered if maybe his cock would be too big for me. I liked. I make a mental note of telling her something about it later on. As I brush her hand away, I notice blood trailing down from a mean scrape. "Ow," she hisses as I make contact with her skin. "Here, hold on," I start to look for the first aid kit. Having found it, I return to kneel down in front of her. Her skin, I notice, is rather soft to the touch and quite warm. I finish putting the band aid on. My fingers, however, seem to have forgotten their manner and linger on her leg. I look up at. More

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