Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 46943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
So my fingers skimmed over the keys, impatiently strumming when suddenly inspiration struck. I needed laundry detergent. I hadn’t been able to locate any despite pawing through mounds of stuff and had given up finally, spending the evening on my soiled sheets. Or more accurately, the sheets that Tucker and I had covered with our love stains. The cotton was saturated with our sex smells and I’d rolled around in them naked, breathing in the scent of the big man, his woodsy, masculine musk, pretending that he was there with me still. Okay, you got me, I did more than that. I pressed my nose to his semen stain, the circle of dried cum and inhaled deeply while frigging my cunt, pretending it was Tucker’s fingers touching my plush lips. And I came all over again, my snatch creaming wetly as I shrieked, legs scissoring wildly on the bed, losing it as my pussy pulsed and spasmed, driving me to the wildest heights. Yeah, Tucker did that to me. I’d come all over again just from smelling his semen because I’m a dirty, nasty girl.
But I only wanted more now. So I punched in the name of a laundry detergent, just a regular brand that you could pick up at the local bodega and pressed “Checkout.” My computer whirred and then the words “Delivery Accepted” popped up, with a countdown ticker. Oh my god! Tucker was going to be here in fifteen minutes, that was barely enough time to get ready.
I hurried out of my work clothes, pulling off the shapeless blouse and struggling out of the tweed wool skirt. Yeah, I’ve put on some weight recently with the divorce and ballooned a little, all my clothes are a little tight now. Unfortunately, a new wardrobe wasn’t in the cards, that would cost hundreds, if not thousands of dollars, and I didn’t have any money to spare. Fuck. I was going to have to watch my diet to make sure I had stuff to wear. Hate that.
But my cheeks flushed because Tucker had liked my curves, devoured them like candy yesterday. Oh yeah, he hadn’t minded that there were handfuls of flesh spilling everywhere, my thighs dimpled and sweet, my ass huge and bountiful. And you know what? There was still one item of clothing that still fit me perfectly. Shoes. Oh yeah, even with the added fifteen pounds or so, my sexy heels were still perfect, elongating my legs, the four inch stilettos making me feel powerful and desirable.
So I slipped on a pair of red peep-toe pumps, real fuck-me shoes if you saw them, patent leather and sky high. Pursing my lips, I stared at the mountains of boxes before me again, half-heartedly sifting through a pile of boring work clothes, stained jeans and flannels, and an armful of raggedy lingerie. I didn’t want to wear it, truth be told. A lot of the clothes were uninspiring, all of it musty-smelling from being packed away, most of it worse for the wear, grimy and wrinkled.
But oh wait, there was something that would be perfect. I peered into a monster sized box, plunging my arm into the darkness and managed to snag a hip-length faux fur jacket in black. Yep, no wrinkles on this and the fur was really soft, even a little oily, just like the real thing. There’s no way I’d ever buy real fur even if I could afford it, but I’d come upon this gem at a consignment shop and forked over the two hundred dollars because it was sassy and hugged my curves just so.
I modeled it in the floor length mirror propped against the wall. Oh yeah, you could see my little cunt poking out just below the hem, my smooth shaved lips already glistening with desire, my meaty thighs thick and strong. And with the red peep-toes, all I needed now was a slick of red lipstick and I was ready to go. Pulling out a tube of Revlon’s Vampiress, I outlined my lips, pressing them together to saturate the color, then slowly licked them for a glossy, glistening effect. Perfect. I was a seductress waiting for my man, a vixen in heat.
But as I turned this way and that in the mirror, waves of doubt began welling up inside. What was I doing? Was I, Laurie Holmes, a regular office worker, really doing this? Was I really sexing it up, wearing nothing but a fur coat and high heels to seduce my delivery man? Suddenly I felt unsure of myself, really insecure. Maybe my curves were too much, maybe I was coming on too strong, too eager, and it would drive Tucker away, turn him off in disgust
But then I steadied myself. Down girl, I calmed myself, that’s not it. It’s the divorce that’s doing this to you, making your emotions rush around, making you play games in your head. Get a grip, you’ll be fine.