Alexandra twitched her nose as lower left cheek itched. She glanced toward the spot. Something felt very wrong to the Senior Editor of Thin Skin Publishing, but without a mirror to consult, she couldn't see those garish cursive letters loop from i to r to l. That didn't stop her from acting it out the moment the word trailed off with an ending black sweep.
"WOO!" she shouted at the top of her lungs, meriting a shush from one of the very librarians she ostensibly planned to hawk her company's books to. "Tooootally need a drink. Say, you look like you're loaded. Wanna ride this train?"
The 'you' here was a man named Steve. Like many prospective authors, he submitted his manuscript to Thin Skin and got rejected. Unlike many prospective authors, he had a gift for words. A real gift. Maybe not on the written page where he wanted, but in a person? Absolutely. And once he learned the name of the woman who shot him down, he simply had to corner her in the worst public place he could imagine for such a literary genius.
First, he had to make words describing who she was float to the surface of her skin. Few appeared: wife, mother, model, feminist, inspiration, and not surprisingly, bossy. Then Steve worked his magic. Bimbo and dumb blonde melted her brain. Party girl turned on desires to drink and fuck the night away. But it was the word above it that Steve loved most, and jumped on.
"Don't you have a husband and kids waiting for you at home?" Steve asked. "What would they think?"
"I don't caaaaare. If you've got the money then you get this pussy for life."
To say he enjoyed witnessing Alexandra succumb to what she hated most, labels, undersold his feelings. His pants tented at the sight, aided by Alexandra turning and humping her rear against it. Like she was trying to coax out a few bucks and reel him in for wedding bells.
"Labels ain't so bad for a book now, huh? Which reminds me."
Alexandra gasped and smiled. Eyes glazing over with lust, the word 'Bitch' appeared to one side of her chin. The effect was instant.
"Gawd, what does a girl gotta do to get some dick 'round here?"
"Ma'am, this is a library," a nearby patron admonished with a searing glare.
"Well it ain't a fuckin' Wendy's! I'll sooooo smoke some cocks to sell some books. You wanna go first? Maybe you!"
She leapt at the nearest guy and ripped her pants off in no time. Her whorish red lips wrapped around his shaft and slid expertly as any blowjob queen. While her victim tried to push her off, Alexandra fought to stay, and the librarian on duty frantically called for security, Steve innocently whistled and wondered if she would succeed in covering his handiwork with thick globs of cum. And more importantly, what kind of delightfully humiliated and horrified shriek she would emit once doing so cleared her mind of his cobwebs.
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"What... what is... what are you DOING to me?!"
Alexandra twitched her nose as lower left cheek itched. She glanced toward the spot. Something felt very wrong to the Senior Editor of Thin Skin Publishing, but without a mirror to consult, she couldn't see those garish cursive letters loop from i to r to l. That didn't stop her from acting it out the moment the word trailed off with an ending black sweep.
"WOO!" she shouted at the top of her lungs, meriting a shush from one of the very librarians she ostensibly planned to hawk her company's books to. "Tooootally need a drink. Say, you look like you're loaded. Wanna ride this train?"
The 'you' here was a man named Steve. Like many prospective authors, he submitted his manuscript to Thin Skin and got rejected. Unlike many prospective authors, he had a gift for words. A real gift. Maybe not on the written page where he wanted, but in a person? Absolutely. And once he learned the name of the woman who shot him down, he simply had to corner her in the worst public place he could imagine for such a literary genius.
First, he had to make words describing who she was float to the surface of her skin. Few appeared: wife, mother, model, feminist, inspiration, and not surprisingly, bossy. Then Steve worked his magic. Bimbo and dumb blonde melted her brain. Party girl turned on desires to drink and fuck the night away. But it was the word above it that Steve loved most, and jumped on.
"Don't you have a husband and kids waiting for you at home?" Steve asked. "What would they think?"
"I don't caaaaare. If you've got the money then you get this pussy for life."
To say he enjoyed witnessing Alexandra succumb to what she hated most, labels, undersold his feelings. His pants tented at the sight, aided by Alexandra turning and humping her rear against it. Like she was trying to coax out a few bucks and reel him in for wedding bells.
"Labels ain't so bad for a book now, huh? Which reminds me."
Alexandra gasped and smiled. Eyes glazing over with lust, the word 'Bitch' appeared to one side of her chin. The effect was instant.
"Gawd, what does a girl gotta do to get some dick 'round here?"
"Ma'am, this is a library," a nearby patron admonished with a searing glare.
"Well it ain't a fuckin' Wendy's! I'll sooooo smoke some cocks to sell some books. You wanna go first? Maybe you!"
She leapt at the nearest guy and ripped her pants off in no time. Her whorish red lips wrapped around his shaft and slid expertly as any blowjob queen. While her victim tried to push her off, Alexandra fought to stay, and the librarian on duty frantically called for security, Steve innocently whistled and wondered if she would succeed in covering his handiwork with thick globs of cum. And more importantly, what kind of delightfully humiliated and horrified shriek she would emit once doing so cleared her mind of his cobwebs.