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I asked Veronica. She said that if I worked out some maybe that would change. Oh, and some plastic surgery might help. And I should try wearing clothes with labels that didn’t read Abercrombie and Dork.” “Anyway, they announced an amateur strip contest. Not sure why they bothered. I was the only guy in the joint without a bare chest, it being stylishly covered with my Abercrombie and Dork T-shirt. Counting bartenders in briefs and shot boys in jock straps, I quickly calculated that there was an average of 0.375 pairs of pants per guy in the place.” Josh was real good in math, it had been his major. “Veronica told me to enter,” Josh added. “Obviously, it was a hopeless cause. She talked to the owner, who grinned. I was entered whether I wanted to or not. “I won. Seriously. No working out, no plastic surgery and kept the wardrobe by Abercrombie and Dork.” Josh was quite pleased with himself. “The owner announced me as ‘Josh, the straight fuckable ass with the fish over there.’ Nobody. She sucked hard, and I saw stars, the intensity of my building orgasm threatening to burst. I moaned and keened, grasping her lustrous hair in my hands as she slowly sunk to her knees, kissing me all over my stomach, biting lines down to the top of my skirt, pausing only to nudge it down. Frantic now, she removed my skirt over my hips and pushed it down to my ankles, leaving me in thigh high stockings and heels. I wasn’t even wearing underwear. I could barely stand and my knees shook violently as she breathed on my pussy inhaling deeply, blowing out, watching my already swollen clit leap out, begging to be touched. She ran her hands from my ankles to my hips, stroking and caressing the soft skin of my inner thighs, kissing the backs of my knees lightly, making me dizzy with desire. My pussy was dripping, screaming to be touched. I tried to stroke my clit, tried to force a hand between my legs but, with surprising force she held them at bay. This game was clearly on her terms. She.
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