The other day I was lying on my bed contemplating whether or not I should reorganize my lingerie drawers. Just as I had made the decision to get my lazy ass into motion, one of my girlfriends called (saving me from actually exerting myself). She asked me what I’m attracted to most in a man. At first, I thought she was going to tell me about some to-die-for guy that her beau knows (umm, no thank you), but it soon became apparent that the catalyst for her asking me this question was that she desperately hoped that I would ask her the same question in return. I was bored as fuck, so I appeased her.

Her list of desirable qualities that she insists upon include that he be handsome, athletic, have a high income, be intelligent, etc. I suppose her demands are not all that uncommon, but I think it speaks volumes about her insecurities. She basically wants a man who makes up for where she thinks of herself as lacking.

Call it arrogance (or reality), but I think of myself as above being so precarious. I know that I’m smart, hardworking, sweet, and of course, hot enough to make you pull down your pants and pump your cock at my leisure. What I want in a man is someone who wants to be with me.

He can have riches and looks galore, but if he isn’t all about me, then I can’t be all about him. I don’t require a guy who subordinates himself to me (though that has its positives too). I just need to know that I truly do it for him and that he’s willing to make me a significant part of his life because of it.

Are you like that? If you’re unsure, ask yourself if you’re turned on right now? If you are, then you know the answer. To ensure that you answered correctly, just look down at your cock. We both know that your erection answers to me, baby.

So what are you going to do about it?

Listen to your cock, my love.

When you arrived at the park you had no idea what you were in for. You pulled up in your car already sporting an erection from the anticipation of seeing me. You didn’t question why I asked you to wear gym shorts and a tee shirt, figuring it was just because we were going to take a nice, romantic walk on a gorgeous spring afternoon. Instead, when you arrived, I immediately threw you a resistance band and told you that we were going to work out.

My body is only partially God-given. The fine tuning (being flawless) takes work. My smooth creamy thighs, my perfectly round ass, and my taut tummy all are the product of hours upon hours of putting the effort in at the gym. No pain, no gain as they say. Today, I say, “No pain, no orgasm”.

I’ve already been at it for 30 minutes but my energy is more than high enough to enjoy a workout with you. We start with sit-ups, then running in place. You’re able to keep up but when we get to push-ups you’re beginning to struggle. I motivate you with some smiles and little reminders of what your reward will be later. When we graduate to shoulder presses, I can see that you’re ready to give up.

You’re standing up, pushing those dumbbells up into the air above you. I get on my knees behind you. You shudder when I place my hand on your thigh just above your knee. It’s enough of a jolt for you to send the weight straight up over your head. The palm of my hand climbs your leg, moving inside. I duck it under the elastic of your boxer briefs. My fingers find your scrotum, which I gently fondle. Suddenly, I can hear you breathing heavy, both from my arousing you and because you’ve found your second wind.

For the next 30 minutes I play with you like this. You start to falter; I use my powers of persuasion once again to energize you and you impress both of us. Finally, when I’ve had enough fun pushing you, you collapse to the ground. I let you lay there for a moment before summoning you to your car, “Babe, let’s go. It’s time for your cock to get a workout.”

The shot of adrenaline that thinking about fucking me produced came on quick, but was short-lived. By the time your car pulls into your driveway, you’re lethargic again. I sense this and think fast, taking off my sports bra as we walk towards your front door. “Holy shit, Ashlee! The neighbors will see.”

“Then move quickly, babe. Let’s get naked. We need to shower.” You fumble around looking for the key. My spandex shorts are on the ground before the door is opened. I throw my arms around you as we enter your house. I reach for your cock and massage it through your thin gym shorts. You try to pull me to the couch in the living room, but I resist. I insist that we shower first.

In the shower, I soap up your entire body as the hot water beats down on us. I worked you hard today; this is your reward. You stand there, tired, horny, and increasingly impatient. I turn you around so that I can lather up your back. When I get to your ass, I rub in-between your cheeks with the bar of soap before dropping it, causing a thud sound. My middle finger traces the crack of your ass from the top down. When it gets to the bottom, you feel it sneaking its way between those tight cheeks. Soon it shoots straight up, deep inside of you. Your whole body convulses as your interior muscles tighten around my finger.

I spend the next several minutes dishing you intense pleasure by finger fucking you. I press my soapy tits against your back, wrapping my free hand around your chest. I kiss the back of your neck, driving you even wilder. “Oh, Ashlee, I need you!”

“That’s what I needed to hear,” I say as I pull my finger out of your slick ass. I kiss your neck once more as you feel my hand reach for your cock. It’s as hard as a lead pipe. I run two fingers back and forth on the tip and play with the head before gripping your shaft. I begin to pump; you begin to moan. Soon your breathing stops. Your hips lunge forward as you try to fuck the steamy air. My hand is pumping fast now as a gusher of cum shoots out onto the shower floor.

You fall to the ground as the water is still raining down on you. I step out of the shower to get you a towel and when I return, I turn the water off and wrap you in it. I take you by the hand and walk you to the bedroom. I tuck you snugly into bed, kiss you on the forehead, and softly utter, “Thank you for being such a good boy today, baby.”

“Good boys always get their reward.”

Monday morning, you’re just getting settled in at your desk in your home office. You’re waiting for your computer to boot up when I text you. “When will you be done working today?”

“Around 5:00 p.m. I suppose. Why? What’s up?” you reply.

I decided to just pick up the phone and call you. I explain that I really want to give you a slow, erotic hand job. I’ve been fantasizing about it for days now and I like the thought of experiencing your cock after you’ve already been turned on for a while. When you’re already aroused it’s raging hard, the head is a proud shade of purple, and the rim is ultra-sensitive to my touch.

“Meet me at the supermarket downtown and text me when you’re in the store.” For the rest of the day you find it impossible to focus on work. As you replay my words in your mind, it makes it tremendously hard to think straight.

You attempt to make a few calls and try to occupy yourself by checking your emails to ensure that nothing is blowing up whilst you are enthralled in your own tawdry thoughts. They announce on the news that the stimulus will be arriving in a few weeks. However, you are far more excited about the stimulus that I’ll be delivering much sooner!

At 4:59 you’ve already logged off for the day, staring at the clock, silently cheering for the final 60 seconds to arrive faster. When the clock strikes, so do you. At lunch time with your wife you planted the seed for your needing to brave the apocalypse and run to the market when your work is completed. She wanted to come with you, but she backed down when you insisted that it’s safer for her to just stay at home (pfft).

You weave through traffic like a champ, taking a huge chance on getting a speeding ticket. At last, you’re at the store and you text me find out where I am. I reply and tell you that I’m in the single stall handicap rest room and to knock twice when you’re outside the door.

I open the door for you a few moments later and you pounce on me like a cheetah. Our lips meet for a passionate kiss. I feel your hands feverishly roaming my body. Your erection is pulsing against my stomach because you are so much taller than me. You start to lift my blouse up when I stop you. “No, babe, I’m here to give you a hand job. That’s how I want to make you cum today.”

You don’t protest in the slightest as I reach for your belt. I pull it loose and ambush your pants. I start to struggle with the zipper when you try to help me out. “Babe”, I giggle, “I got this. Let me do it. I’ve been dreaming of taking your cock out myself! The last thing I want is to be denied that privilege.”

I crouch to my knees as I pull your pants down to your ankles. I feel your hand on the top of my head, as you jockey for position to steady yourself. I pull your boxer briefs down and your hand gently motions my face towards your engorged cock.

I take the head into my mouth for just a few seconds and leave my saliva dripping off of it. To your disappointment, I stand up. I see the deflation in your face. I kiss you again. “I want you to stare into my eyes, baby. Please don’t close them. I want you to watch me.”

I place my hand in the middle of your chest and gently push you backwards against the tiled wall. My right hand finds your cock again. It’s as straight as an arrow, and as hard as stone. I wrap my fingers around the meatiest part of your shaft. Your cock is a very impressive muscle when you’re fully erect!

It’s throbbing in my hand even before I start to jerk it, and jerk it, I do. I slowly pump your dick back and forth. I gradually speed up as I strengthen my grip around your girth. Our eyes remain locked the entire time, as I work my knowing hand to its full potential. I can tell what you’re thinking just by your glaring gaze. You’re horny as hell, then ravenous, and then finally, you’re beaten. You no longer have any will whatsoever, as my hand delivers the ecstasy that’s been consuming your brain power all day.

Your stimulus cums immediately with me, lover…

It’s time to call me and claim it!

It’s morning. I wake up first and feel your semi hard cock resting snugly between my thighs. Last night was wonderful. You are wonderful. I love us.

I rub my legs together ever so gently. I’m trying to see if I can get you fully erect before you wake up. My movements work, as your cock comes to life. I’m about to roll over to nudge you awake when I feel your hand creep around me and cup my tits. You kiss the back of my neck as you press your erection forward.

We spend the next 20 minutes or so passionately fucking our brains out, then collapse and go back to sleep. This is our life together. This is how we start most days.

I sometimes wonder what my life would be like if you won the lottery. I imagine you buying your own island off the Florida Keys or some other tropical place. It would be our island. We’d visit the mainland to go out to dinner, go dancing, or shopping. But when we get home, the clothes come off and almost every room has a couch or big comfy chair in it to facilitate our naughty interludes.

At night you build a fire on the beach. We clink wine glasses and toast to our life as we listen to the night sounds. I ask you to go fetch more wood and build the fire up huge, like a small bonfire. When you return with the logs I’m lying face down on a beach blanket. I’m kicking my legs back and forth in anticipation. You toss the wood to the ground. “Ashlee, I need you right now.”

“Hang on, baby. First you have a fire to tend to.” You plead with me, insisting the fire in your cock was burning hot enough. “I’m not hearing it though”, I reply. To work you go. I lay on my belly as I watch you at work. Not sixty seconds later, I hear a whoosh sound. A huge flame leaps up as the fire comes to life.

“You cheated,” I say as I point to the bottle of lighter fluid in your hand. But you’re not listening. In a flash you’re upon me.

I feel you spread my legs apart and then your cock penetrates me as you let out a moan that could wake the neighbors on the next island. Your hands grab my hips as you lift and pull me back towards you. You don’t last long and soon your body convulses as you empty your balls into me.

You roll me over, yank my thighs apart and bury your entire face between my legs. You tease my clit mercilessly as you flick it with your tongue. I thrust myself against your face as tightly as I can. You continue tongue fucking me so hard that I start to scream as the ecstasy of my orgasm rushes through my body. “OMG, I love being your island girl!”

Call me, babe. Let’s have sex on the beach.

In this fantasy of mine, your entire world has taken an enormous turn for the better compared to how things were going for you not long ago. A good friend of yours landed a spectacular job and recruited you for a much higher paying position than you previously had. You finally summoned the motivation to focus on your health more. All of the hours at the gym have at last paid off and you are now the proud possessor of muscular arms, broad shoulders, and calves that stop women in their tracks when you’re donning shorts.

Your significant other situation has also changed and you find yourself living a drama free life as a single man. Life is sweet and it seems that an abundance of possibilities have been dropped right on your doorstep. Only one thing is missing. That trophy to tell the world how successful you are and how far you’ve come. You know where this is going, don’t you, babe?

We’re on the phone together one night and I mention to you that I need to ask you something; but I want to wait to pose my question later, after I’ve made you climax. I explain that I have a big ask of you and I want you answering with a clear mind. You encourage me to ask right away, but I insist on waiting. You lie on your couch, while we proceed to engage in small talk for a little while before you tell me that you simply can’t keep your cock in your pants any longer.

You wrap your hand around it tightly as I take over the call. I begin to penetrate your mind, touching all of your pleasure zones with the right word here, and a sensual moan there. You don’t last very long and soon a warm and plentiful gusher of cum emerges from your beautiful cock. You catch your breath, and then remember that I wanted to ask you something.

“Will you be my boyfriend?” I ask. The fact that I just asked you this question is so incredible that you honestly can’t believe it. You’re so stunned that you actually ponder the possibility of whether your mind could actually be playing tricks on you. I repeat myself. The second time that you hear it, you wonder if I’m up to something. How could you win the lottery today when you never even bought a ticket?

But it gets even better as I begin to explain the perks of you being my boyfriend. “I don’t just long to be your girlfriend. I want you to wear me like arm candy, your personal trophy for the world to see. I know how hot I am. I know what it will do for your ego and how it will shape the opinions of the others you value in your life. I want to do this for you, babe.”

You are completely gobsmacked. You say “yes”, but you’re still shell-shocked and can’t really fathom what’s happening. “I just want to reward you, to please you, to make you happy, sweetheart. You’ve always gone out of your way to please me. This is my way of repaying you. I’d also like to strut around your friends and colleagues wearing low-rise jeans and a see-through top. In fact, I would love to lock eyes with other men just so that I could rebuff their stares, leaving them insanely jealous of you when they fail to draw my attention away from you. You’ve worked so hard, baby. Let me be your reward.”

The thought of me being your girl is exhilarating. But then you realize that we hadn’t discussed the benefits that would be bestowed upon only you when we are all alone. The thought of waking up next to me sends a jolt of fire through your loins.

You imagine what it would be like to awaken to having your cock being played with by my two hands. It’s all lubed up, and I’m stroking up and down with steady pressure, as I feel your hard muscle strengthening my delicate fingers.

You think long and hard (yes, pun intended, my darling) about the head of your cock becoming a vibrant shade of periwinkle, as it swells to an unprecedented size. Then, when our eyes meet, you drink in my smile. It thoroughly intoxicates you. Next, I wrench my hand around your girth a little tighter, you arch your head back, and thrust your pelvis forward as a colossal explosion of cum erupts from your cock. The thought of all of this happening before you’re even one foot out of bed seems too good to be true.

It’s not over yet though; you open your eyes to discover that your hot load has splattered onto both of our bodies. My hand is now drenched in your cum. I use my cum-filled fingers to pleasure my pussy. The feeling is so intense that I let out an involuntary groan as I unleash my warm pleasure all over myself and the sheets beneath me. After we both regain our composure, I lean down and wrap my hand gently around your shaft to squeeze out those last few precious drops.

You look down at me and see the remainder of your thick cream trickling down my cheeks like little, white, shimmery tears of joy. I reassuringly say to you, “Yes, baby, I sincerely do want you to be my boyfriend.”

“Call it the will of the gods, call it whatever you like…

But today, you really did win the lottery without a ticket!”

They say everyone is Irish on St. Patrick’s Day. In some ways it reminds me of New Year’s when even the most boring, homebody types occasionally will venture out past 11 for a night of debauchery. I’m not Irish, but I do love the idea of a day where everyone goes out with a plan to get drunk.

When I was coming of age I was definitely one of the cool kids, but I was always happy to hang out with the not so cool kids who didn’t have exciting social lives as well. It was on St. Patty’s that I really established myself as the queen bee reigning over all of the worker bees.

By my sophomore year of high school I knew everyone who was anyone, and the entire school knew who I was. A beautiful face on a chesty girl is noticed by all: male, female, student, teacher, and parents (especially fathers).

I was not a tit bully, the kind of girl who lords her superiority over girls with smaller cup sizes. But I was certainly accustomed to holding court among my peers. When I got to high school I started hanging out with an older crowd. At first, I was in awe of how cool the older girls were, and how macho some of the guys were.

I was a 14 year old freshman when I started dating a senior who was the football captain. We broke up before my sophomore year. After a year of swimming with the bigger fish, I no longer wanted to be just one of the cool girls. I wanted to assume leadership, and there were definitely a few who saw me coming. They undermined me, trying to keep me out of the loop on the big parties, but my male audience never forgot to invite me. I soon realized that they were my golden ticket to ascension.

On St Patty’s, the basketball team threw their annual end of season shindig. They called it their “March Madness” party. As a freshman, I was still intimidated and a bit uncomfortable there. As a sophomore, however, I arrived with a plan. I made a point of flirting with several different guys, asking each one if they knew what time the wet t-shirt contest was supposed to start.

That’s all it took to ensure that there would, in fact, be a contest! The buzz had started, and the drinks were flowing. Finally, one of the senior ball players announced it, asking who was in. I, unabashedly, stepped forward. No one else did. No one else dared.

One of the older bitches called me a skank, generating a few laughs from her lackeys. I was ready though, and said aloud, “I will take off my top and let all of you soak in a nice long look at my wet tits. But first you have to take that envious one over there,” I said, pointing to the jealous girl who just mocked me, “and escort her to the sidewalk.” The room stood silent. “Boys, I promise you that I will wait for you to return before removing my top. But you do need to deposit her out on the sidewalk before you can completely indulge in me and my tits.”

The following Monday, I floated on air down the hallways of my high school. No girl misunderstood my powers. I had the most beautiful set of tits anyone in the school had ever seen and I just declared how much I knew it. I wore tight blouses and let guys see them bounce as I walked. I showcased cleavage that shook male teachers into giving me grades that I hadn’t even earned yet. (Although, I was more than capable of earning my own grades because my brain is just as powerful as my breasts are!)

A couple of weeks later, when another less attractive girl attempted to offend me, I allowed her boyfriend to suck on my tits. After he did it, I told him if he ever wanted to suck on them again, he needed to tell his girlfriend what he had done.

Next week is St. Patty’s. I encourage you to go out and have fun, babe. Eat, drink, and be merry. Then once you are horny as fuck, call me so that we can have our own little soirée. I see it as an annual celebration of my tits. They are beautiful, they are part of who I am, and this week about 15 years ago, they made me queen of the world.

Call me, my king…

I’ll show you all that this naughty queen is willing to do to retain her coveted crown!