There’s a side to me that I’ve meekly touched upon in my previous blog entries. When I’m being flirtatious and playful I might refer to it as my “naughty side”. When I’m being harder on myself I recognize it as my vengeful side. I am still burdened by a memory of being laughed at by a group of girls when I was much younger. I had been attracting the comments and stares of every male who happened by. Resenting me because they are not me, they taunted me. It wasn’t what they said as much as how they looked at me, like they actually believed they were better than me (ha!). Don’t you just loathe a blatant wannabe!

Since then I’ve gotten my revenge 40,000 times over. I’ve stolen boyfriends with ease, created chaos by caressing a man’s arm with my breasts and lured men in with the horny haze I seem to create with my presence. I’ve gotten my fill, but sometimes I just want more. That’s the explanation I give you when I ask you for a big favor. I am going to a new early morning pilates class every day next week. I don’t want to put the miles on my car, so I’d like to borrow your wife’s car (besides I look way better in it anyway). I can pick it up and bring it back home before she even wakes up. (Lazy women like her just lay on their sub-par asses and try to catch a ride on my coattails!) I just need you to leave me the keys each day in a place I can easily find them. We’re sitting together on your couch; my hand is on your inner thigh as I speak. As you’re contemplating your answer my hand finds its way to your crotch. It then grabs onto your cock (which we both know is my cock) through your pants. I pump it slowly but steadily for a few seconds before you utter “Yes Ashlee, oh god yes!”

On the third night following my borrowing your wife’s car, I call you to let you know that tomorrow I’m going to need it for an extra hour. The truth is I really do not like your wife. I don’t pretend to know her. I only know that she’s married to you and you need me. Shame on her, she should know better. She’s the same kind of girl who laughed at me long ago. You agree to encourage her to take Zzz-quil before she goes to bed and she listens. You’re a good boy for doing this. You passed my test with flying colors.  Now it’s time for your reward.

It’s 4 a.m. when I come to pick up the keys. But instead of driving off with your wife’s car, I enter your home. I’ve been here numerous times before, fucked you in most every room, your dog loves me, etc. But with the lights off and my sneaking in, I admit that I’m aroused. I slowly enter your bedroom after I hear your wife’s ugly snoring from just outside the doorway. You’re fast asleep, lying on your back. I get on my knees at the foot of the bed and begin crawling onto it beneath the covers, gently approaching your crotch. My hand finds your balls. I pull myself closer and bring your cock to my lips. My sucking reflexes are applied as my fingers gingerly strum your balls and you suddenly awaken! You hear your wife’s ugliness, you feel the most incredible wet sensation engulfing your cock, and you don’t have a care in the world. You know, I know, and all of the other women in the world know that I am hot enough to be scorned. Lesser women invariably attempt to emulate me. But try as they might (desparaged pilot fish that they really are!) their ugliness eventually escapes their flaring nostrils or another ill-favored orifice, and always gives them (the copy-cats) away. She wants to be me, because you choose me over her, every time.

I’m the one true goddess to whom men flock. That’s my trophy. She sends you running to me without even knowing it!

Run to me, babe. My arms are wide open.

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