The Biggest Licker

That's the sound that reverberates throughout the room as my hand makes contact with the fleshy ass cheek of Cindy.

Why did my hand make contact with her ass cheek?

I think the better question you want to ask yourself is why Cindy, my intern, is bent over my desk. Why her panties are casually strewn on the floor, and her short little skirt unzipped and on the floor. Why my pants are around my ankles with my fucking boxer briefs.

And why is my cock going in and out of her at a furious clip, making her gasp and moan like a fucking whore.

Don't roll your eyes at me, darlin'. Those moans coming out of her mouth are positively whorish.

"Oh fuck yeah, baby, fuck me just like that," Cindy groans out right at this moment. See? I told you. Is that the way younger interns talk to their managers nowadays? Is that just the new culture for kids these days?

Then, to leave no doubt in mind, she lets out a loud, "Unghhh, your cock is stre

tching my pussy out so good."

I seriously can't fucking make this up. Instead, I focus on pistoning my thick cock in and out of her.

Don't be shy. You can take a look if you want. Yeah, that's my cock. All men have them, so you can stare. But make sure you open your eyes wide, baby, because while all men might have cocks, they don't have what I'm packing down there.

See how it's slicked with pussy juice? Well, that's because my cock has literally ravaged Cindy's pussy with pleasure. In a few more minutes she won't be able to do much more than grunt and groan. She'll be a quivering fucking mass of flesh because of my cock. It's 12 fucking inches of lust muscle. Pussy pleasing power. Fuckpole.

Whatever you want to call it, I got it.

Of course, if you were in this room, you'd be staring at my cock and touching yourself. But you know what would really be getting you taking off your panties and sitting down on the couch across from my desk, spreading your legs and showing me as you stroked your pussy?

My fucking body.

I'm 25 years old. Blonde haired. Piercingly blue eyed. Washboard fucking 8-pack abs. Perfectly fucking sculpted body. Rugged face. Broad shoulders. I look like a fucking God amongst men.

And, no, I'm not being arrogant. I'm being real. I mean, look around you. I'm Sloane Hardman. CEO of Hard Times, the most efficient and leanest venture capital firm on the East Coast.

I built this company with my bare fucking hands. Every fiber of my being is infused into the walls of this firm.

So yeah, I'm definitely proud. Of my accomplishments. My immense wealth. My body. My cock.

Everything.

Get you a little wet there, darlin'?

Because everything that I just described—everything above—I use to give women the greatest pleasure they've ever experienced in their lives.

One fuck with me, and you don't just give me your fucking number. You ask for my autograph. You end up proposing to me. Because you'll never be treated the way I'll treat you. And not just the sex. Everything.

There simply won't be anyone else in our universe. It'll be just the two of us. No one else. And every single action will be focused on giving you the most intense pleasure you've ever experienced in your life.

Every. Single. Time.

That's how you'll get addicted. You won't be able to stop. You'll forget everything else. If I told you to quit your job, drop out of school, move to another city—you'd do anything just for me.

I'm fucking serious.

But when I stop answering your texts, you'll start to call.

When I stop picking up your calls, you'll visit my work. Camp outside my condo. You'll spend the night in Central Park to catch me as I walk out of One57 in the morning.

What you won't understand is that I don't do relationships. I won't do just one woman and stay there.

The funny thing is that I'll have told you this at the beginning. That's right. I'm not a complete fucking douchebag. I'm not going to lie to you—promise you the world or anything like that.