Mr. President

She's something different.

Still, it’s too bad that I won’t get to hire her. After she left I found that she was Destiny Renee, the owner of the famed Dirty Destiny, and I almost fucking choked on the whisky I was drinking when I found out she used to be a porn star. I’d like to tell you that I was a complete gentleman and that I didn’t look her up online but… Yeah, that was the first fucking thing I did when I heard the word ‘porn’. I found some of her videos and, holy fuck, is she hot.

Yes, okay, I found those videos and I fucking jerked off to her. It took me maybe 5 fucking minutes to cum, and I came hard. She’s got a tight fucking body and I sneer to myself thinking of all the ungodly things I want to do to it.

I mean, remember how she looked perfect in that tight dress she was wearing back at Python?

Right, that does nothing to what she looks like fucking naked. I only realized just how perfect she is when I saw her on the computer screen. Her heart-shaped ass seemed like just the right fit for my hands, and her tits are so perfectly round that I was almost salivating while watching her fuck.

And the way she fucks… Where do I even start?

I don’t mean to brag, but I’m a fucking beast while between the sheets. Sadly, I never found a woman capable of matching me… Until I saw Destiny’s videos. My first reaction was a simple one: I have to fuck her. And my second reaction was an even more obvious one… I stroked myself until I came, and let me tell you one more fucking time in case you didn’t believe me, or you moved on—I came in gallons.

I did it in my office, and fine, I did it again when I got to my apartment.

And you wanna hear the best part? I didn’t even remember when was last time I had jerked off. You know, there are dozens of willing women every night at Python, so I never really feel the urge to go on a date with my hand. But when I typed Dirty Destiny into my browser, well, let’s just say that what followed was inevitable.

Ding! the elevator suddenly chimes, forcing me back to reality. I take one last look into the mirror as the doors slide open, and then I start walking toward the bar. She chose 230 Fifth Avenue for our date-brunch-thing, and it seems like a fitting place. I don’t come here often, but it’s a nice place; there are always hot fucking women lounging at any given time.

I scan the place with my eyes and, just like I told you, there are at least twelve scantily clad fucking women I wouldn’t mind taking for a spin perched on the seats. But Destiny’s nowhere to be found. I walk through the place and head toward the bar near the terrace, and there she is, sitting by herself. She’s talking on her cell phone when she sees me.

I walk up and, wasting no time, sit across from her.

“You’re early,” I say, and she just smiles at me, placing her cell phone back into her purse.

“I always like to arrive fashionably late, but I opened an exception for you today. Of course, that means you’re paying.”

“Sure. But I always like to get my money’s worth,” I grin, and I can already tell that I’m going to have fun. Maybe brunch wasn’t such a bad idea.

She’s looking at me.

Holy fuck, are her eyes travelling up and down my body? Is she thinking about how she wants to fuck me?

I match her back, my stare settling on those round swells of her tits and that slender waist.

We eye each other like two boxers in the ring.

It’s not even an awkward silence.

It’s like two warriors getting ready for fucking combat.

When the waiter comes, we both order something, but I don’t fucking remember what and I’m telling you that it doesn't matter.

Because I’m fucking mesmerized by her long legs, and by the way her clothes seem to hug her curves so perfectly. You wouldn’t believe the effort I’m making just to avoid reaching over and just grabbing those tits.

“So, I don’t think you’re going to take me up on my offer,” I start, and she lets out a bright laugh. The sound of it is enough to make my cock twitch. In her videos she’s always moaning and screaming, and she has a voice perfectly designed for that.

“What offer? The management job?” she asks me and I nod. “I don’t think so,” she responds, plucking one strawberry off of one of the trays the waiter has brought us.

I watch as she brings it up to her lips and opens her mouth, sticking her tongue out and placing the strawberry on top of it. While she’s doing this, the gears inside my head start spinning and I can’t stop imagining how it must feel to have her smooth lips wrapped around my shaft. I’d give a lot of money to turn my cock into a strawberry right now—if twelve-inch strawberries existed, that is.

“I have a lot on my plate right now,” she continues saying, and I almost ask her if she wants my cock to be one of those things. Of course, I don’t do it; I’m not a fucking savage 24/7.

“Dirty Destiny is a handful, I’ll take it?” I ask. She smiles, realizing that I’ve already figured out who she really is.

“Handful is the right word, yes,” she says, and then lowers her voice. “But I do like to keep my hands full.” Fuck, she’s playing me like a fiddle. The moment she finishes speaking I’m already imagining her small fingers curled tight around my hard cock.

“Maybe I could help with that,” I find myself saying, unable to stop the words from leaving my mouth.