24 Inches (Size Matters 2)

I stand fucking 6' 3" tall. I've got broad fucking shoulders and a cut fucking body with defined pecs and a set of 8-pack abs that ripple with enough power to make any man feel inadequate. My eyes are cobalt blue and they penetrate deep into your soul when I look at you.

But you're not noticing all of this if we're in a room together.

Just like Stacy, you'd be salivating as I took off my shirt and showed you my ripped body. Your eyes would look over my defined pecs and 8-pack abs. Seriously, you probably haven't seen that many guys with an 8-pack of abs. Those guys that they have on the covers of other books don't have 8-packs. You gotta train hard to get it. And that's what I do. My body is a temple for fucking.

Yeah, Gorgeous, your panties would be fucking wet and you'd be taking them off.

In fact, why don't you just take my fucking advice and take your panties off right now?

I fucking guarantee you that it will save you the effort later. You won't have to do laundry on another pair.

You might want to also go somewhere a bit more quiet so you can fucking read; you know what I mean?

Get that fucking vibrator out and get ready, because this shit is about to get real. My 8-pack abs are about to start caressing your body as I start fucking kissing your neck.

The party is about to start, so fucking feed your family and go get in bed.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

Although, I don't think I need to warn you.

I know you'd have a bit more class than Stacy did during our interview.

All during the interview, Stacy made no secret of the fact that she was in fucking heat. She wanted to shuck herself on my flagpole.

"So you really are bullish on the market then?" she purred during the interview and I remember fucking smiling. I mean, it wasn't hard to figure out what she wanted all throughout the interview; her eyes were already undressing me the moment I walked in. Sure, it was a boring interview to watch for the viewer, but for me, watching her cross and uncross her fucking legs got me hard. And Stacy could see it. She watched as my cock came to life, began to twitch, and then started to bulge on my trouser leg. She smiled as she asked me, "And what are your predictions about banking stocks in the next quarter?" as she gave me a fucking lascivious stare.

"Very, very hard to keep from rising right now," I remember telling her and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt we were gonna fuck. That's why as soon as she said, "Great, thank you for sitting down with me today, Mr. Kane," I wasn't surprised to see her order the cameraman—who was the only person in the room aside from us—to go get the makeup artist without a second to spare.

Now I'm fucking making her moan like a whore as I pound her pussy mercilessly with my 12-inch cock. I can feel her squirming and her walls closing around me, and that's the cue that she's having an orgasm.

"I'm cumming!" she yells breathlessly, her eyes closed and her face contorted in this fury of fucking lust. "Oh, God. I'm cumming!"

Her entire body is fucking trembling. It's fucking amazing what my cock is able to do to women.

But you know what, Gorgeous? I'm not really into this bitch that much. I mean, sure, she looks okay. She doesn't have the tightest pussy. Her body is giving up. She's not really even much of a fucking nice person. She ordered around people before our interview like she was some kind of fucking princess. And of course, she's just fucking me because she's horny. But she's probably going to go to 21 afterwards and tell all her broadcast journalist news friends that she fucked Mason Kane.

And then she's going to go home to her fucking husband who lives in Connecticut and kiss her kids on the mouth a few hours after she used it to give me a lick-smacking, dirty-as-fuck blowjob.

So yeah, I don't have much respect for her at all.

In fact, I slap her on the ass, hard.

This makes her body tremble even more and probably intensifies the orgasm.

I can feel her pussy milking my cock and I know I'm not going to last much longer.

Fuck, I wish we'd left the camera on. At least that way I'd have something to watch later on in my office.

I glance toward the camera and see it staring at me.

Hey, one fucking second. Is the red light on the camera supposed to be on?

That's exactly when the door bursts open.

"Guys, we're somehow still live and rolling!" the cameraman shouts.

Stacy is in the throes of the last of her orgasm and all she does is whimper. I don't even know if she realizes what's happening.