She stirred, as if to leave.She stirred, as if to leave. As she got up, she noticed a stack of photographs on the bedside table. Before I could stop her, she picked them up and began to leaf through them. "Mmmm, dynamite-looking Fox! I can see that I'm not your first Working Girl. Who is she? I don't think I've seen her around before." "It's me. I like to dress." She stopped dead. Her chin dropped and her eyes grew wide as she went through the stack, alternately looking at the photos, then me. When she had finished, a sly smile spread across her lips. She pushed me down on my back, straddled my hips, impaled herself on my now-rock-hard cock and rode me for all I was worth. She gently raked my chest with her long fingernails as she softly spoke to me. "No Lover, you don't just "like" to dress. You LOVE it! The woman in these pictures proves that. You dress to turn men on, to make them hot for you, just like a pro. You make ME hot, just looking at your pictures. No girl looks that good by accident. Now, Honey, tell me what you REALLY want. What was it I saw in your eyes at the bar? TELL ME!" "You're right. I love to dress as a woman. I love to be sexy, provocative, sluttish. I have always wanted to know what it's like to hook for a living; to pick up a stranger, take him to a room, take his money, and fuck him senseless. I saw you tonight, and I saw the "me" I have always wanted to be. I want to know how it feels." Cybil's eyes gleamed as she took in my words, as if some plan had crystallized in her head. She smiled her seductive smile and rolled over until she lay beside me, still gripping my cock tightly inside her drenched pussy. She pressed her lush body against mine and continued to rhythmicallly pump my fuck-pole into her. |