“I want you to write my story. Your way.”“Do it,” she calmly announced, “or you’re all fired,” fixing the surrounding crows with a steel... glare. The dollar signs flashing in their eyes changed to panic at the thought of losing their meal ticket. They caved abruptly. She smiled sweetly and turned to me.“Tomorrow. One PM. Don’t be late,” she exclaimed, rhyming off the expected cliché of a Laurel Canyon address. She was gone before I could utter a word of protest. The fact she expected me with. I am slipping away.Soaking. Writhing. Moaning. Burning. I need Legolas.I reach for my 8-inch dildo, Legolas, and graze my fingers over his length, stroking him, admiring him. My mouth craves him and I slide him in, licking him from base to tip. Savoring him. Sucking him. Reluctantly, I withdraw him and he dips underneath the bubbles in search of his comfy home. I guide him between my legs, letting him explore my lips and my clit, before resting him at my opening. I give his tip a taste of my. 1999. Late summer. The beginning of the year for school teachers. I was on my way to the chemistry class I taught when I was stopped by a curvy, petite lady wearing a white tunic with little red flowers on it. She had pale skin, shoulder length blonde curly hair, and gray eyes. With a very soft voice, she said “Hi, I’m Dawn. I’m the new art teacher. I was wondering if you could help me find the supply room.” She then explained that it had been a few weeks since her interview and that she had. "Judith looked around at her family. I'd just put the onus on her. I could have told her that she wasn't choosing between me and them, but for some reason I didn't. She took a breath. "I accept." Duly recorded." The AI popped in from nowhere, as usual. Judith stumbled to me and we cuddled and kissed and fooled around and you'd have thought it was a wedding instead of her selling herself into slavery. Well, it was, more or less...When we broke and people started coming forward to congratulate.
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