Whatever Your Heart Desires

I had never had a problem with men before I met my husband. I never allowed men to become a problem. Throughout high school, college, then after, men flocked to me. Tall or short, muscular or slender, boisterous or introverted – I attracted them all. I made them crazy with desire for me – and still do. I am not a saint. I am not ashamed to use my looks, sensual sapphire eyes, long, shapely legs and killer body to get what I want. My many admirers have called me everything from "boy toy" to "sexpot" to "drop-dead gorgeous" to "suicide blonde". I don't mind a bit. If I ‘used' men along the way to advance my career (real estate), provide creature comforts, or to just have good, nasty sex, well, they used me, too. Whenever things started to get too complicated, or when I simply got bored, I moved on to the next. I offer no apologies and have no regrets.

Then I met Danny Davis. I am not going to sit here and tell you he was or wasn't my type because my ‘type' had two arms, two legs, and a nice, meaty cock to fill me up and make me cum on demand; everything else was negotiable. Danny had all of that, packed on a firm, slender, five-foot-seven-inch frame. I learned during the obligatory, ritualistic ‘small talk' phase of our mating dance he was a freelance writer. With his long legs, he had been a natural for Cross-Country in high school and college. He continued to run after graduation, which, later on, helped explain his phenomenal endurance. I have a taste for pretty people and Danny was very pretty, more than any man had business being. Those glittering, seductive green eyes of his could swallow me up without a trace. I just had to have him – and did.

You always hear men brag about their ability to ‘go all night'. Danny just did the deed. As he was ripping the clothes from my body, he purred he would give me "whatever your heart desires." I desired a lot – and got it.