Unlimited Sexual Favors
Cephalgia and MJ
You know, I'm not the type to objectify women by using them as mindless sexual objects in my daydreams and nightly fantasies. I'm not. Matter of fact - what sexual fantasies? I do not indulge so.
I don't! Honest. If I have a moment of weakness and succumb to the siren call of daydreaming in the midst of a busy workday, I can assure you my head is not filled by wanton visions of female flesh.
I, my dear readers, am the type who imagines strolling down wind swept beaches of white sand, holding hands with the love of my life who is actually a nurse or a pre-school teacher and is wearing sensible sandals and long linen pants. There might be a kiss or two exchanged, timid expressions of our gentle and everlasting love for each other and our cats.
Yup-ah. Just like that. And I most certainly do not, as some might dare intimate, produce in my head graphically explicit home movies about my straight next-door neighbor. I do not imagine minute details of the arch of the back of the woman across from me on the train ride to work. I would never try to visualize the traffic cop without her clothes, just standing there in the street, motioning for me to come through…
I leave that to professionals. And then I read about it.
Which is why, dear readers, I would point you to the direction of Cephalgia and MJ's new story. Not because I would dare insinuate that you are the types to enjoy that kind of ungodly, hot, sticky smut, but simply to point out to you to what arousi- erm, disturbing lengths certain people will go just to describe all different ways in which one woman can sexually satisfy another.
Many different ways. Many different times. *And* there's honey involved…
But, folks, I'm a professional so, please, DO NOT READ THIS AT WORK. I mean it. (Wooooo!)