Her underwear consisted entirely of tiny, no-seam thongs, and specialty-store, super-heavy duty bras. 32 HH. I didn’t even knew they made such sizes. I could put my entire head inside a cup. Dozens of blouses, pants, and dresses that were so skimpy, thin, and light that they could fit inside a carry-on. Dozens and dozens of high-heeled shoes in all kinds of styles and patterns. A few sneakers and flip flops, and exercise clothes. She would arrive from her job at a marketing company, complaining about her feet killing her, step off her high-heels, and quickly whip up a salad and some precooked chicken or fish. I was so sick after the second time that I volunteer to grill fresh stuff on the small grill on the patio. After dinner, she would go in the bedroom to watch TV or talk on the phone with her girlfriends, while I did the dishes and then studied on the dining table. She would go to bed early. After I would see the strip of light under her door go off, I would have the apartment to. While we kissed, Jason was telling me how hard he was going to fuck my pussy once he was erect again. Pulling away to trail kisses down to his ear I whispered that he wasn't going to fuck my pussy. ’Why not,’ Jason asked surprised and then nodded. He knew my appetite for food was almost as great as my appetite for sex. ‘If you're hungry we can order room service and eat first.’ ’The only thing I'm hungry for is a big cock,’ I whispered in his ear. Nibbling on his earlobe I continued, ‘You're not going to fuck my pussy because I want you to fuck my ass. I knew what time you were going to arrive so I had plenty of time to get ready for a good ass reaming.’ Ass fucking didn't really do anything for me personally but Jason enjoyed it immensely. We didn't do it very often because it's not something I do on the spur of the moment and most of the time we didn't want to interrupt our sex long enough for me to use the enema bag to wash out the ole poop tube. (Oh, come on! You didn't really.
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