I’d spent a lot of time cultivating my hair stylist, Tabitha. I’d listened with sympathy to her tales about her on-again, off-again relationship with a guy. She knew about my deal with NN and seemed interested. Indeed, one Saturday–while giving me a blow job (my hair, guys)–she agreed to stop by my place to pose, after her shift was over at the salon.

Tabitha arrived and told me that she’d stopped off at home to get her favorite toys. “Okay!” I thought. So, we had a couple of glasses of my favorite pinot and I set up my camera. Then Tabitha dropped the bomb. “Don’t get any ideas,” she said. “You’re not gonna even touch me. I’d feel funny about that seeing as how you’re such a good customer of mine.” Fuck! So she posed, had a loud, wet orgasm, used the bathroom, took her envelope, said, “See ya!” and left. I felt cheated, abandoned and extremely horny.

Now, I have to find a new hair salon. See, I’d find it hard sitting in the chair with Tabitha’s clothed cunt about a foot from my face, seeing as how I’ve seen it wide open and all juiced up. Am I wrong?]]>

“But having said all that, I love romantic dates,” said Sara. “If a guy takes me to a restaurant with dim lights and lots of atmosphere (and real good food, too) and really pays attention to me, he’ll get me so hot that I’ll hardly be able to stop myself from blowing him under the table. He’ll certainly get a night of wild, passionate sex that he’ll remember and want more of! If a guy’s good at sex, meaning that he pays attention to what I like and works at getting me off, he’ll find that I’ll be ready to screw him at any time and just about anywhere ’cause I love sex!”]]>