Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 115(@200wpm)___ 92(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 115(@200wpm)___ 92(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
“As an attorney, I’d advise you to not do that. There’s no way he can compel you to give away your apartment just because he’s hit upon ‘hard times.’ I mean, it could all be a lie. I wouldn’t put it past him seeing that New York real estate is expensive and hard to come by.”
Tanya nods.
“I know. It’s just … well, I feel bad because of the circumstances surrounding our divorce.”
We begin strolling back to our apartments, the noise of the street fair dying away so that it’s just the four of us.
“Why, what happened?” Chris asks in a reasonable voice. “Do you feel comfortable sharing?”
Our girl lets out a sigh, her shoulders slumping.
“Well, it’s that I was too much of a slut,” she confesses in a whisper, staring down at her feet as we walk. “Both of my husbands divorced me for that reason, actually.”
I’m taken aback.
“But did you do something wrong? Illegal, even?”
She shakes her head miserably, still staring at her feet.
“No. At least, I don’t think so. It’s just that I need it so much all the time. You guys have seen how insatiable I am, and it was too much for my two husbands. I overwhelmed them.”
“You mean, they don’t like the vegetables, not to mention the cactus, and the dildos?”
Tanya nods.
“They hated that stuff. They hated the moonlight rituals, the sunlight worship, and called it “fake” and “made-up.” They said I’d been seduced by the “wellness industry” and needed to “get my head screwed on straight.” Whatever that means,” she adds.
I shake my head.
“Damn. They sound like losers to me.”
Tanya shoots me a sad smile.
“They’re not losers. They just weren’t the right fit for me, and as a result, we had to get divorced. Now, here I am at twenty-five without exactly a stellar track record. Actually, I guess you could say I’ve failed on the personal front pretty spectacularly.”
Carl takes her other hand in his own big one as we near the apartment.
“It’s fine, baby. Lots of people get divorced multiple times these days. It’s no reflection on you if your exes were uptight, repressed, small-dick losers.”
Chris opens the door, ushering us into the cool entryway of the building.
“My place?” he asks. We nod and make our way up to the third floor before entering the chef’s colorful apartment. He’s got bronze pots and pans hanging neatly on the walls of his kitchen, as well as a massive collection of knives, and a huge Kitchen-Aid mixer on the counter.
“Do you use that?” I ask, nodding at the food processor.
“Not really,” he admits. “I’m usually so tired when I get back from the restaurant that I eat a PB&J on the couch.”
“Damn. I wouldn’t have guessed that a fancy chef eats sandwiches on his own, but okay.”
Chris shrugs, his expression rueful.
“Hey, at least it’s fast and I get the calories I need.”
I clap his shoulder.
“I get it, my man. I end up ordering from Mickey D’s sometimes because I need the Red Bull after a long day at work.”
Tanya giggles as she opens the food bags we’ve brought home.
“Both of you are ridiculous,” she murmurs. “Besides, you know that I cook and bake a lot, so you should come up and ask me for food if you’re hungry. But in the meantime, let’s have some fun, hmm? I think you know what I’m talking about.”
I pretend ignorance, although of course, I have my suspicions.
“What do you mean, sweetheart?”
She giggles and reaches into the bag before reappearing with a Polish sausage in one hand, and a giant pickle in the other.
“Oh, I think you know what I mean,” she coos while winking flirtatiously at us. “Surely, the shape of my food order gave it away! And the fact that I asked for multiple sausages,” she says.
Chris and Carl literally start growling, their eyes already aflame with heat.
“Why, what are you going to do with them?”
Tanya titters again as she slips out of her top and shorts, leaving her clad in just the tiniest panties and whisper-thin bra. Then, her lingerie joins the heap of discarded clothes on the floor as she settles onto the couch, spreading her legs. Oh shit. The beautiful woman’s already dripping between her legs, her folds wet and moist. Not only that, but her breasts are enormous and creamy, with hard pink tips that beg to be suckled. I make to kneel before her, but she shakes her head.
“Not yet, James,” she whispers. “Because I want to have my fun first.”
Then, the dirty girl hocks and lets saliva drip from between her lips. The long line of fluid drops all the way to her pussy before breaking, moistening her slit, and then slithers even further down until it’s coating her asshole. My cock jerks at the sight, a bit of pre-come spurting into my pants.