CHAPTER THREE
Jason
I enter The Riverton, and look around the lobby. Nice, but not too nice. A fountain tinkles in the middle of the ornate interior, but I can see the furniture’s a little shabby. The bellhop’s uniform was slightly worn, and they don’t have any of the decorations that newer hotels have. No impressive fish tank, no giant floral sprays, not even a fancy chandelier to dazzle your eyes.
But it makes sense. Jennie went off to New York years ago, and while she probably makes a good living, being an editorial assistant is hardly the most lucrative position. After all, the print industry is dying, what with magazines and newspapers drawing their last gasp. Hell, even books are dying although I’ll always be a champion of holding a physical book in your hand, rather than an e-reader. There’s just something nice about that tactile feeling as you turn pages, and then finishing something and putting it down with a sense of accomplishment.
But Jennie doesn’t know that I know this. She probably thinks I’m some dumb high school jock from ages ago who barely managed to get into college and pass. We didn’t really know each back then, and I can see why she doesn’t have a high opinion of me. I used to date girls that were snobby and bitchy, and to my shame, did nothing when they picked on girls like Jennie.
Because back then, my client wasn’t the woman she is today. Back then, Jennie wore baggy, over-size clothes that swathed her figure in loose drapes, making her look like a walking pile of sheets. Plus, if I remember correctly, the girl had braces and glasses, both of which are gone now.
But ten years can make a huge difference, and the female’s a bombshell now. Gone are the shapeless clothes. In are the contacts, and an even white smile, and boom! Jessica Rabbit’s standing where before, there was nothing. Plus, Jennie’s got exactly the type of figure that I crave: curvy everywhere, with big tits and an even bigger ass.
Because I like them round. Call it unfashionable if you will, but I like girls who have a little junk in the trunk. Make that a lot of junk in the trunk. I like it when it jiggles and wiggles while she moans, I like when there are love handles to grab and dimpled thighs that shake as I plow her good.
Because under the cover of my thick Southern drawl and impeccable manners, I’m a dog. I can’t help it. Women are my weakness and I love making them moan and scream, the better if they’re calling my name as they do it. I love women hands down, and that’s why I signed up with Southern Charm. It’s not that I can’t get women. Quite the opposite, they’re practically throwing themselves at me, begging for my attention. But Southern Charm promised to shake things up a little. These women would be buying my affections, albeit only for a night. Once it was done, all contact would be cut off and I’d be a free man to ply my trade once more.
Okay, so it’s a little more complicated than that. The clients sometimes get attached, and I guess that’s natural because I shower them with attention and love. What’s wrong with doing that? A lot of ladies these days crave the attention, and I’m a pro at doing it with grace and ease. It comes naturally and I’ve had a lot of practice, to say the least. But Southern Charm works out well because I only have to turn on the charm (pun intended) for a limited amount of time, before going back to my asshole ways. So this job is perfect for me.
And by no means is this my main line of business. Quite the opposite. Escorting is something I do on the side to keep me occupied. Sure, I’m busy as a movie producer but that industry has its slow times. Sometimes you feast, but sometimes it’s fucking boring. So occasionally, I’ll pimp myself out just for fun. The fee I get is almost irrelevant, to be frank. One movie for me rakes in millions of dollars, and I’ve been doing this for years now. By contrast, each escort outing makes me a paltry thousand or two. A drop in the bucket compared to my real job.
But Jennie presented a weird situation. To be honest, she’s only my sixth client so far. I’m picky, and there’s no sense in going out with old crones or women who are desperate. That’s the luxury of being Jason Morgan. I can turn down jobs, and Southern Charm basically swallows it to keep me on their roster. It’s good to be me.
But again, I don’t like dating women over fifty. Nothing wrong with older cougars, but it’s just not my cup of tea. A saucy forty year-old? Yeah, sign me up. But my age restriction cuts out a percentage of the clientele.
Nor do I like dating women who have that desperate air. I don’t know, sometimes you can just sense it from a mile away. We almost have a meeting before the actual “event,” and occasionally, I’ve had to pull the plug immediately. There’s just something about her come-hither gaze, or the way she’s dressed seductively despite the fact that we’re meeting at a café. It’s the bad news bears, and I’ve learned how to nip those adventures in the bud before they even begin.
So that doesn’t leave me with too many women, and as a result, my “number,” so to say, is pretty low. Jennie will be my sixth client, and she’s exactly the type that I like most. Sassy with a smart mouth, and a curvy body to die for.
Because shit, that body. I keep coming back to it but I could hardly believe my eyes when she showed up at the café. This was the same Jennie Lake from high school? The one who wore sacks to class and had terrible acne? But sure enough, that skin had cleared up and she now dressed to suit her body type, revealing a delectable woman that made my mouth water and my cock harden.
Because that’s the other part about escorting. It skirts a fine line between legal and illegal, and I get why people are confused. Sex for money is illegal. But if you go out on a nice date with a man, and the chemistry’s so good that you end up falling into bed together? Totally legal. So yeah, I’ve had intimate relations with some of my clients, and it’s been sizzling.
But somehow, I can tell with Jennie that it’ll be even better. Maybe even the best of my encounters judging from her body, and as a result, I’ve packed a multitude of condoms. She probably has no idea. Sweet Jennie Lake, with the shy smile and giving ways. She was cute back then, I just didn’t have the cojones to approach her. High school is like jail, and back then the code of the cool kids was that we only went out with each other. Everyone else was shit, especially someone who looked like her.
So that’s my fault. But now it’s time to make it up to her, and with sure strides, I walk across the lobby and press the elevator going up.
Ding!
The lift rushes me to the fifteenth floor and within moments, I’m standing in front of Jennie’s door. Without any hesitation, I rap firmly, and wait for her to answer.
“Hold on!” comes her voice from within. “Just give me a minute.”
I look down at my watch. I’m right on time, so she should be ready. Impatiently, my foot taps. What in the world? I’m not accustomed to waiting for others. Instead, they usually wait for me.
But finally, Jennie opens the door and my breath freezes in my chest because the girl’s dressed in nothing but a bathrobe, cheeks rosy with her hair hanging in wet ringlets over her shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” she gasps, stepping aside to let me in. “I was at the gym working out and lost track of the time. And when I saw the clock, I jumped off the elliptical and ran to my room, but now you get this ….” She said, gesturing wryly at the robe. “Just give me a minute.”
I stride behind her into the room.
“Sure, take your time,” I drawl. “Absolutely no rush.”
And grabbing some things from her suitcase, Jennie scuttles to the bathroom, firmly closing the door behind her.
“I’ll just be a second!” she calls out. “So sorry about this!”
I would have much preferred her to get changed in front of me, but everything in its own sweet time. Lazily, I look around the room. It’s tiny, not much more than a ten by ten box. There’s a full-size bed against one wall, plus a desk, a chair, and then a tiny nightstand. At least they put in some nice artwork, pictures of old Charleston when people drove buggies and wore hoop skirts. Ah, our antebellum past.
But I’m not here to critique interior design. Instead, I’m here to learn more about my intriguing client, so I wait impatiently until Jennie finally reappears, toweling her still-wet hair.
“Sorry about that,” she says breathlessly. “Didn’t mean to keep you waiting. It’s just that working out is such a huge part of my life now, and the gym is like my home away from home,” she says wryly. “So I lost track of the time.”
“No worries,” I say casually, although the very sight of the brunette made my cock jerk in my pants. Because she’s dressed in shorts and a tank top. Nothing revealing, and yet there’s nothing the fabric can do but to show off those glorious assets. Her boobs have to be at least Double Ds, enormous under the soft cotton before nipping into a small waist. And the shorts are cut high enough to show off toned legs with strong thighs and shapely calves. Oh shit. I’m a goner, and mentally, I tell my cock to behave.
But Jennie doesn’t notice any of it. She continues drying her hair while plopping down on the bed.
“Sorry we don’t have two chairs,” she says apologetically, “but I hope you understand why I want to meet here and not in public. People can’t hear what we’re talking about. They just can’t.”
I nod, keeping my voice smooth.
“Absolutely. Totally understand the need for discretion. But next time, sweetheart? Just ask and we can do it at my place. I’ve got five thousand square feet all to myself, and it’ll be good to have a guest once in a while.”
Of course, Jennie flushes immediately. Because what do I mean by “next time”? I’m here as a paid companion, so am I hinting that I want her to hire me again?
But that’s part of my MO. I like keeping the women unbalanced because a little mystery never hurt. So sure enough, Jennie takes a deep breath then, and pulls out her notebook.
“Okay, so where do we start?” she says seriously, tucking a curl behind her ear. “I figure we should write everything down and study it so that we’re prepared for Saturday night.”
I almost laugh out loud. Is she serious? But at the same time, I have to admire her organization and discipline. Most women I know would have jotted things down on a scrap of napkin, only to become lost and befuddled when the night came. So I nodded agreeably.
“Sure sweetheart. Whatever you like.”
Pursing her lips, she writes my name down. JASON MORGAN in all caps.
“Birthday?” she asks.
“January 6,” I say. “And when’s yours?”
She nods before writing her own name down, JENNIE LAKE and adding “March 18.”
“Okay, what else?” she muses, tapping the pen against her lips. It’s adorable, and that plush pout makes me want to press a kiss to her mouth, savoring the sweetness. But we’re still jotting down details and getting to know one another.
“What’s your favorite color?” she asks, still studious and serious. “And your favorite food?”
“Blue,” I say. “And I like sautéed eggplant.”
“Really?” she asks, her forehead creased with surprise. “Eggplant?”
“Yeah, why not?” I say carelessly. “It’s good for you, and people in LA love eggplant. I live in Los Angeles half-time you know. I’m only in Charleston when the mood strikes or if I don’t have projects going on.”
Her head raises sharply then.
“Really? I thought this was your job,” she stammers. “I mean, being an escort.”
I laugh, totally prepared for the question.
“Naw, sweetheart, my real business is movies. I run a production company out in LA, and most of my life is out there. I just come back occasionally to see friends and family, or like I said, if the mood strikes.”
She puts down her notebook.
“So you’re actually a movie producer,” is her slow reply.
“Yep,” I say cheerily. “Shouldn’t you write that down? It’s a key piece of information about me, and we want to be prepared for Saturday.”
Jennie rolls her eyes.
“Jason,” she says slowly. “What else haven’t you told me?”
“Nothing,” I protest, holding my hands out palms up. “We just started, so I haven’t held back. Keep going.”
She picks up her notebook and sighs, tucking another curl behind her ear. But suddenly she sits up and looks me in the eye.
“Maybe we should stop with the stupid stuff about favorite colors and favorite foods. Nobody’s going to test us on factoids about each other. So what do you think I should know about you? What should I know about you so that we can make a convincing couple at reunion?”
Ah, smart girl. She knows that there’s no time to waste with twenty questions, and it’s better to get straight to the good stuff. So I begin.
“Well, we went to Westlake High together, surely you know that. And after that, I was at the College of Charleston, where I got a degree in business.”
“Not film?” she asks curiously, tilting her head to look at me.
“Not film,” I say with a smile. “I’m on the producing side, so it means I’m bankrolling movies, not directing or acting. So business was the right degree for me.”
She nods, biting her lip.
“And after graduation, I headed out to LA without a dime in my pocket,” I say lightly. “It wasn’t easy. There are a billion people in LA trying to get movies made, so I had to start small. I was a logistics guy at first. Movies are like little cities, and I was in charge of organizing the craft table and porta-potties for the set.”
She giggles a little, pink staining her cheeks.
“Are you serious?” she asks. “I can’t see it all. You, Jason Morgan, in charge of porta-potties.”
“Oh believe it,” I growl. “I know so much about those things that it’s disgusting. If you ever need one, just let me know,” I wink.
Jennie giggles again, the tension in the room dissipating. But then she sits up, eyes bright and curious.
“So how did you go from lowly deckhand to the guy on top?” she asks. “And I might add, in ten years? I’m only an editorial assistant at my magazine. I haven’t been promoted in ages,” she says ruefully.
“Well that’s the good thing about movies,” I say. “It’s kind of a sink or swim business, and there are sharks circling all the time. So I had a friend who knew a guy who knew a guy who was making an indie. He invited me to invest, and I put twenty thousand in, which was my whole life savings, I might add. That movie hit it big, and after that, doors seemed to open a lot easier, until I am where I am now.”
“What have you produced?” she asks curiously, tilting her head in the cutest way. “And what was the name of that first movie that hit it big?”
“I’ve produced Wonder Boy, Curtain Curtain, and Ladies of the East,” is my glib answer. “Plus that first movie was named Shazzoo. Not exactly the most catchy title, but it did way beyond expectations.”
“Oh my god!” she squeals. “I’ve seen all those movies. Ladies of the East was my favorite.”
“Most women like that one,” I say, nodding, alluding to the tale of a prostitute from the 1920’s. “But that leads me to you. You said you were an editorial assistant. Do you like it?”
Her lips purse in a funny frown.
“Yes, and no,” Jennie answers slowly. “I’ve wanted to work in magazines since I was a little girl, but I didn’t realize that all the articles I’d edit would be about the best shampoo for shiny hair or how to get your guy back after ten days. It’s a little much,” she says wryly. “I thought for sure there would be some serious articles about women’s salaries or current events, but no. Not at Sophisticate. All we do is fluff articles.”
I laugh.
“So I take it you’re not happy?”
“It’s not that I’m not happy,” she says, shooting me a glance with those caramel eyes. Shit, she’s beautiful, and I want so much to reach over a brush a curl off her cheek. “It’s just that I thought it would be more, you know? I thought I’d be living a slick lifestyle while also doing meaningful work, but instead, I live in a shoebox and edit stories about eyeshadow. A little is okay, but it’s been years of the same now.”
Hmm. Very interesting. So Jennie wasn’t totally enamored with her job, just like most Americans. I get it. I had to do a ton of bullshit crap before landing where I am today, and a lot of it is pure drudgery.
But there’s a difference between putting in your dues and doing the same thing for years while being taken advantage of. So I ventured an offer.
“Maybe I can put in a good word for you,” I say casually. “There’s a lot of crossover in the media world, and I know some publishers. Do you want me to ask about a job in LA, maybe at something more serious?”
Her cheeks flame pink.
“Oh would you?” she cries eagerly. “I’d be so grateful. I just don’t think I can do another article about barrel curls or the newest designer make-up brand. It’s too overwhelming.”
I nod, but already, I’ve sensed an opportunity. Because I didn’t get to where I am without pressing every advantage, and suddenly, the skies have parted and shown me a path forwards. So I lean back in my chair.
“Sweetheart, I’d be happy to help, but I need something in return.”
Her chin snaps shut, the girl sitting up straight.
“Yes of course,” she says seriously. “I’d do anything to get out of this rut. And Los Angeles has always captured my imagination because it’s like NYC but not like NYC right? There’s good weather year round,” she says impishly, “But there’s also serious business out there along with an amazing creative industry.”
I nod. She’s hit it right on the nose. LA is an astonishing place because artists and businesspeople collaborate to get outstanding product together. There’s no place like it on Earth, if I’m honest.
So I nod again.
“Sure, I can think of some people right now that I can speak with.” But then I turn penetrating blue eyes her way. “But I need something in return.”
Jennie blushes.
“I don’t have much,” she warns slowly. “I don’t have much money or many contacts either,” she flushes hot, now embarrassed. “I know I’ve been in NYC but it’s such a huge place that I don’t feel like I’ve gotten very far.”
But the little girl is reading it all wrong because I don’t need money or contacts. I have both of those in spades. Instead, what I want is a taste between her legs, right where her thighs crease so sweetly. And I tell her in plain English.
“Jennie,” I say slowly. “I’m looking for something physical. Something memorable with a beautiful woman.”
She still doesn’t get it.
“Physical like working out together?” she asks doubtfully, eyeing my ripped physique. “I work out a lot now, sure,” she concedes, “otherwise I’d still be the mushroom I was in high school. But you couldn’t possibly be looking for that,” she says, puzzled. “You’re way more toned and in-shape than I am.”
I almost laugh out loud.
“No, sweetheart, not physical in that sense. Physical as in something that requires a condom. Sex, sweetheart. This is an escort service, so don’t you want to use it?”
The girl turns scarlet then, her mouth opening and then closing with no sound.
“I-I’m sorry?” she stammers. “C-condoms?”
“That’s right, sweetheart,” I growl low in my chest. “I want you to get your money’s worth, and I’m ready to provide the services. In fact, I insist on providing the services. It’s only fair.”
She’s still flushing, but I can see that her nips have gone hard, those big boobies trembling from shock and excitement mixed together. She’s so still, and yet she can’t stop staring at me.
And then it happens. I move slightly in my chair, and it slips into view then. My cock. It’s so huge that the tent at my crotch is unmistakable, the massive snake winding around my waist visibly even through the thick denim.
“Ohhh,” Jennie mewls, eyes staring at my jeans. “Oh god.”
And I go with it. Slowly, I unzip my jeans to get some air, and true to form, the monster pops out, deep pink and already seeping from the head.
“See sweetheart?” I ask, lightly swiping a finger over the slit and lifting it to show her how it glistens. “This is how much I want you. There’s so much pre-cum that I’m ready to play right now. But do you want it? Is this something that interests you, Jennie Lake?”
And I can see the emotions flashing through her eyes. Because on the one hand, what the hell is going on? Sure, Southern Charm is an escort service, but at the same time, Jennie never expected to have sex, that much is clear. She thought we’d show up at the reunion, sparking jealousy in the hearts of our old classmates, and then it’d be all over.
Plus, the female’s torn. This is a good girl who’s probably never been bad in her life. As a result, I’m inducting her into the dark side, and shit, but it feels good. There’s nothing like teaching a sweet, innocent thing how to get in touch with her inner slut.
“Try it,” I say persuasively, holding my finger out. “I think you’ll like the way it tastes.”
And Jennie doesn’t move for a moment, merely frozen there, staring at my offering. But something changes in those caramel eyes, the color shifting ever so slightly, and as if in a daze, she leans forward and lightly laps at my finger. Her tongue darts out, pink and soft, and brushes against my digit, lightly tasting the semen.
“Mmm,” she moans, eyes fluttering to mine.
“Did you like it sweetheart?”
Wordlessly, she nods, that caramel gaze so innocent and pure.
“Well then, maybe you’d like it even better straight from the source,” I rumble, slowly sliding my hand down so that it grips the base of my shaft. The pink rod pulses then, twitching a bit as I speak, and Jennie’s eyes widen. “Do you want to try it, little girl? I think you’d like it,” I say persuasively.
My cock is leaking hard now, and I can hardly believe this is happening. Scratch that. This is absolutely happening because scenarios like this are a dime a dozen in my playbook. But there’s something a thousand times better about being with Jennie. Maybe it’s her innocence, maybe it’s her sass, or maybe it’s both of them combined.
And like before, the girl doesn’t move for a moment. She sits there, eyes wide merely staring at my cock, the proud pole jutting from my waist at a ninety degree angle. But I see how her tongue darts out involuntarily, licking against her lips as if she’s hungry. And as if in a slow-motion movie, the girl begins getting on her knees, her lips moving towards my shaft.
But I don’t want her to have rug burns on her knees, not with what I have planned. So before her lips touch my shaft, I put a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes dart upwards, questioning.
“Jason?” she says breathlessly. “Is this wrong?”
I chuckle harshly, the sound coming out strangled.
“Naw sweetheart. Everything about this is right, but I think you’ll like it more if we’re on the bed.” And before she can move, I’ve pulled us both over to the fullsize so that we land in a tangle of limbs, those huge breasts pressing against my chest, her legs locked with mine. Oh shit, I can feel the heat of her core and my cock jerks then, even spurting a little.
The girl squeals looking down at the hot semen on her thigh and I grip her chin, lifting that beautiful face to stare into her eyes.
“Don’t be scared,” I rasp hoarsely. “Just taste it a little, I think you’ll like it.”
And slowly, the girl nods before dipping her head down. Finally, those sweet lips circle the head of my penis and shit! But the electricity that courses through my veins is fucking amazing. She’s a natural, and slowly, Jennie moves more of my cock into her mouth, tracing the pulsing vein along my left side before moving back to the head and pushing her tongue into the tip.
“Where’d you learn that?” I gasp. “Oh fuck.”
My last word is cut off because it feels so fucking good. The girl slowly licks me from base to tip before running her tongue in circles around my glans. My hips buck a bit, cock on fire from her ministrations.
Jennie giggles a little.
“I see you like it,” she purrs low in her throat. “In fact, I see you love it.”
Love is an understatement. This girl is fucking on fire, and as she slips more of my cock down her throat, I feel like I’m walking the road to Heaven. But I’m not going to let her have all the fun. Once she’s got about five inches in, I swivel her body around, her mouth never leaving my dick so that the girl’s above me, her thighs on either side of my head. Slowly, I maneuver those shorts off until her pussy’s mere inches from my mouth clad in nothing but the tiniest panties.
“Fuck,” I grunt. “you’re so wet.”
Because it’s true. Jennie’s panties are soaked through now, the light pink dark and sodden with her juices. The aroma of aroused pussy wafts around my head and I feel almost dizzy with arousal, she’s so wet and scented.
But I want this to be good for her. I don’t want to be a monster, ripping her panties to shreds during our first time together. So slowly, I inch a hand up her inner thigh, caressing that soft whiteness.
“Mmmm?” she mumbles, lifting her head slightly. But I press her back down, forcing her to stay on my cock.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll make this feel good for you. You’ll love it, I promise.”
And with a gentle finger, I trace down those lips, stopping to nudge at the wet spot. She mewls then, writhing a bit on top of me.
“Mmm!” she gasps on my cock, unable to speak. “Mmm, mmm!”
“Oh, I know what you want, sweetheart. Trust me, Daddy knows what you want.”
And with slow fingers, I pluck the crotch of her panties away from her cunt and strap them over one big butt cheek. Shit, even that sight is unbelievably arousing because her ass is huge and creamy, and it’s so fucking dirty to have her panties pulled to the side showing me her everything.
But god, her cunt is hot. Those lips are puffy and fleshy, her clit so big and aroused that it pokes out from between her folds. And with no hesitation whatsoever, I lean forwards and run my tongue along the base of her clit, tasting her there.
“Mmmmm!” she squeals from down below. “Oh mm!”
“That’s right, sweetheart,” I rasp. “We’re doing some dirty sixty-nine, and I’m gonna make you feel good.”
With that, I dive into it. I lap up her left pussy lip, pausing before licking down the right side. I pull her vag open to look at the steamy pink and then flick my tongue against her hole, enjoying the creamy taste of pussy cum in my mouth. The girl squirms on my face, her cunt already contracting a little.
“Mmm, mmm!” she squeals again.
And without replying, I’m back at it. I sample her folds, tonguing her hole as juices gush down my throat. I alternate between sucking and licking at her clit, her hips writhing on my face in pure ecstasy.
But what I didn’t count on was Jennie’s skills because this entire time, she never stops sucking me. Her little mouth is determined and even as her pussy’s being loved, the girl sucks harder and faster, her mouth moving up and down my fuckrod as we drink each other’s juices.
And incredibly, I’m the one who loses control first. This hasn’t happened to me in ages because usually I’m the one who controls exactly when and where I come. I can wait hours, or mere minutes, if that’s what I want. I can make a woman beg, and keep her on her knees for half a day, if that’s what suits my fancy.
But there’s something about Jennie that’s different. She’s irresistible, what with the questions, her innocence, her desire, and now this. That sweet slit drips into my mouth as I tongue the interior of her channel, dying to get inside.
And that’s it. I’ve overestimated myself. Because with a roar, my cock jerks once before spewing full force, jets of hot, virile sperm gushing into Jennie’s mouth as she gulps furiously.
“Unnnh!” she cries out, keeping her lips in a fast suction around my rod. “Unnnh!”
“Oh shit shit shit,” is my growl. “FUCK!”
Because it’s never felt this good before. Her steaming cunt is inches from my face and I dive in for another taste even as my balls unload themselves in the sweet girl’s mouth. And like a pro, she doesn’t let anything go to waste. The girl swallows and swallows, treasuring every drop of seed.
But I don’t want to come alone. That’s unheard of. So quickly, I niggle her clit with my tongue before biting hard on the small nub. And that does it. Jennie goes plummeting over the edge, her pussy spasming and clamping on my mouth.
“Mmm!” she squeals again, still trying to swallow in the meantime. “Mmm!”
“Fuck baby,” I rasp. “Yeah, give it to me. Come all over my face. Let your little pussy go.”
And shit, but Jennie has a good time. Her pussy squirts a bit of warm jucie onto my chest and emboldened I stick my tongue into her hole again, encouraging her to do it again. As if obeying, her pussy squirts a bit more, but this time I’m ready and I catch it in my mouth, drinking her cum.
“Shit shit shit,” I rumble into her folds. “You taste so fucking good.”
So that’s how I seduced my creamy client. Well, maybe seduce isn’t the right word because once Jennie was on a roll, she was like a little whore, creaming and jerking on my face while drinking my sperm. But all I know is that it was fucking good. The mousy, overweight girl from way back when has become a bombshell with sugar between her legs … and I only want more.