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Mile high and more with Kim... and Larry and Kelly

Did that mean she liked it? No way! She rubbed away the sting and that felt good, too.

Ivy sighed as she felt the memory of her shitty boss and equally shitty day slipping farther away. The void was filled with the more pleasant thoughts that she might one day find a man as well-toned and eager as the men in these stories. She kept her eyes on the digital page as she sensed Roger stepping forward and standing just out of sight. Roger-the-Banker, who sat behind his customer service desk, sometimes on the phone and sometimes not, who always seemed to catch her eye as she pushed through the double-hung glass doors. Roger-the-Banker always offered her a warm smile as she walked a deposit up to the stand of tellers. They had never spoken. They existed for each other as pleasant smiles. But he always had a smile for her on her way to the tellers and back from it. As if he was looking at her from the moment she walked into the bank and until the moment she left. Did his eyes track her entire route? Did he sit behind his desk and stare at her backside? Ivy often thought about turning around quickly enough to catch him. She didn't. She didn't dare. What if he was looking? What if he was staring? What if Roger took advantage of his desk's placement to ogle her?

Ivy swiped to the next story, barely remembering how the couple in the last story had made love. She remembered it was hard, intense and reported as mind-blowingly perfect for both people. It was everything a fantasy should be. She started the new story and was glad the author didn't linger over extended descriptions of person or place. She was ready for more, for the hot stuff, for the hardcore fucking and not the silly dialog or tension building of who was whom and why they were doing it in the first place. Men had movies and pictures. Women had hot descriptions that didn't need a set-up after a certain point.

Roger was going down her. No, that's not right. The guy in the story was named Greg or Jeff or something, wasn't he? Ivy scrolled back and found the name the author wanted to use: Geoffrey. Yes, that's better. Geoffrey was going down on . . . She scrolled back again: Madison. Okay, good. And Geoffrey had a big, hard cock. Geoffrey's cock was as big and hard and needful as the hard cock Roger kept hidden beneath his desk as Ivy sashayed past him every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Ivy ran the tip of her finger across her panties. Why was it possible for a person to masturbate and not possible for a person to tickle themselves? If she did it with a light enough touch it almost tickled. It almost felt as if someone else was lightly raking their fingertips over her panties and asking for more. That sensation alone was reason enough for keeping her pubic hair shaved. It was a sensation that wouldn't last long before her body caught up the lie but it helped. She felt her clit aching and knew she was in the safe zone. She slipped her finger inside her panties, touched between her lips and felt her warmth and wetness. Yes, she was safe. The fun had begun. She shimmied out of her panties.

Last night she had had the dream again.

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