CASSANDRA GORGEOUS

I am one half of a whole: I am a top girl without a good bottom.  Oh I know I have my pick of men as Cassandra.  But throw out all the severely misshaped, disfigured, smelly, unclean and/or massively over sized buttocks, and I’m really just left with a handful.  No plans to add to the roster, either.  All it will take is one more straight guy who wants to get fucked but doesn’t douche beforehand.  No more surprises, please.  In my precarious state of mind, I *will* jump off the Golden Gate Bridge. 

Don’t get me wrong, a blowjob more than suffices 95% of the time.  Silver Fox is on his way over in a few hours and I will be well taken care of.  I love my BJ dates.  But at least once a week, a top girl needs to be inside a manhole.  I need to be inside.  I need to feel it.

It’s even worse lately, because I feel the need to *make love.*  My crush on Gym Boy is driving me nuts – not just my animal instincts but also a need to express tenderness.  There are so many things I want to do with Gym Boy.  I need an outlet, damn it!  But not just any outlet.  I can’t stick it in just any hole right now because that would leave me feeling really disgusted.  When you feel the need to make love you need the whole package, don’t you think?  I want to kiss someone, cradle them in my arms, pull up one leg so it drapes over my hips as we lay intertwined.  I need to slow it down.

I also want to charge money for it.  If I’m doing it as Cassandra I am not getting emotionally involved.  It is important to take money (not only because I can), but because it’s the surest way to separate sex from intimacy.  So, potential customers — you will love me because I will never be that crazy psycho bitch who boils your rabbit when you’re out of town.

To summarize: I need a nice booty, and not just a nice booty but a booty attached to a man I’m very attracted to overall.  In other words, a Top Shelf Booty.  And I need it to be CLEAN.  And I need to take money for it.

What I’m about to tell you is not very kosher.  Some part of me know it perhaps wasn’t the fairest thing to do.  But I was thinking about Gym Boy all day yesterday, and then I rang up Mister Skin Head.  Do you remember him?  The shaved head tall guy with tattoos and a cock that reminded me of a slab of pork tenderloin wrapped in cellophane? 

He’s been to see me a few more times since I first wrote about him.  It’s fireworks every time.  He would text me for days afterwards reliving the intensity of our date.  Judging from his outfits, I don’t think he’s rich (and probably far from it).  I know he is into my shit, and he comes to see me when he can.   Thus, I don’t text him, because I’m not a cruel person.

But I couldn’t help it yesterday.  I tell myself all I did was text him to say hello to see how he was doing.  Maybe calling him baby was a bit suggestive.  But he came over and was under my covers in half an hour.  I thought about asking him what he did for a living.  Then I thought I shouldn’t want to know.  It’s really not my business whether he can afford me.

Mister Skinhead got the benefits of all my pent up passion for Gym Boy.   Thinking about it now, I don’t feel bad at all for taking money because he REALLY got what he came for.  Can you imagine a TGirl really making love to you, from beginning to end?  Damn if I could do that every time with every customer I could conquer the world.

Don’t worry – it wasn’t like I superimposed Gym Boy’s face on top of his or anything cheesy like that.  I was in the moment with Mister Skin Head.  I’ve always found him sexy.  And, because he doesn’t need to be tied up, raped, or rendered helpless in any other one-way fantasies, I actually had an interactive sexual experience with someone I really dug.

He came while riding me.  I’ve noticed this is his preferred way of coming.  He is polite to a fault: when I ask him which position he liked the best he always says he liked them all.  But I can tell when he straddles me — that feels the best for him; he comes right away.  This last time as soon as he took me out of him he curled up into a fetal position next to me.  It was an unusual sight to see a grown man retreat into such a child-like state so immediately.  He looked up at me with these puppy eyes that said he wanted to be held. 

I pulled the blankets up over us and then I cradled him.