That's Not What I Meant! Right?

Spread my legs. Let him slide in between them.

God the man is so broad and fat would he even fit? His cock is probably thick and fat and he'd stretch me out, but would I even be able to take him?

I'm so tiny, in all the best ways.

He's so big, in all the wrong ways.

Fuck.

No. Wait. Fuck.

Fuck, I wouldn't fuck Jake. I wouldn't fuck Blake. I wouldn't fuck guys that I'm attracted too, why would I with him?

What is fucking wrong with me?

"So don't fuck me then," I blurt out, blushing and then stammering as I go on, "You're right. I would be a fool to fuck for that little money, even if I am ****. So maybe I don't fuck you. I mean I shouldn't, right?"

"I'm not one to fight against my own interests," he rubs the bald pate above his forehead and shrugs, "But I have to agree."

"So don't fuck me," I say, "We can do other stuff. I can do other stuff. For you."

Moving without thinking about it, because if I dedicated too much thought to it I'd probably have second thoughts, I push off the door as I release my shirt. One hand free I slide it forward, slipping onto his knee and then up onto the broad thickness of his fat jean clad thigh.

Fuck. It might be my imagination but he even feels greasy.

Still I bite my bottom lip and I hike my knees up under myself onto the seat so I'm kneeling looking at him. And I fix him with my best puppy dog eyes while I slide my other arm under my breasts and press them up a little from beneath so they look fuller as I pout at him.

"I can do... things..." I mumble.

His eyes narrow again and I push forward with my hand on his thigh but he catches it with his hand. His stubby fingers and his fat palm wrap around my wrist as he stops me, and his words come out in a growly grumble.

"What's the game here?" he asks me.

"I don't want to get in trouble," I explain.

"How do I know you're not fucking with me? Trapping me?"

"Trapping you how?" I ask, pointing out the simple truth that, "I came on to you. I stripped down. I've tried to get you time and again. If this was a trap, it'd be an awful stupid one. I'm the only one who has anything to lose here.

"You've been good, a perfect gentleman. You've tried to stop me and I kept pressing. So what are you guilty of, exactly?

"No wedding ring on your finger. No need to feel like you're cheating, as far as I know. You gave me the option to call this off and face the consequences and hell, you didn't even come up with the idea.

"I'm the... the... the stupid whore here. You're not even taking advantage. You're just reaping the reward."

I see him start to nod the more I speak, my words making sense to him. He starts to believe me and then... then he starts to open himself up to the possibility.

"So what then?" he asks.

I bite my bottom lip, "What do you mean?"

"You've sold me, darling," he smiles lasciviously, "Services paid for services rendered. I'm going to let you service me. The only question is what do I get?"

My mouth falls open a little as I realize that this is really happening and he laughs slow and cruel at that.

"Oh shit, sweetheart," he teases, "Yeah you get your wish. I've already agreed, so now we're just negotiating over how far you're willing to go."

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