the Truth

Deciding against your hesitations you admit that you're reporter yourself. Whatever reaction you've expected it pales in comparison to the ecstatic smile that appears on Ceilidhs face upon hearing this. Her mouth drops slightly open and her fingers grab a tight hold on your shirt.

"Fuck, it's perfect!" She exclaims, leaning in for a frantic open-mouthed kiss. You barely have time to consider her reaction before her tongue is running over your lips, her hand moving op your neck to grab a fistful of you hair, pulling you deeper into the kiss. Her mouth is hotter than a furnace, her still open shirt leaves her perky B-cups pressed insistently against your side. She keeps pawing at you, exploring your body with her hands as she does your mouth with her tongue.

When she finally pulls back she's flushed, panting and practically beaming. Then self-awareness seems to hit her and suddenly she lets go and leans back; shyly tucking some of her hair behind her ear and fixing her shirt. She doesn't bother closing it, but she smooths out the creases and makes sure that her nipples are covered (barely) which only serves to make her all the more tantalizing.

"So.." She says and clears her throat, as if that can wipe the dopey smile off her face, "are you writing about this town? Omigod! I can help you with your piece!"

She leans in and absentmindedly places a hand on your thigh, "So is there anything you want to know? I mean I know a lot about the town like the people and places and traditions and.."

She looks down to where her little finger is barely grazing your rock-hard erection, straining helplessly against your jeans

"Ooor.. I could just give you that blowjob first.."