We all know pretty girls are everywhere. Have you ever walked through a mall or a supermarket or, gasp, a college campus? There’s so many you could float a battleship on them. But what good is a pretty girl if you can’t do anything fun with her? I don’t want to just look at them like a statue or a fabulous car I can’t drive. I want more, much more.
I’ve always thought the most compelling pretty girl is the one who isn’t afraid to get dirty. Sweaty. Get tied up. Get defiled. The kind that lets you use them as a cum receptacle. Those ones that let you contort and abuse them, make them cry as you make them “prettier”.
Here’s a fact I learned early on about this business, this specific narrow genre I find myself in: One never expects the pretty girl to have little or no limits. To be the one who gives the most. Nine times out of ten the prettiest girl will be the one with the most limits. Who is unwilling to let herself go. She’s just too lost in her own prettiness. Barf.
I wish there was an Easy Button for that.