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Not that she had anything against the gay lifestyle, or those who practiced said lifestyle. She just wasn't into that. She loved men, and she love their bodies...how well cock fit into cunt. Yes...she needed a new boy toy as well, and while she wasn't fond of whoring, she might have to strike up a conversation with this gentleman.Fingering the remote control in her handbag, she wanted to be able to hit the 'increase' button at a moment's notice. She wanted to let this good looking guy she was ready at a moment's notice!Heading straight for the section of lingerie, she found a nice red lacy teddy. She knew it would fit, and she also knew she'd look damn hot in it. She also grabbed some of her favorite flavored condoms (a girl could never be too prepared). She liked the flavored ones, since she always used her mouth to put them on. Browsing through the store always made her horny...even more so than she was before she left her apartment, if that was possible. She found her favorite. "Bringing his hand up to block his mouth as he nodded toward the hovering helicopter, he whispered, "Shush, Baby. They can hear everything we say." Good. Then they know that you have a horny wife on your hands," she said with a laugh as she stared at the helicopter.Jeff glanced at the copter. Shit, I know they're laughing their asses off about now. Diana is always so prim and proper when she's around Security, then she does something like this. I don't understand... Diana jerked his hand as she tried to get him to move, and with laughter in her voice, "Time and orgasms are a-wasting, Husband. You can practice tearing down trees later." Yes, Dear," he drawled out, then, "Oh, shit, that hurts," he yelped as she pinched his side again.He saw the helicopter wobble the slightest bit, and was certain the wobble was caused by the pilot jiggling the stick as he laughed.Shit, he thought, darkly, They'll probably be showing the video in the rec hall tonight. He almost told the pilot to delete.
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‘If you want to test that theory, be my guest,’ Eugenia said, a confident smirk returning to her face. ‘Down at the pub, one of the locals took a shine to me, and it just so turns out his name is Mr. Ralph E. Edgecombe. Ever heard of him?’ ‘No,’ Betty said, unconvincingly. The truth was that she had heard of him, but she wished she hadn’t—he was a journalist infamous for his eviscerating, defamatory articles. Although considered yellow by some, she knew his influence on the street remained formidable. ‘Oh, well you should worry about him. I know enough about you, your house, and your family to fill a book. In fact, I might do just that.’ ‘What do you mean?’ Betty shouted through clenched teeth. ‘Y’know all those dirty commoners you never have to talk to? Maybe even the ones breaking their backs in the yards every day, so’s to keep people like your dear ol’ father stinking rich? Well, they believe everything Mr. Edgecombe writes. Those that can read, anyhow, and the ones who can’t.

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