Ftv Girls Video - What To Expect From Ftv Violet?

The WRB Club, Part I
By: Inn_cognito
Jon was fucking his blonde MILF in the next stall. I leaned back against the toilet seat as the blonde MILF’s redhead friend sucked my dick. She looked up at me with her green eyes as if to ask if I was enjoying myself. I ran my hands through her soft hair and pushed her head down my dick. I take it that she considered it a compliment because she started to pick up her pace. I could hear the MILF’s stifled moans and Jon’s muffled groaning in the next stall. I had to stifle my own groaning as my new friend swirled her soft tongue around my cock. I could see her fervently toying her pussy, making herself a wet mess for what was about to come. And come I did. She swallowed every last drop of my semen.
"Holy shit," I whispered to her. "You didn’t have to that."
She winked at me. "Its ‘k. I don’t want to ruin my make-up. You still good to go?" she asked, tilting her head and licking her fingers clean of her pussy juice.
My eyes went wide. I stroked myself hard with the gusto of a young teen discovering porn for the first time in his life. She smiled at me and mounted my dick. She slipped off the straps of her dress and played with her breasts. She licked her nipples and shot me a glance.
I took the hint.
I cupped her breasts in my hands and rolled her hard nipples between my fingers. I wanted to motorboat her tits, but I decided against it. Instead, I settled on sucking on her tits, flicking my tongue across her nipples. She held onto my shoulders as she gently and slowly rocked her hips back and forth. She threw back her head and gave a quiet and breathy moan. In the stall next to us, the blonde MILF wasn’t even attempting to stifle her cries as she neared her orgasm. I held onto the redhead’s hips as she rocked faster and harder. As I neared my second climax, I wondered at the situation unfolding before me. Here I was in a gentleman’s bathroom stall, fucking a gorgeous redhead. I bit my lower lip hard, scrunching up my face in blissful agony as I tried to control myself from cumming.
Holy shit, I thought. How the hell did I get myself in this mess?
I suppose it all began when I met Jon at a private golf club a couple of weeks ago. I was out with my boss for what was supposed to be a lunch meeting (which ended up with him playing a few rounds of golf while I enjoyed the club’s bar on his tab). Jon was chatting up a very attractive brunette at a booth. Incidentally, I bent down to fix my shoelace when I saw the brunette stroking Jon’s cock underneath the table. I shot straight up and caught Jon’s stare. He winked at me and continued to talk to his lady friend. Mother fucker winked at me while he was getting a hand job.
While waiting for my boss, I couldn’t help but observe what Jon was doing. Jon was a slim guy and, at least from what I could tell, he worked out. So what? I worked out too. Sure, my gut was kind of flabby; but that’s why they call ‘em love handles. How come, then, was he getting hand action from this stunning chick, while I’m stuck waiting for my boss? The brunette had unbuttoned her tight pink polo shirt, showing off her cleavage to Jon. I had noticed the absence of both her hands, which she kept underneath the table. One hand for him and one hand for her, I assumed. I watched her turn beet red and observed how her breathing became more noticeably shallow. One hand came up and she licked her finger. She got up from the booth and led Jon away. Before they left, Jon looked back at me and winked at me again. The smug bastard knew I was watching and was rubbing my goddam nose in it. Still, I couldn’t help but watch the brunette’s tight ass sway in her white miniskirt, Jon in tow.
After my boss finished up his golf and congratulated me for a good meeting, I met the brunette at the entrance. I tried my best not to stare; really, I did. Yet, I kept trying to steal glances at her, as if expecting her to tell me all about her sexcapades. She caught me staring.
"Excuse me? Do I know you?" she asked me. She peered through a pair of designer shades and raised a brow at me.
"Just, uh. I’m just waiting for my boss…" I replied, rather meekly. Her response threw me off. I didn’t know what to expect, but I suppose I should have expected her to be a bitch. The club was pretty fancy and way too rich for my blood.
Ms. Bitchy Brunette shot me a death stare and moved away. She crossed her arms and I noticed something very peculiar about her hands. My boss came out of the club. I went to address him, but he went directly to Ms. Bitchy Brunette.
"Sorry honey, did you wait long?" he asked her. It was odd, seeing my boss act like this around her. This was the man who fired twelve people the day before Christmas and ten more after New Year’s. Yet, he acted as if this woman was a ticking time bomb and a single sudden movement would blow it up. She smiled at him and threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. The sunlight caught on the huge diamond on her finger and I finally realized what the hell was going on. Ms. Bitchy Brunette was actually Mrs. Bitchy Cheating on My Boss Brunette. She pouted and shot me a stare.
"Baby, can you tell the club to beef up security? That creep over there was harassing and me and looking at my ass. Ugh, I feel so violated!" she complained.
Boss looked at me. "Nick, what the hell are you still doing here?" he demanded.
"Sir, you drove me here," I replied.
"Oh, well, get the club to call you cab will you? Put it on my tab," he said.
I took that as my cue to leave. I walked back to the bar and saw Jon sitting at a booth. He smiled and gestured me to come over.
I suppose I should have gotten the club to call me a club and went straight home. What then would I have done that night? Watch Jimmy Fallon, browse through Gonewild on Reddit, watch porn, and beat off a couple loads. Oh, maybe do my laundry. Yet, an opportunity had presented itself to me. In all honestly, it was out of boredom and curiosity that I found myself talking to Jonathan Ross, as he had introduced himself. He insisted that I call him Jon. I had done my best to avoid having to talk about what had transpired earlier and focused on the small talk instead.
"What do I do for a living, you ask?" Jon said, repeating my question. His face lit up.
"Well, I need you to clarify your question," he continued. "I get paid to analyze codes. I spend my nine to five in front of a computer screen. However, I wouldn’t consider that to be what I do for "a living". I suppose I would be what you call a "Professional Seducer". Oho! You scoff at me. While others may consider me a mere "pick up artist", my colleagues and I prefer to think ourselves as masters of seduction. Seduction does not merely imply sex. As a professional Seducer, I pride myself in being able to manipulate women to do whatever I want them; to make them feel how I want them; and to think how I want them to think. What I do is more than just being a pretty face and having honeyed words."
He sounded like a salesman giving a pitch. I was, however, hooked. I had heard about pick up artists before. My initial notion was that pick up artists were just creepy scum bags trying to hit on women. Yet, Jon was different. "Professional Seducer" is really just a euphemism for "I get laid, a whole hell lot more than you". However, Jon made me believe in the idea of a "professional Seducer"; with his slicked brown hair, polo shirt, and chinos. Before I let Jon become my Seduction coach, I would have said brown pants.
By the way, yeah. Jon took me under his wing and started calling himself my Seduction Coach. It’s a long story…
Author's Note: Any feedback is greatly appreciated. Be on the look out for PT II, coming soon!



inn_cognito