He was a true professional. I ordered him as a present, and sure thing, there was this tall, muscular young man on my doorstep, completely naked with a red ribbon tied around his long,

flaccid cock. He also had a bow tie around his neck and Roman sandals on his feet.

The rest was exposed, a modern-day nude gladiator, just for my pleasure. Please come in. I moved from the door and

welcomed him into my penthouse apartment. Certainly, ma'am. He nodded and followed me. Tall French

glasses let the bright summer light fazed the surroundings.

My high heels were piercing the expensive marble. A glass of martini dangled between my long fingers.

A flowy, pale, gray silk dress hugged my body.

The revealing fabric allowed my legs to move freely, and the bodice was so loose.

My perky nipples were almost threatening to jump from the edges.

I sat on something that I had always called a chair, but any sane person would call it a

throne made of crystal. It occupied the middle of my glass fortress. I called upon my escort with my

finger. I liked the naked reflections of the man closing in on me from all sides. They all collided into a single

image right in front of me. As I was sitting, I leaned forward and unpacked the penis with my

fingertips. I dragged my long claws gently across his hot skin. The cock throbbed at my touch.

The testicles below hung like a sack. Soft and full of calm. I loved to play with men's balls.

In fact, I loved the whole package. I felt the disconnect between my

desires. I couldn't care much about the man as an individual. I only desired the penis.

But without the hot, fit body attached to it, I detested the organ. My love of cock glued to a silent

man that took care of his body was my main sexual drive. And as such, I pulled the dangling shaft

to the side, now free from the ribbons, and stuck my face and

the crevice between his balls and the thigh. The strong male musk made my knees tremble. The aroma

invaded my nostrils and intoxicated me.

...