San patricks

 

Yes, yes, I begged for it. But that was only because of the magic Saint Patrick’s day had brought to me. I used to be a man, tall, strong, not particularly handsome, but not ugly. 

During the celebration I drank beer like there was mo tomorrow. But I am a bad drunk, I tend to be a stupid womanizer. I must have bother the wrong person,  because one minute I was a man, and the next I was a petite woman fixated on sex.

There wasn’t much I could do, my crotch was eeriely wet, and my equipment throbbed in anticipation.

At least I ended up in my best friend’s home and not in some random guy’s apartment.

I still remember how I unzipped his pants, how I sucked on his thing. He came, I swallowed, and not only that, I giggled as I cleaned my lips with my tongue.

James didn’t know who I was, well, he still doesn’t know. For him, I am the perfect kinky girlfriend he met on san patty’s. And between you and me, let’s keep it that way.