As I open my mailbox, my hands tremble in anticipation. I find a large, nonchalantly unmarked envelope. Could such an innocent cover hide such sin? Such temptation? Slowly, I slit the envelope open.
Yes!!! The magazine is finally here. My precious...
I dreamily, lustily look at the glossy cover.
Heart a-pounding, I slowly flip the pages, and begin to admire the models. Such spectacular, sensual beauties. In various states of reveal. My pupils dilate. Heart rate increases. Breathing deepens, exhaling in slow sighs of pleasure.
I brush my fingers on the images. Imagining how it would feel to really caress the beauties. To feel her skin. Her body. Picturing the pleasure, the adrenaline, the warmth. The power.
I can only imagine how it would feel, to ride her. Oh, will that day ever come?
Is this what they call lust? And can I ever replace my love?
(And no, this isn't my video. The hardtop convertible roof mechanism is amazing. *drool drool*)
Yes, I think I've decided on the Mercedes, despite the overwhelming popularity of the Porsche in that reader survey I posted months ago. Something about the hardtop convertible just does it for me. And somehow, unlike Veronica's, I just didn't like the look of the Boxster's ass. Porsche had sent me the wrong car brochure, mailing the Porsche Cayman catalogue instead of the Boxster as I had requested (point deduction for that). Plan to testdrive the car sometime next month. Here's another really cool TV ad.