But wait, who the fuck does this bitch think she is, giving me fucking orders? I'm Magnus fucking Davion, the 15th richest man in the whole fucking world, if you read Forbes Magazine. I just bought a fucking NFL team—the New York Nailers—from the previous owner, Apollo Kane.
That’s right. If he sounds familiar to you it’s because he’s fucking famous now. Alexis Angel wrote his whole story and how he owns Blush Magazine, or whatever the fuck.
But he had to get out of the football franchise.
And I didn't mind paying $3 billion dollars for it. That kind of money is literally fucking nothing to me.
So I certainly don’t take fucking orders from anybody—but in this case, I can let it slide.
You're just getting acquainted with me, aren't you? You must think all I do all day is talk about how wealthy I am and shit. That's actually not true. I don't spend my day only bragging about how much money I have. I also spend it talking about how fucking good I look, and how much you're probably wanting to fuck me.
Oh, you think I already did that, don't you? But you have no idea, darlin’.
I’m literally a god amongst men.
That's right. You heard me fucking right. I stand taller than all the men you will ever fucking meet. No one of this world really compares to me.
I'm fucking wealthy. I'm the fucking founder and CEO of Davion Development, one of the most ruthless real estate firms in New York City.
We’re not like some private equity firm or investment bank either. Hell fucking no.
We build things. Buildings. Bridges. Dams. We get our hands dirty.
We take over abandoned places and we create gleaming skyscrapers that inspire the fucking imagination.
I'm 6' 4", built like a Greek God—with a massive chiseled chest and a rock hard 8-pack of abs. My skin is tanned to a perfect bronze and flawless. My face is chiseled and rugged. My hair is just right. My nose is royal in its cut. My chin is even fucking aristocratic looking. But aside from the handsome looks that you see on the outside, there is one very fucking large reason that you want me to fuck you.
"Oh my god, baby, I'm about to cum!" Mandy screams as I slam into her. She closes her eyes and contorts her face as it's wracked with lust. I feel her entire body shake and quiver. Her pussy clamps down around my cock. It's intense. I feel her go slightly limp as her muscles lose all voluntary control and pleasure seizes her body.
That's why. The cause of her orgasm. The rod that's pistoning into her box.
My 12-inch, thick, throbbing, pole of a cock. It swings between my legs and one taste of it and you'll be fucking begging me for more. You'll do whatever I fucking ask for another lick. Another taste. Another fuck.
My cock will make you worship it. It'll make you fucking beg and plead. And it'll make you cum like you've never, ever, fucking cum before.
"Oh my fucking god!" Mandy screams and her body writhes like that of a woman possessed.
I look down past Mandy.
I may have forgotten to tell you where I am. I'm in the team skybox room of Nailers Arena. Today is the first day of the regular season and it's the Nailers' first game at their refurbished stadium in East Rutherford, New Jersey. The crowd is waiting for kick-off and I was gazing at the view from the floor-to-ceiling windows in the skybox when Mandy Marsten, the head cheerleader for the Nailers, came to see me.
"Admiring the view?" she asked me, walking in. We hadn't talked much before, but I can fucking tell when someone's giving me the eye and she has been eye-fucking me all fucking week. But so do a lot of women, so I just go with the flow.
"Maybe I was looking in the wrong direction," I said, walking toward her.
In hindsight it seems unreal because I had just walked up to her and reached over and pulled her close. Before I knew it, the few clothes that she had on were off, and on the ground. She was sucking my cock like a fucking pro in five minutes and bending over the table looking out at the crowd through those same floor-to-ceiling windows in ten.
I gotta say though, if we had to pick any place to have sex, this would be it. This room, with its fucking plush leather couches and mahogany wood trimmings screams to have people fuck in it.
All the better when it's game day and you have 150,000 screaming fans who don't know you're about to bust a fucking nut high above their heads.
I can feel myself getting close to my own fucking orgasm. It's going to be fucking intense. Already I see Mandy begin to blink a couple of times as she comes out of the pleasure-coma that I put her into. Her chest is heaving and she's winded, with fucking sweat dripping down her back. It's a fucking beautiful sight.
But like all good things, shit has to get in the fucking way. Something has to come and fuck it all up.
I look up to see the roving camera pan the crowd. Normally, it wouldn't make too much of a difference but the fucking camera that's displaying on the Jumbotron is slowly panning over the crowd, and people are cheering when they see their faces—until it pans over to the skybox and they see that I'
m fucking Mandy doggie style, straight on the Jumbotron.