Well maybe that's a little unfair, but I'm not feeling very generous at the moment towards my useless boyfriend who prefers sleeping to sex. And it shows you how much he knows about me, despite all the 'professional' help he's given and the support groups he goes to in an attempt to understand and control my condition. I might look like a porn star, with my honey blonde hair that's as fake as their orgasms, and my double D tits that are actually natural, but I've never been paid to perform for the camera. Nor am I a professional whore for that matter - I might fuck like one, but I never charge for the many sexual favours I give out. I'm just an extra-ordinary girl with a permanently ravenous pussy, and a boyfriend who's soft and asleep at the moment.

Annoying!

So I take care of myself, which I often do when there's no one else around that's capable of helping. I gently stroke the bloated lips of my undernourished sex, caress the inner folds that are so sensitive and wet, dab at my vagina and tease a finger in, and flick around my clit to make the nerve endings sing, dreaming of a tongue busily working, knowledgably pleasuring me and drinking my nectar.

But it's not George's tongue I conjure to aid the masturbatory fun. Surprise, surprise - Georgie Porgie prefers Puddin' and Pie to the delights of eating my succulent pussy. He's sadly not a fan of cunnilingus. He kisses the girl then makes her cry, but for all the wrong bloody reasons. She spreads her legs and coaxes him down, but Georgie Porgie shies away and refuses to lick her out. Or to use another euphemism that made me laugh lately - he doesn't 'tend to my lady garden with his tongue'. But that doesn't mean I'm a stranger to the act. I get regularly attended to, thank you very much, although don't ask me any of the gardeners' names.

Anyway, it's nice what I'm doing - this gentle fingering of my pussy. But I'm not really into 'nice' at the moment. In fact the notion of niceness makes me want to be sick. It's such an insipid word and should never have anything to do with sex, even if it's only masturbation. So I pinch a lip, adding some hurt to that on my nipple. That's better! But it's still not satisfying me enough. So fingers are bunched and they plunge into my cunt. I stab my vagina with the slender digits, dreaming of a big fat cock ramming up.

George's?

Hardly!

Oh don't get me wrong on that particular front. Georgie Boy has a decent sized tool, much bigger than average in fact, so I've no complaints about the dimensions of his equipment. But what's the point of dreaming about something that's flaccid for most of the time, when what's needed is a big hard throbbing member, which is how I usually see them on other men - it's only George who's ever soft when naked around me. I don't dream of anyone's cock in particular - just a mishmash of the many that have been inside me: the biggest of the crop, because that's what I prefer.