Hi, my names Wendy, I hate my name. Wendy, God it sounds so damn… well… girly. I know I am a girl but I’m damn sure not some pussy little cunt bitch Wendy. Sorry, I need to breathe… I’m in a bad mood, its five thirty a.m. right now.
And it’s Wednesday to boot, God do I hate Wednesday. Mondays are my good days, and Friday of course. I get cranky on Wednesday because I haven’t had sex. And at the same time I think,
“It’s Wednesday! You can’t have sex today! Or tomorrow! You have to wait until Friday night, if you’re lucky!”
Perhaps I should take a moment. You know my name (damn it) so I’ll skip that. Unless you need to hear it again? You making fun of me? Shut up! Stop laughing at me… ya bastard. Okay girl breathe… okay.
So yeah I’m a dyke, I know it and I like it. I wasn’t always; I used to be pretty different. I had long hair, now it’s short. I had big tits, but they’ve shrunk since I started working out. I’m short, always having been. I used to love skirts, now I love to pull ‘em off girls when I’m ready to fuck ‘em.
I always have sex on the weekends because I’m busy with work. Yes, every night Monday though Thursday. Mondays and Tuesdays are okay cause I just had sex on the weekend. God why does today have to be Wednesday?
I was just getting dressed for work. Holding my panties in my hand got this started, fucking shit. But anyway, I started thinking about the type of sluts I like… to sum it up in as few words as possible: submissive. Oh, and willing to be fucked by another girl of course. That’s all I need. But let me tell ya, sometimes they’re hard to find.
But I’m diligent. I prowl the bars all night Friday, looking for the perfect girl. I do it again Saturday, and again until ten p.m. Sunday. More often than not I find a girl. There’s plenty of fish in the sea, right? But sometimes my long search is in vain, and I can’t just go home and face another week without sex, I couldn’t deal with that.
So at ten I fall back on Sam. It’s short for Samantha, God I love her name… for people to call me Sam… shit, or any boy’s name. I mean when one of my sults cries out “Oh God Wendy!” its just not… I don’t know, but anyway…
Sam’s pretty hot, and it’s hard to find a real good looking prostitute. So I don’t look around anymore I just go to her, besides she lives in my apartment. In fact, she lives across the hall. I’ve begun to think we should be roommates. I could pay the rent and she’d service me. But then she’d be bringing in guys all the time…
I thought about her dark skin, her long legs… she lets her hair grow down to her waist… I had to call her now. I had an hour, besides I’m the boss (with my attitude how could I not be). One time they wanted to “promote” me to a higher paying job, but I would have been working under someone else. I didn’t even need to know who it was.
No way I’m gonna be under somebody! I worked for years to be at the top of my department. Why leave now? I didn’t need money, I enjoyed ruling over my department with an iron fist to much.
I reached for the phone, and then I realized, “Hey stupid she lives across the hall!” So I walked out into the hall half naked and banged on her door.
“What the hell? Is it the police?” she was an idiot. “Wake the fuck up and get over to my apartment!”
“What do you want at this hour sugar?” She irritated me sometimes. “Well I could yell it out but I think the old women in room eight sixteen doesn’t yet know you’re a…”
The door opened and out staggered a sleepy (and likely hung over) Sam. I took her arm and half led half dragged her into my room. I led her to my room and threw her on the floor.
“Let me get awake first girl…” Sam muttered.
I dug though my stuff and got out two of my smaller vibrators and my strap on. I felt good holding them and I slowed down.