I'm going to start this whole thing off by telling you exactly who and what I am. I don't want anybody to think that I've twisted up the facts somehow or that things are different from what they are. So listen and listen well to the facts of my story before I tell you about the fun stuff. I have to start with the boring stuff just like in any other story.
The boring stuff is that I'm twenty seven years old. Of mixed Chinese and African American Heritage and that has blessed me with a combination of features that are pretty rare. I've got a D cup rack for starters and that never fails to turns its fair share of heads. I've got the right amount of junk in my trunk. Not enough that I can star in a rap video but enough to fill out any outfit and certainly enough that I don't look like a girl. Combine those figure attributes with my barely five foot frame and a lot of guys have described me as ideal.
That of course doesn't cover my face which is actually on of my better, if not my best, feature. I've got vaguely Asian eyes, enough that I'm exotic and enticing but not so far that they define me as any given race. The same is true for my skin tone. The only thing that is clear from my skin is that I'm not from Europe but anything else is open to interpretation. My lips are full, plump and beg for constant kisses and occasionally are put to use for more lewd acts.
My name is Chin Mei Smith. Yes, Smith is my last name. I'm married to Malcolm Smith. Six feet of corn fed, Iowa bred, blonde haired blue eyed beefcake. He was on his High School football team and for a few years pursued a career in professional wrestling. He has the right build for it, muscles on top of muscles but somehow not bulky. He's handsome pretty much all over with his slender jaw and bright smile. Just a terrific pretty boy, he would have made it all the way to the WWE if he hadn't decided to become a business man instead.
I don't actually know the particulars of his job. It's not that he's never told me it's that I don't really understand it all that well. It has something to do with testing the way air moves around jets and how that effects their guns and stuff. I really don't understand it and it makes my head hurt to try to figure it out. It's just he's like crazy smart. Handsome and smart? Killer combination I know. Being rich doesn't hurt either.
When I say rich I mean regular rich, like we own a seven bedroom house even though we don't have kids. We both have our own cars and bikes and that kind of stuff. There is a gaming room in the house and gym and a sex room. Yup I said sex room. That was my idea cus I like a little kink in my life. Its kind of one part garage since the walls are covered with every kind of toy imaginable. Really if you've seen one I've got it, if you haven't seen one you should come by. I've got a glass replica of a dog cock. Told ya I've got stuff you never imagined. The other part is like a gym. I've got harnesses and platforms and one of those big exercise balls, trust me ladies if you can keep from falling off which is a bit tricky the first time around you'll never even touch a bed as long as you live. I swear.
The downside of Malcolm being rich is that he does have to earn it. It takes him all around the world. You know one of those flying toys they are using to hunt terrorists in the Middle East goes down and he flies over there for two weeks to tell them something about pee pee. I think that's what it is. Something involving how much sand is in the air and how they measure it. Like I said I don't understand it. What I do understand is that my husband is more likely to spend the night in a tent surrounded by Marines than he is here. At least I can trust there aren't any ladies wriggling into his bed.
