Every journalist wants to do investigative writing --- the Woodward and Bernstein Syndrome. That was my downfall at the second round interview with Ja... and his faux Gallic lisp. Sure, he said, the magazine was presently just one more glossy adolescent wank pictorial but he was newly on board. He had great plans for serious journalism and writing between the tits and arses, just like Playboy at it's height. All he needed was to bring the right team on with him and here I should have felt the. Despite his harshness, my pussy floods with warmth and wetness. I can feel my juices dripping down my thighs and onto the carpet as he continues to fuck my face. He undoes my hair and wraps it around his hands before he pulls on it while pulling his cock away, a condescending look on his face as he stares at my smeared lipstick and mascara running down my face. He smirks and pushes my head down, making me stay on all fours. I shriek and try to scramble away as his hand comes down onto my. Forty inches wide and thirty tall, it was easily the largest canvas I’d ever used to paint in this style. Squeezing Prussian blue directly onto it had sent a chill down my spine when I began. Each dollop of paint on my palette knife made the breath catch in my throat as I imagined the sheer scope of disaster that could befall with one misplaced stroke.His head was thrown back. He was in death throes, the expression on his face a cross between pain and pleasure. I worked my way up the canvas,. "Nope, she's faster than you." I made a face. "And tackles harder."For a few seconds I contemplated replacing Tami. A nice dumb blond. Judy Saunders was major cute. And she was smart enough to dress herself, but not much more. Life would be so much simpler. But I knew what Tami would say if I brought it up I'd be bored in ten minutes and unfortunately, Tami would be right.Robbie hopped off her car as we approached. Watching her stand there waiting for us, I couldn't tell if I was in trouble or.