She had, after all, thought them to sound quite exciting and had retired early to her room that evening to pose in front of her mirror as she imagined...a French girl would if she were having a picture taken for a racy postcard.“More like a French whore.”She gasped in surprise, her hand flying from her panties to her mouth as she spun around, looking for the owner of the voice.“Who is there?”“Silly girl. It’s just me. Or rather, it’s you.”She spun again, facing the mirror, sure that someone was. She couldn't find another good looking girl that she could trust to keep this quiet. A scandal good ruin the company. Besides, Cheryl was right, she hadn't been laid in a while. She was always so busy with school work and then running to the office.Besides which, ever since she was 13, Angela dressed like a tom boy; she was embarrassed when her tits started growing. She hated the way guys would drool over the scantily clad cheerleaders and the way girls would flaunt their bodies at them. She. She found them in his bedroom one night after they unknowingly began dating. He had them displayed in a diorama. He confessed that he had masturbated many times staring at the articles of clothes, remembering her auction performance. But as sweet and loving as he was and though she had orgasms with him, she couldn’t get the total fulfillment she wanted from their vanilla sexual encounters. She was used to a skilled and talented male that understood her physical timing and needs. ‘A really. . she must love you very, very much and really wants to hold on to you no matter what. It's either really selfless and noble or really, um... pitiful? I guess? That's not to judge; I obviously don't know her at all and please believe I mean no disrespect." I felt like I had perhaps talked too much, but I wasn't bullshitting, either. "Like I said, she loves me. And she's like... my best friend and I love her too and she's so good to me.... but I just can't do without guys. I guess I'm.