"Can't you fucking aim that thing? Look at this, you pissed all over everything, and you didn't bother to put the fucking seat down, or even flush the...fucking toilet."Ron bit his tongue, again; painfully, this time. He was sure the metallic taste was that of blood. He walked back into the small room, and took some bathroom tissue from the roll. He wiped the bowl, and tossed it in. Then he lowered the seat and flushed the toilet.His wife continued her tirade as he walked out of the room. He. How he justlusted and fantasized about every one of those videos he watched, and howhe wished he was the woman, every single one of them...I told him how that was his new obsession, to be a sissy cocksucker. Howhe desperately needed to be the women in those videos he loved so much.He needed to be a sissy slutty cocksucker. He needed to give thoseblowjobs, he needed it so desperately he would do anything for it.Anything. His life would now be dedicated to what he could do to makehimself that. I wasn't sure what kind of qualifications they needed to have. So as I was starting to do interviews and asking questions I began to form an opinion of whom I wanted to work for me. Most of the questions were not necessarily about the work; they were personal, what they were, what they wanted in life, and stuff like that.As I went through the different applications, a crazy idea began to form in my head. I could make this the "Coyote Ugly" of coffee shops. With beautiful women to see, Women. "But it's for Britney, not Brett!" I exclaimed in despair."Well of course it is dear," she responded. "You used your work study at mychambers to support your application and had me give you a glowingrecommendation." Yes, but..." I said in exasperation."Well dear," she interrupted, "it's hardly surprising. You worked there asBritney. I must say I was both surprised and pleased by your choice tostay on as her. After Paris you could have transitioned back to beingBrett. Paris was the only.