…is not why I’m here,” I whispered.

Mr. Y grinned, put his arm around my shoulder, and said, “Come on, Jen, you know I’d never put you into anything you didn’t want.”
I felt a pang of guilt. Mr. Y has always been wonderful to me (and with me) in every way possible.

“And you know R. He’s a good guy.”
Hah! I did know R, for more than a few years. I’d also given him a couple of blowjobs recently. So yeah, I knew R.
“I’m nervous,” I groaned.
“Nervous?” Y scoffed. “Jen, you’re a boss at work and play. Why the hell are you nervous?”
Leaning into Y’s chest, I groaned quietly, “He’s got a big dick.”
I felt Y chuckle as much as heard it.
“You had no problem with it before,” he said.
“That’s different. I had some… control then. When he’s… in me… you know… it’s different.” I let the words trail off, then turned away and squared my shoulders.
“You okay?” Y asked.
“Yeah. Let’s be social a little while and see what happens.”
We went through the big double doors into one of the hotel’s conference rooms. Business people like us circulated between the tables and bars set up to provide snacks and drinks. I stayed away from the snacks but accepted Y’s offer of a bourbon.
While he went for our drinks, I scanned the room. Giving little waves and smiles to people I knew, which were few and far between. Unlike my usual boring outfit of jacket/pants, I wore a sleeveless cocktail dress that might have gone past my knee but was also snug around my waist thanks to three buttons that when undone opened the top. Modest but suggestive? You betcha. I have nice shoulders thanks to the gym. Two-inch heels aren’t so high, yet gave me legs that little boost that always helps even as far up as my ass. And underneath, yes, I went all the way. My favorite Simone Perele panties, full coverage front and back but cut high on the sides so no panty lines to be seen, which wouldn’t have been an issue because the dress flared just right down from my hips. Matching bra that makes my 34B pair feel just right. Oh, and just to complete the look (because I never do anything halfway) garter and stockings. All in classy black because as Y said, I am a boss at work and play.

Anyway…

Y returned with our drinks. I proposed a toast, “To what the night may bring.”
We clinked glasses and sipped.
“I’m sorry,” I said next. “I appreciate how good you are to me.”
“Ah, no worries, Jen,” Y replied. “If you’re not comfortable or don’t want to do anything, just let me know.”
I gulped from my glass, swallowed hard, and promptly spotted Mr. R across the room. He stood with three people I didn’t know, two women and a man. R’s salt and pepper hair made him appealing, as did his casual stance. He’s a handsome guy, clean-shaven, slim, maybe an inch shorter than Mr. Y in height but I’d guess two inches longer between his legs, thicker by a healthy measure there, too.
R held everyone’s attention, talking about something with a random hand gesture. I couldn’t help but check out the women, not out of jealousy but wonder. I wondered if they had any idea what R was packing under those tailored pants of his. Would they want it? Not want it? Be nervous about it? Catty of me. Probably. Yeah, I’m a bitch sometimes, but don’t call me that.
Y got my attention with, “Gotta say, Jen, you put these women to shame.”
Compliments always make me feel special, even when they’re not true. This night, it was mostly accurate. Too many of the other women in the room were like me, middle-aged workaholics with more business sense than fashion acumen. As for sexual appeal, there were a couple that had me beat with better curves, amazing hair, and heels tall enough to stride through a blizzard. Confidence, too. Standing straight, looking sharp, eye contact in the conversation. Guys did their best not to stare, stealing glances when they could.
This realization gave me the required kick in the ass to stop being a silly girl. I’m competitive yet never obvious, a tigress that hunts solo, not a heckling hyena who cackles in the crowd. The only danger: Getting what I want.
“Want to talk to R?” Y asked.
“He’ll be over,” I replied. “Let’s get another drink.”
I strode to the little bar closest to R. There my blue dress contrasted with the knots of grey and black outfits. I ordered two doubles, handed one to Y, and sipped the other, deliberately facing away from R.
Halfway through my drink, I looked over my shoulder, fixing my gaze on R. When he shifted his attention in my direction, I released a cool smile. It took a second, two, three, then he noticed me. He promptly excused himself from the conversation and headed my way. I turned away, counting more seconds.
His touch on my shoulder fanned the embers under my boobs.
“Jen,” R said. “Great to see you.”
“Hey,” I greeted him, hoping the warm flush beneath my bra wasn’t obvious.
He and Y shook hands the way guys do. Was that a knowing glance they shared, as in, “Well, pal, she’s here. You know what that means.” I don’t know. I think too much. About everything.
Shop talk commenced. We play for different teams in the same game. It’s not zero sum, more tactical alliances against common adversaries. We win. Most of the time. Not always. I resisted the temptation to bore hard into deals on my mind. Instead, I allowed myself the pleasure of nervous energy.
I don’t know about other women out there because we don’t discuss sex the way guys do. (At least the ones I know don’t.) It’s not easy for me to start having sex with a guy, including a guy like Mr. R, whom I know, and with whom I’ve already had some relations, i.e. those couple blowjobs. (That particular incident is the subject of another story to be told at another time.) I love sex and have a lot of it, but I haven’t been with many guys, just a few if truth be told.
To complicate the mental gymnastics, I’m often lusty. Yeah, I really want it. At the same time, I absolutely hate the concept of slutty. Whether a lot of sex is slutty or not, I won’t argue. I don’t care. For me, banging many guys means slutty, and I don’t want to be slutty for my own reasons. Okay? Yeah, maybe it’s fun to play that way for others. Please, enjoy. Not me. I’m no princess, just me with my boundaries.
Thus, my anxiety in the contradiction: I want to fuck, and in the moment, did want to fuck Mr. R, big dick and all. Simultaneously, I don’t want to be common. Cake and eat it, too.
Yeah, I think too much. About everything.
And so… there I was with Mr.(s) Y and R, feeling amazingly sexy knowing they wanted me and me wanting them in my psychologically convoluted way. The result: A wicked jolt of energy that starts at the back of my neck, flows down my spine to my ass, but never quite reaches my vagina. Instead, it builds somewhere behind my uterus I’d guess, then bubbles up and forward arriving at my nipples. It lingers there a while before flushing under my chin. And you know, it’s a marvelous sensation, at times equal to orgasm with less intensity but more languid pleasure. It’s addictive.
“Phew,” I said. “Getting warm in here.”
“You okay?” Y asked.
“Yeah. Just need some air.”
“Want to go outside?” R asked.
I smiled. Thinking: Want to feel you inside me. Nervous: It’s a big dick. Remembering: The only danger is getting what I want. Lusty: I love to fuck. Contradicted: I’m not a slut. Diabolical: Get out of here, without those who know you and don’t, seeing you leave with two guys. Solution: Easy.
I said, “I’m going upstairs. Do me a favor, check on me in a little while, and phew, please bring a bucket of ice each. Okay?”
Mr. Y, sly fox that he is, immediately grasped my intent. Mr. R caught up just before I turned for the exit. Were they looking at my ass as I walked out? Darn, I hoped so.
In my suite, I took a few minutes to freshen my look (and pee, sorry TMI). A few tingles teased between my legs. I squashed my nervousness with boss-level desire. Yeah, I want it. Any doubts? A few. And yet, no denying the swollen pressure between my legs. Is that a touch of wetness down there? Darn it! Already damp.
I heard Mr. Y’s triple knock on the door, followed a few moments later, by the sound of it opening. He always has access to my room. We have total trust.
“How’re you feeling?” Y asked, coming into the living room where I stood. They each put a bucket of ice on the table.
“Great,” I answered. “Thanks for the ice.”
“Nice view,” R said, moving close to me for a look out the window.
A swath of city lights sprawled to the dark horizon.
“Different than your place on the island,” I reflected.
“True. Inside is almost the same.”
I rewarded him with a smile. He was referring to the visit Mr. Y and I made to his house in the Caribbean, where I gave him those blowjobs.
In a rare moment of frivolity, I pulled up the hem of my dress, faced R, and said, “I might have been wearing these.”
He glanced down at my exposed panties and laughed.
“I’d have to take a closer look,” he said. “You know, to make sure.”
“Hah,” I let my dress fall and moved over to the couch, pausing on the way for a big ice cube that I put in my mouth. In a completely immodest way, I first bent over to arrange a couple pillows on one end of the couch. Surely, my panty-covered ass could be seen by both of them. Next, I sat down, leaned back against the pillows, and bent one leg at the knee and let the other hang over the side.
“Ready for my panty inspection,” I said, looking directly at R.
“Hmmmm…,” R commented. “This might take a while.”
Want-to-be movie director Y dimmed the lights as R walked over to me.
R held my gaze a moment, and as he did, I eased my dress up, signaling I wanted his ministrations down there, whatever they may be. Still looking at me, he ran the back of his fingers over my mound then back up again. His touch almost tickled. Reflexively, my hips angled up barely an inch. He turned his hand over, fingertips on my mound, thumb pressing against my labia below. My hips moved again. His thumb ran the length of my crotch, top to bottom.
I was vaguely aware of Mr. Y in the background, taking off his clothes and taking a seat. More appropriately, I focused on Mr. R and his next move, which was to slip his fingers under the edge of my panty and pull it to the side, exposing my pudenda. First, I felt his breath on my outer lips, then the shock of his tongue. For some stupid reason, I held back a groan, releasing only a sigh.
His tongue probed between my lips, flicking over my clit and around the sides. My eyes rolled back in my head; my mouth went slack. Instinctually, I eased my legs back and wider. His hands gripped my thighs. His tongue pressed harder then softer then harder, poked against the opening of my vagina. R’s skills impressed me, not that I was thinking about them in the moment. He continued with a few interruptions to kiss my thighs, giving my nerve endings a brief respite before lighting them off again.
My orgasm approached and retreated, rose then faded. Suddenly, surprisingly, in a powerful burst, I went over the edge. R’s tongue seemed to be everywhere at once. My hips jerked up; my hands clutched the pillows. My body spasmed, wracked with pleasure. Every touch gave me a shiver.
At some point, R pulled back a little. Through a barely open eye, I watched him put my panties in place over my seeping pussy. Laying there, panting, I lazily smoothed down my dress. It wouldn’t stay there long.
“Did my panties pass the test?” I joked.
“The first part,” R said.
Uh, oh. The nervous jitters returned. It was one thing to lay there and enjoy a great orgasm under his tongue, quite another to accept his hard cock inside.
He put out his hand. I took it and got up on shaky legs. Darn that was a good orgasm. I shot Mr. Y a snarky grin that he returned. He was sitting in the chair, cock hard. Clearly, he enjoyed the show so far. At that moment, I had an inkling of his desires. We’ve been doing it for a long time. I know his kinks.
If I was going to go all the way, I wanted to be comfortable. With that in mind, I continued into the bedroom, unbuttoning the side of my dress, letting the top open enough for my lace covered boobs to show. I yanked off the comforter and laid back with my head on one of the big pillows. The light of two floor lamps revealed enough and disguised the rest in shadows. R came in, finding me ready. Almost.
He moved onto the bed, kneeling between my legs. My heart started to pound; my ears roared. R’s cock isn’t extreme just substantial. I know babies come out down there, but big dicks are not part of my regular routine. And this was a different guy. And all those crazy thoughts cascaded through my mind.
I think too much. About everything.
And yet, I reached down to pull my panties to the side, to reveal my pussy, to invite him to penetrate me.
“I like to keep my clothes on,” I said, my voice quiet, sincere. “It’s a hangup of mine.”
“I don’t mind,” R said.
In slow motion I saw him take his cock in hand and move close enough for the head to touch my labia.
“Wait,” I said, reaching down, wrapping my fingers around the shaft. Wow! It was warm, firm, an instrument of pleasure yet potentially pain. I needed some semblance of control.
I eased his cock to my labia, gliding the head along my lips that were slick with my wet. With each stroke down I guided him closer. Little by little, the head first spread my folds then began to open me. The pressure against me surged but my opening refused yield. Mouth open, holding my breath, the head of his cock now wedged against me, there was no possible movement but in. Or out.
Still holding the shaft, I again locked eyes with R. This is the moment. Take it. Or don’t. My hand drew his manhood toward me.
The stretch between my legs intensified. I inhaled sharply. My body sent mixed signals to my reeling mind. It’s too much! No, it’s okay. Wait. Wait. No, let it happen.
An instant later, my vagina surrendered, expanded, accepted the girth of R’s cock. The head passed through my tightest part, a little deeper, and stopped. I released my fingers from the shaft.
My eyelids fluttered when R pulled back just a little then pushed down into me. Slowly. Back a little. Slowly. Deeper. Slowly. My juices lubed his cock with each move. Soon enough I felt the weight of him. His cock was completely inside me. The fullness was exquisite while equally at my limit.
I could breathe again. I shifted my hips, trying to better accommodate his cock. Found an angle that felt good.
My opening eyes saw R looking at me. I gave him a weak smile and held on to his arms. I wanted him to enjoy me, to take his pleasure from my body. His movements began steady, a nice easy rhythm that gave me joy as well.
His thick cock was a lot for me to take. It was markedly different than the others. Better? I’d say different. I’m easily pleased between my legs because I want to be satisfied.
Having already had an orgasm, my vagina was literally dripping wet which always makes sex better. I was also prepped for another one, although I didn’t expect him to indulge me. With each push he bumped against my clit. Combined with my stretched-full vagina, I noticed I was getting closer and closer to another climax. If he didn’t ejaculate soon, I was going to pop.
He varied his strokes, which only added to my enjoyment. This time I felt it coming on, a warmth in my belly that spread out. I think he sensed it, too, because he took longer strokes, pushed against me harder at the end, and squeezed my legs.
I came with a ripping spasm that swept down through my vagina and gripped the length of his cock. Darn it, I was so full of cock. The pressure of it against that grip had me secretly cursing myself for ever being silly nervous. This is what your vagina is for, Jen! OMG, it is.
“You sexy thing,” R grunted as my hips rocked against him and hands yanked against his hips, not letting him pull back.
I wanted to shout dirty things at that moment even as I was practically drooling on myself.
My orgasm subsided leaving my crotch still full of his cock, with an ache, and lots of wet everywhere. (No, I’m not a squirter.)
R gave me those moments to relax without withdrawing, then started moving. I wanted to beg him to fuck me and cum. I didn’t. I can be that chick. Not with him. Not yet. With Mr. Y? Oh, yeah.
R picked up his pace. Yes, it was his turn. He didn’t have to earn it. He could have enjoyed my pussy and came and I wouldn’t have minded a bit. More on that some other time. At any rate, he took his time, which was also okay with me.
A few minutes later, I again noticed Mr. Y. He was standing a fair distance from the bed but with a good view. He had his hard cock in his hand, slowly stroking. Seeing him turned me on. He’s watched me fuck before and told me all about it. I like hearing about it.
I got the sense R was ready to finish. Would he pound me at the end? Hopefully not. Would he pull out and cum on my dress? Hopefully not. Whatever was about to happen, I would accept it.
He did go harder, but I could take it. He drove down into me, into my welcoming pussy and my soft groans. My hands squeezed his shoulders then his hips, then held onto his back. Yes, he was going to finish. Yes, I would take it. Those deep, hard pushes, tested me. I took it.
His face was next to mine; his whole weight atop me. I heard his ragged breath drawing faster.
“Jen,” he said. “Jen.”
“Yes,” I sighed. “Yes.”
There it was, that wicked thrust that stopped somewhere in my core. His cock swelled even more against my vaginal walls.
“Ohhh, yes,” I sighed again.
Another throb followed. And another. And another. The warmth of his semen flooded that special place made just for it.
His final thrusts were weak, gentle. He pulled almost all the way out then eased back in. A few more of those. So nice. So good. So… something that’s hard to explain like so much else about sex.
At last, he slipped out of me and sat on the edge of the bed. My legs fell flat. I let my breathing settle. My pussy had an ache. My crotch was sticky with my juices and his semen. I carefully put my panties in place but left my dress bunched up. I know I looked like a complete wreck. I also know how much Mr. Y likes that look on me.
“Inspection complete,” R said.
We had a little laugh. Just silly fun during that awkward, post-coital moment.
“I enjoyed everything,” I said, shifting to beside R. I caressed the back of his neck, kissed his shoulder, then went to the bathroom.
My dress, hair, makeup, everything was a mess, not to mention my panties. It’s not the most comfortable feeling. Some more TMI. I went to the bathroom, pee, minimal tidy up. No point at this point. Was going to be messy for a while.
I came out to find R pulling on the last of his clothes.
“I hate to toss you out like this,” I joked. “Especially after using you like that.”
We all laughed.
“I’m going to be selfish and demand you do that for me again, okay?”
R smiled, pecked my cheek, and answered, “You have my number, Jen.”
“Don’t call us, we’ll call you?”
He reached to spank me, but I dodged it.
“And you,” I said pointing at Mr. Y. “You’re on probation, Mr. Voyeur.”
He winked and I knew why.
They both left.
After a look out the window during which I melted some ice cubes in my mouth, I went to the bedroom. There I fluffed the pillows, piled them up and laid back down. Was a shame for my dress, which was wrinkled and hanging open at the top. My boobs did look pretty nice in my bra. I gave them a light touch. They didn’t get much attention. Nothing like my pussy, which did ache a little.
I heard the door open, counted to three, and saw Mr. Y enter the bedroom.
“And you were nervous!” he chided me as he starting taking off his clothes. “You took his cock no problem.”
“Hang on a sec, mister, I have a pussy ache,” I returned.
“I’m sure you do,” he remarked. “Did you like it?”
“You know, I did enjoy it. Was a lot at the start but got easier.”
“Was hot to watch you there, Jen,” Y said. “Not going to lie, I was a little worried when he first put it in you.”
“I must have a small vagina,” I put in. “Anyway, I got it to fit.”
By this time he was naked with a hard cock pointing straight out.
“I like watching you fuck,” Y said.
“As much as fucking me?” I asked.
“Not quite that much.”
“I really do have an ache,” I said quietly. “And I’m a total mess.”
“Don’t tease me like that.”
I was teasing him in a way I know turns him on. Bigtime. I bunched up my dress and spread my legs.
“Look at me, I’m a complete mess.”
“I’m looking, Jen. I like what I see.”
This always amazed me about Y. He likes to see me after I’ve been fucked and creampied. Since I started all this sex in my life much later than the rest of the world, that kinda thing was new to me. Still kinda new in ways.
Y turned up the dirty talk with, “Show me your pussy, Jen.”
I pulled my panties to the side.
Y came up on the bed, kneeled between my legs.
“He shot a good load in you,” Y commented.
“Felt like it,” I said, recalling R’s throbbing cock and warmth as he came in me. I dipped a finger between my pussy lips then tasted it.
“Oh, you dirty girl,” Y groaned.
I pushed another button of his, saying, “I think most of it is still in me.”
“I saw him shoot deep,” Y said.
“Felt amazing,” I reflected.
“Yeah?” Y asked, slowly stroking his hard cock, looking at my pussy. “You like when we fill you with cum?”
Now he was pushing my button.
“Love it,” I answered. “You know who was the first one to cum in me?”
“Was me,” he replied. “First hot shot deep in that sexy pussy of yours.”
“And you’re still doing it.”
“As much as you want,” he promised.
“Not sure you’ll like this now,” I warned. “I feel loose, you know. R stretched me out.”
“Nah. I fucked you longer and harder than he did. How bad is the ache?”
“Not too bad.” It wasn’t a hurting sensation, more like a post-workout thing. Hah!
He moved close enough for his dick to touch me. I pulled my knees back. Just then some of R’s cum seeped out and down my ass.
“You sure you want this?” I asked. I did feel a little shy in that couple of seconds. You want to be attractive, pretty, appealing. I guess it’s just that Y has a different idea of what that means.
“Take my cock, Jen.”
“Okay.”
I spread my legs and felt the head of his cock push against me.
“Yeah?”
“Yes,” I said.
He thrust into my pussy. “Ooooooh,” I moaned.
He took a few strokes and R’s cum pushed out and smeared around the side of my pussy and dripped down my ass.
“Damn, he did load you up, Jen,” Y said, pulling out of me.
I saw his cock, covered in creamy white cum.
“Told you,” I said.
He penetrated me again, slowly pumped in and out. It didn’t hurt just the ache from being swollen and stretched and all. Wasn’t as specific as when he’s the first cock in me. After all, I was sloppy wet with cum and a little stretched no matter what Y said.
“I’m not tight,” I said.
“Feels great, Jen.”
Actually, it did feel good but sticky around my crotch and wet on my ass. Mentally it was erotic as could be, my pussy lubed with R’s semen and Y enjoying it.
“You in the mood for more cum?” he asked.
“Who’s teasing whom now?” I chided him.
“Just checking. Watching you get fucked always gives me a big load.”
That gave me a hot flush.
“Surprised he didn’t fuck you from behind.”
“Me, too,” I said. “Didn’t know what his moves would be.”
“First time, he went with safe. He’ll take you through them all if you keep fucking him.”
“Phew. We’ll see,” I commented, feeling his cock moving in me nice and easy. The ache remained. In a way, it was pleasant.
“Did you want to blow him?” Y asked.
“Didn’t think about it. Was worried about taking his cock.”
“Ah, yeah. Gotta stay focused.”
I laughed, which also gave me a pleasant sensation with a dick in me.
“He’s not going to have my ass,” I said firmly. “Not with that big thing.”
“That’s smart.”
Was fun to have this conversation while doing it. That’s the kind of trust Y and I share.
“How’s my pussy now?” I asked.
“Always the best, Jen.”
“Don’t lie.”
“I’m not,” he insisted. “You’re always hotter after you get creampied.”
He was right.
“I think I pushed most of his cum out of you.”
“Maybe,” I remarked.
He pulled out and sat back. His cock hung there, shiny with cum and juices.
I sat up and reached for it. He brought it to my mouth. I sucked the head then as much as would fit in my mouth. I caressed his balls which were also sticky with cum and juices. Y held the side of my head, guiding me how he wanted to be blown.
When he stopped me and sat back, I said, “Tastes like there plenty still in my pussy.”
“You like the taste of his cum?”
“Not really.”
“Like the taste of mine?”
“Not really,” I repeated.
“You know how hot it is knowing you don’t like it but still blow me and swallow it all?”
“I have an idea,” I answered. “I’m not into giving head but there’s something about doing it. I don’t know. Maybe I do like it. I like blowing you. I’ll blow you any time, Y. Seriously.”
“I try not to take advantage of that, Jen,” he offered.
“Don’t hesitate until I complain.” I meant that, too. We have clear communication. I’ve blown Y often enough. He has asked but not so often. I wish he would ask more. I’m not sub but I like to kneel down and blow him. Oh, well.
He said, “Put your ass up, let me see if there’s more cum in you.”
I rolled onto all fours, got my dress over my hips, and arched my back. Darn, my messy pussy was on full display, panties stretched out of the way.
Y stuffed his cock into my sloppy pussy, making me moan. The ache was definitely still there.
“Some in you, Jen, and more on the way,” Y said.
“Oh, yeah.”
“Turned on watching you take R’s cock, stroking mine, thinking how good you’re going to feel.”
I arched my back and pushed against him. OMG his cock was deep in me. He reached forward, grabbed my shoulders, and drove harder.
“If you didn’t have that ache, I’d give your pussy a good pounding.”
“Just a little,” I whispered.
He slammed into my ass. Again. Again. Real firm pumps.
“A little more,” I whispered.
He went again, steady, solid pumps into me. I raised up on my palms.
“A little more,” I repeated.
This time he continued. My boobs were bouncing with each stroke. I liked that. I liked the ache. I like the scent of fucking around me.
“Yeah, do it. Fuck me.”
“I won’t stop,” Y warned me.
“Do it.”
He did it. Fucking me hard but not rough, using my pussy to please his cock. I felt him spread my ass and knew he was watching his cock plunge in and out. Next he pressed his thumb against my bung. I winced. He pressed harder but didn’t enter there. Additional heat spread from there front to my pussy. I was all one hot mess.
“There you go, burning around my cock,” Y said.
He reached up again for my shoulders, really driving into me again.
“Look at me,” he ordered.
I turned back, met his eyes with mine.
One, two, threeeeeee. Boom! He jammed into me and I knew he was cumming. My already fucked and extra wet pussy missed all the details. I did feel some pulses and the wet after. Didn’t matter, I wanted to get it that way.
I was exhausted then. I fell forward; he fell back. Two bodies spent.
“You’re such a good fuck, Jen.”
I just gave a little laugh.
Y left a little while later. I lay there, wrecked, a little sore, very pleased, somewhat confused. I took off my dress, and just relaxed a while. Semen seeped out of me. It felt uncomfortable. I did nothing to clean up.
I did my best to not think about my early contradictions and concerns. I wanted to be in the moment of pleasure and I was.
R is now on the list. I hope to fuck him more. If he’ll have me. I hope Y fucks me after, but not every time. There will be times when I’ll want to just be alone in the glow after R, as I am after another.

Either way. I’m a fortunate chick. I’m well treated, well fucked.

If you made it all the way to the end, thanks very much. You’re a real trooper.

Be well. Stay sexy.

-Jen