I rise in the morning with the horn and unfamiliar surroundings – the bed I am in is occupied by a beautiful but suspect lady. I peer through cloudy eyes and am appalled to see that the three empty bottles of what I thought were quality brut champagne were in fact cheap nasty stuff. I realise I must have been pissed to encompass the interior and exterior of a ladies anatomy under the influence of something less than a vintage preserve. A quick escape finds me soaring through the cotswald countryside in my stylish and very expensive roadster.I drive fast, play fast and love fast. That is right I’m hot. They call me Mr Big. I’m sexy and I’m all man! Women love me. They love my car, my job, my busines, my body, my cock, but what they really love is my arrogance. Yes, I’m arrogant. I’m horny and I inflict this worldly sensational attitude every night for one (sometimes two) lucky ladies.
After washing off the night before, I dress in my freshly ironed uniform delivered to my door. I am a pilot. I fly jets. This lets me walk a foot taller and my cock feel 20 inches bigger. This is a job that has captured the attention and appeal of the ladies. According to most leading women’s magazines, being a pilot is the most attractive job for most of them. And what a man to fill the role. Pulling up at the executive lounges I look down on all the suited and booted exec’s with no style or finesse. The pilots lounge has a jacuzzi, cocaine bar and naked thai masseurs who all can’t wait to get their hands on this body. No time today. I strut arrogantly like Maverick to my aircraft while the lesser mortals fuel, clean and make ready the golden bird I will be flying today. The corporate schmucks all queue up the cattle tunnel while I examine the most important element of this flight – the Hostess Roster. Better known as “The Menu”. I need to canvas the opinions of the flight crew as there are some newbies. It would seem due to my late arrival the roster had been divvied up and I was taking the alley cat left overs. I would fuck a frog if it stopped hopping for long enough. I fly worldwide not to discover the world but so the world can discover me. Some travel to find themselves, I travel for the ladies to find me. When I arrive I manfully strut down the steps, embracing the local ladies with my body and tongue. They welcome me to their country, to which I reply” . . . welcome to me.”
For years now I have been flying to exotic destinations slowly but steadily working my way through the worlds population of slappers and high class prostitutes. Without fail I have been thrilling the lives of girls with my high yet relatively unsatisfied libido. They know me. They know my arrogance, they know I am available for shagging, no appointment necessary, orgasm guaranteed. Not just any one, there is a price on my pants. When I’m horny I’m long and strong and that costs them. This lifestyle fuels me – a serial womaniser with a cute bum and a pussy obsession. My home life is much the same. A local celebrity I attend the finest parties, drink in the best establishments with the finest people. Not as fine as me though. Not as arrogant as me. Just the other day a friend asked me if I had a spare pound to which I replied “yes, I have thousands of them.” He then told me that I was an arrogant cock. To which I replied “and that is a whole load of horny cock, mate.” My reputation proceed me. It gets me everywhere. This is why arrogance is the best quality a man can have. It is confidence, it is sexual prowess and it is ME. If you think you are going to win then you will. It is method that can be employed to allow you to hear the word ‘yes’ in many situations. From clinching a business deal, entering a club or even anal sex, arrogance is for achievers. Try it. It has made me rich, successful and desirable.
Many shun and mock me. But search deep down and you want to be me.