F-Stops And G-Spots
My Friday ritual: steak sandwich, gender-swap pill, hunting for someone worthy of my temporary pussy. Tonight's target? A sexy photographer who has no idea what he's in for.
"So you're bailing on me for Chad?" I roll my eyes, cradling the phone between ear and shoulder while flipping a paper-thin slice of ribeye. "What happened to 'girls' night, lesbians forever'?" "It's not a Chad," Mia laughs through the speaker. "His name's Elliot, and he's a philosophy professor." "Oh, so a Chad with a PhD." I drizzle olive oil into the cast iron, adding shaved garlic that sizzles instantly. "Traitor." "Y...