Celia Lisset Alvarez ABOUT THAT GOLD BIKINI The truth is I enjoyed wearing it. You thought there was nothing underneath those vestal robes but hairy legs. Even so, you lusted. Lusted maybe at the way I held that blaster like I could need you in a fight. Lusted after my pert little mouth like the mouth of a girl. Lusted after my tied up hair that never fooled you, not once. The thing about the gold bikini is that it proved you right. You knew I had those breasts, those thighs. You knew I wanted you to want them. You knew, most of all, that I would need your rescuing. That is what you lived for. Seeing me tied there to the beast—like a dog—you wanted to show that you were better. Seeing me dressed in metal made you hard. Well, don‘t forget. Don‘t forget that while you stumbled blind as a newborn after your glowing blue dick and took out all those inept minions I choked him. I choked that beast ten times bigger than myself with all his gloat and bloat and pomp and circumstance with his own chain. I killed the big bad. It was me. And I looked good doing it.
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