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It's not just the action of the ocean, women. It's definitely the size of the sail boat too. And I've got both firing on all cylinders. In fact, I've all the right assets. Looks, brains, my own money, and a large c--k. You might think I'm an a--hole. I appear to be one, don't I? I'm hot as sin, rich as heaven, smart as hell, and hung like a horse. But do you know what? You haven't read my tale before. Sure, I might be considered a playboy, like the NY gossip rags call me. But I'm the playboy who's actually a great dude, making me original. Really the only trouble is, my dad needs me to cool it for a bit. With conservative shareholders in town attempting to buy his flagship Fifth Avenue jewelry store, he needs me not and then zip it up, but to look the area of the committed dude. Fine. I can do that for Dad. In the end, I've got him to say thanks to for the family jewels. THEREFORE I ask my best friend and business partner to be my fiancée for another week. Charlotte's up for this. She's her own reasons for stating yes to putting on this big rock and roll. And pretty soon all this participating in pretend in public areas contributes to no pretending whatsoever in the bedroom, because she cannot fake the kind of toe-curling, window-shattering orgasmic cries she makes as I take her to new levels in bed. But I cannot seem to be to fake that I might be being something real for her. The actual hell have I received myself into with this...big rock and roll?
