When I slip into the Agent Provocateur lingerie you bought me, spray myself with Gucci perfume and gloss my beautiful plump lips that you paid for, you feel so rewarded. You feel so blessed that you get to fund my little luxuries for the Valentine's date, the most beautiful woman under the Sun and you are the lucky man. But not luckier than the REAL man who'll get to actually go on a date with me, of course on your dime. He'll get to flirt with me, get teased by me, dine me and then take me home, rip off my lingerie, smudge my lipgloss and fuck me senseless. The frustration that floods you ... Show more