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Anal Queen

When I arrived at Amanda's apartment on Friday night, I let myself in as usual. She had the lights down low and Kenny G playing softly on the stereo. Candles were lit all over the apartment. Smoke trailed from a stick of Jasmine incense.

"Hello!" I yelled, as I shut the door behind me.

Amanda emerged from the hallway seconds later. A lacy, black corset squeezed her body into the sexiest, hourglass figure I'd ever seen. A transparent pair of panties showed her thin Mohawk of a bush. Her legs were wrapped in thigh-high stockings that were attached to the corset by garter straps. She cut an impressive figure, made all the more dramatic by the six-inch heels on her feet.

"Well, hello," she said.

Amanda had a striped pink shopping bag from Victoria's Secret in her hand. She walked over to me like a stripper and gave me a long, slow kiss on the lips before backing away and handing me the bag.

"I did some shopping for us today," Amanda said.

I took the bag and gulped. I still couldn't believe I was going to do this.

"Go ahead and look inside," Amanda said.

Beneath the white tissue paper was a neatly folded pile of lace. I pulled it out and held it in front of me. It was a corset identical to the one Amanda was wearing, except purple.

My knees weakened. I began to weave.

"Sit down, sit down," Amanda said.

She guided me to the couch.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

A trace of sweat had formed on my forehead. I wiped it with my wrist. My head was swimming.

"It's just this," I said, while shaking the corset. "If I do this, won't I be gay? I mean, I'm afraid I'll cross over and not be able to come back."

"Awww, baby," Amanda said.

She wrapped her arm around me and kissed me on the cheek.

"This won't make you gay," she said. "You're doing it for me, right?"

I looked into her eyes.

"I'm not so sure anymore," I said. "I've been fantasizing about this all week."

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