Friday, November 28, the day after Thanksgiving 2014, was a cloudless sunny day, although it rained the day before and the day after. My hot boyfriend, Vince, spent Thanksgiving morning in bed watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade on TV with me. Then we had a sweet fuck before rushing off to a family holiday meal. Then all night slowly enjoying each other back in my bed, in all of our favorite sexual ways. When we awoke Friday morning, Vince kissed me and asked me what I wanted to do that day. “It’s the day after Thanksgiving.” I told him. “A holiday, a non-work day. A beautiful sunny day. That construction site is likely to be abandoned today.” Vince and I had found a construction site kind of far out of town. Nobody was ever around, except the construction crew, and they would be off work that day. The site had a nice picnic table for the construction ankara travesti crew to eat lunch, and I had told Vince about my hot fantasy involving him and that picnic table. Friday would be our day to turn my fantasy into unforgettable reality. We discussed all the details, and I had Vince go out there first, and I would give him time to prepare before I arrived. As arranged, when I got there, Vince was seated at the picnic table, wearing only the tiniest cotton men’s bikini underwear, and a construction hard hat. Nothing else. There was a bowl of corn flakes on the table, and a small container of milk at the far end of the table from him. I was in a construction helmet and a big, shapeless, baggy winter coat. One that completely disguised my curves. And baggy jeans that also hid my feminine shape. As arranged, when I arrived, Vince got ankara travestileri on his knees on the picnic bench, and he reached far across the table to grab the milk to pour on his cereal. His arm and chest muscles flexed and rippled as he stretched. “Mmm!” I purred loudly enough for Vince to hear. My intense lust made my man grin from ear to ear. I licked my lips. “I’d like a taste of your milk!” I whispered lustily. “I’m sorry, sir,” Vince stammered. “I’m not gay.” “That’s OK,” I replied, removing my hard hat and shaking loose my red mane. “I’m not a sir.” “You’re not?” “No, under this coat, I’m 100 per cent real woman.” With that I unzipped my coat, revealing my big beautiful full round breasts. My nipples were hard as pebbles at the sight of the hot, nearly naked man who fucks me hard several times a week. “How do I know you don’t have travesti ankara a cock?” he laughed. “You’ll have to take my jeans off of me to find that out. And how do I know that you do have a cock?” “You’ll have to take my underwear off of me to find that out,” Vince threw my own words right back at me.” “Oh, I know a better way to find out,” I giggled. I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him. While sliding my tongue into his mouth, I ground my crotch hard against his. Then I took a step back. Sure enough, his “helmet” was protruding well above the waistband of his tiny underwear. “I love hard helmets,” I cooed. ”Especially when they glow bright red like that.” “My helmet is yellow, miss,” Vince patted the top of his head. “Not the one I’m going to kiss!” I smiled. “I can see that helmet is a beautiful bright red.” I put his hand on my jeans and encouraged him to unzip my jeans. At the sight of my pussy, Vince’s helmet grew even bigger, redder, and brighter. I knelt down and kissed him there. “I’m hungry,” I smiled. “Want some corn flakes? And milk?” “I want milk all right.