Candy Ass

I've come to the conclusion that my ass has a mind of it's own. She's my super sexy alter ego, who's rightfully earned my nickname Candy.

Candy is a bit of a show off. When she's feeling particularly sexy, she makes sure the rest of the world appreciates her soft, mocha-toned self. Whether it's deciding to flash an entire traffic jam when I'm wearing thigh- high fishnets and a thong, or giving my co-worker a nice shot of pink frills just outside the bank. She especially likes to be seen in various silk or Lacy black Tangas. And just today, as I was leaving the office with Gabby to pick up lunch, she decided to say hello to the little Mexican guy working in the parking lot. She's over-confident and the biggest tease I've ever met. I think she sweet talks my clothes into dramatizing her show. She's very convincing too; always managing to get my skirts to flirt with Mr. Wind. I know what you're thinking, "It's not your ass showing off, it's the wind blowing your skirt up." But if that were the case, it would happen any time it was windy...and somehow this only happens when we're privy to an audience. And she's mastered the art of whispering sweet nothings into the seams of all my favorite jeans so she can peek out from underneath my left pocket and wink at her many admirers.
I have reason to believe my legs are in on the gig too, helping her out on stair wells by stepping on my long skirts pulling them down to let Candy say hello in her cute black thong. They seem to like attention too...I swear I heard them giggling yesterday at all the comments on my "school girl stockings". No matter how modest I try to be Candy is always screaming for attention...and she usually succeeds in getting it. No matter how embarrassed she makes me in the process. Maybe I should stop encouraging her behavior by buying her all sorts of cute, skimpy, alluring panties. But somehow, I think she'd still find a way to be seen. And if she must steal the show, she might as well be dressed to kill.