<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>Pimp on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/tags/pimp/</link><description>Recent content in Pimp on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Sat, 30 May 2026 20:13:46 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/tags/pimp/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Feminine Hygiene</title><link>/stories/2011/03/06/feminine-hygiene/</link><pubDate>Sun, 06 Mar 2011 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2011/03/06/feminine-hygiene/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;I applied a bit of lube to my pussy lips; made them glisten. I touched up my makeup. Not too much. Kevin wants to go for that innocent look. At 19 I should look innocent, but I&amp;rsquo;m not, nowhere near.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;On the other hand, after being with him for about six months, I&amp;rsquo;ve regained something of a youthful demeanor.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I&amp;rsquo;m Anh. Vietnamese. I grew up in a very strict household, so naturally when the opportunity came, I split. The opportunity came in the form of Jamie. A biker. One day, when I was 16, I hopped on her bike and never looked back.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>An Ensign's Fantasies 8</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/an-ensigns-fantasies-8/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/an-ensigns-fantasies-8/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="ensigns_fantasies7.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;An Ensign&amp;rsquo;s Fantasies 7&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)_&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 8&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;The following narrative is that of a retired Starfleet commander. Though many of the narrated details did actually occur all names are fictitious and locales and dates are changed to prevent individual identification.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Working as a prostituteJanet has had many mundaneencounters such as the night she was hired as a hostess.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&amp;mdash;&amp;mdash;&amp;mdash;&amp;mdash;&amp;mdash;&amp;mdash;&amp;mdash;&amp;mdash;&amp;mdash;&amp;mdash;&amp;mdash;&amp;mdash;&amp;mdash;&amp;mdash;&amp;mdash;&amp;mdash;&amp;mdash;&amp;mdash;&amp;mdash;&amp;mdash;&amp;mdash;-&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Jerry picked me up one Wednesday evening telling me I was going to be a hostess. That was the only explanation he gave me. He warned me not to bring either my aphrodisiacs nor tranquilizers. I could not have any kind of drugs in my purse. He drove us to a nightclub on the outskirts of the city. He seemed nervous about something. I don&amp;rsquo;t know why he was rattled when I was the one that expected to have to provide lap dances and put up with being groped by a club full of drunks.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>