Morgan's Demon (rewrite)

i wrote this story awhile ago, but i reread it recently and didnt like it,

so i rewrote most of it, i hope you like it!

criticism would be nice...

Morgan's Demon

Tired from a tedious day at the office, Morgan eagerly unlocked her door. Her place of work was physically and mentally draining. Walking past the kitchen, she leaves her purse on the table. Morgan finally reaches her room and threw her jacket to the hook at her left. Tossing her shoes aside she sits on the end of her bed. Sighing in relief as she begins to massage her feet.

Glad that her ordeal is finished, for the weekend at least, she gets up. Morgan opens her closet door and reaches for one of the hangars, with a semi-transparent, deep red nightgown hanging from it. The gown was imprinted with skulls and would just barely reach mid-thigh. She lays it on her bed and begins to unbutton her blouse. The tight, white tank top that is now revealed is a favorite of hers because it does not inhibit her glorious form in the least. She then slips out of her thigh length skirt showing cute, striped, red and black panties. She glances over toward her vanity mirror and smiles faintly.

Running her hands up over her voluptuous curves she removes her glasses. They are small angular frames that make her look intelligent, but without them she gains an allure. She places them on her nightstand and moves her hands to her hair. Another feature expertly executed to make her appear intelligent. She dislikes it. Having to make her appear smarter to be accepted without being a sex object. So she lets it down. It feels good. It ‘s like the final release from the strain of her workday.

She looks toward the mirror again; this time she likes what she sees. It iss more her. She is free; her hair is slightly past her shoulders, and tinted a deep burgundy. Finally feeling as herself again, she plays with her curves, dancing for herself in the mirror. Morgan kisses the mirror, leaving a black stain, and with that she retrieves the nightgown and leaves the room.

She opens the door to the bathroom and hangs her gown up. She turns on the shower and starts tugging on her top. She slips it off and admires the stark contrast of her dark nipples to her light skin. Her breasts are immaculate, so much so, she thinks, that it is amazing to think they re real. And it is insane that there isn’t a man, or woman for that matter, to help her admire them.

She slides her panties down her long legs slowly, revealing a piercing, something that she is proud to not have to remove for work. The small part of her, that stays, as she wants it. Fully nude she turns to the mirror. Oh, how she wishes everyone she works with were more than tools of the corporate monster. She really f