I was sitting at the bar, nursing a drink. The bartender was cute, she had nice dimples. Her nametag was attached to a skimpy uniform with a silver clasp, into which was set a blue stone. I wondered what the penalty was for slipping under the bar with an aquamarine girl. I shifted my hips at the delicious thought, moaning quietly as I ground my shorts against the soft leather of the chair.

Then I glanced around nervously, wondering if anyone had noticed. Hoping.

Much of the wall behind the bar was a giant mirror, and through it I could see the crowded floor, dominated by three stages for the girls to dance on. The stages were long and thin, reaching out into the club like widespread fingers, allowing the maximum number of people access to a stage at once.

The cheerleader - Suzi, the dimpled bartender told me - was raising a few cheers at one of those stages. She was popular. And deservedly so. My eyes kept drifting back to her. She was so athletic. The way she wrapped herself around that pole, kicking her legs in the air…

In the mirror I could also see people looking at me, lusting at me. It helped keep me nicely hot and wet.

I shifted again, enjoying the feel of the stool beneath me. I could feel my clitoris against the tightness of my shorts, and, feeling light-headed, I suddenly realised Angela hadn’t mentioned that. I wondered what she would have me call it. Clitoris… Clit… Clitty… Nubbin… Nub… I altered position in time with my words, gently thrusting against my shorts, relishing the growing sparks. Could I bring myself off this way? I heard myself giggle deliriously.

I was losing my mind.

I kept thinking lusty thoughts of Angela, and predatory Tigra with the whip, and Bambi the nurse, and Suzi the hot cheerleader, and… what of April, the woman whose delightful tongue got me into this mess? She was the reason I was here, wasn’t she? Something about finding her, finding her and that tongue of hers…

As my eyes wandered, I saw another hot woman, a guest. A dark-eyed, dusky woman, maybe Arabian, with three male companions, two whites and a latino. From body language and captured snippets of conversation, I learned they were work colleagues. They were all in suits. The woman and one of the men seemed surprised by the kind of place they’d been brought to. The woman in particular seemed uncomfortable, and I heard someone say, “Okay, we’ll finish our drinks and then go.”

I didn’t want her to go. I wanted to comfort her. I wanted her to meet my eyes, and call me over. I wanted her lips to suck my pulsing clitty…

All these thoughts about women! Was it homophobia, I wondered, to be worried I was a lesbian?

But then, when I caught someone looking at me, anyone, man or woman, I felt so warm and tingly inside. I remembered what it felt like when Angela propelled me out into the club. To walk across the floor, with my body still soaring from her touch. To have to squeeze past all those lecherous men, hearing their comments – ‘look at that rack!’ ‘Look at the collar! She’s a Ruby girl. I thought they were supposed to be goddesses, not tarty sluts’

It had taken all I had to reach the bar without touching myself, without turning and leaping on the stage and tearing off my clothes, touching myself as they watched. But I’d made it, breathless, collapsing on to the stool and clutching the bar, a lifejacket in the stormy sea of my lust.

So was it exhibitionism? Was I an exhibitionist? With my past, what happened to me at University, that didn’t make any sense at all. But I couldn’t deny the thrill I felt when they looked at me. I couldn’t deny how much I wanted them to look. Had I been in denial all those years?

Or was I just a slut?

I felt like crying, suddenly, and clutched the pendant in one hand for comfort. What had April done to me?

“Excuse me, miss?” A young man addressed me timidly. He was college age, probably. My stomach lurched as I saw the stamp of a red gem on his hand. He was a Ruby guest.

Breathe, I told myself. “Yes, sir, what can I do for you?” I felt proud at getting that sentence out without stammering.

He was wringing his hands nervously, and looked over at an older man sitting not far away – his father, smiling and silently urging him on with his eyes.

“I – I don’t know what to say… I – I want… I want you.” He was blushing. So nervous. So shy. I could feel my heart melting.

Could I do it? Take a stranger – even an adorable boy like this - into a back room and… and have sex with him?

But it would tell me something I needed to know. If I was a lesbian. Could I even like guys any more?

And by God, I needed to be fucked.

I grabbed his hand and stood – then realised I didn’t know where to go. Fortunately, Dimples was there. She pointed up to a balcony, and so I led the adorably nervous boy up the stairs. There were more tables up here, spaced wider apart for people to sit and watch the dancers away from the crowds. A few couples seemed to be enjoying romantic meals.

There was also a second balcony, overlooking a different section of the club – the dance floor, where all those clubbers had ended up. Suspended above it were the usual rotating glitterballs. These were encrusted with red and amber and green crystals, sending out multi-coloured shafts of light over the dancers.

The seats overlooking that dance floor were more like couches, sofas - a bunch of dirty old businessmen were crammed together watching the gyrating young bodies on display. That was puzzling, when they could turn around and watch the strippers…

But I had other things to think about. There, at the back, a discreet little door. Behind it, a cramped corridor. Lots of little doors with “Engaged” signs on them.

Aha! Vacant!

The room behind the door wasn’t seedy at all. There wasn’t much more to it than a bed - a drinks cabinet with glasses – but it was a big bed, with welcoming green silken sheets.

I closed the door behind me and turned hungrily to my nervous guest. And then, boiling with lust, I awkwardly realised I didn’t know what to do. How this was supposed to go?

Could I just throw him on the bed and leap on him? What if that’s not what he wanted? What if he complained? To Angela? That thought sent a stab of anxiety straight to my already throbbing cunt.

As I stood there, uncertain how to proceed, a more familiar worry surfaced. Would this be like the other times? Would I freeze? Would I push him away? Just being in this room, being here with him, I had already gone a lot further than with any man since Mike. And I was so horny. Surely I could get through this.

But the door in my mind had opened, the memory loomed large in my thoughts now. How I’d opened up to Mike, loved him passionately and often, and how he’d repaid me. Such pain and humiliation. Such cruelty. How I’d recoiled from men ever since, driven them away, never understanding why. I knew suddenly that I’d let him control my life for ten years, robbing me of so many chances for love, for pleasure. And now, he was doing it again. He was going to rob me of this perfect moment as well!

With a flood of shame to my pussy, I realised the cute boy was talking and I wasn’t paying attention!

“I’m Bobby. Bobby MacPherson. I’ve never done anything like this,” he said, speaking in a rush. “This was my father’s idea. This place saved my parents’ marriage, and Dad wants it – you – to make a man of me.”

That surprised me enough to break through my internal battle. “It saved a marriage?” And then I thought: A virgin. For a moment, I forgot my worries: Mmmm, a virgin.

He nodded, shyly averting his eyes while held his hands hid his erection. His hard cock, I corrected myself, trying to think dirty, to hang on to the arousal.

“Yes. They were going to split up. They fought all the time. But he brought her here for a meal to make up, and they fell in love all over again. I can’t believe how much they’ve changed.” Something about what he was saying troubled him. I had a feeling I should be paying more attention, but I was having an epiphany.

I, Elizabeth Summers, could never, would never sleep with a stranger. But Leeza… Leeza the sex slave, she could do it. I had to become Leeza. I was a psychologist, I knew of the power of roleplay. I just had to believe it, and it would be true.

“Bobby, that’s a cute name,” I said, emulating the way a pleasure girl like Leeza might talk. It was easy. “You can call me Leeza, Bobby. Now… Do you want to talk or to fuck?” Oh wow, I thought, as the heat erupted once more, blowing away my fears. It’s working!

His eyes widened, and he looked like he was going to have a coronary – and with the night I’d had, I knew exactly how he felt.

I’d spent so much of my time counselling people about their insecurities, I’d never realised just how attractive someone’s vulnerability could be. He was so shy. So adorable.

“Just relax,” I told him, as I gently pushed him back onto the bed, pressing my body against his, kissing him softly, savouring the sensation. It’s so long since I’ve kissed anyone, I realised sadly. I didn’t even get to kiss April.

And so we kissed, our tongues wrestling delightfully. He had no shortage of experience in this area, I was happy to find. So it was nice. It was pleasurable. But it wasn’t fucking.

So I broke off the kiss and lifted myself up by my elbows. I looked him in the eyes and said, “You know, this isn’t going to work.”

He looked so crestfallen, so kissable. I smiled. “Our clothes are in the way!” Seeing his face light up mad me feel so warm inside.

I stood up and gestured to my top. “I’d better take this off, hadn’t I?” I was enjoying teasing him! That was a revelation.

He was nodding frantically, so I pulled my top off. I tried to do it gracefully, but it was too tight, too small. But he didn’t care – it came off and that’s what mattered.

He was awestruck by my tits, still wobbling with the pendant dangling between them.

How could I have ever hated these – these marvels? I grabbed my tits and squeezed, groaning aloud. “Do you like?” His strained expression was answer enough – he was struggling to stop his orgasm.

I turned away so he could look at my ass as I kicked away my heels and pulled the shorts down. Was that sucking sound my imagination as they pulled away from my pussy? I moaned aloud, pleasantly, as I realised that, bent over like this, I was giving him a perfect view of my sopping cunt.

That was another revelation. I was displaying myself, my most intimate parts, and I was getting off on it!

I slowly wiggled my behind for him, enjoying the sensation, and then turned back to him. I leaned slightly forward, letting my body slowly sway from side to side, letting myself feel his gaze following my boobs.

“Aren’t you gonna join me, stud?”

He looked nervous. Terrified. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You let Leeza worry about that. I want you, boy, do I want you!”

At that, he gave a moan and frantically tore his clothes off. Such a thrill to have this effect on him!

And then, I saw it. His cock. His hard, beautiful cock, leaking with pre-cum. I had to have it inside me.

My voice was hoarse with excitement as I told him to lie back. I climbed on top of him, kissing him again, feeling IT brushing against my thigh. So close…

He groaned. “I don’t think I can hold on!” At that, I almost panicked!

I grabbed his chin, turned him to look in his eyes. “Listen to me, you’re not going to cum. It’s just a matter of willpower. You have the will, the strength! Do you understand?”

He nodded. I kissed him, while reaching down between our bodies. As I took hold of him, I felt him twitch. Trembling, I straddled him, and slowly, soooo slowly, sank down on top of him.

We moaned together, a long heartfelt groan as my cunt swallowed his cock - it felt so big, huge. And then he was all the way in, and I felt so full, so complete. Had the bastard Mike ever felt this good?

I rested my cheek against his, hearing my ragged breathing. “Oh yes, so big, so good,” I heard myself say, and felt his cock pulse in response.

Slowly, so slowly, I lifted myself off him, my cunt sucking, not wanting to let go, and then, so slowly, I sank down on him. Again. And over and over again.

I tried to give him encouragement on the upstrokes, telling him what a great lover he was, how strong, and big, and powerful. I sat astride him, looking down at him. I lifted his hands to my tits, inviting him to squeeze them, play with them, maul them, as the pendant dangled above his face. “That’s right - enjoy my body. Explore with your hands. Get to know your way around a woman’s body. When you leave here, you’ll know just how to make a woman happy!”

But it was almost too much for him. He was straining. “Shit! I’m going to cum!” he said.

“No!” I hissed. Please, not yet! “You’re strong, you’re a man, not a boy! You’re not going to let a woman beat you! You’re stronger than that!”

God, I hoped I was right.

I rode him slowly, trying to maintain a measured pace. Going slow, so he wasn’t overstimulated. But it was excruciating – I just wanted to abandon control and fuck him senseless. But I held on, telling him how good he was doing, what a great lover he was.

And then we both felt it – the building pressure, the rising pleasure. It was inevitable now. We were in synch, one being, thrusting faster and faster, getting closer and closer… And then he stiffened in ecstasy, his seed erupting inside me, setting off my own orgasm. I collapsed on top of him, trembling with ecstasy, kissing him.

We lay together, breathing heavily, recovering. I felt closer to him then than I had to anyone in a long time. I loved him. I may even said it aloud. Whatever I said was having an effect. I felt him start to stiffen again, still inside me. “Oh fuck!” he cried, and rolled me over, never slipping out, and said, “Now I’m going to fuck you!” It was exhilarating, and I let myself be carried away by his passion.

He WAS fucking me. Riding me fast and hard. And it was even better. Soon, I was spouting nonsense, telling him I was a bitch in heat for him, he was a god among men, that women would beg for his mighty cock! I was begging him to cum, pleading with him, telling him I couldn’t take any more. And then I was just shrieking, screaming in ecstasy.

And then, finally, FINALLY!, our bodies went rigid, straining their muscles, and then his burning load erupted inside me, igniting fireworks, obliterating all thought. I collapsed on top of him.

I started to giggle, and snuggled in against Bobby, the new man Bobby, revelling in the sensation of his hard masculine body against my soft feminine curves.

He looked at me with wonder. “That was… that was…” I put my finger to his lips, and then followed up with lips and tongue. There was nothing we needed to say that couldn’t be said this way.

…

My body was heating up for action again, so I groaned in disappointment when he broke away, saying, “My dad will be waiting.”

I watched him dress, noticing a difference. A new confidence. Almost a swagger. At the door, he turned back, and I stretched out luxuriantly, enjoying his appreciation, feeling tired but purring nicely.

The way he looked at me, fixing my body in his memory… There was something… possessive in his gaze. Like he’d had me, and I’d served my purpose. I was just the first notch on his bedpost.

The door closed behind him and I put the thought from my mind.

As I gathered my clothes, I’d discovered an adjoining restroom – a toilet, a shower, and cosmetics. Everything a pleasure slave needed to restore herself for duty. After leisurely, sensuously, cleaning myself up, I made my way back into the club. I had a spring in my step. I felt like my body was glowing – a just-been-fucked glow.

As I swayed my hips towards the bar, I noticed Kimmi, the sexy caricature of a sailor who had tried to defend me earlier. The little oriental sexpot was standing atop a table, writhing sexily for the four people sitting beneath her – teasing, but not taking off her clothing. If that little sailor uniform qualified as clothing.

The table she was dancing at was one I’d noticed earlier. That dusky girl with the three workmates. The girl was flushed, pretending not to watch Kimmi’s suggestive movements, hiding her desire to peek up the dancer’s skirt. Her companions were more open in their enjoyment, cheering and banging their fists against the table. The girl said something about leaving. One of the men broke off his cheering to whirl on her, saying loudly enough for me to hear, “We’ll go when we’re good and ready! Now finish your drink and enjoy the show!”

Seeing her meekly lower her head to her drink moved me. Such dark, soulful eyes. I wanted to go over to her, to comfort her in my arms, to cradle her head against my naked chest…

I forced myself to turn away and hurry to the bar. Dimples poured me another drink, flirting with me while I watched the dancers. My mind wasn’t completely on either. I kept drifting dreamily back to my encounter with Bobby. I couldn’t help but compare it with that blast of sexual lightning that had been April.

Which was better? The experience was Bobby was more than satisfying. I was still giddy, riding the sensual afterglow. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so fulfilled. All those lost years…

Even so, I had to concede the raw power of the experience with April. Sexual lightning, indeed. What did that mean for my sexuality? And would Angela be even better? And what, I wonder, would Dimples be like?

Those comparisons were driven from my mind as big, black, Tigra leapt onto the nearest stage, dragging the stocking-clad secretary by a leash. They acted out a little play which wouldn’t make it far on Broadway, but which my pussy and I found utterly engrossing. Apparently the secretary had committed some infraction. Exactly what it was hard to say, since they had no lines. But the important thing, the delightful thing, was that she needed to be punished.

The naughty girl was begging, pleading for mercy with her eyes and pose. Tigra was captivating, merciless - dominating with her strength and her will. Tigra undress her supplicant with the whip – each crack! exposing more of the girl’s nubile, trembling body.

Tigra’s earlier promise flashed into me head: “I’m going to like you. I’m going to take my time liking you.” My moist, throbbing heart remembered her words too. Was this what she had in mind for me? I wondered, as Tigra pinned the submissive beauty’s head to the ground with her boot. In my mind, I swapped places with the abject slave, imagining Tigra’s hand reaching under my upraised ass, her fingers lifting me by the cleft on to my toes, as the audience roared.

“What’s it like?” asked Dimples, interrupting my fantasy. “Being a slave?”

That question stopped me dead, reminded me of my deceit - my real purpose for being here. I couldn’t very well say, “I’m not a slave, I only went with that adorable boy because I wanted to. Actually I’m really undercover, looking for someone, and I’ll probably never come back.”

Thankfully, Dimples didn’t wait for me to answer. “I can’t stop thinking about it.” She looked over at the dancers. “They look so free, so uninhibited, so sexy. And when they come back from…” her eyes flicked to the stairwell, and I shuddered with pleasure, remembering Bobby’s hot seed spurting inside me, my pleasure at his look of ecstasy, “…you all look so satisfied. I keep fantasising what it would be like, to Take The Green…”

I still didn’t know what to say. I guessed that Angela would expect me to say it was great, and she should go for it. But something was making me feel uneasy. Distracting me from my pleasure.

“I can’t describe it,” I told her, playing it safe. “Everyone’s different. You have to do what’s right for you.”

I needed to change the subject. And since she was on my mind… “Did you ever meet a slave called April?”

At my description of the golden-haired, blue-eyed, perfect-breasted goddess, Dimples looked thoughtful. “That sounds like Jaki. I think she was a friend of Kimmi’s. I haven’t seen her for a few days. Come to think of it, she was pretty excited last time I saw her. Something about big changes. Maybe she’s been promoted to Amber!”

Her face darkened as a more troubling possibility occurred to her. “Or maybe she’s gone Diamond…”

Before I could ask her to explain, a big beefy tattooed arm wrapped around me, effortlessly lifting me from my stool. “Hello, babe! Did ya miss me?”

That voice… Oh no. Meathead! The neanderthal!

He was grinning as he set me on my feet. He flashed his left hand at me, and my breath left me in a gasp – a Ruby stamp! He openly looked at my prize assets, then spun me around and shouted to the crowd, “I’m gonna fuck these titties!”

Heads turned towards us – faces broke into approving and envious grins, fists raised in a cheer. He was moving, dragging me up the stairs. I tried to protest, but I was so weak. He didn’t even notice.

I couldn’t let him take me. Not him! He was the antithesis of my dream man, the very worst example I could think of. If I could fuck him, I could fuck anyone. Where would it end?

But if I broke free – if I even can! – people would see my rebellion. My cover would be blown. Angela would find out. I groaned with terror and lust at the thought. Oh god, Leeza. Don’t think about that.

Then I saw my escape clause: He wants to fuck my tits.

Could there be a less invasive, less violating form of sex? Was it even sex, really?

Is it even possible to get a man off that way? My scientific curiosity was kicking in. It had to be a clumsy and messy experience – it couldn’t be fun, surely? Certainly, no fun for the girls. But why would guys even like it, when they could have pussy?

So I definitely wasn’t going to fuck him. But a tit-fuck - it might be interesting. I’ll get to see just how pathetic and desperate men can be.

He undressed quickly, revealing his big, fat, tattooed body. He flopped on to the bed. I was surprised at the effect seeing him naked had. His big fat cock… He wasn’t as long as Bobby, but he was definitely thicker. What was that feel like inside me? No, Leeza!

I lifted my eyes to his. He hadn’t noticed me gazing at his nice, fat cock - he was too busy looking at my chest. Knowing what was expected, tingling with lust, I threw off my shirt, and stood proudly. “Like what you see?”

He couldn’t take his eyes of them. I felt powerful, sexy.

“Lose the shorts, bitch.” What? He only wanted a tit-fuck. Why should I-. But he was the boss. And besides, the more excited he was, the sooner he’d shoot his load and I could get this over with. I repeated my earlier show, bending over to give him a good look at my juicy, slippery cunt.

He surprised my by scooting in for a closer look, his hands on my ass to hold me in position. I gasped, feeling his breath on my lips. “What a snatch!” he said. “It’s so puffy, so red. I’d love to eat that pussy!”

Oh god.

“I bet you’d like that.” He slipped a fat finger into my pussy, and my legs buckled. Then he slapped my ass and leapt away, falling back on to the bed. “Well, come on bitch. I’ve paid good money for those tits!”

Focus, Leeza. It took me a few moments to recover enough to stand, to turn back to him. Unsure of what to do, I started to straddle him. He stopped me, commanding me to kneel on the bed. I tried to pose sexily, thinking that’s what he wanted, but he had something else on his mind.

With his hands on my knees, he parted my thighs. Then, without asking for permission, he reached in, and again pushed a fat finger inside me. I groaned in shock and clutched the bed-sheets looking at my face. Then another finger. He looked up at me, “So tight.” I groaned again, and when he pulled the fingers out, I hated the feeling of disappointment.

“And more than wet enough,” he said, displaying his glistening fingers before my ashamed eyes. Then he wiped the lubricating fluid over my breasts, rubbing it into the cleavage of my tits.

I should have been horrified at this casual abuse, but I’d just learned how sensitive my breasts had become. That caress was almost as pleasurable as his finger pushing inside me. So when he repeated the action, again and again, thrusting his fingers into my hot sex and massaging the oil of my lust into my soft flesh, I couldn’t object.

I didn’t want to object. I ground my pussy against his fingers, and pushed my tits into his hands. He was oblivious to my lust, intent only making sure I was well-lubricated. God, how I moaned and writhed.

My body was reduced to an object - a sopping cunt providing lubrication for swollen tits. Cunt. Tits. A toy. And I didn’t care. I was going to come!

Then his fingers pinched my nipples hard, nipples almost as sensitive as my clit, and said, “That should do it.”

I gasped, struggling for air, as he withdrew, groaning in frustration. I’d been so close!

He lay back, half-sitting, and patted his thighs, indicating I should straddle him. I didn’t hesitate. With unbridled lust, I leapt between his legs. He lifted his cock, and I saw it dribbling with precum, I felt joy - I had been turning him on!

I grabbed my so-sensitive breasts, squeezing his hot, hard shaft between them, and slid my body back and forth, up and down. My guess had been right. It wasn’t easy, it wasn’t comfortable. His cock kept slipping out of my fleshy embrace, and my hair kept falling over my face to block his view. It was clumsy. But by god, it was worth it!

Every nerve in my breasts seemed alive with sensation as his fat cock slid through the slippery channel, his heat spreading through my body, the pleasure building and building. Each time he slipped out filled us both with frustration, taking some of the edge off, and deliciously prolonging the experience.

It was hypnotic. Looking down, watching the engorged head of his cock vanishing into the crevice between my mounds, swallowed up as I slid upwards, and then reappearing as I slid down. The eye leaking its juice. I can smell it, the aroma tantalising, but it’s too faint. I had to lean closer, sliding further down with each thrust to get closer.

Sensing what I was doing, his hips strained, thrusting upwards. And then I was there, close enough to touch, to reach out with my tongue. I didn’t think, I was lost in the moment. Looking wonderingly at this thing of power, I darted out my tongue and licked. At the contact, I felt such a pulse in my pussy. Then I was sliding up and away from it. Then back down, this time far enough to touch with my lips.

With each thrust, I took him further into my mouth, the taste of him taking me higher. And then I’d reached a plateau of pleasure, simmering, not able to go higher, revelling in the sensation. He was so big. Filling me as I sucked, not knowing what else to do. With my tongue, I explored the length and shape of it, the shaft and the head.

Then he tensed up, grunted and threw me onto my back for the second time tonight. He straddled me, and crushed my breasts in his mighty hands – I couldn’t tell if I was feeling pleasure or pain. Then he was thrusting, each rapid, jerking motion sending a wave of raw sensation from my breast to my brain.

My own hands were in constant incoherent motion. Reaching up to feel his massive body, clawing, scratching. Then clutching weakly at my own face and hair, as I writhed, lost in passion and degradation. I couldn’t help myself – I craned my head, trying to catch the head of the cock on each up-thrust, trying to licking it, to wrap my lips around it again.

He was thrusting faster and faster, faster and faster. And then his body went utterly rigid, his constant grunts transformed into a long strained moan, somewhere between anguish and exultation. And then his body was jerking and pulsing, spraying hot seed over my face, my hair, my tits. Each globule hits me like fire, and I’m coming with him.

Oh WOW.

I was only barely aware of him rolling off me to lie beside me, his breath coming in wheezing and gasps. I was barely aware of anything other than pleasure, dazed satisfaction. I’d never imagined that being reduced to a sexual object could feel so good.

I was floating, delirious, my whole body deliciously trembling with satisfaction. I heard myself giggle. My hands moved of their own accord, drawn to my tingling breasts, caressing them, massaging the sticky substance into my skin.

Moaning at the sensation, I licked my lips and tasted his seed. I groaned, and lifted a hand, and licked the juice from my fingers. Such nectar. I’d never imagined it would taste this good.

I felt decadent, degraded, delicious.

An idea occurred to me… I lifted a tit to my lips, and licked. Oh god.

“Holy crap,” he says, “You’re getting me hard again.” I suddenly remembered I wasn’t alone, and looked at him. I must have looked so wanton – my hair wild, my eyes hooded with passion, my face spattered with cum, my tits slippery with pussyjuice and cum, and one nipple being sucked into my mouth. His eyes widened, his cock stiffened.

It occurred to me that if I kept this up, he’d try to fuck me…

So I looked him straight in the eyes. lifted the other tit, and licked my lips suggestively. Then I sucked the nipple into my mouth, and moaned with as much passion as I could muster.

He lost it. With a roar, he grabbed me, hurling me onto all fours like a ragdoll, a toy for his pleasure, and rammed his cock into me from behind. My head and tits were pressed against the sheets, as he fucked me without ceremony - short, rapid, jerks, grunting as he slammed me. Fortunately, that’s exactly what I needed! He didn’t last long, and neither did I, feeling my climax overtake me as his semen spurted into me.

We collapsed, his heavy body crushing me against the bed, his shrinking manhood a comforting presence inside me. I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to move. I was delirious.

I don’t know how long we lay there, but eventually pulled away, slipping out of me with a slurping, sucking sound. I rolled onto my back to face him, one hand automatically dropping to my stirring pussy as my legs fell apart, displaying my wanton decadence.

He groaned as he dressed. “Fuck. You’re one hot piece of ass. Worth every penny. In fact…” From his jacket he drew out a wad of bills and threw them onto the bedside table. “I know I’m not supposed to do this, but here’s a bonus, you earned it.”