say. “Only while you’re lying on your stomach.”
“And a hand job?”
You look down, guiltily. Your eyes flicker up and linger for a moment on the bulge under the sheet, the hard-on I’ve had since before you walked in the room.
“Yeah,” you say. “I can give you a release at the end.”
“Sold,” I tell you, and you roll the three hundred dollars up tight and put it in the pocket of your shorts. You come over to me and turn your back, leaning back to show me the tie of your white halter top.
“Will you untie me?” you ask.
I quickly curl my arm around you, move my hand up your belly and cup your breast, squeezing the nipple gently. It’s very hard.
“I’d rather rip it off of you,” I say.
“That’s not allowed,” you say, pulling away. You reach behind your back and untie the halter. Stretched tight, it pops forward around your tits. As I watch, you unfasten the tie at the back of your neck and let the halter slip away from your breasts. They’re big and round, gorgeous, with nipples that are much harder than when you walked in.
“Nice,” I say. “Now the shorts.”
You unbutton your fly and wriggle out of your shorts, sliding them down your long legs to show me perfect hips and a crotch covered only by a tiny, cheap red lace thong. You fold the halter and shorts together and place them on the table. You stand there for me to look at, and I smile.
“What are you waiting for?” I ask you. “Lose the thong.”
You peel the thong away from your pussy, and I discover that you’re shaved—smooth. You’ve got a ring in your clit and a heart-shaped tattoo just above your pussy, in the shaved patch. The name across it says DADDY. I can smell your cunt in the small room, musky and sweet. My cock pulses under the sheet.
“Roll over,” you say, edging toward the table.
“I’d rather have you climb on top of me this way,” I say, pulling down the sheet and revealing my hard-on.
“Uh-uh.” You shake your head. “Roll over.”
Grudgingly, I toss the top sheet on the floor and roll onto my stomach. My hard-on presses painfully against the padded massage table. You climb on my back and straddle me, your pussy wet against the small of my back. From the moment it touches me I feel the energy throbbing into my body, electric. I’ve got to fuck you if it’s the last thing I do.
You drape your body over mine and start to brush your big tits down my back as you grind your hips against me, rubbing your pussy against the curve of my ass. I moan softly as you dry-fuck me and stroke your erect nipples over my shoulders. As you bend forward, drawing your breasts down my back, I feel your breath hot against the back of my neck. You move down and straddle the back of one thigh, your cunt rubbing against me. Your hands trace patterns down my sides, and your breasts shudder back and forth on my skin. Your pussy rubs more firmly against the back of my thigh. I can feel the hard prick of the small ring in your clit. I can also feel your pussy getting wetter, sliding juicy up the back of my leg, leaving a cool trail of moisture. The last trick’s lube leaking out of you—or a hooker getting turned on? The way your breathing changes—quicker, almost imperceptibly—could be an act, but the hardness of your nipples couldn’t be. It’s too warm in here to explain their firmness, but not warm enough to make either of us sweat, to explain the moisture between your legs. You press your lips to the back of my neck, trailing your tongue along it—but it’s practiced, businesslike. You lift yourself onto your hands and knees above me, and I can feel the trickle of wetness you left on the back of my leg, close to my ass. You start to kiss your way down my back, your tongue barely touching me.
I do it fast—fast enough that you don’t see it’s happening until I’ve rolled almost all the way over. By that time I’ve dislodged you from above me; you’ve lost your balance and you would have fallen
“And a hand job?”
You look down, guiltily. Your eyes flicker up and linger for a moment on the bulge under the sheet, the hard-on I’ve had since before you walked in the room.
“Yeah,” you say. “I can give you a release at the end.”
“Sold,” I tell you, and you roll the three hundred dollars up tight and put it in the pocket of your shorts. You come over to me and turn your back, leaning back to show me the tie of your white halter top.
“Will you untie me?” you ask.
I quickly curl my arm around you, move my hand up your belly and cup your breast, squeezing the nipple gently. It’s very hard.
“I’d rather rip it off of you,” I say.
“That’s not allowed,” you say, pulling away. You reach behind your back and untie the halter. Stretched tight, it pops forward around your tits. As I watch, you unfasten the tie at the back of your neck and let the halter slip away from your breasts. They’re big and round, gorgeous, with nipples that are much harder than when you walked in.
“Nice,” I say. “Now the shorts.”
You unbutton your fly and wriggle out of your shorts, sliding them down your long legs to show me perfect hips and a crotch covered only by a tiny, cheap red lace thong. You fold the halter and shorts together and place them on the table. You stand there for me to look at, and I smile.
“What are you waiting for?” I ask you. “Lose the thong.”
You peel the thong away from your pussy, and I discover that you’re shaved—smooth. You’ve got a ring in your clit and a heart-shaped tattoo just above your pussy, in the shaved patch. The name across it says DADDY. I can smell your cunt in the small room, musky and sweet. My cock pulses under the sheet.
“Roll over,” you say, edging toward the table.
“I’d rather have you climb on top of me this way,” I say, pulling down the sheet and revealing my hard-on.
“Uh-uh.” You shake your head. “Roll over.”
Grudgingly, I toss the top sheet on the floor and roll onto my stomach. My hard-on presses painfully against the padded massage table. You climb on my back and straddle me, your pussy wet against the small of my back. From the moment it touches me I feel the energy throbbing into my body, electric. I’ve got to fuck you if it’s the last thing I do.
You drape your body over mine and start to brush your big tits down my back as you grind your hips against me, rubbing your pussy against the curve of my ass. I moan softly as you dry-fuck me and stroke your erect nipples over my shoulders. As you bend forward, drawing your breasts down my back, I feel your breath hot against the back of my neck. You move down and straddle the back of one thigh, your cunt rubbing against me. Your hands trace patterns down my sides, and your breasts shudder back and forth on my skin. Your pussy rubs more firmly against the back of my thigh. I can feel the hard prick of the small ring in your clit. I can also feel your pussy getting wetter, sliding juicy up the back of my leg, leaving a cool trail of moisture. The last trick’s lube leaking out of you—or a hooker getting turned on? The way your breathing changes—quicker, almost imperceptibly—could be an act, but the hardness of your nipples couldn’t be. It’s too warm in here to explain their firmness, but not warm enough to make either of us sweat, to explain the moisture between your legs. You press your lips to the back of my neck, trailing your tongue along it—but it’s practiced, businesslike. You lift yourself onto your hands and knees above me, and I can feel the trickle of wetness you left on the back of my leg, close to my ass. You start to kiss your way down my back, your tongue barely touching me.
I do it fast—fast enough that you don’t see it’s happening until I’ve rolled almost all the way over. By that time I’ve dislodged you from above me; you’ve lost your balance and you would have fallen
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