Better than a happy ending!
He says he wants an erotic massage with full sex at the end. He says he’s never really satisfied at massage parlours with just the hand-job happy ending. I smile and think to myself, you’ll find full satisfaction here at Gold Coast Lepenthouse Suite, the Glitter Strip Capital finest bordello.
He’s an older gentleman. He feels like a sugar daddy, or a pervert uncle, as we ascend the staircase to the rooms upstairs. In the mirrored wall beside us, I can see his eyes roaming all over the plump swell of my ass cheeks as my hips sway in the tight black lace G-string I’m wearing. I can feel his eyes appraising the way my long dark hair hides the strap of my black lace brassiere, beckoning him to undo the brassiere once we’re in the room, so my young and full breasts can swing freely and he can find out what my firm nipples taste like.
He’s breathing heavily, smells of honey and tobacco, and he walks close behind me and I know he wants to caress my smooth, soft skin; wants to kiss this 20 year old neck; wants to whisper sweet promises to me and taste my sweet lips. My hazel eyes catch his eyes for a moment in the reflection of the mirror, and I smile.
He’s used to a full body massage and a happy ending at the parlours that appear and disappear sporadically up and down along the Gold Coast Highway; but he’s not used to me, Charlotte, high class escort at Lepenthouse Suite, now straddling him with my knees either side of his waist, and my pussy lips rubbing the groove up and down along his throbbing shaft as he lies supine on the king-sized double bed. He’s not used to a Gold Coast hottie like me having fit the condom over his thick erection with my lips, biting hard at intervals, before this moment now as I playfully try to make him cum, with my pussy lips and clit rubbing his length, thin condom almost negligible given the pleasure I see in his face.
He can’t contain his lust a moment longer, and he sits up, grabbing my hips and moving me, positioning me so he can ram his manhood into this tight wet pussy. I gasp and giggle at his grip, and I’m assisting his manoeuvre, gripping his erection and placing the thick head against my pussy lips, adjusting myself at the entry point to my sex, and there; and now he thrusts himself up as I settle myself onto his erection. He pushes his length into me, so tight I am, myself clamping my sugar walls inside me along his shaft, resisting his first penetration, then easing a little, letting him in a little more.
He won’t be denied and as he’s gripping my waist strongly, he pulls me harder down onto his length, timing his thrust so he penetrates his shaft deep into me. I moan, he groans, and now he is thrusting rapidly up and down, up and down. He’s kissing, sucking my neck because he’s sitting up now, and he’s leaving suck marks and bite marks like he wants to devour me.
His thrusting reaches a crescendo of lust, rapid fire, short, sharp stabs of his long thick manhood, and there, he hits my G-spot and orgasms a blissful groan into the boudoir. And soon I reach my climax, as I’m fingering and pinching my clit while his length is fit tightly inside me, and I orgasm and a flood of bliss blossoms out from my sex centre, as I squirt pussy juice over the base of his erection and groin, the length of his erection still hidden deep inside me.
“Better than a happy ending?” I smile at him as he gently rocks me in his arms.
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