Can’t Get Over His Ex-Girlfriend

He can’t get over losing his young girlfriend. He was a sugar daddy to her, he admits this and then tells me I look a lot like her, same shoulder-length auburn hair, same sweet blue eyes, same slender size 10 physique, about the same age too, tender, late teens. 

We’re standing there in the introduction area of Le Penthouse Suite, the famous, most reputable, and longest-established bordello on the Glitter Strip, and I absent-mindedly play with a lock of my hair and continue to chew the bubble-gum one of the other escorts gave me earlier.  He seems distracted by my chewing, and then he takes a long walk over my body with his eyes, drinking in the two piece black lace lingerie set with G-string that accentuates the V-line of my lithe thigh and from behind, displays my firm and sweet buttocks to full advantage. His eyes return to my nipples which poke hard against the transparent strapless brassiere and then he says, “Can we go now?” 

So we make our way past reception, up the stair-case for a long slow walk down the hall-way to suite one, the deluxe boudoir with king-sized double bed, Jacuzzi, shower and sumptuous furnishings. I’m swaying my hips in front of him as we enter the room, knowing that the fragrance of the strawberry shampoo I’ve been using has entered his sense of smell, and knowing that he has been extremely turned on by my seductive walk, because as soon as we have entered the room he moves up behind me and encircles my waist with his big broad arms, and he starts to nuzzle my hair, inhaling deeply and muttering, “Crystal-Rose you are so gorgeous”. He presses his thick erection through his pants against my buttocks, and I can feel his pot belly pressing into me, and I think this middle-aged sugar daddy is ready to rock. 

He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a tight, pink t-shirt with an angry birds logo on it, and he tells me this is the t-shirt his ex-girlfriend was wearing when he caught her having sex with a younger man, around her age, in the sugar-daddy’s bedroom.  

He says he hopes I don’t mind that he hasn’t washed the t-shirt, and he wants me to wear it, right now. 

So I turn around to face him, and pull away from his big arms, and I unfasten my brassiere so that it falls to the floor to reveal my full and firm breasts, reveals my stiff hard nipples. He gasps, and then he starts to undress. I take the t-shirt and slip into it, it smells relatively clean and of some feminine fragrance I’m familiar with but just can’t place. The t-shirt is a tight fit and accentuates my erect nipples.  

He is fully undressed now and moves towards me like a bull charging, he encloses me in his embrace and lifts me up off the floor and carries me towards the bed, and throws me onto the mattress. I tell him I have to make the bed first, and he steps back a little, now stroking his naked erection, standing there fully naked.  

I quickly fit the bed sheets that are supplied as part of the service here at Le Penthouse Suite, and when I turn my back to this big sugar daddy to fit the pillow cases he descends upon me again, encircling my waist once again from behind, this time kissing the back of my neck, my hair, the side of my face, and then his hands move to my breasts which stretch the pink fabric of the t-shirt. His thick length is pressed against my butt cheeks, and he hooks his erection under the strap of the G-String, and moves his hands under the pink t-shirt, so he can start fondling my nipples. 

I can feel sticky pre-cum lacing the flesh of my buttocks and lower back and remember that we need protection, and say through his nuzzling and sucking and kissing, “Hold on big fella, we need protection.” He doesn’t even pause, and I have to struggle out of his grasp to find a condom packet from the bedside table. He follows me, and encircles me again, and I giggle, then struggle around in his grasp to face him, and start to fit the condom with both of our bodies pressed against each other. I do this without looking, and at the touch of my hand on his manhood he shudders and I think he is going to orgasm then and there but he manages to stay the inevitable climax. 

As soon as I finish rolling the prophylactic down to the base of his thick and throbbing shaft he picks me up and drops me onto the bed, quickly positions himself between my legs, and starts to rub the head of his throbbing erection up and down along the groove of my tight, hairless pussy. He furrows along the pussy lips, and makes circles around my clitoris, and then taps the head of his erection hard against my clitoris until it stiffens in response. Then he furrows his length again up and down along my groove until he finds the opening, and then he penetrates me with a tight pop that makes me quiver and moan. 

He starts pounding me, trying to find depth, pushing in half-way, pulling back a little, then plunging deeper still, until he has penetrated my sex to the base, the hilt of his thick thick shaft. He thrusts in and out, over and over, pounding deep, searching for the deepest, sweetest spot inside my cervix, and then he finds my G-spot, pierces my sex spot so that I cry out in pleasure. And he begins to ride me missionary style, pounding with deep thrusts that start to accelerate, start to move faster and harder.  

His urgency rising, his moans echoing in the room, he grabs my love handles and then in three deep stabbing motions he plunges his shaft as deeply as possible into my tight wet pussy and orgasms, bellowing into the room like a bull. I orgasm a moment later, shuddering and whimpering, still wearing the Angry Birds Pink t-shirt, sweat-soaked and exhausted for the moment. He collapses on top of me, this middle-aged sugar-daddy who can’t get over losing his young girlfriend.