He proudly shows off his $10, 000 dollar bicycle while I absent-mindedly play with my shoulder length red hair. He tell me something about the bicycle being a Teammachine SLR-01, with Dura Carbon tubular wheels or something like that. I’m more interested in the tubular thing in his tight, lycra cycling pants, which seems to grow even as we speak.
“So your name is Catherine?” He stands beneath the soft lighting in the introduction area of Le Penthouse Suite, the Gold Coast’s premiere bordello with the finest cadre of high-class escorts on the East Coast, perhaps this side of the planet. “I love your hair, I love red-heads.” He smiles and that’s it, this client has me already.
“Yes, I’m Catherine, and you said you’re a Commonwealth Games Competitor?” I move closer and put my hand on the bicycle seat, the purple-gloss nails tapping gently on the black leather. He coughs a little, perhaps embarrassed when I catch him checking out my curves in the black lingerie set I’m wearing. The crotch of the G-string and brassiere are transparent with embroidered lace, partially revealing my tight hairless pussy, and my full breasts and erect nipples. This guy has turned me on.
He insists he has to take his bicycle up to the room, the deluxe suite one, with king-sized double bed, dancing pole, and marble Jacuzzi. Our lovely manageress Hayley says taking the bicycle upstairs is not a problem, and she gives me a wink and a smile and we head up to the boudoir.
As we walk up the stairs he tells me he was riding with his squad of four, with the coach in a car in front of them, when all of a sudden he decided to take a detour, breaking away from his crew and like a guided missile found himself here, at Le Penthouse Suite.
I can smell the sweat on him, strong and manly, feel his powerful presence behind me as we crest the top of the stairs and proceed down the hallway. “You’ve got lovely blue eyes too,” he says this as we enter the room and I almost tell him to stop with the compliments but keep silent because once inside the room, once we’re alone in the boudoir, it’s just us and the tingling excitement in me blossoms and I turn around and place a deep kiss upon his lips, hanging my arms around his neck as he stands above me, tall and rangy.
He responds by clumsily placing his bicycle against the loveseat, and gripping me around the waist, pulling me close into his embrace and kissing me back, with tongue. I push him away and say playfully, “I have to make the bed honey.” He starts to pursue me as I move to the king-sized double and start fitting the satin sheets on the bed, once again encircling his arms around my waist, but from behind, as I float the sheets over the mattress, trying to ignore his fondling and fumbling, his heavy breath on my neck, his face nuzzling into my hair.
His hand is reaching down to my pussy, fingers now under the G-string crotch, fiddling with my pussy lips, fiddling with my clitoris. I moan a little, but finish tucking the sheets into the mattress and with the bed made I turn around into his eager advances. He kisses me all along my arched neck, leaving suck marks along the soft skin, his hand is still fondling my pussy, and his other hand is pulling down my brassiere so he has more access to my breasts, my nipples. He starts sucking my nipples, and I moan again, a little louder this time.
I fumble to take off his tight lycra pants as he assaults me with kisses and sucks, and gropes and presses his hidden erection against my lower stomach, rubbing it lower towards my moist pussy; the smell of his strong manly sweat engulfing me in macho lust.
He pauses just long enough to peel off his lycra pants and to take off his tight team cycling shirt and now he is naked and starts his almost manic foreplay again. I wonder how long it’s been since he’s been with a girl. As if he’s read my mind, he mumbles, “Christ I’ve missed this, it’s just been months and months of training, I’m so glad I came here.” At this he pushes me back onto the bed while at the same time unfastening my brassiere, which drops to the bed and exposes my fulsome breasts to further sucking and fondling. But he decides he wants my pussy, so he moves his face to my G-string, which is now all askew and exposes my tight pussy lips so he can start cunnilingus.
I hook my ankles over his shoulders and he starts to lick and suck my pussy lips; and making tight circles around my clitoris with his long tongue so it becomes stiff and erect with an aching feeling of pleasurable plain. I’m moaning now over and over, and I catch a glimpse of how long and thick his erection is, now glistening with pre-cum, now throbbing, yearning to pound me senseless.
Mini-orgasms are shuddering though my body now as he feasts upon my tight wet pussy, my hands ruffling through his short blonde hair, and after what seems like an eternity, he rises up and pulls me to him and leads me over to the bicycle. He man-handles me so that I straddle the seat, my legs aren’t long enough to reach the ground so I rest my feet on the lower bar of the frame. I sense that he wants to penetrate me, so I say, “Stop, go and grab a condom from the table.”
He is fast, so eager, dashing to the table and grabbing a condom, chocolate flavoured and ribbed, he peels it open and I say, “I’ll fit it on,” He straddles the bicycle behind me and feel his throbbing hot erection press against my lower back, leaving strands of pre-cum along the flesh. I can’t turn around, but look over my shoulder and start to fit the condom onto his length with one hand, squeezing his manhood hard to excite him, rolling the durex over his length fitting it down onto his thick tube. Once it is on, he wastes no time and pushes me forward so that I place my hands on the handle bars, and feel his positioning his thick erection at the opening of my wet, wet pussy.
There is a moment of resistance as he pops past my pussy lips and opening as he straddles me and the bicycle from behind; and now he is inside me and I clamp my sugar walls tight around his length, my internal muscles secreting wave after wave of sex juice. He starts the back and forth motion, slow at first, then gathering speed and he is always trying to penetrate deeper into me. Back and forth, in and out, and the grind of our lust-making rocks the bicycle, and our sex juices and sweat coat the bicycle seat. His thrusting becomes more urgent and he wants to be even deeper into me, so he adjusts his position, adjusts my hips and thrusts deep enough to penetrate my G-spot and I groan so deeply I feel the sound resonate through the bike frame.
He is thrusting hard and fast now, and I feel my climax rising as my pleasure rises and rises and I peak just a moment before he pounds three stabbing penetrations of his thick and long manhood deep into me and he groans too, almost bellowing, and orgasms so much cum I am worried it might leak out of the condom and inside into me.
He’s not finished, even though he’s orgasmed his manhood is still thick and throbbing and erect, so he keeps his length inside me and tries to turn me around to face him, it is awkward but I manage to manoeuvre so that now I am facing him, all the while his thick pole is still clamped by my tight internal sugar walls. And now he begins a second session, this time, I am facing him, my buttocks still partially on the bicycle seat, my arms angled backwards, hands resting on the handle bars, breasts exposed, G-string askew and now sopping wet, one garter belt snapped and dangling. And he starts the pounding and thrusting motion all over again.