Is That All You Want?

He tells me he’s a rock climber and an abseiling instructor and he stands a little taller. His frame is gaunt, rangy with whip cord strength but his smile is gentle and his eyes are blue and boyish.  He tells me he wants an erotic massage and that’s all, otherwise his girlfriend won’t be too happy, but I can see something lascivious in his eyes and the subtext of our conversation says he wants something a lot more. 

I gather the length of my long, dark brown hair over the front of my shoulder, straightening the strands with a few gentle strokes so that the locks are placed against the fullness of my breasts which are so erotically revealed by the skimpiness of the transparent blue lace brassiere I’m wearing. “Are you sure that’s all you want?” And I give him a little girl look and place one lithe leg forward so that the V-line of my thigh emphasizes the way my tight and transparent G-string barely conceals my tight and tender pussy. I reach down and adjust my garter belt, and watch his eyes follow my movement, watch his eyes pause and linger on my pussy. 

He coughs a little, looks up at me, and says nothing. I grab his hand and we walk away from the introduction area of Le Penthouse Suite, the glitter strip’s most glamorous and well-known bordello, the pleasure palace of dreams. Myself Victoria with her momentary lover.  Our short destination is Suite One, the deluxe boudoir and as we ascend the stairs he tries to make small talk as he follows me up. I deliberately don’t answer him, letting my silence build the fire in his loins. He is so close behind me that our hands brush against each other several times and I can feel his hot breath on the flesh of my sweet buttocks. 

When we are in the boudoir, I casually walk over to the king-sized double bed and start to fit the clean satin sheets, letting my every move, from the sway of my hips, to the lean of my body, to the curl of my finger, ignite that lascivious glint I saw in his eyes. He undresses himself as I fit the sheets, and when I finish with the pillow cases, he moves naked towards me, fast and determined, and I wonder why he is trailing his elegant leather belt in one hand. 

When he is standing before me, he kisses me on the cheek, but I respond by kissing him on the lips. He kisses me again, on the lips this time, and he probes into my mouth with his tongue as his arms encircle my waist.  He wants a taste of me. He presses his naked and erect length against my lower belly, leaving traces of pre-cum along my flesh, and then he presses hard against the crotch of my G-string, and then he pulls away. 

“Massage,” he whispers, and he grabs my buttocks with one hand and kisses me on the neck. I say, “Okay,” and I struggle a bit, “You have to lie on the bed.” He hisses into my ear, “No, I’ll give you a massage,” and he kisses me deeply on the lips. 

I sit on the bed, and I unfasten my brassiere, and my full breasts are fall away, fully exposed, the nipples erect, and he falls upon them, sucking them deeply and so hard that it hurts. He pushes me onto my back, and pulls my arms up over my head so that they hit the back board of the bed. He grabs his belt and fastens them not too tight around my wrists, and I keep my arms in that position. 

He straddles my chest and places his thick and throbbing erection between my breasts, pressing the fullness of my bust together around his shaft, and he starts to thrust in and out between my breasts, sticky pre-cum tracing wetness all over the flesh.  Between his thrusting he occasionally pushes his erection into my face and into my mouth, and soon I can feel his urgency rising, his lust become uncontrollable, and he moves downwards, positions his manhood between my legs, placing the head of his erection against the crotch of my G-string, pushing the fabric aside so flesh contacts flesh. I struggle a little against the belt strap and close my legs together, and I say to him, “Condom,” but he isn’t listening, and starts to force my legs open again, and I hiss harder this time, “Condom,” and I reach back down over my head with my bound wrists, and grab his length.  

We look at each other and I smile at him, “Over there,” I motion to the packets on the bedside table, and he reluctantly reaches for a packet and I take it with my bound hands. I tear the packet open with my teeth and fit the prophylactic onto his length with both hands so close together. I barely have time to finish the fit when he pushes me back, and places his length against my pussy lips, my thighs spread wide. He rubs it up and down along the tight groove of my sex, finds the opening and penetrates my pussy with a silent pop.  

He starts pounding me, and my bound hands are up above my head, and he is thrusting in and out, deeper and deeper into my tight and tender sex. He continues to thrust over and over, and then readjusts my waist and hips, trying to find deeper access, and he begins thrusting again, pounding his length deep into me and there, he hits my G-spot and I tremble and shudder in an orgasm, and he is moaning now, and I am moaning, and he is thrusting harder and faster and suddenly in three violent stabbing motions I feel him orgasm deep inside me, feel him blow his load deep inside me, deep inside my sex.