I was so fucking horny that I would have fucked him right there in the restaurant, in front of everyone. My sexual stupor had turned into a boil, a bonfire in my loins, then, a sexual volcano that was erupting throughout my entire soul. They could watch if they wanted, even join in. I wanted them to watch. I needed an orgasm more than I’d ever needed anything in my life.
“Please fuck me,” I begged loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’m so fucking horny that I can’t stand it.”
Oblivious to my needs, he only dropped his hand to squeeze my behind, setting off fireworks in my ass that headed straight to my clit. Moaning through gritted teeth, tightening my canal walls to feel the pleasure of each step, we entered the spacious lobby. Other than the woman behind the counter and a few staff, all of them staring at me with lust, the cavernous area was empty.
“Marissa,” he addressed the front clerk. “Is my suite ready?”
“Yes, sweetheart,” she said to him. “I took care of it, myself.”
“Thank you so much. Make sure you charge yourself a nice tip to my room.”
Momentarily forgetting that I was supposed to be playing the part of a paid escort, I put my arm around him as we walked to the elevators, pulling him close into me. His hand traveled down my back, cupping my ass as we waited. I decided that I couldn’t wait any longer; I was going to fuck him as soon as we got in the elevator. I knew they probably had security cameras, but I’d flashed half the staff and the entire restaurant my pussy, fingered myself, and gotten fingered, so showing up on security’s surveillance wasn’t an issue.
As the doors dinged open, I pulled him inside by his stylish tie, kissing him passionately, one hand moving to pull out his cock. Right at the moment I was going to drop to my knees, some middle-aged man wearing casual clothes stepped in.
“Sixth floor,” he said.
“Of course,” my client/ husband stated, pressing the button for him.
Fine then. If I couldn’t have cock, I could at least tease. I turned my back to Glade, pressing my ass against his groin. As the elevator began its very slow ascent, I ground my ass into him, rubbing him to hardness. The man faced forward, to the right of us.
Even though the interior was shiny, it wasn’t mirror-like. I doubt the stranger had a clue when my husband slipped his hand through the high slit in my dress and began rubbing my clit in earnest. By that point, it was swollen and throbbing. I bit my lower lip in an attempt to keep silent; my ass humped against that thick, long cock and then forward into his deft fingers, giving me pleasure.
His arm snaked around my waist, holding me up. My legs had turned to jelly, the horny pleasure making them weak. I chewed on my lip, forcing my breathing to not turn into moans, desperately waiting for the elevator to reach the sixth floor. The man exited into an empty hallway, oblivious that I was just one flick of my clit away from a mind-blowing orgasm.
As soon as the elevator dinged, I stopped holding back, an intense orgasm consuming me.
“Fucking fuck; I’m fucking cumming.” My body collapsed in his strong grip, writhing against him as I moaned in beautiful agony. When he pulled his hand from my still-needy cunt, it was dripping. Wave after cresting wave washed over me, wrecking my entire body, stopping my heart, reigniting it with the thunder of the gods. My brain switched off, replaced by primal, horny, lust, my mouth making guttural growls and grunting moans.
“What fucking room?” I asked as soon as we reached our floor, pulling him into the hallway with urgency.
“Slow down, Katrina. I paid for all night.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I scolded. “You know how fucking horny you’ve made me.”
“I have? I thought Escorts didn’t get into their clients, that it was all business.”
I fell back into character. “Not with you, Mr. B. You make me so wet. Take me to your room, and I’ll show you what you get for your money.”
Sprinting to the room, I fished out my key card and was inside before he’d caught up. What I saw just blew me away. The suite was huge, complete with a kitchenette, living space, office space, and a balcony overlooking the city. A huge bed was in one area, the double doors leading to it open. Candles were lit all over, soft, romantic music playing on the stereo. A bottle of champagne in an ice bucket, two flutes beside it, was on the table with a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries as their neighbor.
“Five hundred,” he said, peeling off more bills. “Pour yourself some champagne and join me on the balcony.”
“But, honey,” I whined. “I need your fucking cock. I want to feel it pounding in me.”
He laughed, nonplussed, the bastard. “Do you call all your customers, ‘honey?’”
An epic sigh escaped my lips. “Fine, Mr. B., the balcony, it is.”
If he wanted to keep the game going, there wasn’t anything I could do, except play along. I shook out my hideously-colored hair, running my hands over the green dress. That self-amused look on his face melted into wanton desire. Rays of pussy-scorching energy shot from his hypnotic eyes, gently stimulating my already-fiery flesh into urgent need. However, if he was going to sexually torture me, I was going to make him suffer.
I bounced to him, giving my boobs extra bounce, my hips swaying exaggeratedly. One of my hands reached out, caressing his monster cock through his pleated pants, the other taking the bills from his hand. Turning around, knowing how magnificent my ass looked wrapped in the emerald satin, I bent over the table at the waist, arching my back to stick my plump, firm, round behind out even more. Gently swaying, as if to soft, sensual music, I placed the money into my gaudy purse. Twelve hundred dollars in one night; I could get used to this.
“Champagne?” I asked as I turned my head.
His eyes were riveted on my posterior. He only nodded, not once taking his eyes off my body. I poured two flutes, one half-filled for him, an overflowing one for myself. I just had to have one of those strawberries.
“I love the decadence, Mr. B.” My tongue lashed out and slowly licked the chocolate coating the plump fruit. Just to tease, I sucked on it, making “mmm” sounds, then tongued it more, finally biting into it. The chocolate-coated ambrosia elicited a moan.
I dipped the strawberry into my champagne and sipped, marveling at the sweet and smooth taste of the bubbly. Finally, I walked through the bedroom area, noting the sheets were turned down, rose petals on the bed, and walked onto the balcony. Overlooking the city, the lights of the hustle and bustle twinkling, some people and cars passing by, below, I took a deep breath, inhaling the sensation of luxury and sexual adventure.
He joined me, wrapping his arms around me from behind. That magic cock of his, so thick and hard, was grinding into my ass. I ground back, moaning in pleasure, as his hands cupped my breasts, drawing my hard nipples out even further.
I downed my champagne. “Champagne makes me so horny, and you make me fucking wet.”
I felt his hands on my back, slowly caressing, moving with smooth ease at the perfect pressure to make me purr. Those manly hands ran over the garter belt beneath my garment, over my sides, and lingered on my breasts. I was in such a sexual daze that my hips were humping back onto his cock.
“Please fuck your whore.”
With only a brief, almost silent chuckle for an answer, his hand unzipped the side of the dress. The cool, night air on my newly exposed flesh sent shivers through my body, contrasting with the burning heat of my arousal. Although I screamed for him to tear it off of me, he tortured me by taking his time.
His fingers, hands, and lips began at the nape of my neck with soft caresses and gentle nibbles. The heat of his body, his hard muscles, and that massive cock against me was so erotically infuriating. His nuzzling traveled up to my earlobe, sucking it into his hot, wet mouth, his steamy breath blowing against my ear and causing minor tremors to cascade down my spine.
“Who are you?” he breathed into my ear.
“Katrina. I’m yours for the night. You paid for me.”
His hands dropped, playing my body like a finely tuned instrument, the contours of my body melting beneath his touch. When his fingers glanced over my exposed side, horny fire sucked all the strength from my knees, my hands gripping the balcony rail. I was powerless against him and loved it.
With the same agonizing slowness, his mouth swept under my hair, traveling across my neck at a snail’s pace. All the while, his hands explored me, never once exposing more of my body.
Into my other ear, he whispered, “What are you, Katrina.”
I shoved my ass into his hardness to get my point across. “I’m your horny whore. Fuck me like one.”
“What?” He opened the seam of my dress less than another inch, his fingers kneading the newly-exposed skin, my loud moans echoing off the night.
“Fuck me like a whore.”
Both of his hands cupped, then squeezed my breasts, freeing them from the dress, the night air making my hardened nipples tingle with delight. Torturing me with his slow adeptness, he renewed his assault on my quivering body, slowly undressing me. As soon as a tiny bit of my skin was chilled by the night, he’d drive it into volcanic hotness. My entire body became alive with desire, enslaved to an urgent need, and pulsing with lusty abandon.
By the time he’d removed the dress from me, I was panting and moaning, begging for his cock. I was driven once more to the brink of orgasm.
“Please fucking fuck me,” I begged. “Take me now, like this, bent over the balcony. Please fucking fuck me.”
Unable to restrain myself, I spread my legs, my torso leaning on the railing. My right hand plunged between my legs, burning from the heat in my cunt. My client stepped back, removing his hands from my body. I needed them back where they’d been but was too involved with fucking myself to object.
“You have the best ass I’ve ever seen,” he told me. “The way the garters outline the perfection of your body has me unable to control myself.”
He could have fooled me!
Just then, the sliding doors of the balcony in the suite next to us opened. A yawning man, probably in his fifties, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, walked out. I stopped masturbating and looked over. The half-wall hid part of me, the privacy screen was riddled with holes in an ornate pattern. If he looked over, he’d see me nude.
“I didn’t tell you to stop, Katrina,” my husband said. He was obviously loving this turn of events.
“Fine, then,” I said loudly enough for the stranger to hear. “If you want to see your whore cum, I’ll cum like crazy for you.”
Knowing I was being watched was such a turn-on. My body reacted by gushing out so much fluid that it soaked my thigh-high stockings.
“Do you want to watch me from behind while I fuck myself, or have me turn around, so you can watch me finger my throbbing, burning clit?”
He didn’t answer, but I heard the man on the balcony next to me gasp and shuffle over. Silhouetted by the lights emitting from his hotel room, I could see him pressed against the divider screen. I pursed my lips towards him, throwing my head back as I plunged two fingers into my dripping snatch, my other hand seeking my clit.
I stared at the stranger but talked to my husband. “Do you like watching me fuck myself, you pervert? Does it turn you on to see me bent over, my ass on display for you? I’m so fucking horny; listen to how wet I am.”
The sloshing sounds of my fingers hammering into my cunt cut through the still of the night. I could hear our neighbor grunting and masturbating to me, soft pants and fapping sounds. I pulled my dripping fingers out of my pussy and brought them up to my face, rubbing my hot nectar all over my lips and cheeks, staring at him through the privacy screen.
“Cum for me,” I ordered my voyeur. “Cum with me.”
I bent over once more, this time fucking my slit from behind, addressing my husband, my client. “I’m a fucking whore, your fucking whore,” I chanted. “I’m so fucking horny. Did you like watching me masturbate in the restaurant? Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck; the man watching me is jacking his cock. It’s so fucking horny. I’m going to fucking cum on my hands. Please fucking fuck me. I need your fucking cock; give it to me. Fucking shit, I’m fucking cumming.”
Screaming at the top of my lungs, I kept fucking my twat and rubbing my clit as my orgasm crested then subsided, then came back again and again. I fell back onto the balcony chair, my entire body convulsing in ecstatic bliss. My vision blackened, and my soul was transported into another plane where only sexual pleasure existed.
A loud thud broke me out of my trance. Our neighbor, my balcony-voyeur, had hastily retreated into his room. I giggled at that, setting off a large round of laughter between us.
“Now fucking fuck your whore.”
“As you wish, Katrina.”
Mr. B. picked me up in his arms, making me feel both weightless and protected. Striding in, he threw me on the bed, and I bounced twice on the firm mattress from the impact.
“Now fuck your twelve hundred dollars out of me!”
“Not yet,” he beamed.
“You fucking, perverted bastard.”
He walked out of sight for a moment, back into the living area, arriving with the plate of strawberries and champagne. I watched as he casually strolled back onto the balcony and retrieved my champagne flute, removing his well-fitting shirt and tie.
The sight of his bare chest, perfectly-carved pectoral muscles, and muscular stomach caused my breath to catch in my lungs. His body always reminded me of an artist’s masterpiece sculpture, the male, human form at its pinnacle. While I’m not fixated on fine, perfectly-formed bodies, he has the body of a sex god. Even the goddess moon chose that moment to shine on his nude torso, her silvery fingers caressing him, mirroring my desire.
His sexiness enhanced my libido to even greater heights, my fingers returning to their prior locations, fucking my dripping cunt with vigor, and assaulting my clit with desperate, horny need. He stood over me, watching. One hand held his champagne glass, the other rubbed his mutant cock through his pants.
He spoke to me as I fingered myself to yet another orgasm. “Being watched really turns you on, doesn’t it?”
“Fucking, yes,” I moaned, plunging my fingers deeper inside.
“You’re a prostitute because you love to be fucked, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I panted, my fingers speeding up over my clit. “Please fuck your whore. Fucking fuck me.”
“I can’t wait to taste you, fuck you,” he continued. All I could do was moan and scream in horny surrender. “You’re mine, my whore, aren’t you, Katrina?”
“I’m yours. You fucking paid for me, now please take it. Please fuck me. I’m fucking cumming, again. Oh, fuck. Oooh, shit.”
He watched, sipping his champagne. My orgasm was harder, more intense, and longer than the others. I flailed about as if possessed, screaming, moaning, and begging for his cock.
Still not satisfied, I felt him climbing between my legs. They were still shuddering from the intensity of my pleasured release. I moaned and begged for him to lick me when I felt his hot breath on my pussy. I screamed in delight when his tongue touched my burning inner thigh, two fires melding into one. When his hand gently slopped in my wetness and ran over my asshole, my body bounced off the bed in quivering delight.
Rather than finger me or lick me, he moved away, briefly, a chocolate-covered strawberry in his hand. Moving it to my cum-saturated pussy, he slowly ran it from the bottom of my pulsing hole up to my clit, moving it in little circles over my most sensitive pleasure spot.
He soaked the candied fruit with my juices; I felt it grow warm from my fluids. Then, he slowly raised it to his mouth and took a bite, savoring the mixture of flavors and my cum.
“You taste like pure, perfect paradise, Katrina.” Just as gently, only more tortuously, he wet another strawberry with my nectar. He ran it up my body, leaving little trails of melted chocolate and my runny cum on my body. “Taste yourself.”
As he held the strawberry before my mouth, his lips moved down my body, lapping and kissing at the mixture of chocolate as I bit into it and chewed. I took the fruit in my hand as he traveled down.
“Please lick me. I’ll do anything.”
“I know you will. I paid for it.”
“Aaah,” was all I could moan as his tongue flicked out and made contact with my swollen clit. “Please, more. Harder. Please! Oooh, fuck; please make me cum on your mouth; I fucking need you. Fuck, that feels good. Please, oh fuck, oh fuck.”
His hands roamed over my body, grabbing my ass with such strength that I felt dominated, sliding up my body with feathery contact, and grabbing my tits with the perfect amount of pressure to squeeze them into more pleasure. Even the sensation of his fingers lightly rubbing my nipples was perfect.
“Fucking lick me, lick my cunt. I’m going to cum again.”
My hips were pumping up and down, gyrating from side to side as I rubbed my dripping slit all over his face. My breathing quickened; my heart thumped through my chest as cold fire shot through me, radiating from my clit through every pore in my body. Just seconds before I exploded on his talented tongue, whirling like a tornado over my clit, he thrust a single finger into my contracting cunt, another deep in my sphincter.
The pleasurable shock of the additional sensations made me orgasm even harder. My holes gripped his fingers, milking them for more pleasure. I grabbed his head, screamed obscenities, and forced his face against my pussy as I ground against it, completely unable to control the amount of force I used. My orgasm lasted for eternity, stripping me of all humanity and reason, leaving only the quaking releases of passion that ricocheted through my body.
But still, he wasn’t done. As I lay there, my body reduced to a quivering mass of sexual frenzy, the sheets of the bed darkened with my cum, he flipped me over, quickly binding my hands behind my back with his tie.
Still writhing and moaning in the aftershocks of bliss, his palm slapped the flesh of my ass with a crisp “smack.”
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Katrina.”
Smack, smack, caress.
“Who are you?”
“Krystal?” I got four lashes for that answer, this time harder but not so hard as to diminish my pleasure.
“Wrong. Who are you, Katrina?”
“I’m your fucking whore. I’m a cock-addicted slut that needs your cock. I’m yours. Bought and paid for. I love your cock; I love your cock. Please fuck your whore.”
His hand was on my ass, squeezing it, mellowing the sting of his dominant blows. I felt his hand raise and readied for more, harder spankings.
“Aaah, fuck!”
Instead of spanking me, his tongue snaked into my asshole, setting off explosions of lust and ecstasy. I raised my ass, cramming it against his tongue, trying to fuck it. I moaned and rocked my bound body back and forth, humping into his face, begging for more.
His fingers reached under my writhing thigh and quickly found my aching clit. His hand pummeled against my sensitive button, knowing that I was so far gone that he could use a hammer on it, and I’d still beg for more.
The sensation of his fluid, writhing tongue in my most taboo of places, coupled with his fingers dancing over my pussy caused an almost-spontaneous orgasm to well up in my loins.
“I’m going to fucking cum. Please don’t stop, don’t stop. Oh, fuck me.”
A shocking splash of cold, foaming liquid poured all over my ass as my orgasm erupted. He poured the champagne on me! I felt the coldness of the liquid oozing over my cheeks, down my ass, and over my pussy, the bubbles massaging my sensitive, engorged pussy lips.
As I came with ear-piercing screams, his mouth began sucking the liquid off my ass. His fingers kept on assaulting my clit, forcing me to go from that orgasm into another one with no recovery time.
“Fucking cumming again. Ahh, fuck.”
I struggled in my bonds, begging for him to stop and fuck me. “Please, no more. I can’t cum any more, or I’ll pass out, and I fucking need you inside me. Fuck your fucking whore. Fucking take me. I need your cock.”
Feeling as if I’d die without his cock plunging into me. I begged and pleaded for him to fuck me until he unbound my wrists. As soon as my hands were free, I pounced on him in a needy frenzy, tugging at his pants to free his cock.
My husband, I mean Mr. B., is very well-endowed. Over eight inches in length and as thick around as a can of shaving gel, there’s a reason he drives his lovers insane with cock-lust. I had passed the point of no return in the restaurant; I was lubricated enough to handle that monster. I’d released so much love honey that pools of my cum were on the sheets.
Too far gone to even remove his pants, I pulled them down enough for his cock to spring out as I turned him onto his back and mounted him, impaling myself on him with one, grunting thrust. I fell forward over his chest, my tits in his face for him to suck. My hips gyrated and bounced on him in my lusty need, the bed squeaking so quickly that the noise was a constant hum.
“Fuck your whore. Fuck me. Oh, I fucking love your cock; I love your cock. Stretch me; take me. Fucking fuck me. Yes, yes, yes.”
I rode him wildly, screaming, swearing, and dirty-talking about all the deviant, filthy things he “made” me do.
“Finger my fucking ass. I need you in my ass. Take your whore’s fucking ass. I’m a fucking whore. I’m your whore. I’ll do anything, just please keep fucking me.”
His hands raked down my back, slapping my ass as I humped him. As I plunged myself down to the hilt, loving the feeling of his mutant cock filling me, I came as soon as his finger plunged deep into my ass.
I rode his magic cock to two more orgasms, his fingers in my ass, and me screaming in lusty fervor. Unable to hold myself up any longer, he flipped me onto the bed, on my back, and he took me while standing at the foot of the bed, pulling my body into him as I fingered my clit and pulled on my nipples. My feet rested on his firm, broad shoulders as he took me like a savage, pounding into me so deep and hard that I could only scream for more. I was close to passing out from cumming my brains out when he finally gave in to my begging demands and allowed himself to cum.
“Pull out and cum on my face, Mr. B. Treat me like the whore I am. I need your spunk on my face, in my hair, in my mouth.”
As he neared orgasm, he pulled that thick cock out of me. I could feel my natural lubrication running out of my stretched, well-used hole. His shaft dripped with my juice.
“Fuck my mouth; I can take it.” It was a lie and he knew it. I’ve tried for over a year to be able to deep-throat him, but it hurts my jaw. Despite that reality, he shoved the head into my eager mouth as I pulled him in, my hands stroking him hard and fast.
He blew his wad all over me, smearing my already-ruined, professional makeup even more. He must have been excessively turned on because he spurted again and again. I kept stroking, hoping to keep him hard, so I could make him cum again, but he pulled away, and his head returned to my oozing cunt.
Fingers plunged into my holes as his tongue lashed my clit, whipping it into more orgasms. “Fucking fuck, I love you. I love you. Make me cum. Please more.”
My fingers played with the cum on my face and chest, bringing it to my lips; I savored the dirty deviancy of being completely out of control. He licked and sucked my pussy until I finally passed out.
Because we were not at home, I woke up early. Nude, we ate a hearty breakfast, and he surprised me with fresh clothes for my ride to work that morning. He left before me, as he begins his work day before most people are out of bed.
Thinking about what I’d just done and how amazing the sex was got me so turned on that I ended up masturbating myself to multiple orgasms. I fingered myself on the balcony, humped the big, bed pillow while fingering my clit, and just had to hear how sexy my orgasmic moans sounded echoing off the shower walls. I was almost an hour late for work that morning.
