The air hostess stopped the drinks cart next to me, leaned over, and asked, "Can I get you a drink, Ma'am?"

I hated that. She must easily have ten years on me, so why call me ma'am? Do I look like your fucking mother? I thought But putting on my best smile, I said, "May I have three bottles of Vodka and a cup of ice, please?" 

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, but I can only serve one bottle at a time. If you would like another one, you can push your call button just here, and one of our flight attendants will assist you," she said as she handed me the tiny bottle and a napkin, then proceeded to put the ice in a plastic cup.

The Hostess handed me the cup of ice, and I handed her the empty mini vodka bottle, then pushed the call button. She gave me an absolute death stare before handing me another bottle and moving forward with her stupid trolley.

I was in a bad mood and couldn't deal with arrogant people right now. "Just give the three bottles and fuck off," is what I wanted to say. But that sort of behaviour gets you on a no-fly list nowadays.

I poured the vodka over the ice in my cup and then skulled it down. I'm not sure why I even bothered with the cup. It wasn't like I had planned on sipping it. I reached into my fake Louis Vuitton handbag. You know, the one you buy from the shady guy with the popup store on Venice beach. 

Anyway, I pulled out the stupid fancy embossed envelope that was in there and opened it. Again more of those stupid dried flowers fell out on my lap. I brushed them onto the floor as I read the invitation inside.

"Cynthia Benson, you are courtly invited to attend the wedding of Mr Bradly Carter to Miss Juliette Benson on Saturday the 12th of July at blah blah blah," I had read enough and pushed it back into my bag.

"My name is Cindy, you ignorant bitch," I said out loud to no one in particular. 

The man beside me gave me a rude look before returning to his book. So here's the deal I'm the black sheep of the family. And when I say black, I mean charcoal black. I dropped out of college my first year and moved to LA. With hopes of becoming an actress.

It turns out I wasn't that good at acting, but I am a fantastic stripper and dancer. Plus a total exhibitionist and a complete slut. I love cock, and I love cock in every hole, preferably simultaneously. And I make great money shaking my arse for desperate, miserable married men fed up with their pathetic married lives.

I haven't spoken to or seen my family in six years since I hit the road to California with my then Boyfriend in his beat-up Chevy Z28 Camaro. The arsehole dumped me the first week of arriving in tinsel town, and I have been looking out for number one ever since.

So what's the big deal about my sister getting married? And why was I so angry about it? For one, I didn't want to see my mother. She is a social-climbing hypocritical bitch. Two, my sister has her head so far up her own arse that she could give herself head.

My mother and sister both refuse to accept I have legally changed my name to Cindy. I mean, what sane parent would name their daughter Cynthia? My demented, horrible mother, that's who.

I only agreed to go to this wedding because I love my dad. He is the most amazing man alive. I have always been his favourite; we have a great relationship. When dad called me and asked me to come, I had no choice but to say yes, and It helped that he also paid for my tickets.

I speak to my dad every couple of weeks. It's our little secret, I never understood why my mother was the way she was toward me, but dad loved me so much, which made up for it.

And then there was Juliette, a Princeton Grad with honours, about to marry some stiff rich kid, born with a silver spoon in his mouth. I wasn't really angry at Juliette. We are only a year and a half apart and had been inseparable when we were younger; deep down, I loved her. Not sure if the feeling is mutual? I would have thought if she actually liked me, she would've asked me to be her matron of honour or even a bridesmaid.

It's just that she is just so fucking uptight. She needs a good gangbang by some really well-hung black guys to drop her social level down a notch or two. I imagine it wouldn't be hard to turn my uptight sister into a black cock loving whore like me. Maybe that's something to think about.

I hadn't seen any of my family for six years, so I didn't know what to expect. I was just excited to see dad, and that was all. 

A letter that had arrived with the invitation said that Bradly's family had arranged for a driver to pick me up from the airport and drive me up to the Hamptons, where the wedding was to take place on the family estate.

Everyone was coming early and spending the whole week in the Hamptons prior to the wedding so the families could get to know each other. I agreed under sufferance because I couldn't say no to dad, and besides, I might be able to whore my ass to some rich kids and make a bit of money on the side.

I pushed the call button and waited for my next bottle of vodka to arrive; it never did, the lying bitch. I recovered my suitcase from the carousel and headed for the exit door. I was met by a very smartly dressed older Blackman wearing a suit and a chauffeur's cap, holding my name on a sign.

His smiling face instantly made me feel relaxed and comfortable. You know, those really lovely older men, almost like a favourite uncle when you are a kid.

"Hi, I'm Cindy. You're here for me," I said to him.

"I'm sorry, Miss, but I'm here to pick up a Miss Cynthia Benson like on the Sign," he replied to me, looking back towards the escalators.

"I'm Cynthia Benson. I changed my name to Cindy, and my bitch sister knows that too!"

The kind-faced old chauffeur asked, 

"I'm sorry, Miss, but can I see some identification, please, because you don't match the photo I have."

"Show me the photo you have, please," I asked him. He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out my final year school photo when I had long blonde hair and was eighteen.

"Where the hell did you get that photo from? I said that photo is eight years old."

Ok, in his defence, I did look completely different. For one, I had Short dark hair with pink and dark burgundy highlights through it.

Plus, I had my tits done about five years ago when I started stripping, so I was now a 36DD, and on my petite 5' 3" frame, they looked ginormous.

But I had great legs and the most perfect arse on the strip, and I know that because guys paid a lot of money to see it. Taking my handbag off my shoulder, I put it on the ground and started rummaging through it. I stood up and spun around when I felt something on my arse. The driver was holding his cap near my arse.

"What the hell are you doing?" I snapped, thinking he was some sort of pervert."

"I'm sorry, Miss, but your dress was not covering anything. I was just covering you up with my cap, that's all."

I instantly felt terrible that I had snapped at him now. How nice was that to try and protect my modesty?

"Oh, you are so lovely. I misunderstood your intentions; I thought something else was happening; sorry."

I had found what I was looking for and handed it to the driver, whose name I didn't know yet. He handed me back my old college student ID card and said, "I'm sorry, Miss, but you have to understand I need to make sure because you sure look different from your photo," he said, shaking his head and looking at me, then at the photo again.

'I'm George, Miss. Let me get your luggage. The car is right out front."

George opened the door of a black stretched limo for me. I climbed in and immediately poured myself a drink from the limo bar before George had even pulled away from the curb.

It was a two-hour drive to the Hamptons from JFK airport, so I settled in with the very expensive whiskey someone had kindly left me in the limo bar. We finally arrived at a massive set of wrought iron gates that opened automatically. The driveway was long, and stopped at one of the biggest houses I have ever seen.

Of course, there are big houses out in Hollywood, but nothing quite as impressive as this place. This was more like a castle. I slid the glass divider between George and me and asked him, "George, just how rich are these people?"

"Well, Miss, I don't often drive up here. They have me on standby in the city, and I get paid regardless. They usually bring the helicopter when they travel out to the Hamptons estate."

George got out of the limo and opened my door before he retrieved my suitcase. I spotted daddy over near the house and immediately ran to him. I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him.

"Oh God, I've missed you so much, dad," I said, hugging him tightly.

"I have missed you as well, pumpkin, but you're here now. That's all that matters," he said. 

I looked over his shoulder while hugging him and saw my mother and Juliette looking on with scolding, frowny faces. I'm sure out of jealousy of how close father and I are. Juliette held hands with a handsome-looking preppy guy. I hardly recognized Juliette. She looked completely different from when I saw her six years ago.

Dad let me go, and I walked over to my mother. I was about to hug her when she said, "Cynthia, that is a grossly inappropriate dress for such a special occasion. It's your sister's wedding; you aren't dancing at a club now."

I stopped dead in my tracks and pulled away from her.

"My name is Cindy, and you fucking well know it, and it's nice to see you as well, mother," I said sarcastically.

"Mother, please, Cindy has only just arrived; give her a break, for goodness sake. Hi, sis. It's good to see you. Thanks for coming; it's nice you could make it," Juliette said, hugging me.

Juliette pulled away and looked down at my chest, my large tits trying desperately to escape the top of my dress.

 "Wow, they're new; you barely had boobs when I saw you last."

"Yes, I got them a couple of years ago. They're fantastic, aren't they," I said, squeezing them together.

"Ah yes, well, this is my Fiancé Brad. Brad, this is my baby sister Cindy."

I heard my mother just grunt in disapproval when she heard Juliette introduce me as Cindy.

"It's an absolute pleasure to meet you, Cindy, finally. I've heard a lot about you. All good, I assure you," he said, smiling with a mouthful of perfect white teeth.

He held his hand out, but I'm a hugger, so I wrapped my arms around him, pressing my large, firm tits into his chest. Juliette coughed a couple of times to announce that's enough hugging. I pulled away, leaving Brad with a huge smile on his face.

I grabbed daddy's arm, and we all ventured inside the mansion. Holt shit, the outside was impressive, but the inside was out-of-this-world opulence. I was introduced to Brad's mother. She was an extremely attractive woman with a killer body. Helped, I'm sure, by the miracle that is modern medicine. Like my mother, she too gave me an unapproving look at my wardrobe choice.

I was introduced to several other people. And overheard a few of Brad's friends ask, "Is that the stripper sister?" as we passed by. 

Thankfully they backed it up with, "She fucking hot."

One of them remarked, "Brad's marrying the wrong sister." That made me smile; I secretly hoped Juliette had heard his comment. I turned and winked at him.

Mom and dad headed outside while Juliette and Brad took me to meet Brad's father. He was turned away from us when we entered the library.

"Father, this is Juliette's younger sister Cindy."

Brad's father turned around. A huge smile spread across my face. While he looked like he had seen a ghost, it was a look of shock and panic.

"Cindy, this is my father, Charles Carter," Brad said, introducing us.

Charles held out his hand to me. But as I said, I'm a hugger, and this is one man I wanted to hug.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Cindy. And welcome to our home. I trust you will find everything you need to make your stay pleasurable," he bearly got out before I hugged him tight.

I couldn't see his face, but his tense body told me this would be an exciting stay. I whispered in his ear, "Oh, Chuck, I'm sure it's going to be very pleasurable now," pulling away and winking at him. 

Something that didn't go unnoticed by Juliette, apparently. Grabbing my arm, she announced, "I'll take you up to your room Cindy, so you can unpack and get settled in."

I looked back over my shoulder and said. "I sure hope to see you later, Charles."

Again causing that extremely stressed look on his face. As we climbed the stairs, Juliette asked, "Do you know Charles or something? You both looked like you knew each other."

"No, of course not; how would I know him? I live on the other side of the country."

The truth was I did know Charles, and intimately. Around two months ago, my roommate and fellow stripper Jasmin, who also works as a high-end escort, needed a second girl to help her with an executive party she was working at and asked me to help. Despite being a slut I wasn't a whore. Well, not until then, but when she offered me five thousand dollars for one night's work, I agreed.

It turned out Charles was the client, and let me just say not only is his cock the most glorious thing I have had the pleasure of fucking in all of my orifices, but he was also one of the best lovers I have ever had. He was a great tipper as well. I was expecting only to spend the night with him and his friends. Then he tipped me ten thousand dollars.

 I had never made that much money in one night in my life, and the sex was so good I ended up staying with Charles for the week. It was a very fortuitous week for me. I earnt in a week what I would make in six months.

"Why don't you freshen up a little and come downstairs when you are ready? We will have pre-dinner drinks around 5:00 pm and dinner around 7:00 pm. Oh, and Sis, it's semi-formal tonight, so that dress isn't appropriate attire," Juliette said as she left, closing the door behind her.

I decided to take a shower and then get some sleep. The flight had been a red-eye. I had just taken off my dress and was now standing in front of the bed in a tiny black lace thong and heels when there was a light knock on the door.

"Who is it?"

"It's me, Charles. We need to talk!"

"Come in, Chuck."

Charles entered the room, his mouth immediately dropping open.

"For Christ's sake, Cindy, put some fucking clothes on. What if someone sees."

Turning my head from side to side, I looked around the room.

"No one in here except us, Chuck, but I suggest you shut the door unless you do want someone to watch as I suck that beautiful big cock of yours."

"Cindy, stop! This is a very awkward situation. I'm in here. This is my family home. My wife is just down the hall, for Christ's sake," he said as I walked up to him.

I put my arms around his neck and kissed him. He struggled for only a second, then opened his mouth and let me push my tongue into his open mouth. He wrapped his arms around me. I jumped up, wrapping my legs around his waist as we kissed, a hot dirty kiss. Charles stumbled backwards we fell into a wild embrace on the bed. Eventually, he pulled away from me. 

"Cindy, please. We can't. If I get caught, it will be a disaster for the family. We have to control ourselves."

I reached down and up-zipped his shorts. Then, reaching in, I grabbed his big nine-inch cock, pulled it out, and began to stroke it before sliding off the bed onto my knees in front of him.

"Cindy, no stop! You know we can't, not here, not like this. Oh my fucking God. Oh, Jesus, Cindy, what in the hell are you doing ohhhh, fuuuuck," was all he said after I swallowed his rapidly hardening dick. 

I have a unique talent. I don't have a gag reflex. I can swallow a man's cock to his balls and not even bat an eyelid. This talent has always made me popular with my lovers. I started bobbing my head up and down on his cock with enthusiasm. I made it extra sloppy, slurping and sucking, making lots of throat saliva and obscene slurping noises.

I started massaging his balls, rolling them around in the palm of my hand while face fucking him.

"Fucking Jesus Christ Cindy, Ohhhh fuuuck me, you are such a great cocksucker. If you keep that up, I am going to cum down your throat and all over your pretty face."

That did nothing...