The sensations and the experience were intoxicating, surpassing any expectations Justin had harbored, and certainly worth every penny he’d paid for. This is the tightest cunt I’ve ever had. It gripped his invading cock with a slick, velvety pressure that upended his world and every reality he’d ever known. Sweet, sweet Dakota –Pamela – gave Justin Asher the urge to fuck more eighteen-year-old beauty queens. Her cunt resisted him, but that only made the conquest more satisfying, igniting a craving for more – more of her, more of the exquisite, all-inclusive pleasure that could only be found at Happy Ending Ranch.
Pamela’s cries echoed through the bedroom as the incredible fullness had overwhelmed her. With each thrust, Justin, in the doggy style position, admired the smooth contours of Pamela’s bare back, a mere hint of her stunning beauty. Ever since he spotted her in the lineup two-plus hours ago, Justin had been eager for this moment. Holding her hips with an unyielding grip, he ensured that despite her upper body’s movements, she remained fixed on the tormenting saddle of his cock.
Justin watched with a hawk’s predatory eye, unwilling to miss even the slightest detail as his dick flashed in and out of those pretty pink folds. Pamela moaned at the ferocity, her body pressing against the mattress, arms clutching the pillow to her neck and chest. Her mouth opened in a silent cry of submission, while her pussy lips seemed to beckon him, urging him to take more.
Justin shifted, planting his right knee on the bed and lifting his left leg for better leverage. As his cock slipped out of her, Pamela cast a desperate, pleading glance over her shoulder. The look in her eyes sent a thrill shooting through him, more exhilarating than any other sight yet this evening. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. The cock will be back inside you soon.”
Justin grasped his length, arousal coursing as he began to stroke. It felt strange at first, but soon morphed into a sense of power. Why shouldn’t he indulge in this pleasure if he wanted? If Justin chose to forgo fucking Pamela and simply rub one out, painting her ass with his cum and promising more later, wasn’t that his right?
I’m a paying customer.
Justin pumped for a few more seconds, enjoying the simple, hot idea that he could do it if he wanted, and if he wanted to tell Pamela to watch him, even, that too would fall within his rights.
Fixated on her pussy and the forbidden image of her exposed anus, Justin crouched over Pamela and thrust back in. She responded with a loud, high-pitched whine, and as he accelerated his pace, she gasped out, “Thank you, sir.”
That small expression of gratitude would be seared into Justin’s memory forever. It took away every last shred of doubt he had about whether this was nothing more than a transaction to Pamela. No, she really wants me to fuck her. He realized there would be many parties to come with this gal, and he could not help looking forward to those times when he would lay claim to her in more decadent ways.
The thought alone made it impossible for Justin to maintain a slow pace. He fucked with an intensity, a savagery, he had never before experienced. Her sighs morphed into whimpers, then escalated to cries as he unleashed his darkest desires.
Justin’s libido dominated his thoughts, refusing to allow him to think about anything except having his way with Pamela’s cunt. Reaching out, he placed his hand on the back of her neck, thrilling at how she lifted her head, almost like a pet arching for its owner’s touch. Entwining his fingers in her blonde hair, Justin pulled Pamela’s head back further, asserting his control.
“Oh, God,” she cried. “I’m going to …”
Should he tell her not to come? Justin tucked that idea away for the future, relishing the thrill of controlling Pamela’s pleasure. Need to … get to know her … better … first. But for now, he couldn’t imagine anything more exhilarating than driving his purchased girlfriend to the heights of ecstasy as he pounded into her.
“Are you going to come?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Come for me, young lady. Come on my cock.”
Pamela’s response was instantaneous – a long, piercing scream escaped her lips as she jammed her hips back to meet his. Justin transitioned to long, deliberate strokes, his left hand anchoring her waist while his right yanked on her hair. Despite her attempts to move, his hold kept her in place, allowing him to take his pleasure as he desired.
Pamela’s screaming fit lingered, and Justin felt her pussy contracting around his cock. The sensation, combined with holding her so tight, triggered his own climax. His thrusts grew frantic once more, hips pistoning back and forth until, with a massive shudder that tore through his body, he came. His heart pounded in a rhythm far quicker than the pulsating jerks of his cock as it released its seed, satisfying as it was.
Rules were rules, so Justin had been obligated to wear a condom since this was a brothel, but for a moment he regretted it. I’d love to put a baby inside her. It seemed like a wonderful act of mastery, of control. He wondered about the possibility of one day going the distance with Pamela.
This wasn’t supposed to be a long-term thing, right? In the span of two-plus hours, perhaps that had changed. Was it simply due to the sex? Justin realized that you weren’t supposed to find a long-term partner – hell, a wife – in a whorehouse, no matter how good the sex was.
But the idea of caring for Pamela outside the house in a manner that involved continually fucking her awakened something deep and profound within him. No doubt, she’s girlfriend material.
Check that; wife material.
“Justin?” came Pamela’s voice, muffled against the pillow. “Did I please you?”
“Oh, Dakota.” Justin combed a hand through his hair, eyes wide with wonder. “Oh, baby, of course you pleased me. That was … I’ve never had sex quite so good.”
He hesitated, swallowing hard as if to compose himself. “Let’s lie down for a little while now. There’s still, what, forty minutes left in our party? I can’t stop thinking about something and I’d like to discuss it with you.”
Pamela spun her head, meeting his gaze. She nodded, a flicker of curiosity crossing her features.
“There is just so much I want to ask you, to know about you.” He gnawed on his lower lip. “Is that weird for a client? God, I’m probably sounding like a fool.”
“Not weird at all, baby, and I’d love to chat with you. What would you like to know? Ask me anything.” Pamela reached back, splaying her fingers along his side. “But let’s not get so caught up in talking that we forget about the rest of our time together, okay? I need to suck your dick again.”
*
William’s bony, calloused thumb ghosted over the edge of a faded Polaroid photograph, his eyes focused on the image of a young woman with a familiar smile. “Glenda. Oh, Glenda.” His throat tightened. “Why did you leave me and Colt?” For a moment, he could almost smell his ex-wife’s perfume, feel the warmth of her touch. Then his jaw clenched. “Christ.” William flung the photo aside and slammed the desk drawer shut. “Fucking cunt.” Beside him, the grandfather clock ticked away, each second another reminder of what he’d once squandered away – and what little time he had left.
A sudden commotion outside the office snapped William from his thoughts. The door flew open, slamming against the wall with a force that clattered the cheap prints hanging there, with one slipping free of its nail and crashing to the floor.
Colt barreled into the room, chest heaving. Sweat glistened on his brow, his face flushed a bright maroon. He pounded his fists on the desk, getting right up in William’s personal space. “Dad, what the fuck?”
William didn’t even flinch. He idled back in his chair, swirling the alcohol in its glass. “Well, well, the heir apparent is back from his power run. Tell me, boy, did you forget how to knock, or are manners beneath you now?”
“Spare me your bullshit.” Colt’s gaze cut like glass. “Mindy told me about the special initiation you have planned for Dakota. You’re out of your Goddamned mind.”
William took a sip of scotch. Ice clinked as he set the glass down, a smirk forming. “Come now, son. It’s a tradition. You know how it goes. Can’t make exceptions, even for your …” He reclined further, steepling his fingers together. “What shall we call her? Your little flavor of the moment crush?”
“Not happening.” Words ripped from Colt’s mouth like a blade unsheathed, swift and lethal. His eyes, dark with fury, locked onto William’s. “You go near her, and I swear –”
“You’ll what?” William’s shoulders quivered with amusement. He leaned forward, elbows on the desk. “My, my. Awfully worked up over the fresh fish, aren’t you? Tell me, did Dakota bat those big brown eyes at you and suddenly you’re her knight in shining armor?”
“This isn’t about –”
“Oh, but it is.” William cut him off. “For fuck’s sake, Colt. You’ve always been soft. Naïve. Dakota’s been here what, twelve hours? Not even? And you want to go to war for her already? Careful now, Coyote Cub. Your momma had that same effect on me once upon a time. Look how well that turned out.”
A muscle in Colt’s jaw ticked. “Don’t you dare bring Mom into this.”
“Why not? Seems relevant.” William’s laughter rang hollow. “Ready to defend Dakota’s honor now, huh? That’s rich, especially coming from you. How many notches on your bedpost this week alone?”
Colt wielded his most cutting glare. “I’m not kidding around. Dakota is off-limits. Try anything, and I swear to God, I’ll go to the Nevada Brothel Association. Then the sheriff’s station, even the FBI, and I will bury you. I will fucking bury you and your whole empire. I’ll tell them all your dirty little secrets. That goes for Jim, too. He needs to stay the fuck away from Dakota as well.”
William’s grin vanished, his jaw working in a tight circle. “You little shit.” He stood, palms pressing into the desk as if he might splinter the wood beneath them. “You think you can threaten me? In my own house?” Anger rattled his bones. “You’d torch your whole future, your inheritance, over some teenaged pussy?” His brows winged. “Don’t forget who has put food in your ungrateful mouth for the past thirty-two years. It sure as hell wasn’t that bitch who popped you out and ran away.”
“I mean it, Dad. You and Jim stay the hell away from Dakota.” A vein pulsed at Colt’s temple. “Or I’ll bring this cesspool down around you. I’ll bury Jim right along with you. You seriously think I give a damn about the inheritance? I don’t need this place like you do.”
“You fucking idi …” William started, then hesitated, studying Colt’s face. Something in his son’s expression gave him worry. Was he being serious with these threats? “Oh, fine. Have it your way, Sir Lancelot. I solemnly swear not to soil your fair maiden. That what you want to hear?”
He retreated a step, something sinister clouding his eyes. “But let’s be clear, shall we? She’s not a maiden, she’s a wench, just another whore. No different from the rest. When will you ever learn that?”
The old man’s face contorted, skin pulling taut across his forehead, transforming his features into something inhuman. “You think Dakota actually cares about you? She wants to be with you? Please. She’ll use you up and toss you aside the second something better comes along. Just. Like. All. The. Others. Remember Lisa? Jenny?”
William raised his glass in a toast, savoring the burn of the liquor and the disdain etched across Colt’s face. “Mark my words, boy. You’ll be hanging by your balls before you even realize she’s got you strung up.
“But hey, by all means, play the white knight. Charge in on your noble steed.” He drained the glass and slammed it on the desk. “It’ll be amusing to watch you fall. Again. I love good theater.”
(End of Chapter Five - to be continued)
