My head cradled on the soft pillow with my eyes closed, I lay there embodied in full contentment, and a satiated smile rests quietly on my lips. It takes about three seconds for my brain to process that I likely overslept.

I sleepily reach for my cell phone on the night stand, which is only inches away from my face. I swipe the screen with an index finger and give a one eyed wink at the screen to see the time. 7:19 AM. The Eurostar train that I hope to take to Paris today has already departed almost an hour ago, and is close to reaching Gare du Nord.

Dammit.

In my next thought, I remind myself that I'm on holiday, and I refuse to get worked up about my indulgent slumber. No Paris today. Today will be a remix. Since my plans have already been dashed, I consider, and even welcome the opportunity to close my eyes. Having been in London for only two days now, last night was my first night of full rest. I don't need further convincing, and I drift easily back to sleep.

Ninety minutes or so later, hunger wakes me up and another wink at my cell phone confirms that I have about forty five minutes left before the hotel's buffet breakfast downstairs is over. I make myself presentable in comfy yoga pants, a tee shirt and my favorite Nike flip flops. I grab my phone and room key and head to the elevator and downstairs to the hotel restaurant on the first floor.

"Good morning, room number please?" asks the smiling hostess.

"Good morning and room two twelve," I smile back.

The hostess checks my name off on her list and gestures in front of her as she seats me.

I take my seat alone at a table for two, which is located in the middle of the restaurant. A quick scan of the room helps me decide that I am among the latecomers today. Thirty minutes left for breakfast and mostly single people like I sit eating quietly, most still looking half asleep.

I place my items on the table, grab my empty tea cup and head for the food. Thank God there's no line and the restaurant is almost empty while the kitchen and wait staff prepare for the lunch crowd.

I select the same exact breakfast that I had the previous morning. Three slices of wheat toast with strawberry jelly, fresh pineapple chunks, fruit juice and a cup of sweet black tea. As I eat my breakfast, I open Yahoo Messenger and send Jim a message that I won't be going to Paris as planned.

"I missed the train baby," I pout. 

"Awww, sorry baby. Try some retail therapy today and we can do Paris on Monday."

"Yay!" I reply excitedly.

Twenty minutes later, I finish my meal in silence and head towards my room. Trying to salvage my day, I stop by the concierge in the lobby.

"Hi there, I'm in room two twelve and I'm wondering if you can suggest a good shopping district?" I ask the lady behind the desk.

She pulls out a map while assessing my budget and suggests Mayfair, Oxford and Regent Streets.

"Thank you," I say, while I head back to my room with a highlighted map clenched in my hand.

Back in my room, I sit on the bed and try to reconfigure my day. Today is Saturday and it's almost 10:30 AM; clearly I can put a good plan together yet. I pick up the phone and call the front desk.

"Can you please have a taxi for room two twelve ready in ninety minutes?"

"Of course Madame, how many in your party?"

"Just one," I confirm, and provide the details of my destination.

I shower, do my hair and dress in casual clothing that consist of jeans, low heeled shoes and an insignificant blouse. 12:00 noon comes sooner than I realize, and I scramble to get all of my belongings before I finally head downstairs by 12:10 PM. I scurry pass the front desk and offer a wave of 'thank you' to the concierge.

I step out onto the landing in front of the hotel and slowly descend the stairs as I look for the buggy themed taxis that I am accustomed to seeing in London. Before I reach the last step, a man quickly exits the driver seat of a Platinum colored four door Mercedes - Benz S class with lightly tinted glass. A blur of a man hurries to open the left rear passenger door and gestures for me to enter.

"Good afternoon Madame," he says smiling widely at me.

"Good afternoon, are you the taxi service?" I ask quizzically, as I simultaneously point to the luxury vehicle.

"Yes, here you are Madame, right this way," he confirms with an extension of his hand.

I accept the invitation and his right hand as he helps me enter the rear seat of the car. He closes the door with a gentle nudge, and the door automatically clicks and secures it. The driver walks briskly back around to the driver side, enters the vehicle and peers at me through the rear view mirror as he confirms my destination.

"This doesn't look like a typical taxi," I say to the driver, as I observe the lush interior and wood grain dashboard.

"Your hotel uses our premier services for all of their guests Madame, everyone is a V.I.P with us," he explains.

"Oh, the taxi's that I've taken in London thus far have all been off of the street, not from the hotel," I reply, as I sit up straighter in my seat.

"Where are you from Madame?" he asks, while navigating busy midday traffic.

"The States," I reply with a smile.

"Wonderful, my ex-wife lived in South Carolina," he surprisingly offers.

"Oh, I see. I'm about a fourteen hour drive from there, or less than two hours by plane."

"She isn't in the States any longer though. She and my twelve year old son have returned to her home land," he says.

"Oh okay, and where are you from?" I ask nosily.

"How do you know that I'm not from London?" he teases, as he glances from mirror to traffic.

"I don't," I retort, and feel a smile hiding in the corners of my mouth.

Is he flirting with me? It sure feels like it, but I won't assume. Before I could find a resolution, his next question breaks my thought process.

"So are you on business or leisure while in London?" he inquires.

"I'm here to tour, visit friends, and see what this place has to offer me."

"Why, there is plenty to offer here. Is this your first time in London?" he asks.

"Indeed it is, and I am enjoying every second of it so far."

"That's great to hear Madame. I'm actually from Austria and I've been here for nine years, London is home for me now," he says.

"Isn't that where Arnold Schwarzenegger, and Mozart are from?" I ask, proud that I know something about Austria.

"Yes they are," he chuckles.

"See how well traveled I am?" I say teasingly.

"Mmm Madame, I do," he replies.

Paying more attention to him now, I reach in my purse and pull out my melon flavored lip gloss and mirror to give my face the 'once over' that I didn't do in the hotel. To be polite, I acknowledge my tardiness to the driver.

"My apologies for the delay, I had a change of plans today," I say while applying my lip gloss.

"No trouble Madame, it was worth the wait. And also, the lip gloss is not necessary, you are already beautiful," he offers.

Okay, he is definitely flirting with me now, there's no question.

"Thank you, and may I ask your name young man?" I quip, almost maternally from the back seat.

"Monia."

"I've never heard that name before. Is that spelled M o n I a, as in Sonia?"

"Exactly Madame, pretty good guess," he says. "What were your original plans for today Madame, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I planned to spend the day in Paris" I say, sounding somewhat deflated.

"Ahhh Paris," he says, without pronouncing the "s". "Well, unlucky for Paris and the fortune comes to me," he says.

While I can't see his face in full frontal view right now, I can tell that he is smiling by how his eyes squint and his cheeks swell at me in the rear view mirror. For the first time, I really look at him. Well, as much as a rear passenger can see a driver. The lady in me only takes note of the driver, but the whore in me begins to take note of the man.

He has olive skin over a smooth and clean shaven face, hazel eyes, and a warm profile. His jet black hair is business crew cut style on top, with contemporary razor like tapered edges. At this point, I can't quite see his nose or lips without being too obvious.

The lady in me doesn't pry, so I'll have to be patient.

His hands are thick, almost chubby and I am instantly aroused by the size of his fingers. Watching his hands grip the wheel that way makes me think of how good they would feel stuffed inside of me. That thought alone makes me tingle on the butter soft grey leather seats of the luxury sedan. He wears a big faced watch that doesn't look familiar to me, though it screams good taste. A well-defined bicep is concealed by a crisp, starch pressed, pale pink, sharply tailored shirt that I'm sure has a tag on the inside of it that says 'dry clean only'. Silver cuff links rest snugly at the cuff, and are low key and classy.

"What kind of cologne are you wearing Monia?" my inner whore asks.

"Tom Ford… do you like it Madame?" he asks hesitantly.

"It smells confident and strong, I love it," I say reassuringly, as I cross my legs.

I take a mini vacation in my mind and wonder if he wears boxers or briefs, and what kind of cock he has crammed inside of them. I stay too long on my trip as I see him look at me quizzically, as he waits for an answer.

"Madame...?"

"My apologies Monia, what did you say...?"

"I asked what kind of food you like," he patiently restates.

"Oh, um... well, at home I have my favorites," I manage to stammer. "While I'm abroad, I am going to sample the local cuisine and get a real genuine taste of things here," I reply. "I assure you, I am not here for American food," I imply flirtatiously.

Food is now a synonym for sex, and the whore in me wants to play.

"So your palate is open then...?" he inquires, as he mirrors my tone.

"Very open, indeed. What about you Monia, what kind of foods do you like?"

"Well to be honest, I can eat almost any cuisine as long as I can have chocolate for dessert," he firmly states, as his eyes hold my gaze in the rear view mirror.

Shit. My response is physiological as I instinctively fidget in my seat to soothe the tingles that I feel stir between my legs.

Monia senses this and raises my tension.

"Madame, is all well back there? Do you need anything? We have approximately fifteen minutes before we reach your destination," he says.

"No worries Monia, I am just fine back here," I lie.

My skin tone is to the rescue again and cloaks my face that is now flush from my distracted, filthy mind and thoughts.

Over the next few miles, Monia asks me a series of questions about food as he tries to recommend a wide range of local restaurants. Each suggestion yields a "no, I haven't been there yet," as I have only been in London a little over forty eight hours.

The conversation subsides and we ride for a minute or two in reserve. The temptress in me slips into gear easily, and after another cross of my legs, I break the silence.

"So Monia, what restaurant do you recommend for me tonight?"

"Madame, I know a great place around twenty minutes from your hotel. The food and service is fantastic, but on short notice, it may be difficult to get a table," he surmises. "Do you like Persian food?" he asks.

"I've never had Persian food before Monia, enlighten me," I provocatively suggest.

"Well, I hope this isn't too forward, but my shift ends at 8 PM tonight. Perhaps I can take you to the restaurant personally...?" he trails off.

Hell Yeah you can! I think to myself. However, the lady in me pauses to feign uncertainty and contemplation.

"That's awful nice of you to offer Monia, but I can't be too careful out here on my own," I explain.

"Of course, and I totally understand that," he accepts.

Approaching my destination, Monia eases the sedan into park, and for the first time, turns to face me directly. His head shifts to the left as his delicious accent is now aimed over his left shoulder.

"Madame, please consider my dinner invitation during your outing over the next few hours. I mean you no harm as I am a respectable man working for a reputable car service. I merely want to show you some hidden treasures of London that you surely will miss on your own," he explains.

At least that's what I thought he said. I am so pleased to take in his generous and minty smelling mouth, housing perfect pearl white teeth and the full lips that shield them. Monia was fucking handsome! His profile was just as good as the full frontal view and I wonder how I missed this when he first picked me up at the hotel. Before I get too caught up in my head, I fumble for a response to his offer.

"That sounds reasonable Monia, and I will consider that," I reply.

"Either way Madame, I will be right here in this spot as you requested to return you back to your hotel at 6 PM. You can inform me of your choice then, no pressure," he smiles.

I give Monia thirty pounds, ten more than his fee, and agree to meet him for my return ride at 6 PM.

Over the next several hours, I visit The London Eye, Big Ben and do a little retail shopping. My thoughts vacillate between selecting souvenir items for friends and family, taking pictures, and being fingered by Monia. The constant pulse makes me feel like I have pop rocks candy in my panties and they want out.

I glance at the time and confirm 5:40 PM, and decide to make my way over to our meeting place and wait. I easily locate an empty stone wall and take a seat among the bustling crowd, settling my bags at my feet. Within moments, the wind picks up and I cross my arms against my breasts to contain my heat. Another time check confirms it's 5:53 PM.

"Humpf! He could at least be early," I say out loud to no one.

Spoiled impatient bitch , relax, I chuckle to myself.

The breath of the Thames River is cool and I'm aware of my efforts to stave off the chill as I cross my arms closer across my breasts. One last check of the clock reports that it is 5:59 PM, and before I can make another snide comment to the wind, Monia pulls up, parks his car and hops out in seconds.

This time when Monia exits, I pay attention.

Monia is about 5'10 and weighs around 210 pounds. He has a broad a solid build and I briefly recall him mentioning that he enjoys playing rugby. Monia sees me assessing him and his eyes never leave mine as he strides over to me walking confidently.

"Here, please allow me," he offers, as he links one hand through the bags that I carry in two.

"Thank you," I say, as I watch him load my bags in the trunk.

Snuggling warmly in the back seat, I observe Monia as he slowly guides the S class into busy traffic and head towards the hotel.

"Did you enjoy yourself Madame?" he inquires.

"Very much," I reply.

I intentionally busy myself with my cell phone and see if Monia is going to inquire about dinner tonight. Not only does he remain silent, but there are no teasing glimpses in the mirror as I would hope. I judge that the hotel is about a twenty five minute ride and already, fifteen minutes pass and not a word from Monia about tonight. What the shit is he waiting for?

Fine.

Five minutes away from my hotel and still silence.

Who does this cocky bastard think he is anyway? Fuck it. Fuck him. Who knows what he's really about anyway? He could be a killer for all I know.

The lady reminds me that I have an early start tomorrow with a breakfast date and I could really use a full night's rest anyway.

Fine.

We make a right hand turn onto the street of my hotel, with the stench of barrenness lingering in the car's interior.

Collect your bags, tip him and say good night, the lady chides. Yup, that's exactly what I'm gonna do.

Monia pulls in front of the hotel and smoothly eases the gear into park. I delay by fidgeting for cash that I already clearly see in my purse.

Say something!

Nothing.

Fine.

I 'find' the cash, pass it over to Monia and open my mouth for the lady to bid him goodnight.

"So, what time does your shift end tonight Monia?" the whore asks instead.

"Whatever time is needed Madame," he says without missing a fucking beat.

"I have an early start in the morning, so give me an hour to change and get ready?" I propose.

"Of course, although it will not take you that long. Your beauty already has a head start," he offers.

I enjoy his compliment as I watch him retrieve my bags from the trunk and open my door.

Without a word further, I enter the hotel and once I’m clear from his view, I head for my room at break neck speed. I shower and get my outfit together, which I had mentally assembled since the dinner offer was made.

I exit the shower, complete my hygiene and generously apply mango scented body cream across almost every inch of my still damp brown body.

In quick succession, a black satin bra houses my size 40 F cup tits, as I slip black lace thongs over my aching cave.

Black sheer stockings hide under one of my favorite black pencil skirts, falling just above the knee. The skirt slips easily over my curvy thighs and hips, and is nicely balanced by a crisp white almost sheer blouse.

I give myself an approving once over in the full length mirror, slip on my three and a half inch black heels and in fifty five minutes, I head for the door.

As I approach the lobby, I can see Monia's vehicle through the window and instead of waiting as I expect to, I proceed right outside.

Like clockwork, Monia hurriedly exits his seat and instead of walking around to the rear of the car, he walks around to the front and stands next to the front passenger side door. He opens the door, extends his hand to me, and offers entry.

I look at Monia, waiting for clarification on the seating arrangement.

"Please, join me in the front seat... as my guest," he suggests.

Smooth!

I accept his hand and invitation to the front seat and slip in seamlessly.

Seated elbow to elbow, Monia asks me directly, "What is your name?"

Secretly blushing, I answer him.

"That is a very pretty name, and one that I look forward to saying a lot this evening."

"Thank you. I appreciate you being on time," I smile.

"I never left. I figured this time, I'd wait on YOU," he chides.

Purrrrs.

With this, Monia removes his cell phone from the mounted case on the dashboard and holds up one chunky digit towards me, indicating he needs a moment to place his call. The glow of his phone illuminates the front seat and in seconds, I can hear a male voice answer in a bustling background.

"Yes sir! Good evening sir," Monia says excitedly to someone on the other end of the phone. This is Car 29, booking off for the remainder of the evening. I have secured my last client at her destination," he says.

Monia confirmed his start time for the next morning and pushes 'end call' on his phone.

"One more call," he warns as I nod my understanding.

"Yes sir, hello. Please tell Ali that Monia needs a table for two in thirty minutes, thank you," he says without awaiting a reply.

"Shall we go….?" he asks, while inserting my name at the end of the question.

"In your hands Monia," I flirt, and settle back into the plush comfort of the limo.

On the ride to the restaurant, Monia and I share more personal information about ourselves, careers, interests and hobbies and seem to really have a good rapport with each other.

Thirty minutes later as promised, we arrive at Lavash located in Greater London, and as he cautions, it is a full house. Cars fill every open area and we are lucky to secure a spot a half of a block away. Monia exits the vehicle, retrieves his suit jacket from the back seat and puts it on. Monia opens my door and takes my hand to assist me out. He closes my door behind me and this time, he maintains my hand in his.

Monia and I walk the half block down the busy street hand in hand.

We enter the bustling restaurant and the man baking fresh bread in the oven warmly greets us. The stone oven sits at the entrance of the restaurant and bakes the huge kind of circular bread that's bigger than the plate it's served on.

At least twenty people line the waiting area and Monia and I are forced to press together a bit while people enter and exit the narrow space.

Hands clasped the whole time.

"Don't worry, it won't be long," he whispers in my ear, flashes a smile at me, and greets a server with a wave.

Moments later, Ali comes from the main room and beams at Monia and I. He and Monia shake hands and Ali quickly ushers us to a table, ahead of the other waiting patrons that arrived before us.

"Ali, please meet my date," he says, as he refers to me by name.

Ali and I exchange pleasantries as he pulls my chair out.

As we peruse the menu, Monia asks, "May I order for you?"

Who does this cocky fuck think he is? He doesn't even know me, or what I like.

"Sure," I say instead.

Monia orders our meal, the 'Joojeh' for me and the 'Momtaz' for himself. In fact, he orders the whole meal in Farsi and encourages me to sample everything that comes to the table.

"What languages do you speak Monia?" I ask, already impressed.

"German obviously, Farsi and Arabic," he minimizes.

"Wow, how impressive" I say, sounding like a young coed.

"And oh, one more I forgot," he reserves.

"Really, which one?" I beg.

"English," he says teasingly.

"Shit, how silly of me," I say embarrassed.

Dinner is served and as promised, is quite delicious. I am too stuffed for dessert and the server also offers alcoholic drinks. I decline.

Monia also declines alcohol stating, "I need to be clear tonight... you know, for work in the morning."

"Of course," I retort, and cross my legs under the table.

Conversations during the meal are mainly about our past relationships and places we've traveled to. Ninety minutes later, Monia and I stroll to the Sedan with our hands linked. We settle in the car and Monia says, "We have a few options now. We can go for coffee at a place nearby, there's a club downtown if you like to dance, or... we can go to my place."

Door three please, the whore chuckles silently.

"Well, how far is your place from here?" I ask, like I really give a shit.

"It's the furthest from the other two options, and your hotel," he confesses.

"Your place is fine," the chocolate hussy smirks.

"It's about twenty five minutes from here," he adds.

"No problem, it'll give us a chance do some housekeeping," I say more confidently than I really feel.

Increasingly attune to me, Monia smiles slyly and says, "Go for it."

"Well, let's discuss our sexual preferences," I say rather boldly.

"Let's," he smirks.

So we do. It is a candid conversation that usually takes lovers weeks or months to broach. Monia and I have twenty minutes at best, and I'm intent on being pleased and pleasing him.

Thankfully, it appears that Monia and I are sexually compatible.

"I bet you're shaved," Monia says confidently.

"Why do you think that?" I ask, as I cross my legs.

"I can sense it because of that," he states, as he points towards my floorboard.

"My feet?" I inquire with a smile.

"No, your legs. When you get turned on, you squirm. Am I correct?"

Silence.

"You'll just have to wait and see if it's shaved I guess," I reply, deflecting from his other prediction.

"Why should we wait?" he asks, as he snakes his paw like hands under my skirt.

I say nothing and open my legs to allow him access. His hands touch my swollen mound over my stockings and panties.

"Is it always that hot? It's like a sauna in there," he chuckles.

"It gets hot with my arousal," I blush.

Monia sends a hand down my stockings and pats my puffy bald lips.

"I knew it," he boasts.

"Show off," I joke back.

"That's not all I know though," he teases.

"Oh yeah? What else you got on me?" I taunt back.

Making sporadic eye contact with me and the road, he says, "I think you like quite a few things, but tonight, with me, you want it rough."

Cocky bastard. Correct cocky bastard.

I can feel my pussy lubricate itself in anticipation. She's hungry and wants to be fed. Crammed. Packed. Stuffed. Hard.

"Is that what they teach you in Austrian schools?" I smile.

"Only the good ones," he jokes. "Besides, I speak your language. I have a vanilla body and a chocolate mind."

I hope like fuck you do, I think to myself, fidgeting in my seat.

"I thought you might like that," he observes.

Flirty banter ensues and leaves me saturated almost upon arrival to his second floor apartment, which is discreetly nestled in a quiet, well-kept neighborhood. New hardwood floors, modern appliances and a 72 inch flat screen television greets me upon entry and Monia's impeccable taste is obvious, and laden throughout his apartment.

I ask to use the bathroom, which he apologizes for the condition of in advance.

"I didn't expect to come home with anyone today," he sheepishly admits.

High end hygiene products in open view in his bathroom are no surprise as I glance around my surroundings.

Monia offers me a seat on the couch in the living room, which I readily accept. He excuses himself, jumps in the shower and returns in a few minutes, damp with only a towel wrapped around his waist. Barely cinching his towel, Monia lights candles in the living room, walks over to me, bends over and takes my shoes off. He runs his hand up my leg as he stands up. Drops of water from his body are left behind clinging to the woven nylon of my stockings.

Without words, Monia takes my hand and leads me to his bedroom, and most importantly, his bed.

"Stand there," he orders as he goes to his stereo and presses 'play'.

Remaining stationary as ordered, I hear Classical music begin to play from the surround sound in his room. He returns to me and begins to pull my stockings down. I lift my legs out of the stockings, take my feet out and place a bare foot on his bed.

"Eat it," I insist, as I use both hands to expose my flappy ebony wings to him.

Monia bends down and wipes his paw like hand across my hairless cunt, now with only a black lace thong over it. He pulls the thong aside, and runs his wide, flat tongue from opening to clit.

My knees get weak at the sensation. I lay down on the bed and open my legs to invite him to finish. Hearing the soft unassuming sounds of Mozart and having Monia's soft disposition a constant, I think I'm destined for a gentle love making session.

Wrong.

Monia briefly acknowledges my brown nipples and holds each globe in his hand. He licks circles around my areolae and bites them gently, which causes me to groan in pleasure. My hands are in his still moist hair, pressing him to my bosom, while I encourage him to feed on me.

He moves south on my body and plants kisses down my belly, over my chubby hump, and finally, I feel his mouth on my pussy. His tongue skillfully licks the outer brown droopy folds before he investigates further into the soft pink velvety inner layer. I hear the sucking noises he makes while he eats me out and the classical music is doing a great job of drowning out my moans. I need him inside me, I'm desperate.

"Fuck me," I plead finally.

Monia comes up for air, puts on a condom and positions himself between my legs. He throws my legs over his shoulders, grabs me by the thighs and sinks his trimmed 7 inch cock inside of me.

"Ahhh," I exhale deeply. "You feel so good inside of me," I whisper.

"You like that?" he asks rhetorically.

Monia repeats the thrusts of his pronounced bulbous head against the entry of my womb, assaulting me without concern. His stroke is hard and rhythmic, and makes the bed shake beneath us.

I wrap my brown legs around his ivory waist and run my hands along his defined arms that hold his weight up over me. A few more shallow blows towards my cervix and Monia puts his full weight on me. His body now crushes against mine and each plow inside my vagina forces my groans into his ears.

"Easy on me baby, I'm close already," I moan.

He responds by saying my name faintly, as he bites my shoulder and pulls my hair.

My God, the pleasure is so intense.

Several more smooth strokes to my ebony slit push me over and I can't stop my orgasm from coming.

"It's here baby and it's gonna be messy," I warn.

"Give me," he demands.

Monia pumps me harder, his fingers grip tight on my hips as I clench and spasm, and pour all over the mattress. As promised, it's messy.

"Grab your towel off the floor," I suggest, embarrassed about the mess.

Monia withdraws his cock from me, eases down and licks my sodden cunt.

"It smells like pineapples down here," he teases.

I smile, and say, "I hope you like pineapples then."

"Slurp! I love them," he reassures. "Now turn over".

I obey without question and assume the doggy style position. One of my favorites.

Monia enters slow, and takes immediate command of my hips. He rams me hard from behind and in seconds, I feel a burn on my right ass cheek.

"Slap!"

The reverb from his hand makes my round ass jiggle and I wince in a combination of pleasure and pain.

"Ugh! Just like that baby!" I demand.

Monia closes in tighter and is obviously fueled by my response, he grunts his pleasure as his hand takes a fistful of my hair and yanks my head back exposing my throat.

"You're a dirty fucking girl," he chastises. "You need a spanking," he threatens.

"Thwack!" Another strike on my ass that is harder than the first.

"Fuck baby!"

Monia's shaft pierces my tight cave as my chocolate skin sweats underneath him. Monia takes his left thumb and hooks it in my asshole, and wiggles it roughly.

"Baby... it hurts," I complain.

"It's supposed to," he says through clenched teeth.

Monia lays his body flush on my back, reaches around, grabs my breast, and tugs on my nipple.

"Smack!"

My God! Who does this cocky fuck think he is anyway?

"I... can't... hold it," I admit.

"Then stop fucking trying, and let it go. Cum for me, spill it," he commands.

My brown tits sway wild in a frenzy while I claw the sheets for dear life. My body drenched in sweat as he rubs my clit raw from behind.

"... close," I manage to croak.

Another yank on my hair, and I cum again, and add hot vaginal fluids to the pool collected from my previous orgasm. I collapse on my belly in defeat, panting, breathless.

"Turn over," he says curtly.

"Monia... are you serious...?"

"On your back... now," he says in a serious tone.

It takes me three seconds to get on my back, facing him, still panting. I look at Monia on his knees before me and with a brief glance down, I see the condom looking tattered. Monia looks down and shares my concern.

"I'll change it," Monia offers, and rolls the condom off and tosses it on the floor.

"Don't... leave it off," I say firmly.

"You sure?"

"Yes. Just... be... careful... please," I beg.

Monia does as I request and lines his naked cock to my battered core. I align my snatch to his member and ease toward him, giving him full access.

"Uh uh," Monia says.

Monia bypasses my northern hole and slips his helmet tip just inside my ass. As he is met with some resistance, he withdraws, lifts my legs up and licks my asshole, saturating it before he put my legs down. Monia reenters my asshole more easily after using his saliva to lube my tiny hole.

"Fuck, it feels like an oven in here," Monia says, as he loads more of his shaft inside of me.

He begins to stretch my asshole until it mimics the size of his penis. I pull my knees up and place the bottom of my feet on his chest, knees apart.

"Take it baby, make it hurt," I challenge.

Monia fucks me with a rhythm that keeps me wet and slippery. Mozart isn't loud enough to drown the suction sounds his sword is making as it pierces my black raisin. Monia interlocks his hands in mine and locks eyes with me as he strokes.

I rub my clit to keep my sphincter relaxed and Monia groans in pleasure. The weight of his body leans into the soles of my feet, planted firmly on his chest.

"I love how you receive me," he says as he rams me, sweat drips from his forehead and onto my face.

"I love how you give it," I confirm, challenging his gaze.

The dialogue arouses him as I feel his tool slide smooth against my ridge like inner walls. He freely grows inside my anus, stretching my corridor and demanding more of me than I think I have.

"Baby, I have something for you," I tease.

"Oh yeah? I have something for you too, but ladies first," he smirks.

And there it is, I come for a third time with Mozart's full support. An intense orgasm in a foreign country with a foreign man inside of me. I am sated and judging by the look on his face, I would say that his orgasm is en route.

Monia growls as he shoots a forceful load deep into my asshole, and we lay in an official soaked mess on his bed. After some lazing, I peek at the time. It's 2:34 AM. Reluctantly, we peel ourselves off of the mattress and we reflect on our night as Monia returns me to the hotel. I bid him goodbye, strip my clothing off moments after I enter my room, shower immediately and get ready for bed.

My head cradled on the soft pillow with my eyes closed, I lay there embodied in full contentment, and a satiated smile rests quietly on my lips. It takes about three seconds for me to fall asleep.

I need my rest, and I have a breakfast date first thing in the morning…..