At that, Rachel twisted around to look at me, that sweet cunt sliding off my dick. Oh shit, it felt so good to have those slick walls pressing against my cock, fuckshaft stiffening reflexively. But the brunette had words for me.
“Daddy, please,” she begged, brown eyes filling with tears. “Don’t make me go on it.”
And I couldn’t resist, she was so beautiful, nude and curvy under me on the bed that when the knock on the door sounded, the doctor ready with drug supply, all he heard was furious moaning again, the sounds of slapping flesh punctuated by female squeals and cries. Needless to say, Rachel never got a prescription.
So yeah, I’m so fucked. I’m so fucking fucked. This was supposed to be a no-names, no-numbers, no-nothing type of thing. I was supposed to finger some hot twat and then walk away, onto the next girl by the next night. But instead, it’s become the real thing, with a beautiful girl living in my quarters, spending delicious minute after delicious minute with me, eating meals, chatting, playing with me all the while giving me her all.
I should kick Rachel out. Hell, I should never have even brought the sweet female here, the depravity of the club is too much, she doesn’t need to see what happens here with the males like rampaging lions, the females so fucked every which way. She doesn’t need to see the warren of rooms in our sub-sub-basement, where women are pummeled over and over again, sometimes by one guy, sometimes in a billionaire gangbang.
Because she’s too good for this. My sweet teen is dirty as hell, yeah, that swollen cunt and tiny asshole begging for it, but still, she’s too young. The female doesn’t deserve what’s happened, and yet I’m the man who did it to her. I’m the asshole who dragged Rachel down into the cesspool, introducing her to my depravities, forcing her to take cock every which way. And the problem is that I know I have to let her go, it’s for her own good. But how the fuck will I survive once my little girl gone?
CHAPTER NINE
Donovan
So yeah, I did it. I kicked out the woman I love, the girl who means the world to me. After two weeks of baring that cunt and ass, letting me drill her every which way, our time was up and I abruptly gave my best girl the boot, even if it was like a stab to the heart.
Actually, “abrupt” is too nice, and doesn’t even begin to describe our goodbye. Because there was no goodbye. After two weeks of enjoying that soft female flesh, after hours of dazzling conversation and feeling myself fall headlong into the aura of Rachel’s sweetness, I ended it with no warning. One day when she came back from the pool, I was just gone. I literally switched suites at the Club, a bevy of helpers moving all my shit into new quarters within twenty minutes, and the brunette came back to a barren room.
I can’t even imagine how lost she must have felt, how shocked and deserted. But the fact is I don’t know because I wasn’t there. I was at the Club bar, knocking myself out with shot after shot of whisky, until I was a sloppy mess, sinking into the depths of my chair, reeking of alcohol.
So yeah, it’s over now. My relationship with a beautiful girl, the heady days of pleasure mixed with a real connection are gone. I booted that hefty rump out, and fuck me, but it’s time to move on. No more sweet whispers in my ear at night, no more surprise blowjobs in the morning, no more smiles meant just for me. It’s all anonymous finger fucks from now on out with random women, my identity hidden once more.
Should be easy right? After all, I have a lifetime of chasing strange. But the thing is that I can’t get myself to move on. My profile on Discreet Encounters is still there, but fuck, I haven’t touched it in ages. I haven’t even bothered to log in, the laptop cold and still in its case, a lump of metal.
Because frankly, the thought of something anonymous has no appeal anymore. It’s like telling a man that he’s welcome to a dried biscuit after he’s devoured a feast for the senses. Who the fuck would want that? Who the fuck would survive? All I crave is my sweet girl, my beautiful brunette with the bouncy breasts and always-wet twat. I want to hear Rachel’s musical laugh, to feel those caramel brown eyes on me, alternatively inquisitive, intelligent, and oh-so-hungry. I want Rachel and no one else, but the thing is that I can’t do that to the girl. My sweet teen doesn’t deserve to live like me, Rachel deserves a life filled with happiness and joy, and I’m a fucker who fucks strange pussy. She’s too good for this, so I had to let her go.
Throwing back another shot, I rumbled deep in my chest, looking around the bar area with bleary eyes. Hell, I’ve been downing liters of whisky every night, my liver’s gonna give out at any instant, there’s so much poison in my soul. But I need it. I need the alcohol to dull my senses, to wipe the image of the brunette from my brain before I pass out for the umpteenth time. So I sank into the club chair once again and raised four fingers at the waitress. That’s right. Four more shots at least, and make those doubles.
Already, I’d gulped two mouthfuls when a shadow loomed over my chair. Fuck, what the fuck? I wanted to be alone in my misery, to wallow in the pain and think sweet thoughts of my beautiful virgin. What was Rachel doing now? Was she at work at the library? Were guys coming onto her, circling like sharks around that fragrant twat? Hell, if I were a dude I’d offer to put her into circulation, drilling that pink pussy in any dark corner, the reading room, the children’s section, wherever there was. So who was this fucker interrupting my pain?
“Shit,” came a low rumble. “You’re fucked up.
It was Xander, a buddy of mine who likes his girls wet, willing and barely legal. Oh wait, that was me. I shook my head blearily.
“I’m busy,” I grunted, looking away and sinking lower into my chair. “Get the fuck away.”
“Sure,” drawled Xander. “Except you’re gonna need someone to help you back to your suite. You want me to call some girls?”
I snorted rudely. Fuck, the female servers would never be able to hold me up. The ladies who work here are tiny with giant boobs and sky-high heels, they hold cock in their bodies, not drunk dudes who can barely talk. More like I’d need a stretcher and an ambulance.
“Naw,” I grunted. “I’m fine.”
Xander looked me over skeptically before nodding.
“Whatever,” he said carelessly. “All you, bro, all you.”
I grunted.
“Thanks. Now fuck off.”
Yeah, I was a rude mofo and didn’t care who knew. But Xander couldn’t be deterred. Instead he threw me a curious glance.
“Sure, but let me ask you this. What the fuck is going on? I’ve never seen you so hammered before.”
I stared at my friend, although my eyes didn’t really focus. Did I really want this? Did I really want to let on what my problems were, sharing my troubles? Did I really want to pour my heart out to another dude, letting him see my weaknesses? Fuck no! Even in my drunk stupor, there was no way I was shedding the armor of an alpha so I just grunted again.
“Fuck off.”
Xander shrugged nonchalantly.
“Fine but whatever it is, you better fix it,” he rumbled. “Because the way you’re going, you’re never gonna get it up again,” he said eyeing my crotch. “Dude, ever heard of erectile dysfunction? With all that liquor you’re gonna be an eighty year old man getting up to pee ten times a night, balls burning with no way of producing live swimmers.”
I jerked. No way. No fucking way. Besides, one of my secret desires was that Rachel was already pregnant, I’d creamed so many times into that hot twat that surely, one of my guys had done its work? Surely, the fertile teen was already seeded with my virility, about to bloom with child?
But right. That was all lost to me. I’d kicked her out, booted the brunette back rudely to the surface of the earth, so I just grunted again, signaling the waitress.
“Naw, I’ll be fine,” I slurred drunkly. “S’all good.”
Xander shrugged again as a blonde waitress appeared, dressed in nothing but a purple g-string and silver stilettos, boobies swaying tantalizingly. And as she bent over to place a drink before me, I smel
led what could only be described as wet twat. Oh yeah, female essence is fucking pungent and I’ve got a nose like a bloodhound, I can scent it from miles away.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I should have been turned on. I should have been ravaging the woman right now, pulling her into my lap and forcing her to sit on my dick like a good club member. But instead, I merely tweaked a stiff nipple and tucked a hundred into her g-string.
“Thanks baby,” I slurred, squinting at her. “Thanks.”
The blonde tittered, wiggling her ass at me.
“Daddy, thank you,” she intimated, shooting a coy look. “But you sure you don’t want to tip me another way?” she asked lightly. And without losing a beat, the woman reached down and pulled the crotch of her g-string aside, showing us those puffy pink lips, dripping and delicious. But Club girls don’t stop there. They’re selected for their slutty ways, their love of sex, and this blonde was no exception. She tilted her hips up and put a finger on each labia, spreading those nether lips.
“Daddy,” she cooed, showing off that gleaming hole. “Roll up the Benjamin and stick it up here?” she asked coyly. “Push that cash into my twat?”
And I couldn’t take it anymore. I should have been on it, after all, who misses a chance to stick money up a gorgeous blonde’s pussy? Who turns down the opportunity to fuck a ten, a woman so physically perfect she’s like a Barbie?
But the thing is I didn’t want it. The waitress disgusted me, she was so skinny, her bones so small that for sure she had osteoporosis. I like my girls heavy, I like ‘em flush and curvy, and right now, I only wanted one twat, one set of great big boobies. I wanted brown curls and a sweet laugh rising into a moan as I rammed that pink pulsing cunt, as I squeezed that giant butt and caressed meaty thighs. Oh fuck, I just wanted Rachel and seeing this woman bare herself had a strange effect. Because I felt angry and repulsed, absolutely turned off by the slut.
And maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the desperation, but I did something I’ve never done before. I raised a hand to smack that woman, to beat her down, to shame her for not being Rachel. How dare she? How could this random female think that she was better than my girl, that’d I’d even want to smell her twat when all I wanted was my best girl’s cunt? How could she think she was attractive with those bony limbs and dry skin? With a roar, I literally rose to my feet, hand raised in the air.
But Xander came to the rescue. The big man jumped up and grabbed my wrist, wrestling it behind my back as the girl cowered before us, shrieking, trying to shield herself with a tiny notepad.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Xander grunted, twisting my arm painfully. “What the fuck asshole?”
I can’t imagine it was easy, I’m a huge dude, and drunk, even more impossible to control.
But I was an animal on the rampage and fought back, movements sloppy and wild, lurching this way and that.
“Fuck you!” I roared. “Look at this slut! Look at this fucking ho, showing us that rancid cunt!”
Xander shook his head with disgust, biting out to the girl, “Leave,” before turning back to me.
“Sit down,” he barked. “Get yourself together, you’re such a fucking embarrassment.”
But I lurched around, stumbling like a mofo, before literally banging into something and collapsing on a nearby couch.
“Fuck you,” was all I said in reply, waving a hand. “Drink, I need a drink.”
Xander shook his head with disgust.
“You’re such a fucked up fucker,” was all he said in return. “Water,” he commanded to someone I couldn’t see.
But who the fuck cared? My life was a bucket of shit, the blood in my veins pure trash. I was supposed to be fucking girls right and left and all I could think of was my beautiful brunette. Fuck, I’d almost hit a woman, I’d treated some unsuspecting chick like trash and she didn’t deserve it. So blearily, I raised my head again, blinking heavily, trying to focus before whipping out my wallet.
“Give her some cash,” I mumbled before falling back again, big form prone. “Give her some moolah, the girlies always like that.”
Xander shook his head with disgust but fortunately, at that moment the water came and I gulped it thirstily. I was like a vacuum, pounding the stuff until I sputtered, choking and rasping.
“Take it easy big guy,” came my friend’s voice again. “Take it easy.”
Finally, taking a deep breath, I looked up. Shit, I must have been so fucking dehydrated before because now, shapes actually had some clarity and I could see the pattern on the sofa instead of the blur it was before. Shit, I was a fucked up motherfucker.
“So,” came Xander’s voice. “You wanna tell me about it?”
No, I didn’t. But I owed some explanation after my drunken act.
“Just a chick,” I grunted, not meeting his eyes. “No biggie.”
Xander chuckled lowly.
“Isn’t it always?” he ground out.
I shot him a hard look, unappreciative
“This girl is different,” I bit out. “Real different.”
Xander just looked at me amused.
“Aren’t they always?” he rasped. “Each one’s different.”
Anger flared in me again but I struggled to control it, no sense in flying about like a mofo again. This was the club and I needed to keep up to standard.
“Naw, this one is real different. I met her on Discreet Encounters,” I began. But Xander cut in.
“You still doing that?” he asked, one eyebrow arched. “Still doing anonymous finger fucks in strange pussy?”
The words were so fucking crude, but yeah, that’s what I’m about. I’m a dirty mofo and the nastier the better. But with Rachel it was different.
“Yeah, I met a chick on the site, but had to give her the boot,” I ground out. “Wasn’t worth it.”
Xander’s brows lifted again.
“Really? Then what the fuck is wrong with you? You on pills or something? Cocaine?”
I shook my head furiously.
“Naw, gave her the boot because I wanna go back on-line to find other girls to fuck. Anonymously,” I punctuated with a rasp.
Xander just shook his head.
“Why don’t you just fuck the girls here? No one gives a shit and there’s more than plenty,” he said, gesturing to the curvaceous, busty female servers lingering in the shadows. “We pay a pretty penny for it, what else is the Billionaires Club for?”
That was true, the BC is a place where anything goes, we source the best, most beautiful women to work here, to give it up night after night to whichever member wants a taste of pretty pussy. But with Rachel, things were different. Absolutely different.
“I need danger,” I said flatly. “Even if I drill the ladies here, there’s no danger anymore, they’re put through so much screening, they practically have to run a gauntlet to work here.”
That was true. Everyone at the Club took blood tests and passed extensive background checks, not to mention the psychological profiling and personality questionnaires. But hey, billionaires can’t afford to take chances, there’s an ocean of money at stake and we don’t cut corners. So yeah, every single server, every single pool girl, every single laundress, has been vetted up and down, all around, there were thick dossiers on each individual.
“Naw,” I ground out again. “Like I said, I need danger.”
“So? What’s wrong with your chickie?” asked Xander carelessly. “I thought you met her on Discreet Encounters, that doesn’t make her dangerous enough?” He sounded casual but dude is a smart guy, he was listening with all ears.
I shook my head frustrated.
“Rachel is a good girl,” I ground out, chest tight. “She’s a librarian for crying out loud. And a virgin too. I fucked a virgin, I fucked her pussy hole and anal hole on consecutive nights. Can you believe that? I fucked both her holes like a mofo, completely disrespecting her.”
Xander was silent for a second.
“Yeah, but did she want it?”
he asked. “If she wanted it, it doesn’t matter.”
That made me pause. Of course Rachel wanted it. My best girl’s got a slutty cunt and a slutty ass, those orifices open wide for me, the girl prying apart her cheeks, her labia, creaming heavily as I drilled her. Of course she wanted it, but that didn’t mean it was dangerous.
“Yeah,” was all I said shortly. “She wanted it.”
Xander chuckled.
“Well, sounds like it’s good to go then,” he remarked mildly. “I mean, you’re drilling a girl in the ass and pussy, and probably fucking her mouth too. So what the hell is wrong?”
“There’s no danger,” I ground out, shooting him the evil eye. “Do you not get it? I like my fucks anonymous, pummeling wet twats without knowing their names. And with this girl,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s all about coming again and again as she screams, jetting my jizz into that wet cunt.”
“Well as long as she’s on the pill, then you’re all good,” said Xander mildly, studying his nails like this was no big deal. “Who cares?”
“Naw dude, no pill,” I growled. “Girl didn’t want it.”
Xander leaned forward then, gaze intense.
“IUD? Condom? Yo dude, condoms aren’t the most comfortable, but teen twat requires it. They’re too fertile, it takes nothing to knock ‘em up.”
I shook my head again.
“Naw, bareback,” I ground out. “She wanted it that way.”
Silence for a moment before Xander leaned back and started laughing heartily, like he’d just heard a funny joke.
“What the fuck?” I rasped. “What the fuck is your problem?”
My friend couldn’t even answer, he was laughing so hard.
“What the fuck is your problem?” he retorted through chuckles. “You’re talking about danger and you’ve been fucking an eighteen year old with no protection? Are you shitting me? Are you a fucking idiot? I mean, shit, Donovan, talk about playing with fire.”
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