by Alexis Angel
Oh, yeah, you’re probably wondering about her. She actually spent half a year in Barcelona, and then she travelled all over Europe for two more months. She came back to the States the day she found out I was about to give birth. She bawled her eyes out when I told her we were naming our baby after her.
She eventually settled in New York again, the city no longer feeling like a bad place full of bad memories. These days, she only sees possibilities wherever she goes. She’s gotten into her mind that she wants to be a lawyer, and Austin promptly said we should pay for all of her tuition. I agreed in a heartbeat.
“Come here,” I whisper at Austin, placing my arms around his neck and pulling him in for one long kiss. I close my eyes, savoring his kiss as if it was the first one. It seems like everything happened a lifetime ago… Remember when I went to Python just so I could spy for Lester? Everything spun out of control after that day and, by God, I couldn’t be happier that it happened the way it did. In a twisted turn of events, Lester was the one bringing us together.
Oh, about him… He actually did leave New York as Austin made him promise. He quit his position as the Police Commissioner, and then just packed everything and moved to Las Vegas. There, he decided it was good a good idea to try out the roulette and, next thing he knows, he’s flat out broke.
Eventually he decided to turn his life around. The last time we’ve heard from the people keeping tabs on him, it seems that he had gotten a job at a coffee shop. That’s right, from Police Commissioner to minimum wage barista in Las Vegas. If you ever come across him, make sure you place an extra complicated order for him. And don’t tip.
“Do you think we have the time before she wakes up?” Austin whispers, that mischievous grin of his flaring up something inside of me. It’s like this every day, really. You’d think that all that electric lust would start dissipating after a few months of fucking every single day, but in fact it’s been just the opposite. Sure, it’s trickier nowadays with the baby; I have learned to be quieter, that’s one, but we still can’t go a day without sex.
“I think we do,” I whisper back at him, my arms still around his neck. I pull him after me and he lies down on top of my body, his hands going down to my waist.
“You know… Sometimes I find myself wondering if all this isn’t just a dream. You, Anna, the club… How in the world did I ever get so lucky?”
“I wonder the same sometimes,” I take my hand to his crotch and then squeeze his cock, feeling it already hard and pulsing against the palm of my hand. “But then I just feel you inside of me and I realize that this is as real as it could be…”
“Well, let’s make the test then. Just to be sure,” he smiles as I start unbuckling his belt and pushing his pants down. Yeah, let’s be sure.
But he’s right, you know? Our life seems like something out of a fairy-tale. We’re the envy of the whole world. Could life be any more perfect?
I doubt it, I really do.
Austin
So, that’s what ends up happening, in the end. Sure, I’m a cocky fucking asshole. But I ended up getting my fucking comeuppance pretty good, don’t you think?
I have to say though, I’m a very grateful man. And I’ve changed. Destiny’s changed me. She’s so invariably cute. Like a fucking button. Then one day, something crazy happens. I see her walking around the condo in her lace white boy shorts and belly shirt and my cock grows in a second. But she ends up looking at me with those wide eyes of hers and shakes her head, “Maybe if you’re good and follow instructions,” she says, crooking her fingers. And I growl, like an animal and follow her around the apartment - being led around like a dog. She sits down on the couch and turns on a movie. I don’t like the looks of what I’m seeing - a movie called ‘Hope Floats’ has never really floated my boat, but Destiny grabs me by the cock - I swear she grabs me by the cock - and pulls me closer to her.
I end up cuddling with her the entire movie. Smelling her hair. Holding her arms. Feeling her ass wriggle and nestle itself in my crotch - enveloping me with her ass cheeks. Any other girl, this shit would not be okay. But for Destiny, I actually fucking enjoy it.
Destiny turns over to me as the movie ends and looks deep into my eyes.
“You know my friend Alexis is finishing up her novel about us, right?” Destiny asks.
I’ve met Alexis a few times. She’s a cute girl. She’s a bit quirky. I know she’s fucking crazy about being sexy in every part of her life. Whether that means being outside in beautiful weather, or sitting at home reading a fucking book, you'll never see her go more than ten minutes without smiling and saying something fucking dirty.
And let me tell you, when she dirty, she’s talking about us.
“So, Alexis writes steamy contemporary romance about bad boys for the bad girl in all of us. She is still single at 30, in case anyone is interested to know, and still very much looking for love,” Destiny tells me.
I nod to her, not sure where this is going as she continues, “Her favorite things in the world are flowers, chocolate, lingerie, high heels, lipstick, perfume, and the credit card award miles that she gets from buying all that.”
This is just fucking strange. But I watch as Destiny talks to me.
“Prior to writing, Alexis used to be a financial analyst in New York City,” Destiny tells me. “She quickly decided that working for a faceless corporation run by men was not her dream job. So she began to write. And as she began to write, she began to use those credit card award miles to travel all over the world.”
“Okay, what the fuck is the point?” I ask.
“Alexis is still single, in case you forgot from above,” Destiny says, her hands tracing lines on my chest as she props herself up on my body. God, her fucking body is keeping my cock hard as a fucking brick. If she doesn’t do something soon, I’m just going to cum right there. “She spends winters in California, fall and spring in New York City, and summers in Europe.”
“Why are you telling me all this, babe?” I ask, a bit of fucking exasperation showing up in my voice. “Do you want me to fuck her?”
Destiny scrunches her nose and gently slaps me on the side of the head.
“No,” she says, rolling her eyes for added effect. “But she’s done without all that because she’s been writing about us. And our story is going to go on sale soon.”
Fucking nice.
“Where?” I ask.
“Amazon,” Destiny says, “But you can join her list to keep up with updates or find out bonus content to read about our childhood if you sign up at http://eepurl.com/csXC2P or just email her at [email protected]”
I shake my head. “I don’t know if anyone wants to read any more about us.”
“Well, we’re going to be going to a few of her parties at Dirty Lil’ Angels on Facebook. People can click on the links to join or like,” Destiny replies.
“Click what links?” I ask. I’m fucking confused. “Where?”
“Don’t you want to be a Dirty Lil’ Angel, Austin?” she asks me.
That’s too much. I bring my hands around and grab her ass. She squeals. Her crotch grinds against mine and she closes her eyes.
When she opens her eyes again, she’s no longer the good girl and mother of my child. She’s a fucking porn star that I’m going to fuck like a whore.
I grin as she brings her mouth lower and we kiss.
Its time for the Python to come out and play.
Cindersmellya
Every girl dreams of being Cinderella.
I’m so lucky that I was allowed the chance to write about her.
As a kid I always imagined that a handsome prince would come rescue me.
Well, I was rescued by multiple princes throughout my life. But it was never like the movie. Never like the fairytale.
So I did something different.
I made a contemporary version of Cinderella.
One that relates to today.
One that also hopefully tickles our funny bone.
> Because this rom-com is supposed to make you LOL before it makes you go ooh. Lol.
If it does that, I did my job right.
I hope you enjoy it!
Fingers crossed! ;)
Hugs and kisses and lots of love!
Alexis
Derek
“Ah, Derek, fuck me harder!”
I grab the slut’s hair and wrap it around my fist, yanking her head back. She screams out, more words falling from her swollen lips as she tells me just how fucking good my dick feels.
Like I don’t know.
I shove her further down into the seat of the limo and grab her ass, pulling it roughly against me as I pound into her from behind.
“You like that? You want more of this cock?” The sound of slick skin slapping almost drowns out her muffled praise.
Doesn’t matter. I know exactly what she’s saying. She’s fucking grateful to have my cock buried so deep inside her she won’t be able to sit for a fucking week.
I mean, who wouldn’t be?
I’m Derek Fucking Van Windsor, Crown Prince of St. Albans. And right now I’m cruising down 5th Avenue like the royalty I am, using this girl to get my dick wet as the lights of the city flash through the blacked out windows of the limo.
“Yes,” she moans. “Gonna cum.”
Damn right she is. I don’t have a reputation as the prince with a magic cock for nothing. Chicks beg for a piece of this. And not a single one leaves unsatisfied.
I reach around and grab her tits, squeezing them as her pussy grips me. Her moans fill the limo, and I fuck her harder, letting her convulsing pussy soak me in wet heat until I’m pouring hot, streaming jets of cum inside her.
I groan out my release, then smack her ass and push her off my cock.
“You’re a good fuck, uh, baby,” I say as I pull out and remove the condom. So I forgot her name. So what? Fuck, I may not have gotten her name in the first place. It’s not like I have to work hard to get the hottest chicks in the world begging for a piece of me.
They’re all more than happy to hop on for a ride. And I’m happy to oblige.
I turn and settle back into the seat of the limo, not bothering to put my cock away. What’s the point? I’ll just be using it again in a few minutes.
Whatever-her-name-is crawls up on the seat beside me, pulling her skirt down over her ass, and snuggles in close to my chest.
I arch an eyebrow but don’t say anything as I push a button and the window slides down. With the flick of my wrist, I toss the condom out, laughing when it hits the front windshield of the car behind us.
“Oh my God, Derek,” the chick giggles. “That’s a cop car.”
I shrug, but my lips curve up in a mischievous smirk when I glance back. My cum is streaming and dripping all down the cop’s windshield. And he can’t do shit about it thanks to the diplomatic plates on my limo.
Fucker probably wishes he were me right now, getting pussy rolling down the road. Just a day in the life.
I lean forward to fill a glass with a finger of Scotch, jostling the chick off me, and then settle back to bask in the perfection of my life.
Who wouldn’t want to be me? I’m sexy as hell, have a fucking twelve-inch cock that gives mind-blowing orgasms, and as the prince of my own kingdom, I’m richer than God.
A different pussy on my cock every night, often more than one. Free to do whatever the fuck I want. Yeah, couldn’t ask for more.
Except maybe some time. My father, the king, has been bugging me even more than usual lately. Some bullshit about it being time for me to come home, take my rightful place, blah blah blah. What the fuck ever. I’m not ready. So much pussy, so little time.
I have the rest of my life to deal with the responsibility I’m not sure I want. Well, the marriage part, at least.
Yeah, you heard me right. Derek Van Windsor, Prince of St. Albans, has to settle down and get married. At least if I want to claim my kingdom one day. One day being the key word.
I toss back my Scotch as thoughts of my father’s increasingly frequent calls try to kill the post-fuck buzz I have going. Like I said. Bullshit.
Time for round two. I grab the chick by the ass and settle her over my cock, her bare pussy rubbing against me, so hot and so fucking wet, getting me hard all over again.
I’m ready to spear her with my pole, but my face twists in annoyance when she starts pawing at me like a fucking animal, her greedy hands bordering on desperate.
Fuck. Why can’t I find a chick who doesn’t make me want to toss her out on her ass as soon as I’m finished with her? They’re all so fucking needy. Acting like it’s more than just a quick bone.
“Oh, Princey-Poo, you make me so happy. I can’t wait to spend the rest of the night making you feel so, so good.”
I roll my eyes at her gooey voice. It’s fucking ridiculous.
“I’m going to treat your little peeper so good,” she giggles. “We’re going to be so happy together.”
Little peeper? Fucking hell. Is she for real? There's not a damn thing little about me.
She nuzzles up against my neck, and I try to ignore how much she’s trying my patience. Because my cock is really enjoying the way her cunt feels rubbing on it.
“Mmm,” she continues, making me wish she’d shut the fuck up, “then in the morning, after we’ve fucked all night, we can have brunch, and then we can—”
I don’t even hear what she says next. Brunch? Oh, hell no. This has suddenly veered into dangerous territory. I’m down with fucking her all night, but when I’m done? She has to go.
I push her off my lap, and her pout that made me want her lips wrapped around my cock earlier now just makes me sneer.
“What’s the matter, Princey-Poo?”
“Okay, we’re done here.” Nicknames and cuddling and morning after shit? Hell fucking no.
I push the button to roll down the divider between us, and the driver. “Stop the limo,” I demand.
“What’s wrong?” Confusion is all over her face, but I don’t give a flying fuck. I’m so done.
“Out,” I say as soon as the limo jerks to a stop. I don’t even offer an explanation. I just push her toward the door. “Thanks for the fuck.” I’m not even sure I mean it.
I slam the door shut after she stumbles out, then gesture for the driver to roll, not even caring she’s standing on the curb with her mouth gaping.
He hits the gas. “Where to?”
Somewhere I know the girls aren’t looking to sink their claws into me. Where I can have a good time and leave it at the door.
“Take me to the best strip club in town.”
Ella
“Ms. Ketchum, you’ve got a client asking for a lap dance.”
I don’t even glance at the manager as he pops his head through the door. I’m too busy reattaching my eyelashes. Can’t have them falling off on a dude while he’s trying to get off, or worse, hanging from my eye like I’m some kind of hot mess. Hell no. I’m a pro.
“Give me five,” I call, and he disappears.
“Oh my God, Ella, what is this? Like, your third lap dance tonight?” one of the new girls asks, her eyes wide like I’m her fucking hero or something.
I shrug. “Something like that.”
Looking at the costumes, I reach for a brown wig and tuck my long blonde waves inside. I like to change it up, especially when I’m doing lap dances.
With one last glance at myself in the mirror, I head out toward the semi-private booths where we do the lap dances, a sultry smile on my red lips.
I know I look fucking hot. There’s a reason I’m one of the most in-demand strippers at the club. I’m good at what I do. I can make a guy cum without even touching him. Though it’s a lot more fun for both of us if I do touch.
What can I say? I like sex. A lot. Everything about it.
So when I graduated from Harvard with a degree in economics right in the middle of the financial crisis, working on Wall Street was the last thing I wanted to do.
Stripping was the obvious alternative.
Why, you ask?
Because if I learned one thing about economics, sex is a booming business that isn’t going anywhere, no matter what the economy is doing.
Stripping is fucking smart. The fact that I love to cum on the regular is icing on the cake. A cake made of fat stacks of cash.
Plus, I’m the one in charge of my body. If I want to feel good, and I get off on making other people feel good, too, I don’t see the problem. Best choice I’ve ever made.
When I push through the doors separating the back from the main floor, the music that was just a bunch of muffled beats starts pounding through my body. My steps automatically fall in time with the pulsing bass, my hips swaying. Every eye falls on me, even the ones that should be occupied by the tits and asses flashing on stage and in their laps.
I’m used to it. I fucking thrive on it.
When I get to the booth where my client is waiting, I can tell he’s already hard. Just by looking at me.
I fall into character, letting the sensual beat of the music and the lush colors and fabrics of the club settle in, putting me in the right mood.
I smile down at the man, trying to ignore the fact that his comb-over does nothing to hide that he’s balding. His eyes widen when I bite my lip and reach out for him, resting my hand on his shoulder, dipping my finger under his collar teasingly.
“What can I do for you tonight, sugar?”
I lean forward, giving him a great view of my tits that are spilling out of my bra. He’s practically drooling.
Ugh. I have to admit, this guy might be a challenge for me to really get into. But I get straight to work, pulling on his tie and yanking his face right into my tits. He moans, his whole body quivering, and I fight the eye roll.
Best thing to do here? Lose myself in my own fantasies.