by James Grey
I’m not sure if he’s going to want to take our asses or our pussies, or both. But I’m definitely ready. And I know Sarah is too.
It’s only a moment after I begin to lap at Sarah’s pink, wet slit that I hear him get up. We’ve had at least half an hour of foreplay, I’d say, and the poor man must be driven to distraction now. Well, he’s welcome.
I hear a few footsteps, then sense he’s stopped at the end of the bed, just behind where my toes spill over the edge of the quilt. Sarah’s beginning to moan louder now, forgetting where she is and that this is even supposed to be a show. Miss Jackson would be delighted to see her in action.
Hot breath falls on the bottom of my spine and rough hands travel up from my knees to my hips, savouring every inch of my thighs. I gasp at the sensory overload. I wonder if I should move slightly, but instead I just spread my knees a little wider and wiggle my butt a touch higher in the air.
I really am an animal at times like this. Nothing subtle about it. I need cock.
Oh, hold on – what’s that?
His tongue. On my anus.
Oh my fucking God that feels good. I have to take a break from Sarah for a moment, ramming my forehead into the duvet as I shiver wildly at the sensation.
It’s a sweet, sexy tickle and it gives me an indescribable high. I know I’m clean and hairless down there – he can stay as long as he likes.
Yes, I do this to clients upon request, but it’s the first time a paying customer has performed the act on me. And he’s good, probing roughly and shameless with his tongue. Somehow it makes me feel both princess and whore at the same time. It always has, on the few occasions I’ve been brave enough to ask for it in the past. This, more than anything, was the kink I couldn’t bear to tell Miss Jackson about on that first morning at the school.
I can hardly deal with Sarah right now, such is the pleasure coursing through me at this inflamed moment in time. I reach for her breasts, to steady myself as much as to entertain our man, and grip them tight.
I’m going to fucking lose it in a minute. This is degenerating from show into free-for-all. Which is exactly the plan.
It’s over all too soon. He’s come into the light, onto the bed. He’s talking. Strong, long neck, firm Adam’s Apple, slick, neat hair and a day’s worth of stubble. No trousers. Just a vast, purple erection stabbing out below the hem of his light blue shirt.
“Sit her up against headboard,” he tells me, in a patient tone that’s neither unpleasant nor friendly.
“Come on Sarah,” I say, resuming my poise as I catch my breath, and assuming it’s okay to speak now. “Sit up. That’s it, legs open…good girl.”
The words are for his benefit. Guys in this world seem to love seeing a girl in charge of another girl. And I’m pretty sure I’m anticipating his next move correctly, so I give her another command.
“Open that pretty mouth of yours wide now.”
I catch his eye and he nods his approval. Three seconds later he’s mouth-fucking her like crazy, grunting hard with each thrust. Sarah’s in the perfect position, propped up against the pillows, whilst he kneels above her and supports himself by gripping the railings on either side of his shoulders.
I feel left out now, so I kneel behind him, letting his thrusting butt repeatedly tap against my hips. I reach in front of him and unbutton his shirt, then revel in running my hands across his stomach and chest. I don’t need to look at the guy to figure out that he spends a fair bit of time at the gym. He smells divine, too: some luxurious scent mixed with tobacco. Say what you like, but smoking equals sexy in my book.
Enjoying his body while he rams his cock in my lesbian lover’s throat is filling me with need again. Even my knees, which rest between his shins and her thighs, are sending me the threesome’s double sensation in waves of excitement.
I close my eyes and lose myself in it, kissing his neck and shoulders whilst he completely owns Sarah. Will he come in her mouth? I know she’d love that.
No, he won’t. He pulls out, leaving her gasping, but without any tell-tale whiteness on her tongue.
He turns his head to me. “Crouch again, and suck her tits. Just where she is.”
He moves out of the way and I do as I am told, letting my mouth fall onto her heaving breasts as she gulps in lungs full of lust-laced air. I love the taste of them, the hardness of them, the roughness on my tongue, and again my hind quarters are up in the air. I feel him settle behind me.
Surely now? Doggy-style. Whilst I hold her nipple with my lips and roll my tongue over its surface. Yeah, doggy-style. Only better.
I feel him probing for my entrance. I hold my breath for the sweetest moment a woman can know. Why won’t he just get in there already?
I wonder if he’s going for my ass. But no…it’s definitely my vulva he’s working his tip against. I feel a growing urgency in his push.
Is there a problem?
This is taking too long.
Oh…fuck. Please no.
Not again.
I hear him grunt with what might be displeasure. Sarah knows something is up, because she grabs my chin and gives me a concerned look.
I can’t hide my despair. It must be written all over my face. She knows exactly what’s up.
She thinks quick. Raising her ankles high and wide in the air and sliding a little lower down the bed, she moans out loud: “Please Sir, would you fuck me instead?”
He halts his pressing. Another grunt, but I hope it’s a turned-on one. I hope, against hope, that he thinks this might be part of the show. Please go with it.
If he takes her sopping wet pussy now, I can offer him my ass afterwards. Happily. Though he’ll probably be spent by then.
“Maybe he will, if you open your legs wider. It’s big,” I say, fully intending him to hear. Flattery can be distracting, after all. “Would you like to take my slut?” I ask him, going out on a limb. “She’s such a cock whore. Look, she’s begging.”
I feel him disengage from me, shoving my hips out of the way. It’s working. He simply drops straight into Sarah’s welcoming pussy. I add to his pleasure – I hope, by taking her ankles and holding them open, pulling them back towards her shoulders as far as they can go. It should be going deep.
She’s screaming with pleasure as he deposits inside her. His climax seems to go on for about a minute, as he pushes every last drop out of his erection.
And what now?
We don’t have to wait long to find out. He kisses Sarah tenderly on the lips, pulls himself out of her and climbs off the bed. He doesn’t even look at me.
“See yourselves out,” he says in a clipped tone as he walks away, leaving the room.
Chapter VIII
“Emma, we need to talk.”
Lucy sounds more serious than she has done in a long while. I swallow hard. Is this about what happened last night? How could she know? Or is it something else? Does she want to sack Sarah? Something to do with Charles?
“Okay, sure,” I say in a friendly tone. Whatever it is, she can’t accuse me of holding back information. Not yet, anyway. Our phone call is only about ten seconds old, after all.
She sighs. “I should probably tell you this face to face, but I’m a bit busy today unfortunately. So the mobile will have to do. I have to tell you that we’ve had a complaint.”
My blood runs cold.
“A complaint? About me?”
I don’t know what I want it to be any more. My dryness? Or something else I didn’t even know I was doing wrong? I don’t know what would be worse.
“Unfortunately yes, Emma. Before I go on, remember you’re not in trouble. I’m on your side and I’m here to help you through any issues you face.”
“I know, thanks Lucy.”
I wish she’d just come to the point.
“Mr Puckfield wrote to me first thing this morning, saying that he was unable to enter you last night. Is this true?”
I have to steady myself to open up to her once more. “I’m afraid t
So then, Sarah and I hadn’t been able to fool him, after all. I thought we might have gotten away with our impromptu change of tack, but no such luck. I guess you don’t run a major bank if you can get the wool pulled over your eyes by a couple of girls in their twenties.
“I see, that’s a shame. I’m not used to complaints, Emma, but I understand it’s not something you can control. We just need to re-think a few things now, obviously.”
Christ, she’s going to fire me. She has to, right? For a prostitute, surely my problem is a terminal one.
My mind’s working overtime. Maybe I could just do anal. Now that would be one heck of a USP. I decide to keep that idea back as my trump card when Lucy says I’m sacked.
“I should mention that he did say your show was excellent, and he loved the chemistry between you and Sarah. So from that point of view, very well done! You’ve added a special something to your bouquet of offerings now, that’s for sure. I’ve never heard of a lesbian show featuring actual live-in girlfriends.”
She’s trying to build me up, but I’m determined to focus on the negatives, as usual.
“So, since everything seemed to be looking so good, did anything unusual happen that might have thrown you off balance last night?”
I cough. I know exactly the answer to that. But I’m afraid to say it.
“Well…there was a message just before we had to leave. From Charles. And it was a Friday, you know…”
“I see, that explains a lot! I can understand that might have been upsetting. So once again, it seems there’s a mental stumbling block to do with Charles. What did he say in his message? We need to address this.”
“Well, he said a funny thing. He said I don’t know the whole story, or something like that. He said he wanted to talk.”
Lucy pauses. “Interesting. I wonder what that could mean? Maybe I should speak to the man, rather. He really made me look silly, too, so if there’s an explanation to be had then I’d like to have it.”
“So you have no idea what that could be about?”
She stops to think for a moment. “Well, all I can say is that somewhere along the line, somebody broke the rules. It wasn’t Charles that contacted me about the original selection. It was someone so well known, I can’t even mention their name to anybody.”
She trails off, thinking hard once more by the sounds of it.
“I’m curious…how long have you known Charles?” I ask.
“Oh, he was one of my very first clients. So that’s, oh, about six years now. And never had a moment’s trouble from him. All told, he’s probably paid me more than anybody, actually. Fortunately there are plenty more high net worth gents out there.”
“Didn’t you say he wanted to spank me in the beginning? That he was a serious dominant? Because…he never did very much of that. Not in our normal sessions, anyway.”
“Even more interesting. Never at all? Really? Our Charles has made some considerably more kinky requests in the past than spanking. He’s hung some of my girls up by their wrists for long periods of time, that kind of thing. Always been a gentleman about it, mind.”
Well, that sounds familiar. Wrists. Long periods of time.
“So,” I mull out loud. “Apparently we don’t know the full story. I wonder, could that mean…wow, that could mean a lot of things.”
I know I need something to change in my poisonous non-relationship with Charles, or my work is going to dry up as fast as my vagina seems to enjoy doing. Either that, or I need to get some kind of counselling. Hypnosis, maybe. The thought of both makes me recoil.
“It’s up to you if you want to speak with him, Emma. He’s no longer a client of mine, so that’s your own business. But know that if you don’t speak to him, then I will, alright?”
“Okay,” I reply, feeling utterly devastated. “I guess I’d better try replying.”
“Meantime, Emma, I’ll have to give you a break – or at least different kinds of assignments. I might have something overseas for you, actually.”
I perk up a little at the sound of that. What could she mean?
“This is a very neat piece of timing, actually. Do you know where Dunei is?”
“No,” I answer cautiously. Although it does sounds familiar.
“No reason why you should! It’s a very small kingdom in Asia. Not much more than a city – but they’ve got a lot of oil. And a fabulously naughty prince.
“Prince Yousuf has been to London a few times and called upon my girls on most of his visits. But he also keeps a harem back at home, usually with about twenty or thirty women in it at any one time. The initial deal is that you stay a month, all expenses paid. You live inside the palace itself, in special quarters. You’re on call 24/6, but you live in absolute opulence. Quite the experience, by the sounds of it!”
“Wow,” I say carefully, not wanting to sound too excited by the prospect of a royal assignment in what sounds like a warm country. I’m still wondering where she’s going with this, given my problem.
“He wants you, Emma. Word has travelled via some of his friends in London. He’s willing to pay whatever it takes to have you in his collection for a while. Up to ten million Dollars.” She lowers her voice. “And I hear this is twice as much as he usually pays for a month.”
I give a little yelp. Is there any limit to the demand for me? Lucy laughs.
“Now, if your issue is only something that affects you on Fridays – and I’m not sure if it’s that simple – then he’s your perfect customer. Friday is their holy day, so it’s the one day off for the girls. He’s quite strict about this, oddly enough.”
“Wow,” I say again. “Have you sent anyone out there before?”
“Not so far,” she admits. “As you know I prefer to keep my business local, because I want to know my clients. So overseas work is usually just ex-London, for local gents who need a travel companion, say. But when it comes to the prince, we’ve looked after him enough times in hotel rooms – well, entire hotels, in his case – before, so I’d be comfortable with a girl going out there for a long period of time. I’ve only heard good things about life over there.”
“I…I…don’t think I’d say no!”
The thought of being in a harem has me wild already. To be honest, it was one the first fantasies I ever had as a teenager. Later on, I think I probably suppressed the thought as un-PC. Or even just unrealistic. Curious, I reach down into my underwear, passing the clit ring he put there on the way. Sure enough, my finger hits an ocean of squelch. How is it so easy for me now, just talking on the phone in my bedroom?
“I suspect that being far away from here will help clear your mind and make your issue go away. But so might talking to Charles. Why don’t you start with that, and then we’ll see what we can do about Dunei? Yousuf definitely isn’t going to run away.”
I agree to do exactly that, and get back to Lucy as soon as I can. I have to dash out to another cooking class, but after that I take a walk along the Thames. And, with all things exotic and Asian on my mind, the person I call is Latifa. It’s a while since we’ve spoken.
“Hey, toilet-shagger,” she chirps as she picks up the phone at the other end of England. “I heard about your little escapade the other night. Nice one!”
“Fine thanks, and you?!” I reply, knowing perfectly well that I’ll never train my friend into a lady who holds back. She cackles her raucous laugh down the phone.
“All the better for hearing from you, sweetie! Sounds like it’s all going pretty swimmingly for you down there? You’ve put the Charles thing behind you, right? Now you know exactly whose balls to cut off, yeah?”
“Well, yeah…”
“And you know where he lives! I’ll be right there with you!”
“I don’t think I’m going to do that, ’Tifa, but thanks for the offer. Actually, there might be more to the whole thing.”
I tell her about the text I received from Charles yesterday.
“He’s just trying to get back into your pants,” she declares instantly. “Don’t buy it.”
She seems so positive, it makes me stop and think. Is he playing me for a fool yet again? One thing’s certain: there’s no point trying to decide the answer to that question by messages. I’ll only know what he’s thinking when I look into his eyes. No blindfolds.
Whether I can actually look into his eyes without slapping him is, of course, another question entirely.
“Maybe…maybe…I’ll be careful, I promise.”
She snorts.
“I wouldn’t even tell him the time of day, if I were you. But it’s your funeral!”
Skipping my physical problems – talking about it really doesn’t help, in this case – I move onto her.
“What’s going on with you then, ’Tifa?
“The usual…study, work and sex! God, but university is dragging on forever though. I can’t wait for spring now – it’s definitely time for me to spread my wings. Just like that famous statue we’ve got up here in Newcastle, haha. Except I’m going to spread my legs too!”
“And we’re still not going to talk you into moving down here?” I quiz, wondering if I could really handle Latifa being in the same city on a regular basis.
“I don’t think so, babe – I’m still thinking Asia! I really am ready to do some whoring now – I’m over the wait – and the lectures too. I’m ready for adventures with the high rollers!”
“Such as?”
“Hmm, how can I put it. Princes, sheikhs, oil barons…it’s where I belong, you know? You have no idea how deliciously naughty it is to work in Asia when you’re supposed to be a good little Muslim girl from down the road. Well, neither do I, come to think of it, but if some of the dreams I’ve been having are anything to go by…”
I tell her about Lucy’s latest suggestion for me, and the fact that I think I’ll be having a few of those erotic dreams myself tonight.
“Yousuf?” she asks incredulously. “Prince Yousuf of Dunei?”
“That’s the one, yeah.”
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