Fifty Shades of Lexi Maxxwell

by Lexi Maxxwell

  And despite what Ed or anyone else thought, his way was cheaper.

  The cost of alcohol, dinner and dessert, plus jewelry, if the relationship lingered, it all added up. But no matter how high the price tag climbed, Mark knew exactly how much he was going to spend when he hired an escort, down to the tip, which was always 20%. Though he’d been known to double it. Twice in fact – once when an unbelievably hot redhead spent a solid hour on his cock, managing to fill her mouth with his buttermilk three times, which he didn’t even know he could do.

  Sex and money were two of Mark’s favorite things in the world. Not putting the two of them together was downright ludicrous.

  Escorts had also taught Mark exactly how to fuck. He had pounded a ton of prime cut pussy, some of it practically into a limp in his lifetime, but nothing compared to the honey dipping he had done with escorts.

  And none of that compared to the pleasure of his newest toy, Celeste.

  Mark had met Celeste through a friend. He had confessed to a colleague, a new guy named Gerald, about preferring the company of escorts after Gerald told him the same thing. Though Gerald liked them a bit dirtier, right off the street. Mark could never do that. There was no guilt with the girls he hired. They were extremely well-paid, and whether they wanted to take his load or not, you’d never know either way from the smile on their faces.

  The girls on the street had a hollow in their eyes that surely seeped into their soul.

  Gerald said he had a “friend of a friend,” which was amazing to Mark since Gerald had been in town all of a month, but hell, that’s what Twitter was for, he supposed. An email intro later, and BAM! Celeste had been his favorite way to wax the week since, and no two weeks had so far been the same.

  This would be Mark’s fourth time with Celeste, and since their first encounter, he’d only stopped thinking about her in the moments when life demanded it. Celeste wasn’t the least expensive escort he ever hired, nor was she the priciest. Yet she was the best value he’d ever had, hand-jobs down.

  Celeste was the fuck of his life, enough that Mark was worried she might have ruined him forever. If there was a time when he could have jumped on the wagon leading away from paid pussy, Celeste might have made it impossible to stay on.

  There was a look most working girls carried, at least the best ones, a look that said it would be fun while it lasted. Celeste’s was different. Her look said it would be more than fun, it would be enough fun to stay dripping for days, and that the fun would last as long as she fucking wanted it to.

  Celeste had all the power and knew it. If Mark had Celeste figured, she would have happily fucked just as many guys for free, but knew she was worth every goddamn cent, and collected the bills with a smile on her face and cum still dripping from her chin.

  If anything, Mark admired her. Just wasn’t sure how she did what she did while living a real life. She must not ever want to get married, or have children, or anything else. No way you could live that life and still have a man to love at home.

  There weren’t many men willing to share their woman. And vice versa. But if Mark ever did get married, which he hoped he would, maybe within the next five years, and hopefully to that peach Linda in Accounting, she’d have to share him. Because that’s the other thing escorts were good for – keeping your marriage healthy. Shit changed with kids in the picture, most guys didn’t want to cover their kids’ mom in cum, even if she was the same slut who fucked his face of in the bathroom of a sushi bar a decade earlier.

  Not that Mark had to worry about kids, but the common denominator was the same, and he’d seen it since always. Relationships were high maintenance. Mark had two more years of nose to the grindstone at Miller and Hodge. Until then, he didn’t have time for a real relationship, and would happily settle for the easygoing mutual respect, on his schedule and per his design, that came with outsourcing sex.

  Every relationship Mark had been in since college ended badly, probably since it was easy to see that most women wanted him for his money. And while the escorts wanted him for his money, too, at least they were clear from the start, and couldn’t screw him out of it.

  In the meantime, he’d be checking off fantasies, one by one. There weren’t too many left. Though, shockingly, Mark had never tried two girls together. He’d change that soon. But for now, Celeste was more than enough.

  The memory of their last encounter made his cock push against the thin linen of his pants. She had showed up, exactly like he’d ordered: dressed all in black, her hair back in a severe bun. He hadn’t told her how to dress, just said, “I want you to do all the work this time, just tell me what to do.” So Celeste came dressed in black, the perfect color to introduce him to the pain of waiting.

  Mark was used to getting what he wanted, and paying more if he wanted it faster, but Celeste placed a cease and desist on the habit, cuffing his hands behind his back as she slowly stripped to a thin black thong.

  Mark’s cock was pointing at the small chandelier above the kitchen table when Celeste dropped to all fours and started crawling along the carpet. She inched her way toward Mark, savoring each second, then turned back around and shook her amazing ass in his face until he whimpered. She pulled her panties to the side and lowered herself on Mark’s throbbing cock, just to the tip until he whimpered some more.

  She turned and purred. “What do you want to do to my pussy, Mark? Do you want to fuck it? Or do you want to lick it and kiss it first?”

  “I want to lick it,” Mark panted.

  “What else do you want to do?”

  “I want to put my fingers inside it.”

  “Do you want to slap it?”

  Her question made him whimper again.

  Celeste took a step back and stepped out of her panties, then gave Mark a full lap dance, shaking her tits and ass, and rubbing everything she could all over his face. Mark wanted to grab her tits, twist her nipples, then throw her to the floor and fuck that teasing smile right off her face.

  But that’s what the handcuffs were for.

  She was yelling at Mark to suck her fucking titties, when she suddenly shoved her hand in his hair, curled her fingers into a fist, then yanked his head back and met his mouth with her tongue, running her hands down Mark’s sides and toward his prick, purpling with want.

  Celeste sucked his dick, up and down the shaft, one hand tight around the base. Her hair was everywhere and Mark was moaning. He wanted to grab her hair to gain a better view, but Celeste was getting wet on her power.

  “I want out of the handcuffs,” he said.

  Celeste lifted her head from his dick just long enough to shake her head no, then went back to bobbing while Mark went on moaning in protest. After a minute she stopped, look like she was going to take off the handcuffs, then shook her head and with a mock tease said, “Sorry, I have to finish my job.”

  She smiled, then dropped to her knees again, wrapping his dick between her tits, then squeezing them together. She started bouncing her body as Mark moaned unintelligible syllables that sounded a bit like: “OH MY FUCKING LORD UP IN HEAVEN!”

  “You like that,” Celeste purred, “You like having your cock in between my tits.”

  She must have known how much Mark liked it because she stopped right then, just seconds before he was about to get his nectar all over her neck.

  She made him wait several more minutes, pacing the room and teasing him. “Do you want to see how wet you’ve made me?” she cooed, unlocking the cuffs and placing his right hand inside the wettest pussy Mark had ever felt.

  Just when he thought he couldn’t possibly take another second, Celeste sat on his cock, sliding to his base with zero resistance, faster and faster and faster, clenching her muscles and throttling Mark’s cock in a way he had never felt before.

  “Pull my hair!” she yelled, then “harder!” when his first attempt wasn’t nearly hard enough. She was a wild pony, bucking and thrashing and arching her back; screaming louder with every thrust, only slowing when
it felt like he was about to burst, then bouncing back once the dam felt safe.

  When Mark finally blew, it would be massive. But she wasn’t ready yet. Celeste slid from his cock and stood before him, pussy stretched and dripping. “Are you ready for what’s next?” she said.

  Mark was, but couldn't make the sounds to prove it.

  “Get over here and spread my ass cheeks.”

  Mark did.

  “Put your finger in my asshole.”

  Mark did. Celeste shuddered, then said, “deeper.”

  Mark did. Celeste cried out, then said, “Now I want you to fuck my ass.”

  Mark did, and he wasn’t even an ass guy. He had given a cock colonic just three times before, each time just because he was convinced he was missing something the time before, but it had never done anything for him. Sure, the ass was tighter, but the north pole was never better than the south. Of course, he had only thought that before his dick became acquainted with Celeste’s baby starfish.

  The way she writhed and twisted and screamed and moaned and made him think he might never lose his euphoria, well, he could’ve fucked that all day, every day and never want anything else for the rest of his life.

  Celeste was loving it, too. And if she wasn’t, she deserved an Oscar.

  “OH MY FUCKING CHRIST, that’s how I like it. Don’t stop or, oh shit!! FUCK me, yeah, OH MY GAWD, FUCK!! Don’t ever, EVER stop!!!”

  Mark was slamming into Celeste like he was trying to fuck her right through the fabric of reality. “I’m gonna cum!” he screamed.

  “I want you to cum on my tits!”

  Sounded great to Mark, and he pulled out to give it the old college try, but there wasn’t time, wasn’t even fully out before the first stream of cum shot from his cock and splashed all over her back. But Celeste was fast and must have really wanted the cum to coat her, because she fell to her knees and took the rest of it in her mouth and on her face, all over her tits, splashed across her belly button, glazed in her hair, and anywhere else where the uzi like spray splattered from the eye of his cock wand.

  Mark had booked a full two hours to account for the teasing, and had gone 40 minutes over. Obviously, he didn’t mind. Mark collapsed on the bed. Celeste scooped a handful of blended goo from her still gaping hole, then rubbed it all over Mark’s chest before kissing him on the mouth and whispering, “See you soon,” then picked up the folded bills from the nightstand and left his apartment like a good girl.

  It had been too long since.

  Mark was already throbbing when the doorbell rang. He’d left it unlocked like usual, so she sashayed inside after a single ring, looking exactly like he ordered.

  She removed her long jacket and tossed it in the corner, revealing a white, gauzy gown beneath. Her buttons were undone to the piping below her chest, which pushed the swell of her breasts and pucker of her nipples hard against the sheer of the fabric. Her gown dipped to just above her knee. The small black triangle stood out sharply, like a shadow showing behind a sheer curtain.

  There were no words between them. Celeste walked to the bar, poured two glasses of 2006 Bienvenue-Bâtard-Montrachet, then started sipping hers with her right hand as her fingers slithered beneath the sheer white with her left.

  Even Celeste’s most subtle movements had a way of getting Mark to think he might cum in his pants. She had two fingers knuckle deep when she made a satisfied hmmmmm..... then pulled her fingers out, took two large swallows of her wine, set the glass back on the bar, and opened her mouth to speak for the first time. “In the chair,” she commanded, pointing at the leather recliner a few yards from the king-sized bed.

  Celeste picked up the remote from the bar, pressed play, and started to sway seductively to the sounds of “Moves Like Jagger.” It was almost painful, the slow swaying movements set against the speed of the song. Mark was hard enough for Celeste to see his cock throbbing through his linen pants.

  Celeste took the entire song to take off her single item of clothing, then pressed repeat and dropped to her knees in front of the chair. She started with his shirt, then pulled the pants from his body, kissing him everywhere, with slow, lingering kisses up and down the length of his frame, just like he ordered. She started to stroke him, still kissing him, everywhere but his dick. After a song’s worth of soft and wet kisses, Celeste let the playlist move forward as she finished with a light kiss on the top of his cock.

  Mark whimpered, wanting her to take him in her mouth, but she’d been ordered not to. She whispered, “Are you ready?” Mark nodded and she added, “Remember not to touch it.”

  Celeste lay at the edge of the bed and started to slowly stroke her glistening slit. Mark could tell she was way too wet to go as slow as she was. Her leisure speed was for him, but he wanted more.

  His hand moved up and down his cock. “You promised not to do that,” she said.

  “If I stop, will you fuck yourself faster?”

  “Yes,” she said, obviously thrilled he was asking.

  Celeste’s fingers turned to fire, done with the agonizing speed of her earlier show, she dug into her cunt like there was gold at the bottom. Her back arched and toes curled. Celeste’s body suddenly spasmed, she was cumming hard, “HOLY FUCK” she screamed.

  That was exactly what Mark had been waiting for. He dropped his hand from its vice around his dick, and was on the bed in a second. Celeste squeezed her tits together since Mark had loved it so much the last time. He shoved himself between them and started fucking her guavas in long, regular strokes, ceasing for only a second at each upward thrust so Celeste could met the tip of his dick with the flick of her tongue.

  Mark made it six thrusts before he was holding himself up by his arms and shoving himself inside her sopping wet hole. “OH my fucking LORD, you feel SO good!”

  Celeste started laughing, then said. “Fuck me like I deserve to be fucked! Fuck me like the filthy little cum slut you know I am. Fill me with cum like last time so I can wipe it on you and lick it off!”

  That was it. Mark normally liked to cum on his women, but he’d never been happier with where he was at that moment, with gushers spurting from his dick and soaking Celeste’s inner walls enough to make her scream louder and laugh harder.

  “That was fast,” she said, “want seconds?”

  He did.

  While the last run with Celeste had gone for nearly three hours, this one lasted barely four songs. “Definitely,” he said, then added, “And I think for next time, it’s time you introduce me to one of your friends.”

  XXX

  Robert Whitlock: Exactly What He Needed

  Robert looked over his left shoulder, made sure there were no cars for several lengths, flicked his blinker, waited a few seconds, checked once more, then accelerated his Porsche 911 into the left lane.

  Robert was typically nervous, but the feeling seemed to intensify whenever he was on his way to meet Sophia. He’d met her now more times than he could count, which was somewhat hard to believe. Not that he’d seen her that many times, but it had been nearly two years now, and at least a couple of times per month, if not more. Robert was trying to map it out in his mind just the other day, but no matter how hard he focused, he always lost count sometime around the 12th “date,” when he’d paid a ridiculous amount of money to dock Sophia in his harbor for an entire weekend.

  He had booked a suite at The Valencia, three hours out of town, though they could have stayed anywhere, seeing as how they didn’t leave the hotel a single time, though they at least left the room to go swimming and drinking at the pool and in the bar. There was probably a meal in the restaurant or two in between all the room service. Robert wasn’t too sure. Events outside the room were fuzzy. His brain must have been saving its cells to remember every second spent inside the room.

  Before their weekend at The Valencia, Robert’s time with Sophia was somewhat mechanical. He was getting a divorce from Kim, and fuck her for not giving him what he needed after 15 years worth of her bitch-fill
ed ball and chain. Robert had always been fine with Kim marrying him for his money, but he wasn’t fine with not being able to fuck her proper. Most gold diggers at least tried to earn their keep!

  Their divorce was inevitable and a surprise to no one, including their three children, the oldest of which was 14 and referred to the day he and Kim announced the divorce as one of the three best days of her life.

  It was one month after that conversation when Robert had his first “date” with Sophia. She helped him heal, in more ways than he could count. Sure, it was great to fuck with freedom and shoot goo without guilt, but it was the companionship that mattered most. In the three weeks before Sophia, Robert “dated” four other girls, and would have given up on escorts without a second thought if Sophia hadn’t been such a dream come true.

  It wasn’t just that she looked like a pinup version of his college crush, Susan D’Amatto, though she did. It was that Sophia had everything Robert had always wanted in a girl: a willingness to listen, the patience to hear what he had to say from beginning to end, and the ability to know exactly what to say, and precisely when to say it.

  Sophia always knew exactly what he needed.

  Of course, Robert had to pay for the pleasure. But he was willing, so long as he could afford it. And he always could, though affording it was growing more difficult by the day.

  Robert made his money, and quite a bit of it, in exports. He was one half of Whitlock and Byrne, a company that imported quality goods from China, and was unafraid to charge just as much as if they were made in Topeka. It was an odd business, since every year had him dealing with different goods than the one before. This last year was mostly leather couches, but business had always been good enough to buy him all the clothes and cars and real estate Kim wanted, while affording her long and leisure-filled days of nothing, except maybe fucking the pool boy, or whoever else she let gobble her goo hole while keeping him out of it. She could deny it all she wanted, but Robert wasn’t stupid. Fuck her, and curse the fortune she stole. It was just money, after all.