by Cook, Lori
She gave a muted whelp, her legs snapping suddenly together, gripping his hand hard, her face contorted in beautiful agony that she hardly seemed to understand.
Chapter Two
The setup in his hotel room was simple but effective. There were two concealed cameras high up on either side of the back wall, one for wide shots of the whole room, the other taking in only the king-sized bed. A third camera, hidden in a lamp in the center of the same wall, opposite the bed, would provide close-ups. Brad knew exactly what section of the bed would yield the best shots, and experience had taught him how to shift his victims effortlessly into the optimum position.
But today the setup was a little different than normal. In the next room, the Cardinal had already redirected all three video feeds. Even now, before Bad Daddy arrived with his pickup of the day, they were being streamed live onto BAD-DADDY-PICKUP.COM. As he waited patiently for the show to begin, the Cardinal checked the user stats for the site. Twenty-eight thousand people had already discovered that something weird was happening on the site. The Cardinal just hoped they’d stay tuned.
Gaining access to Brad’s room had been simple enough. The hotel’s key cards were a laughable technology; they might as well have left the doors open. Once inside, it had merely been a matter of establishing a small, unobtrusive wireless feed from Bad Daddy’s laptop.
Everything was ready. Then the Cardinal heard voices. He sat back and watched as Brad and Carol appeared on the screen, walking together into the room next door.
There was no need for preliminaries, but neither did they rush it. Both of them had hidden motives, but so what? Carol certainly wasn’t going to play it according to the Cardinal’s script; he always wanted her to take things too fast, to get to the final act. But not tonight. Brad might be an asshole, the biggest asshole in the world, but he was cute and she was horny for him. The Cardinal could wait. Tonight she was going to get everything she wanted. Then justice could be done.
They remained by the door, pushing up against each other. His hands were on her ass, palms sitting softly on her buttocks, just hard enough to take in the perfection of her rear end. He could feel the outline of her panties, which were sensible, not skimpy, the daytime underwear of a professional woman. He loved that. He always loved it when a girl didn’t have to try. Lacy thongs? Suspenders? Not necessary with a body like this.
She kissed the side of his head, and her tongue played with the lobe of his ear.
“You’re gonna get fucked tonight,” she said, again and again, their bodies grinding against each other. Next door, even the Cardinal had to smile at that one.
She felt his cock against her belly. She’d seen him naked on the website plenty, and she’d been dreaming about what she would do with him once they were up in the hotel room. That was the beauty of her job tonight. It had to be good. That was the point.
His hands cupped her buttocks more firmly. She wanted to tell him to go on, to yank her skirt off and explore her. But she forced herself not to. She wanted this to last.
They kissed, so hard that she thought her tongue was going to disappear down his throat. His mouth tasted of bourbon, and she could smell his cologne, peppery and expensive and not too strong. Her hand was inside the front of his shirt, his chest soft and smooth, his nipples hardening when she touched them.
“I want you to do something for me,” she said, their mouths so close that she seemed to be speaking directly into his. “Let me look at you.”
He paused, hardly understanding her.
“Please,” she said, with a sudden touch of shyness. “I want to see you. All of you.”
“Sit on the bed,” he told her.
She didn’t need asking twice. She went over to the bed, kicking off her shoes and dropping her jacket on the floor. She knelt on the bed, right in the middle, and pulled her skirt up to reveal her thighs.
Meanwhile, he stood at the foot of the bed, looking right at her. He removed his tie, letting it fall to the ground, then began unbuttoning his shirt. His cock was cramped, pushing awkwardly upwards inside his pants, straining against the zipper. He ran his hand over the bulge, the rest of his body utterly still as he traced the outline of his erection, loving every second of it.
Then he took off his shirt. His torso was lithe and lightly muscled, his nipples intensely dark, like chocolate drops on his pale skin. Running both hands over his chest, he circled in on those taught little nipples, rubbing them hard and squeezing them, his eyes closing as he winced silently. His head was rolling on his neck, and a gush of sensual release flowed through his body. He clearly loved himself, and he was absolutely loving this.
For the longest time he didn’t touch his prick, losing himself in an inner fantasy, playing with himself as if he had breasts, as if he didn’t need anything else to bring himself off.
When he opened his eyes and looked at her, she had a hand up her skirt. Her panties were pale blue, and from where he stood he could see a fine dark line where her wetness had soaked through. She ran a finger carefully up and down the line as she watched him show off his body.
He unbuckled his belt, but left his trousers fastened, inching them down until the end of his penis peeped out. It was shiny, that lovely purple color, and the tiny slit at its tip glistened with a single drop of clear juice. He licked an index finger and started to rub it around the glans of his cock, the same gentle touch he’d used back in the bar when he’d tickled her sex, taking it dead slow.
He stood there and worked on himself. He seemed deliciously vulnerable, yet content, letting his self-love spill out unashamedly, and looking right at her, peering into her eyes.
She spread her thighs for him, letting him see how the damp patch between her legs was getting bigger, her panties beginning to stick to her there, forming a soft groove that she plied with her fingers. As she did so, her eyes never left his. But all she was thinking about was her own needs, and how she was going to satisfy them tonight.
She gripped the top of her panties and pulled them up until they rode hard into her crotch, splitting her sex and forcing the lips out a little on both sides of the gusset. Placing a finger right at the center, she pushed into herself.
It was enough. Something snapped inside him. Within seconds his pants were around his ankles, and his black shorts halfway down his thighs. Meanwhile, his hand was clutching his penis.
“Slowly,” she whispered.
His cock was so stiff it pointed upwards, way past horizontal. He was uncut, but the foreskin was most of the way back. He moved his hand up and down the shaft, hardly touching it, as if any harder and he’d come. With the other hand he reached down and stroked his balls, which were tight and hard in their smooth sack, the scrotum dark and hairless, as if it had been sculpted there, close in to the root of his penis.
He shifted his legs further apart and began jerking himself with slow, careful strokes, the other hand holding his balls, then pushing his fingers into the flesh behind the scrotum where the base of the cock extended up into the ass.
“You want me to do that?” she said.
Without a word he moved to the bed, one leg kneeling on the end of it, the other foot on the floor. She leant forward, her skirt now around her waist, the blue panties so tight up into her crotch they hurt.
She placed a finger on the tip of his penis. Just that contact made him shiver. He raised both arms, cupping the back of his head with his hands in uninhibited joy. She let the finger stay there a moment, just enough pressure to see the little slit in the glans open up a fraction as more clear juice seeped out.
Then she worked the juice around until the entire head was wet, using all her fingers now, following the contours of its curved ridge, and running her nail up and down the taught line of skin at the back of the helmet, which made him buck in little jolts of silent pleasure.
Her hand ran along the shaft, following the blue veins on each side, and feeling its gristly texture beneath. This guy was an asshole, but she loved his cock. Sh
e adored his whole body. Contradiction? No; not in the least. This was her job, and she knew exactly how to do it. This didn’t change anything. Plus, she had her needs too, especially now.
She didn’t tug. She let her fingers run on, down as far as the scrotum, which she touched with infinite delicacy, before moving even further down, just like he’d done to himself, digging into the hidden root of the cock down close to his butt. His skin was smooth and hot down there, and his knees bent slightly as she moved her fingers back and forth, delving into the flesh, feeling the outline of where his penis began, then following the shaft upwards again, pushing the balls a little way along as she went, trying to feel as much of his length as possible.
Her mouth was hovering over him. He smelled salty and fresh, and another drop of clear juice had gathered at the tip. She put her tongue to it. It tasted like the liquid inside an oyster, only warm and slightly sticky.
His cock was almost too perfect. She wanted to gaze at it forever, resting her lips on the thick purple head and letting it get hotter and hotter there. With her other hand she reached down and found her pussy, sliding her panties down and letting her thumb ease its way inside, squatting on her hand.
As she guided his penis into her mouth she heard him sigh, almost a cry, like a kid when you dab a grazed knee with iodine. He was mumbling something, but she didn’t hear what. She rocked her hips and felt her sex push hard against her hand. She wanted him to fuck her, but she loved the taste of him in her mouth so much that she couldn’t bring herself to stop sucking.
She squeezed his shaft as firmly as she could, giving it short pulls, each one accompanied by a wince from him. He was so hard it was like a rod of steel in her mouth, and her saliva was frothy and salty. She could have finished him there and then, given him the orgasm of his life. But that wasn’t in the script. She would let him come, but it would only be the beginning. There was more for him to enjoy, much more.
Slipping her panties right off, she held them up to his mouth, letting him taste the juice on the sodden crotch. He took them in his hand, inhaling hard and licking them like a greedy animal. She sucked faster, and his pelvis began to jerk, his belly hitting her forehead and his cock pushing hard against the back of her mouth. With her other hand she was now rubbing herself, long, hard strokes that went right down into her sex, then all the way up to the clit. Her body was shaking and it felt as if her knees were going to give way.
A sudden wave of pain broke out somewhere deep within her, transforming instantly into a shaky, ragged orgasm, one of those that comes in a series of tiny explosions and leaves your pussy aching, as if it’s been slapped or pinched.
He was forcing his cock in and out of her mouth now. It banged into her teeth as he lost control of his body, and she gripped it harder still, pulling it out and looking right down its tip, then wrapping her lips tight around the glans again, her tongue running hard up and down the tiny slit, making his body buckle and jump.
It seemed to get even darker as it gorged with blood. She sucked harder still, and her hand went faster and faster, yanking his foreskin back so far that the helmet was pulled way out of shape with every stoke.
His cries intensified, and he was getting to the point where he couldn’t control himself, grabbing her hair and moaning as his pelvis jerked and writhed. Then she got her fingers around the base of the penis and gripped it hard, and at the same time used her mouth to give one final, intense suck, enough to draw the poison from a wasp sting.
She felt the semen course along the shaft, and yanked him from her mouth just in time to watch it shoot out across the floor, one, two, three massive spasms as he doubled over, gasping for breath.
She milked him, the last dribbles trickling down his shaft and onto her hand. It was almost pure white against the red-purple of his inflamed cock. She kept him in her hand, and he continued to wince and groan as the final shivers of delicious pain worked their way through him.
Then they both flopped down on the bed. He was still muttering to himself, spread out on his back. She continued to work his penis, more gently now. It was sticky with come and had lost some of its stiffness. But he was getting little flushes of ecstasy as she used both hands to massage the last drops of pleasure out of it.
They lay there, listening to their own breathing as it slowed down. Carol’s needs were not remotely satisfied, though. The fluttering sensation in her had receded, but she was dripping wet, the wispy pubic hair on each side of her sex plastered to the skin, as if it had been drawn there with a fine ink pen.
She sat up, opening her legs and admiring the sight. It was beautiful, the vulva spread like the wings of a butterfly, their dark lips glistening and enticing. She let two fingers push gently into her soft center, then brought them up to her mouth and tasted herself. God, who wouldn’t want to eat her? She’d have given herself head all day long if she could.
Instead, she unbuttoned her blouse and took it off. Her bra was a simple white full-cup, and showed just a hint of nipple through the cotton. She ran her hands around both breasts. They were a little fuller than average, but snuggled inside a D-cup they sat slightly loose, just the way she liked it. Brad wasn’t the only one who enjoyed fondling his own chest!
Rubbing her boobs with the flats of her hands, she felt hornier than ever. Her nipples stood out hard and pronounced against the fabric of her bra, and she giggled with pleasure as she tweaked and flicked them, remembering how much fun she used to have back when she was at school, just playing with her own tits.
Then, suddenly, she felt them drop slightly.
“Jeez, you’re beautiful,” she heard Brad say, as he undid the clasp from behind.
A second later her bra was cast aside and he had one of her puckered nipples between his lips. Both his hands were cupping her breasts as he sucked like a hungry child. You had a give it to him, he was good: he was sucking those tits like they were the first he’d ever tasted. She closed her eyes and let him have his fill.
He moved back and forth between them, licking the cleavage as he went, and running his eager fingers over her chest until her nipples tingled with anticipation, and she felt desperate anxiety if his lips and teeth stopped working their magic even for a moment.
He clearly loved her breasts, tickling the areolas in slow, deliberate movements, flicking the very ends of the nipples playfully, working his tongue up from the soft, fleshy underside of each one and getting as much of it into his mouth as he could. Occasionally she whispered to him, telling him to keep on doing just exactly what he was doing, although it didn’t seem as if he needed much encouragement.
She raised herself up on her knees, swaying as he licked and groped her tits. And, boy, was he good! That’s why his pickup site did such good business, he was one hell of a performer. There was no doubt about it; Brad was very good at his job indeed. What he still didn’t know, however, was that Carol was absolutely brilliant at hers.
By now he was kneeling in front of her, head bowed, his knees wide apart to bring himself down level with her chest. Beneath him she could see his cock dangling there, its foreskin rolled forward like a hood. But as he lavished expert attention on her breasts, the foreskin began to retract and his fat purple bulb came slowly out, like a snake emerging stealthily from its hiding place, looking for its next meal.
Just as the thought of fucking him entered her mind, she felt something between her legs. One of his hands was reaching through, running his fingers from the small of her back right between her butt cheeks and through to her pussy, which he explored with agonizing delicacy, before drawing his hand all the way back up between her butt. He did this five or six times, each time a little harder, his hand easing a way between the cheeks and tickling the bud of her anus fleetingly on its way back to her sex. And each time he did it, her juices spread a little further along the crack, until her whole ass was wet.
“I want to taste you,” he said.
There wasn’t any argument about it. Immediately, he was lying on his
back, his head toward the foot of the bed. She straddled him obediently, spreading her legs wide and lowering herself down until she was just inches above his mouth. Then she rested her forearms on the bed, on either side of his hips, took his cock in her mouth, and closed her eyes.
His hands held her buttocks as if they had been designed for that job and nothing else. The fingers sank into the flesh, and he pulled the buttocks apart, then pushed and squeezed them against each other in a slow rotating motion, loving the soft, pliable feel of them as he squeezed and kneaded them in and out of shape.
She felt his breath on her sex, and he was mumbling to himself, admiring her, holding her ass up, and making sure the camera got the very best shots of her rear end. The bastard! The filthy bastard, she said to herself. But she didn’t mind, not really. She knew this would happen, and she was loving it. She’d take just what she wanted from the horny prick. That, after all, was her job.
His penis was almost fully rigid now. Mind? she asked herself as she ran her tongue around the swollen glans. On the contrary. She wanted to give him the best night of his life. He deserved that, at least. So with one hand caressing his scrotum, she sucked him back to full strength.
The forceful way he held her ass was in contrast to the way he began to touch her sex. At first she felt only tiny flashes of sensation, momentary tingles as the tip of his tongue brushed the very edges of her vulva. Once or twice he flicked her clit too, so lightly that it might have been a feather. He was teasing her, making her pussy crave more, until the absence of greater stimulation was a sort of ecstatic torture. She knew how wet she must be now. Yet he was hardly touching her.
Gradually, though, she felt the point of his tongue run part way along her sex, nudging the lips with infinite care, one then the other, as if the hot slit in between them was forbidden territory. Then he placed his tongue at the lowest point and let it remain there, like an animal of prey patiently waiting for the inevitable assault.