by Tommy Twist
The only thing that I have to worry about is keeping my brothers safe, and making sure that my guys don't get their asses shot off.
That is, until she walked in. She was built to break hearts, and with a hard edge that fits me just right.
Now I've got a lot to worry about, and whether I like it or not, she's catapulted herself to the top of the list.
Maguire
Ryan Beauchamp is hot as hell, sure. That's not all he is.
He's my ticket to the big leagues. He's my way in to the biggest gang there is. All he has to do is get their attention and get in with their leadership.
Once his usefulness is spent, I can get rid of him, but until then I have to keep him on a tight leash.
As time constraints get tighter, though, they pull that leash shorter and shorter, and now I don't know how long I can keep my control of the situation.
Especially with a man as dangerously attractive as Ryan Beauchamp.
I need to stay the hell away from him... but he makes me lose all control.
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Seduced By The President
Interracial Threesome Erotica
Dalia Daudelin
No one expects someone majoring in political science to end up stripping for money. So many people seem to think I was born into money, that I got into my amazing school with Daddy's money and I'll get a husband with Mommy's looks. My friends are always surprised when I tell them how I really grew up.
I do have my mom's looks, though. That is one blessing given to me by my alcoholic parents, that my mother was beautiful. She was an actress for a few years before she burnt out. When she died, and I was basically left to grow up on my own with a father that was there but not really? Well, I had to make some tough choices. I think I made the right ones, though.
Like this huge school loan that I'll struggle to pay off for the rest of my life. And my job. You know. The one where I take off my clothes for my professors and the students around here, but it's up on a stage so it's all professional, right? And my professors never blush when they see me the next day. Maybe my makeup is just thick enough that they can't even tell it's me. That's my hope, at least.
Of course, I'm not a prostitute. I don't sleep with any of the men who come to see me dance around a long metal pole. They're not even allowed to touch me, and believe me, the club owner is very clear about that. He's also very protective of all of us. Vinny is a small guy but he has the money to hire big guys that follow his orders, and he tries to treat us like women worthy of respect. It seems weird, since you only hear about seedy strip clubs, but we are a high class joint.
As for school, I'm glad my teachers might not know it's me shaking my tits in their faces. Considering my major, I'll need to be taken seriously one day when I have that very expensive piece of paper in my hands and I go out to find a job in a lobbying firm.
So I wear a wig and a push up bra and as much makeup as I need to look like someone who couldn't even be distantly related to me. Red lipstick, fake eyelashes that still look real, some glitter on the cleavage and heels so high I could touch heaven if I weren't such a sinner.
It's hot and sticky and I want to go home. I'm annoyed about having to go to work late in order to attend a mandatory talk being given to all PoliSci majors. I mean, the talk is a pretty big deal... since it's being given by the President of the United States. Still, I need that money to eat and pay rent, and I'm not really a fan of the guy.
Of course, I managed to sit next to a group of loud girls, all a few years younger than me and clearly in a sorority together. Their blonde hair shines in the sun and their cheeks are pink with youth and a brush of blush. On the other side of me is a quiet guy that is in my International Relations class. I lean a bit closer to him to try and block out the loud girls, but it does no good.
I wipe my hands on my jeans and glance down at my chest to be sure I'm not giving anyone too much of a show. It's the curse of all girls with large breasts: too much cleavage and back pain.
Everyone is clapping now. My eyes dart up and I watch as a dark skinned man in a black suit steps up to the podium. He looks handsome, well manicured and smart. He turns his head to cough for a second, giving us a flash of prominent cheekbones. Underneath his clothes, you can tell there is a toned body that's used to regular exercise.
This is our President, the most powerful man in the country. President Omar Okesh is truly a sight to behold, a well-bred man with a truly unique history. He's here, on his 50th birthday, to give us a speech. My breath catches for a second as I watch him, his lips parting as he leans toward the mic. I bite my bottom lip.
“You know,” he starts. Typical of Omar, he always seems friendly and down to earth in his speeches. “When I was here 30 years ago, I was one of the faces in a crowd like this. Back then we had regular speakers, from CEOs to politicians, who would come from all around the world to tell us their dreams.” As he speaks, his body moves with grace, his hands moving fluidly to emphasize words and paint a picture of his time at this college. He is the first President to have graduated from here, a relatively small but prestigious college in California.
His hair has flecks of gray, and his eyes are intense but happy. The man exudes charisma, even more in person than on TV. I'm not too fond of any politicians, and as I said I have never agreed with President Omar's politics, but looking at him now I feel drawn into him.
His eyes twitch and suddenly they focus on me. At least, I think they focus on me. They're definitely not looking at the girls or the man next to me. I sit still, not wanting to move, but before I can be sure they flick away again, looking over the rest of the crowd. I take a breath finally, which elicits a dirty look from one of the girls.
“So, cougar men,” he continues, referencing our mascot. “Be strong in all that your do. And cougar women, be witty and smart. You are our future, and the hope you bring to our country is much stronger than any policy I will ever put through.”
I walk to work most days. Unless it's raining, it's calming for me because it gives me time away from people and expectations to prepare myself for dancing.
You need to have a character in this job or it will eat your soul. My character is Candy Ann, a shy and submissive girl who only wants to please the men who pay her. It drives the crowds wild and will sometimes make me thousands of dollars a night, if I get the right men in.
My face is bare, but no one ever sees me as I duck into the alley and enter Kitten Club from the back door. This is my favorite place to be, the constant hustle of girls that smell of fruit and alcohol. Their big hair and red smiles are lovelier to me than any painting hanging on my wall. Brandi Fantasy kisses me on the cheek as she stomps in cowboy boots onto the stage. Many cheers greet her, and I can't help but smile for her. She's the newest girl here and is struggling to get through school just like I am.
I head over to a clear desk and set down my bag. Inside is everything I need to paint my face. Before I can unclasp it, though, Vinny runs toward me looking like he's just seen a ghost.
“Girl, I need you to become Candy ASAP and come with me to the private room.” He's out of breath and sweating. Just looking at him is making me nervous.
“What? Why me?”
“We have a big, no HUGE client tonight, and he's asking for someone exactly like you. Skin white as milk, straight blonde hair and big ta-tas.”
I grimace at the cutesy word. “Alright, Vinny, just give me a second and I'll have my makeup on.”
“Good. Look your best. I'll meet you by the door before I let you in with your dress.”
I press powder onto my face, breathing deep to try and slow down my heart. I've never danced in the private room before. My nerves are making my hands shake, which makes putting on eyeliner a hell of a job. Still, I do look beautiful when I'm finished. I look like someone new, a painting done in the name of a muse. I leave my hair straight down, though it naturally waves slightly at the bottom.
I glance at my refl
ection and take one more deep breath. A light brown eyeliner pencil is dabbed on my beauty mark above my lip to darken it just a bit, and then I'm off. Away from the rush of dancers tying on shoes and taping tassels onto their 'ta-tas'.
Vinny is standing at the door in front of the private room usually reserved for bachelor parties of rich men. He still looks nervous, his hand shaking as he hands me my dress. “Slip into this while I tell you what you need to do.”
I fling off my shirt and skirt and slip the beautiful white dress over my head. It reminds me of one Marilyn Monroe once wore, the fabric a gentle whisper on my skin. Once it's on, Vinny immediately starts talking to me.
“Listen to me. All the rules are out of the window tonight. With this man, you do whatever you are comfortable with. Forget all the rules I make you girls follow, if you are comfortable touching him, do so. If not, don't.” He runs his fingers through his thinning hair. “I'm not asking you to do anything you don't want to do. I'm just telling you that my rules do not apply to you with this client.”
“What?” I ask, but he moves away and opens the door for me. Vinny has always been very strict about the proper way for a dancer to act, never touching the customers and never letting them touch us. I've never heard any rumors of him backing down on those rules, either. Whoever I am dancing for must be very powerful.
The thought makes my knees weak.
I step onto the stage, the darkness cloaking the men in front of me. I can only see vague shapes of a man sitting and two standing by the customer entrance. I hear their breathing, even and quiet. Mine is ragged and fast, though, my nerves getting to the best of me. My music kicks on, preparing me for one of my favorite routines.
Sliding my hand up the cold metal pole, I breathe in and put a smile on my face. The lights come on, blinding me so that I still cannot see who my customer is, but I know my dance well enough to not need to see.
My legs move almost as if on their own, flipping above my head effortlessly while my hands grip the bar. I wrap my thighs around the bar and slowly slide down before parting my legs, then gracefully stand back up and pull the dress over my head. My hips continue to move as I toss the fabric down to the customer. He catches it with a chuckle.
The next thing to come off, with my back turned to the man and my ass wiggling to entice him, is my bra. I slip it down then turn, shimmying my shoulders and making my breasts bounce. The man's hand is on his crotch, I can see that much. I fall to my hands and knees, crawling tot he edge of the stage like a wild animals. The nearer I come to him, the better I can see the client, and the more familiar he seems. Dark skin and short hair, a black suit and tight body...
That's President Omar.
Somehow, I slip and tumble off the stage, landing on my back 5 feet below the stage. The music keeps going, but President Omar rushes toward me, his strong hands helping me up. I smell the spice of his cologne. His hand presses against my chest. I gasp and push away, but he doesn't let me go.
He tips my chin up and stares deep into my eyes. I don't know what he sees, but whatever it is made him move his hand from my chin to the top of my head. He lowers me to my knees in front of him, and I let him do it. I don't know why I let him, but I do. He undoes his belt as I look up into his eyes, a mix of confusion and lust hitting me in waves.
I'm not normally like this! I want to refuse, to push him away, but at the same time I don't. I'm a good girl, and I've only had sex with one long term boyfriend before! Still, I lick my lips and rub his cock through his black boxers as I wrestle with my emotions. I'm practically salivating at the thought of having this powerful man in my mouth, and goodness he does feel big. His cock twitches beneath the fabric as I knead it with one hand and play with his balls with the other.
He pulls his boxers down and unleashes his prick. The beautiful black shaft glistens with precum and smells manly but clean. I can't help but let out a little moan as a tingle takes over my stomach. I open my mouth and let the most powerful man in the world slide his big dick down my throat.
The skin is soft and velvety, his precum salty on my tongue. I continue to play with his testicles as I slowly take all of him into my mouth. My mouth is stretched as far as it can go, my tongue pressed up against the President's most sensitive spots.
I suck hard on his cock, enjoying the taste of his precum and his gentle moans as I do so. His dark hands play with my hair, sometimes pulling it and other times just gently stroking it. My tongue moves expertly against his shaft, bringing him enough pleasure to make his thighs start to quiver.
Then he pulls my hair and pulls me up to my feet again. He kisses me roughly and paws at my chest, pressing me against my stage. The music changes to a slowly song, one I've never danced to before as the President slips a finger past my panties and plays with my slit. He slides his hand up and down, feeling how wet I am. He doesn't say a word, instead pulling my head to the side to expose my neck. His soft lips kiss my skin, his teeth nip at me gently.
He looks at me again, holding me at arms length and inspecting me. “Take off your panties. Let me see your ass while you do it.”
I turn around and stick my ass out, wiggling it as I lean over the stage. I loop my thumbs onto each side of my panties and slowly pull them down, dancing a bit as I do so. I can feel my butt jiggling, then his warm hand against my ass cheek's skin. He grips my flesh before leaning down to bite it with my panties still around my knees.
His hand slaps against my cunt, making my clitoris sting and become stiff with arousal. He slaps it again, and again, until it's throbbing and sore but the pain feels so damn good. Roughly, he takes my left leg and forces it up onto the stage, exposing me completely. My asshole and my cunt are in full view now.
Two fingers come down against my asshole, slapping it so it stings now too. The strange sensation makes me moan. A finger slips into my cunt and I buck my hips back. Another finger and they both start scissoring inside of me, making me feel full and pressing against every sensitive spot. His fingers move in and out of me now. It feels so good to be exposed and used like this.
And then I feel something strange. His other hand is being used now, his pinky finger slipping into my virgin asshole. I go wild, pounding my fists against the stage, moaning and yelping from pain and pleasure. But as quickly as they were inside of me, they are gone. I whimper in disappointment.
It isn't long though before I'm filled up again, this time by something much larger. The President's big black cock is pressing against my entrance now, slowly slipping into me.
“Oh, fuck...” I moan, biting my lower lip. I've never had someone as big as him before, and I'm not sure I can take it.
“Take it, slut,” he says. The strangeness of the President talking dirty to me makes the situation even hotter. I become more wet, and he finally slips into me. He just barely fits inside of me, and stretches me as far as I can be stretched. Pulling out, I feel my pussy relax and then stretch to fit him within me once he pushes himself inside of me again.
I remember I am being watched, by two men I now realize are Secret Service agents. I look behind me and see they're standing still, but watching us intently. They both have visible erections.
The President pulls out again, and slaps my ass before shoving his girth into me once more. “Ah!” I cry out, the pain finally disappearing entirely and being replaced with pleasure. He pumps in and out of me, fucking me hard. Each thrust forces my eyes closed and a moan from my mouth.
President Omar grabs my hair and pulls it, changing the position just slightly and making his prick hit me in just the right spot. I feel myself pushed over the edge, my pussy quivering around him while he fucks me hard.
“You two,” he says, slowing his thrusts. I look behind me again and see he's talking to the other agents. “Come join in.”
My heart jumps. He's going to let these two other men use me? His strong arms pick me up from the stage, where he turns me around and grabs my leg. While holding me, he fucks me and presses his lips against
mine.
One of the agents sits on the stage, the other stands next to him. Both have their cocks out already, and are pumping them to get hard and slick with precum.
“Give me your tie,” he commands the seated agent. He takes the tie and loosens the knot before slipping it over my head and tightening it. “Trust me,” he says to me, and I know I do. He holds the tie as it continues to tighten around my neck, and he and the two men help guide me back to the stage.
The President holds me up and places me over the seated agent's cock, which presses against my asshole. I whimper and look to the President with fear.
“You've never done anal?” He asks me. I shake my head no. “Break her in, Agent Cole.”
Suddenly, my ass was in searing pain as the agent pressed me down into his lap. Slowly, achingly, his cock fit into my ass. I cringe and gnash my teeth, but they don't let up, and as soon as the agent is fully in my ass, the President is fucking my cunt again. Being double stuffed feels good but it's still and adjustment feeling both men inside of me.
My ass finally starts to relax as both men pound me mercilessly, and the second agent steps in front of me, presenting me with his huge uncut cock. I know immediately what I'm meant to do. I open my mouth wide and take it down my throat, feeling like a true slut as I'm fucked hard.
The first man to cum is the agent in my mouth. The harder I suck, the louder he moans, and with a loud roar he shoots her sperm down my throat. I suck him dry while the man in my ass cums inside of me, and then so does the President. I'm lifted off the agent inside my ass and helped to stand as cum runs down my legs and a bit dribbles from my mouth and onto my chin.
“Agent Cole, take the girl's number. We'll be seeing her again.” And with that and a zip of his pants, the President leaves the private room.
Taken In Her Own Home