Show & Sell: A Dark MFMM Romance

by Abby Angel

  So nothing thrills me more than thinking about being a sexual object for David, the son of the man who kept me in a marital cage for so long and then had the nerve to have a heart attack while fucking another man. Yes, I know he didn't choose to have the heart attack, but he did choose to fuck a man. It killed Steven, but it brought me to life.

  "Goddamn, Christina," David moans my name, stroking his cock with a violent speed now. "I want you completely at my mercy. I want to dig my fingers into your thighs while I lick your pussy so gently that you beg me to let you come, and when you're shivering, I want to ram my cock inside you and use your perfect round tits as handles while I pound into you."

  Okay, David is always invited to dirty story time. It is like every naughty thought in my mind is made better by every naughty thought in his.

  "You want to defile your stepmother, use her pussy and only let her come when you say?" I ask, stroking my clit harder and clenching my inner walls as a new wave of pleasure overtakes me.

  "Yes, I want to fuck all your perfect holes until my cum drips from every one of them. I want to leave you a quivering mess on the floor when I'm done with you, and I won't be done until you've come so much that you're about to black out—"

  "David!" I cry out, interrupting him because I'm so painfully close to coming that it even shocks me. "I'm coming, I'm coming so hard, fuck, tell me more, fuck," I start whimpering and my whole body is quaking with need at the thought of him fucking me so thoroughly. I have never been fucked like that before. Steven stopped fucking me long ago in our marriage, preferring to fuck other people, and Rick today was not fucking me, we were completing a business transaction.

  No man has ever had such a claim over my body, and I think chillingly that perhaps no man ever will. "Do you want my holes to be all yours?" I ask, even though I'm thinking about renting them out to other men. I don't see it the same at all, and I'm fine with that. I shouldn't be fucking around with David, anyway.

  "Christina, your body should belong to me. I'm going to take you, and I'm going to keep you. You won't even know when I'm coming, but you're going to be all mine," David says. He's so sure of this and so completely wrapped up in his words that I get mesmerized. Mesmerized by how they make me feel, mesmerized by how they make me ache for him, and I just watch him come as my own orgasm pulls me under and I forget everything about my life. It is a near mystical experience, overtaking everything within me and drawing out nothing but pleasure from my being.

  I'm trembling, watching him as he watches me while he comes. David's cock shoots out another enormous load and I can't believe how much cum there truly is. David's cock is a foot long, thick around as a damn Coke can, and he must shoot out a full damn gallon of cum. I crave this man like no other man, and I think my desire for him is taking over my every thought.

  Vegas isn't turning out anything like I thought it was going to. It is so, so much better.

  “David,” I say, basking in the afterglow.

  My fingers squeeze around my clit and I feel one orgasm riding off the wave of another. "I'm going to come again," I whimper.

  "Come for me, baby," David says and I'm shivering at his words. The authority in his voice alone, with that touch of tenderness, makes me ache for him. I think I could almost come just from him telling me to!

  "I am!" I cry out. My pussy gushes so much cum that I'm shocked. I feel the intense pressure in my body and the sticky wetness already surrounding me increase. My pussy lips are covered in my own juices and it is sliding down my ass now. I move the camera of the phone to get a better angle. "Look how fucking wet I am for you," I tell David.

  "Fuck," David growls, another orgasm tearing from him. "God, you make me come so fucking much."

  "I wish you were coming on me," I tell him, not even saying it because I thought it would sound good to him...it sounds good to me. I never felt so open and fulfilled in my sexuality as I do right now, expressing it with David. I feel more alive than I have my entire life. I can't even be sad about it because I just feel so utterly fulfilled.

  "Damn," David says. "This is a bad time for finals week," he says with a laugh.

  I almost feel like he's deflecting. Is this his way of saying that he's not going to actually fuck me, or spray his cum all over me? It is just fantasy between us right now. I wasn't assuming that we were going to fuck again, but now I'm nervous. "So...thanks for this. I need to call it a night, I have to sell packages at the booth tomorrow," I tell him, and I hang up before he has a chance to say anything else.

  I shouldn't worry about being rejected by a man I should never have, but I just don't want to dwell on it right now. Right now, I wish I had a cosmopolitan, but really I need to call housekeeping and flip the couch cushions. I came so hard that I sprayed it on mine. I probably need another shower.

  When I stand, my pussy is actually sore from just how hard I rubbed it and how hard I came. But fuck if it doesn't feel good. I feel more alive than I ever have, and I think that I won't bother dwelling on why.

  David

  My cock needs an ice pack at this rate. Everything she said to me…fuck. I mean, plenty of women have said some very filthy stuff to me, either before or while I was fucking them. But Christina? I thought when we fucked she was really letting loose, but that was almost tame compared to what she said when we FaceTimed. Watching her tight body while her muscles took over, contracting with her orgasms. The way Christina moaned when she came for me.

  I want to stroke my cock right now just thinking about it, but I need to give my 12 inches a fucking break or I’m going to be taking a nap here in Vegas before I even get my true plan in motion.

  Texting Christina? What a fucking waste of time…I think FaceTime will work much, much better. I’m halfway to hard just thinking about her pussy squirting so intensely. Fuck, I need to taste her again.

  The way her soft voice told me every naughty thought she’s ever had, that’s not something a man forgets.

  I don’t know what Christina’s doing in Vegas, but when she says she’s enjoying herself and then makes me come so many times with just her words?

  I need to know. I’m going to know.

  More than that even, I need her to know how badly I want her. When I brought up finals, she fucking bolted on me. I didn’t have a moment to dial back or even tell her that I am serious about having her again. So I’ve dropped fucking everything and picked up a lot of other things — don’t you worry about just what, just yet, because you and Christina can both find out in due time.

  I know that she’s in this hotel right now, and I’m losing my damn mind. But first I have to figure out what’s going on with her.

  When we FaceTimed, I noticed more than just her perfect body.

  I saw a whole slew of lace that I knew she couldn’t afford. Christina is horny as fuck and coming on the phone with me? Makes me think she’s fucking some random guy with a wad of cash.

  Well, I’ve got a wad of cash, and I know no one makes her come like I do. I know that whatever she has been up to, it’s pulled her out of her shell in a way that not even I would have been able to accomplish. But I can’t have her up to whatever she’s up to…not for very much longer. I have to make her mine.

  I know she wants me as much I want her. After how she rushed off the phone, I know she’s wounded.

  Well, don’t worry.

  I intend to make it all better.

  I’m going to kiss her till she forgets.

  Then I’m going to lick her till she fucking squirts.

  Christina

  I get out the shower and I’m deciding to dwell on the fact that I’m $1,000 richer and not think about the confusing thoughts I have about my stepson, David. I need that drink, and I need to not worry about anything for a while.

  I pull out a small mirror, re-apply my classic red lipstick, adjust my green evening gown over my breasts, and walk down the carpeted hallway to the elevator. I hear someone approach me from behind, and decide to turn around.

&n
bsp; "Damn, you're a whole lot of woman," slurs a man in his mid-30s. He is visibly drunk and spilling the drink in his right hand. It runs down his knuckles in small rivulets. "Do you work at Subway?" He reaches out as if he plans to grab my ass.

  Annoyed, I walk on and say, "I have no idea what you're talking about. I think you've got the wrong person."

  The man ignores my words and continues with his, "'Cause you just gave me a foot long, honey." He rubs his cock for emphasis.

  Not amused, I scrunch up my nose and reply, "There have to be a thousand better pick-up lines than that one."

  Seeing his window of opportunity slipping away, the man grows serious and sobers up his words and his actions. "Hey, my friend pointed you out. Said he had bagged you a while ago," he says, trying to control his stumbling. “You might know him, Rick? We came to Vegas together. How much for an hour?" His shirt is unbuttoned halfway down his chest and is pulled out in a haphazard way, semi-tucked into his pants. He looks as if he has already had a long night.

  I don’t know how to respond. How much did he hear from Rick? Has he been stalking me– waiting outside my room? Still, I decide to play along, and out of curiosity asked, "$750?"

  The man replies, "That's a little much."

  "Well, I'm the best in the business," I say confidently and with a fake sense of pride. "I'm not cheap."

  The man gives me a long look—first at my perfect tits, then at my curvy ass, and my long, slender legs, and then back up to my face and blonde hair. He undresses me in his mind, and I know he’s trying to decide if my body is worth paying for.

  Maybe I should be alarmed or offended, but I’m enjoying the opportunity, getting a thrill from it. He desires me and I want to make sure I keep the upper hand.

  With a final nod of approval he says, "Okay, deal. Let's go back to my room."

  He answers so quickly, I know I need to counter. "Not so fast, high roller. I can't go with you right now. I'm booked solid for the rest of the night.” The truth is that I don’t want my sore pussy getting touched by him tonight, anyway. I want to make sure that I keep this guy wanting…and maybe more than a little bit I want to think about the things David and I said to each other tonight.

  The man leans against the wall, deflated and disappointed, but he eyes me up and down again and doesn’t want to miss this opportunity. He wants me. So he thinks for a moment, and then says, "Alright, meet me in my room tomorrow at 10 p.m."

  I smile at him. "This is a big hotel. Write your room number down." I dig through my purse for a scrap of paper and a pen. I find a drink napkin from the Marquee nightclub, where Jenna and I were just drinking a few hours earlier.

  The man scribbles his number.

  I walk away without giving him another word, knowing that he’s watching me go.

  I decide to head back to my hotel room for a moment to think. My pulse is racing and my breathing goes shallow. I want to be along for a moment to be able to think because the rush of everything that’s just happened honestly shocking me. I pace the room, walking back and forth until I think I might have worn the carpet thin. On one hand, I feel powerful and desired, fucking men on my own terms for easy money. Who wouldn't enjoy that? But on the other hand, it feels reckless and dangerous. What am I doing? I am dipping my toe in a dangerously deep pool. I am taking a huge risk and engaging in decisions that could shatter the life I’m trying to build for myself. But all I can think, really, is that I’ve certainly started building something better.

  "I've already fucked one guy for money," I say aloud. “But he wore a condom. It was quick. No big deal.” I pace more and keep talking to myself, "And now I've agreed to fuck a second guy! What am I thinking? I can't go through with this. I can't show up at his room tomorrow night." I conclude that fucking one guy is really already too far and I need to do something else…and forget this whole mess.

  I pull out my cell phone and call Jenna.

  Jenna answers on the second ring.

  "Are you still at the Marquee?" I ask.

  "Where the hell are you?" Jenna shrieks over the background music. "The Australians and I were looking all over for you! Of course I'm still here!"

  I remember the throng of Australians celebrating a bachelor party. "Sorry, I had to go back to my room and schedule a doctor’s appointment for when I get back…I’ve been having back pain.” I don't know where the lie comes from, or why I actually enjoy how easily it comes from my lips.

  "Boring!" Jenna shrieks again. "Get your ass back down here! Serena and Taylor are here now. It's one big party."

  Serena and Taylor both work with me at my new job at the Copley Hotel. We all came to Vegas together for a hospitality convention. Jenna, Serena, and Taylor are all in their early 20s, single, and desperate for men, so of course they were still trolling the club.

  “Sure, I’ll meet you back at the Marquee,” I say and hang up.

  What could it hurt? I think a few drinks with friends will probably help me relax.

  Christina

  Back at the nightclub. Different people, same old shit. I order a round of drinks for Jenna, Serena, and Taylor, and then for the heck of it, decide to buy an entire round of drinks for the Australians as well. What the hell, I think, I did pocket an extra $1,000. A few drinks wouldn't be that big of a deal. Generosity feels good sometimes. And it is awfully fun.

  Everyone clinks glasses and cheers one another. One Australian, Matt, with oak-colored hair and especially broad shoulders, straddles me in jest, giving me a faux lap dance. "For the drink," he winks.

  I playfully slap him on the back. "I'm off limits," I say with a laugh.

  Matt jumps up, hands up in the air like he's offended, and he heads off.

  I'm glad he isn't insistent. I don't exactly want to explain myself and I'm not quite sure why those are the words that I say. But part of me feels like that's true. That's foolish, right?

  I order myself another cosmopolitan and vow not to think about it. Another moment that I think about David is another moment that I make myself even crazier!

  Drinks and fun, and just enjoying life feels like such a relief. I haven't had fun for fun's sake in so long, I begin to wonder if, until right now on the dance floor, I completely forgot how to have fun.

  It’s kind of hard to have fun when your husband is cheating on you. Then he dies, leaving your finances in limbo.

  As the night turns into morning, everyone picks up to leave and I ask the bartender to close my tab.

  When he returns with my bill, I see it. $254. That is the bill without a tip.

  Money is disappearing quicker than I anticipated, and I realize that I've got to figure out something...and I do have a possibility of doubling what I have left.

  Otherwise, how long will the remaining $746 last, I wonder. My shoulders tense and I think about how it felt to tell Jenna I wanted to drive because I couldn't afford any other way to get to Vegas. I want to never feel as horrible as being broke feels. Yes, I could have not bought all those drinks. I don't have to have new yoga clothes all the time. But the truth of the matter is that I need to be able to support myself to at least some level because I still have a house and bills that go with a lifestyle I used to have.

  The husband is gone, the money is gone...and I have to do something.

  Convention or not, the Copley Hotel is not paying me anywhere near what being a girl for rent does...so maybe it won't be so bad if I go ahead and really consider that drunk guy's offer. $750 an hour is already enough to make my shoulders fall down and not be so tense. I have the means to fix the problems in front of me, and the experience isn't terrible.

  I think maybe I can give it another go. I just have that weird feeling that I don't know what I'm doing.

  I scan around the bar, and I see that everyone else is leaving.

  The bartender pops back up and I hand him the cash with a hearty tip. He hands me another cosmopolitan. "You need this...on the house," he says with a nod.

  Am I being paranoid, or does
he know why I need it?

  Oh, that's probably crazy. I smile. "Thank you, I think I really do need it."

  "Least I can do, ma'am," The bartender says. He laughs when I down the whole drink. Really classy, I know, but I need to numb the sensations that are pressing into my skull right now.

  I hand the glass back to him.

  "Guess you definitely needed that. Stay safe," he says.

  I shiver at his words, nice as he intended them.

  "I will," I say, rubbing my upper arms and wondering if I really will stay safe. I want to. Am I doing something totally crazy?

  I mean, I'm considering actually fucking another guy for money.

  We’re a long way from being a housewife in SoCal, that’s for damn sure.

  David

  Heading to the bar was more than about taking the edge off, and I can't believe my good fortune when I stumble upon a conversation at the bar about a “Cosmo guzzling knockout named Christina that's all tits and blonde hair.”

  Sound like anyone we know?

  Yeah, I think it does.

  I nurse my bourbon and listen to the conversation the bartender is having with this flashy guy who just looks like, well he looks like one of those guys who probably knows “a guy” for everything. He’s one of those guys.

  “Yeah, she’s the newest high-end escort in town, and she’s going it solo. Judging by how she took on the bar bill but then sweated it, I’d say she’s brand new to this and in way over her head. Nice girl. She needs your help,” the bartender says to the blonde guy.

  “Wow, thanks for the heads up,” wiry blond guy says. “I’ll extend her an offer.”

  I swirl my drink but I know I’m done with it for now. The bartender nods at me and I shake my head no, because I'm onto something else.

  So Christina's become an escort, and she’s about to get a pimp?

  Well, I’m not looking to rain on the slutty parade that’s helping Christina heal after her shitty marriage to my asshole father. Let her stand on her own two feet by getting on all fours? Not the worst plan ever. I’m hard just thinking about Christina on her knees, another man’s cock in her mouth, abandoning all her morals and letting men defile her tight little body for some money.