by Abby Angel
The way that he's looking at me right now, I feel like we're both in a trance. I wrap my hands around his cock. David shuts off the water and we're both still dripping wet, but that's all the invitation I need to draw his cock into my mouth and start sucking him. I lick the whole length of his cock and then I suck him in deep. It isn't long before we're both shuddering. When his cock jets hot cum down my throat, my pussy is shivering with my own orgasm. I don't even have to touch myself. Sucking his cock makes me come because that's how much I really do crave my David in all of my holes.
I feel his cock quicken. I cup his balls in my hands, and they are loaded up. He's ready to burst, and I'm ready to swallow him.
David cups my chin, groaning low in his throat, “I’m coming. Drink me up, Christina.” The way he moans my name makes me shiver. I slide David’s cock even deeper down my throat and swallow every hot drop of his cum I can before I pull out that massive cock, stroking the shaft. I rub the sticky final rope of cum over my lips, and draw my fingers to my own creamy pussy lips. I run that against my lips, tasting us both together.
I stand in the shower, and David steadies me as I rise. His lips close over mine, and a thrill shoots through me with the realization that we're tasting each other like this.
I love being so naughty with my stepson. I know I shouldn’t, but at this point, I think I crave him more than I crave the air I breathe. I feel so satisfied and free with him…I honestly can’t imagine life without him. And when I called, him came. He didn’t ask why I was in Vegas. He didn’t ask me why I was upset. Not when he saw that what I really needed was him.
Pretty sure that’s love, on both our ends—him for coming, and me for wanting him to come. And I’m starting to become more and more okay with that because I can’t imagine see my life being worth anything without him.
Christina
I drive to Frankie’s Tiki Bar, a favorite meeting spot located off of the Las Vegas strip and away from the throng of tourists. I promised to meet Thomas for a drink and discuss the night's new client. I tried to leave this business behind for good last night, but ultimately changed my mind. After encountering one asshole client who refused to pay her in full, having second thoughts about continuing in this line of work, it feels surreal to be going to discuss another John. But this is my life now, and I can’t actually say that I don’t like it.
I enter the dark, smoky room of the bar. A steady stream of exotica, grind, surf, and garage rock play from the jukebox, and I find Thomas sitting in his usual booth at the back of the bar, deep into his second drink, the rings on his fingers clinking against his glass.
"Just enough primitive with a splash of kitsch," he says when I approach. "This place is the perfect escape. Just look at these tikis. Do you agree?"
I nod. ”What are you drinking?" I ask as I slip into the booth.
"This here is the Nakalele Knockout," he replies, twirling his green swizzle stick with a plastic head on its tip. "It's a drink that is supposed to pay tribute to the thousands of Hawaiian human sacrifices. You drink your first cocktail, and then you count your blessings, and then you drink your second cocktail, and you start to count your steps or fall into your own fiery pit."
Thomas laughs, twisting his swizzle stick and continues, "Are you ready to sacrifice your body tonight, Chris?"
I light a cigarette and allow the smoke to curl around my face. I give him a long, hard gaze and say, "No more bullshit clients, Thomas. I can't go through that again."
"I'll think you'll be pleasantly surprised tonight," he replies with a shrug.
"Why is that?" I ask, raising one eyebrow.
"Because Mr. M has requested your company," Thomas says and smiles.
I let myself remember my last meeting with Mr. M. He is the only client allowed to touch me, and he’s the only one that I want to. He owns a palatial home, if it could even be described as a home—it was more like a mansion, with an Olympic sized pool, and tennis courts, and a place where he threw parties with some of Las Vegas's wealthiest men. He is an alpha male who knows what he wants and when he wants, and he carries himself with a great deal of confidence. What he desires, he gets, without exception. There is something that I find irresistible in his personality and achingly familiar. I feel like if I am able to see his face, I’ll know him. Like…honestly, he makes me think of my darkest desires with David, crazy as that sounds. David left right before I went to see Mr. M, and that’s because he had to get back to Stanford.
I feel a twinge of guilt inside me now. I think I’m falling for David, to be honest, so why do I have to have such strong feelings for Mr. M, too, whatever those feelings are. I don’t know and I don’t know if I want to explore them. Why do I have to gravitate toward the two most inappropriate relationships in my life, my stepson and my client? I just don’t see either road ending well for me, yet I seem to want to bang my head against the wall for both of them and see what desires and longings stick. How do I manage this without getting hurt?
"Well, I better get ready for the evening," I say, almost too eagerly. "I'll let you know how it goes. If there is even the scent of trouble, you'll be hearing from me."
"Don't go falling for your clients," Thomas laughs, seeing right through my words and knowing the conflict that is probably radiating off me at this point. "Because that's nothing but trouble."
I give him a final wink and leave, but I’m grateful that Thomas truly does seem to look out for me. I think about telling him so now, but maybe I need to not sound so desperate so soon after I threatened to quit the whole business.
Christina
I get ready for Mr. M, but for some reason, I’m thinking about David. Okay not for ‘some’ reason. I know why. I love David. I might love Mr. M, I might just crave him. But I never want to have to choose. But with everything that David has said to me, I think that when David finds out what I do, he’ll have something to say about it.
It’s no longer a question about doing this to feel desirable and free.
It’s no longer about money.
It’s about who I love. Versus who I crave.
What am I going to do?
I think this is going to come to a head soon.
And then everything I think rolls out the window.
David is standing at the door of my hotel room and he’s holding the Mr. M blindfold.
Oh.
My.
God.
He’s got a smirk on his face.
I know that he isn’t just here and he doesn’t just have that. I know now that David is Mr. M. Everything that I might have been confused about doesn’t matter anymore because there has only ever been one man for me. He throws the blindfold behind me and looks at me like he’s about to kiss me.
I put my hands up. “David, how…why?” I know what I just saw. But knowing it and accepting it? Totally two different things.
He cocks his head to the side. “I didn’t want to take away the first time you were on your own two feet. You were actually happy,” David says.
I hear how defensive he’s getting. “I…” I’m about to say that I’m not mad…but even if I’m not angry, I don’t know what to think. I step back, putting my hands down and ball up my fists, clenching them and unclenching them.
“Christina,” David says my name and he strokes my cheek.
I’m stunned for moment. I don’t say anything, knowing it will make him talk. Give someone silence, and they’ll ache to fill it. I don’t know what to say, so let’s see what he does.
David cups my face. “I know you liked it,” he says.
That kills my silent streak right there. “Me enjoying something is not an excuse,” I say, pulling his hand away from my face. I take another step back. “You lied to me. You teased me as Mr. M and you like courted me or something as yourself—”
“Courted?” David laughs.
I point a finger at him and press it right on his nose. “Don’t mock me right now,” I warn him.
David grabs my w
rist, stroking my skin softly.
“And don’t distract me,” I say, scrunching my nose up at him. “‘Fess up, when did you know?”
David opens his mouth and I walk away, grabbing my phone. “Actually,” I say, putting my finger against his lips to shut him up. “I’m calling Thomas,” I tell him.
David laughs nervously.
Good, he needs to sweat a little.
“Hey, Chris!” Thomas says, and I can tell he’s in a good mood. “I don’t need to verify what you and Mr. M are doing, you know?”
“Very funny,” I say. “Did you know Mr. M was my stepson?” I have no time for small talk right now.
“He paid me a lot of money to not know much,” Thomas replies.
“Thanks,” I say, hanging up the phone and tossing it behind me. Let it lie with the blindfold right now because David needs to explain this.
“What did you pay Thomas?” I ask.
“How much?” David says. He puts his arms on my shoulders.
“No, no…what did you pay him for?” I give him a stern look but I don’t move his hands.
David’s eyes narrow, looking into mine, and I know that he understands that he’s misstepped. Doesn’t mean he’s getting off too easy. He needs to sweat some more. Even if he solved my last remaining dilemma in my life, I don’t need him to feel the relief I will…when I know the truth.
“I paid him to stop letting clients fuck you…I wanted you all to myself. But I didn’t want to take away your life. I also became your client because I wanted to enjoy your new life with you, and because it was hot seeing you become a perfect whore for me,” David says.
I don’t flinch at the word ‘whore’ and I shouldn’t — I was a whore, and I enjoyed it.
“You know you don’t get to take on alternate personas and strong arm my career and shit, right?” I laugh. “I mean, I wasn’t just your whore, you know,” I tell him.
“I do, and I do…” David says, his words cautious.
“I don’t think you do, at least the part where you realize you pulled strings on my life and that’s not okay—”
“You weren’t going to let me take care of you. So I did the best I could. Part of me knew it was fucked up, but I couldn’t resist you,” David says, and the passion in his voice making my pulse quicken.
My throat tightens. In my whole life, no one has ever truly taken care of me. I don’t even know if I would have let David…I mean, I knew I wasn’t going to contest the will. I never would have asked David for money. I would rather prostitute myself than doing that. Tears well up in my eyes and I turn around. I don’t want David to see my reaction, and I realize it is because I don’t want him to see how vulnerable this has made me.
That’s why when he puts his arm around me and pulls me to him, I don’t pull away. I don’t want to. I want him to hold me like it is now.
When his eyes capture mine, I see the man that took care of me, the man that went to any lengths for me to be happy, thrilled, satisfied beyond any amount I’d ever been before.
“Can you forgive me?” David asks, his voice husky, his fingers brushing my hair from my face.
“Yes,” I say, definitively knowing that I love David more than I have ever loved anyone in my life. Knowing that I want to be his forever.
Christina
I part my lips slightly, my tongue reaching for his and dancing in slow soft circles around it. His hands are on my waist, his long fingers firmly planted on my hips. We kiss in abandonment, my fingers running through his hair and disheveling it as my heart starts beating faster and faster. I let my hands fall down to the side of his face and I trace the hard lines of his jaw, the warmness on his skin calling to me.
“I want you. Right now,” he suddenly says, taking one hand to my neck and yanking on my hair, forcing my head back. I open my eyes, locking them on his, and I stop breathing for a whole second as he continues. “I never wanted anyone as bad as I want you, Christina. I knew what you were doing…but I want you all to myself.”
Each word that leaves his lips is like opium, traveling from my ears to my brain and drowning it in numbness. I try to think of an appropriate response, but all I can do is mouth an anxious “yes.” Leaning toward me, he pushes me back against the seat. My heart is drumming so hard I half-expect it to claw its way out of my chest anytime now.
“I want to fuck you,” he says, leaning in and whispering in my ear, his full lips brushing against my skin. My heart rises and falls at a hurried pace, my lungs working overtime as his eyes seem to devour me. Impatient with my silent, he yanks harder on my hair, his lips turning into a hard line. “I want it bad.”
“Do it, David...Do it,” I say, staring into his eyes.
“I will,” he grins, the way his lips curl upward making him look even sexier to me. My mouth turns dry as his deep voice reaches me and, of course, as my mouth goes dry, my pussy becomes wetter than it has ever been. Maybe there’s some correlation there.
Still with one hand on my hair, he takes the other one to the hemline of my dress, the tip of his fingers brushing against the naked skin above my right knee. I feel my skin prickling as his fingers hike up my leg, gently lifting the dress in the process. The closer he gets to my pussy, the wetter I become, a wildfire of desire spreading inside of me. I almost reach for his wrist and force his hand against my pussy, but I’m so entranced by his touch I simply stand still, the perfect victim to his teasing.
Unblinking, I stare into his eyes as his fingers close in on my groins, my insides burning with anticipation. But instead of simply going for it, he simply traces the contour of my thong with his index finger, going back and forth over the fabric without actually touching my pussy. Guided by unconscious desire, I find myself bucking my hips at him, aching to feel his hand on me. The moment I do it, he takes his hand out from under my dress and yanks on my hair again.
“Keep still,” he tells me, deviousness flickering in his eyes. I nod, pursing my lips and trying to ignore my own instincts. In an instant, his hand is under my dress again, his index finger gently running along the place where fabric and skin meet. He goes like that for what seems like an eternity, although it couldn’t have been more than a minute — it’s easy to lose track of time when you’re so wet your juices have soaked your underwear completely — and then he finally turns his wrist and flattens the palm of his hand over the front of my thong. I can’t help but gasp as I succumb to the pressure of his fingers on my pussy. I throw my head back and close my eyes, a sweet numbness embracing every single one of my nerve endings.
David starts rubbing my pussy softly, his fingers pressed tight over my wetness. A purred moan leaves my lips as he does it, the whole world fading away around me. With a flick of his fingers he pulls my thong to the side and brushes one fingertip over my folds, his touch making my brain almost explode.
“You’re so wet,” he says, his finger going back and forth over my drenched lips. “I love it.”
“Please,” I mutter, not even knowing what I’m asking for. I want him to slide his finger deep inside me, I want to feel his cock pushing past my inner lips and lodging itself inside my pussy — I want it all, and I want it right now.
Before I can even react, he parts my inner lips and slides his finger in, moving it inside me like a hook and pressing his fingertip in that sweet hidden spot. I moan again, this time louder, and he presses harder against my g-spot. I swear to God, I’m so delirious with desire I have no idea on how I’m managing to stand still.
He starts to move his finger in and out of my pussy, each time his hand moves the rhythm growing. Soon enough his finger is moving so fast I’m no longer moaning, I’m just trying to keep breathing through the avalanche of sensations that rages inside me. Letting go of my hair, he takes his other hand to between my thighs and presses his thumb over my clit, applying just enough pressure to force a moan out of my lips once more.
Working on my clit with his thumb, his index finger flying in and out of my pussy, he guides
me to the edge and, with a simple word, throws me off of it.
“Come,” he whispers, his lips brushing against my ear. “Come for me.”
Just like that, I go off. I close my eyes again, breathing hard through my gritted teeth as all muscles in my body become tight and hard, uncontrollable tension pooling in every single fiber of my being. Like a bomb, pleasure explodes inside of me, my muscles letting go of all that tension as a forceful scream leaves my throat. My voice quivers as he stops moving his finger and just presses it hard against my g-spot, rubbing it there with the mastery of a man that knows women almost too well.
I press my back against the seat, trembling as he slides his finger out of my pussy and looks me in the eyes.
“This was just a taste,” he grins, that sweet mischievousness in his lips driving me completely mad. “Plenty more to come...If you behave, that is.” As he speaks, he brings his fingers up to my face, and lays the one he had inside of me against my lips. The scent of my own pussy climbs up my nostrils, and I find myself opening my mouth gently, allowing him to slide his finger in. He slides it all the way in, my tongue running along its length and licking it dry of my own juices. Tasting myself I grow even wetter, wanting much more than to just be fingered. I mean, if he can make me feel like this using only one finger and one word, what else can he do? Oh, judging by the look in his eyes, I’m going to find that out pretty soon.
