by Jade Taylor
But I didn’t.
Instead I tried to lift my wrists, tried to pull them away as he pushed me into the bed harder, as my struggle excited him further.
His hand went to my skirt and tugged it up roughly, his fingers quickly explored me, as if turning me on was only a secondary effect; all his fingers were really there for was to check I was wet enough to fuck.
I was.
He reached to the bedside table and tore open the condom wrapper with his teeth, almost fumbling in his eagerness to put it on one handed.
Then it was on and he was inside me, kissing me as I mumble for him to stop, pinning me down with both hands as his body covered mine, his cock filling me, his body rubbing against mine.
I came hard.
Seconds later and he was coming just as hard, hands so tight around my wrists I knew I’d be wearing long sleeved shirts for day.
Quickly he climbed off me and headed to the bathroom to get rid of the condom, to destroy the evidence of our frenzied fuck.
“Help yourself to a shirt,” he called out as I heard him start the shower. “Money’s on the table.”
I could take a hint.
I grabbed a shirt, grabbed the money, and left.
I had the twenty per cent ready for her as she opened the door to her room. She seemed worried for a moment, then looked to check up and down the corridor and saw that maybe I was not as naïve as she thought.
She still rushed me inside.
I wanted to ask her what the stuff she used on me was, but I didn’t want to let her know how it had affected me, how she affected me still.
Instead I stole her make-up remover and quickly wiped away my ‘other’ face.
“Hookers don’t kiss,” she told me as I wiped off my smudged lipstick, my red mouth and stubble-scarred chin giving away my secrets.
“He was a good kisser,” I said nonchalantly.
“Hookers don’t kiss,” she repeated, like I’ve violated some great moral code.
Like there were any moral codes left to violate, like she had morals, like she had ever had morals.
“I’m not a whore,” I replied.
She looked pointedly at the envelope of money I’d put down, at the twenty per cent I’d just given her.
“Sure you’re not.” She lit up a cigarette, still all 1940s elegance even when she was so obviously pissed at me.
“So why can’t I kiss?”
“Kissing is for your boyfriend.”
I refused to make eye contact in the mirror as I flippantly admitted, “We don’t kiss any more.”
She doesn’t make eye contact either as she asked, “Why not?”
I watched the end of her cigarette flare brightly as I answered, “It’s hard to reach when he’s fucking me from behind while I fantasise about what you might ask me to do next.”
She liked that, I could tell.
Finally she made eye contact in the mirror.
“And what do you fantasise about?”
You, I wanted to tell her, about touching you, tasting you, stroking your naked skin.
About kissing the whore who doesn’t kiss.
Instead I said, “A threesome”, hoping one of her punters would like to fuck us both, hoping that even if it’s only in that way, I’d finally get to have her.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Chapter Five
I should have known better, should realised that after all the time and energy I spent pursuing her and all the hoops she’d made me jump through that it wouldn’t be that straightforward.
Nothing with her ever was.
But I never thought that.
Instead I was wondered whether I was called her bluff, or was she calling mine? was I finally showing too much of my hand, losing my poker face by showing her what I’d do to be with her, or had I gone that far too long ago?
When she texted me earlier in the week to tell me I’d need new underwear for the weekend I didn’t know whether to be upset or excited. Wasn’t my underwear sexy enough for her, or did I need new underwear because us finally being together was a special occasion?
For so long all I’d thought about was this obsession with fucking her, walking around permanently horny, my brain confused and my body aching with lust for her. At work people commented on my short temper, on my impatience, and my friends asked me what was wrong, but how could I explain it to them? How could I tell them what I’d done, what I wanted to do?
I knew my friends wouldn’t be judgemental, they would try to understand but they wouldn’t; all they’d be able to do would be to warn me that this couldn’t end well.
But I’d known that from the start.
Kat wouldn’t decide to leave her ‘business’, I wouldn’t decide to leave Craig, we wouldn’t set up our little gay home together and laugh when we were older about the things she used to do for money.
I knew that it was a dark road I was on, but despite knowing that I still could do nothing but follow it.
***
She texted me on Saturday morning with instructions for me to be at our usual hotel by nine. I was supposed to be going to some work party with Craig, but convinced him that I had a headache, and that he should go alone. Maybe I should have felt shitty when he walked out of the door at eight alone, but I didn’t, instead I thought, fuck I only have an hour to get ready.
I was turning into a Class A bitch.
Despite the glitch in my planning I was in the bar by ten to nine, and ordered a large glass of wine as I looked around the bar for her.
She wasn’t there, but I told myself that it was okay, a threesome by definition meant that somebody else was coming to play with us, maybe she was with him, getting him ready.
So when she texted me the room number I was still expecting her to be there waiting for me, expecting that although I was not getting exactly what I wanted, I was still getting her.
When I knocked on the door a masculine voice shouted, “Come in,” and I let myself in.
She was not there setting something up for us, she was not with the client pacifying his nerves or helping his erection, she was not doing anything I’d imagined.
She was not there.
Instead there were two dark haired well muscled men sitting on the bed, and though they were already semi-naked, they were not even looking at me.
Now I’d never understood the boys watching porn together thing, I must admit. If you wanted to watch a light hearted comedy or even something deeper, sure, call your friends round, get a pizza, some beers, whatever. And if you wanted to watch porn on your own for another kind of light relief, or even invite a lover to watch with you, well there was nothing wrong with that either.
But why did boys do it together? Boyfriends and male friends had told me before they’d watched porn with a gang of lads, and though they’d tried to explain, I could never understand.
But then I did.
Because although there was some hot woman on the screen sucking off some guys cock as if she was dying of thirst and his spunk will rejuvenate her, and although I, the very sexy cunt for hire ready to fulfil their every fantasy had just walked into the room, they really weren’t that interested.
All they wanted was each other.
I watched as they both keep slyly glancing at the other, checking out each other’s naked chest, each other’s heavily muscled thighs, the bulges in each other’s boxer shorts.
It was horny as hell, watching them subtly turning each other on without one word or touch, but I wondered what the hell I was doing here? Although I wasn’t going to complain about being with two sexy men, why the hell weren’t they fucking without me?
Then I stopped getting distracted by their awesomely fit bodies, and looked at their faces a little more closely.<
br />
And it all made sense.
I was never a fan of football, but Craig was, and I realised that these two were quite well known players. And despite all the controversy in the papers about sleeping with groupies, about hiring lap dancers and hookers, about threesomes and orgies, that having a threesome with me, if it ever came out, would be a lot less controversial than having gay sex without me.
Okay, I thought, ever the good Samaritan, I’d like to fuck these two and they obviously needed my help.
I kicked off my heels and climb on the large double bed between them. I put Player A’s hand on my left thigh and Player B’s hand on my right thigh, and then I put my hands on theirs. And while they were watching each other while pretending to watch the porn, I started stroking their bare legs.
I was already wet, although I’d never had any naked footballer fantasies, I’d thought about two blokes at the same time before. Maybe two blokes that were interested in me, rather than each other, but hey, those two were so fit that I could get over that.
I turned to Player A (who I knew had apparently had a string of very attractive high profile girlfriends) and started to kiss his neck, to kiss down his well defined chest and rock hard abs. Obviously he liked female attention too as he started moaning loudly, and rubbed at his cock. Player B moved behind me and I moved onto all fours so he could pull off my skirt. He got the hint and pulled it off quickly, then started rubbing at me through my flimsy panties. I was sure he can feel how wet I was, and listening to the porn playing in the background while he was stroking me only made me wetter.
Player B pulled away from me, stopping me kissing my way down to his cock, so he could pull off my top and my bra, and started caressing my breasts. I didn’t know if he was gay, bi or straight, but he certainly knew how to touch a woman’s breasts as he made ever decreasing circles around my nipples until I told him, “Pinch me”.
Of course I shouldn’t have said anything, he was the client and what he said went, but he pinched me, then moved me over so I was lying on my back as he continued to tease my breasts while his friend stroked my swollen clit, dipping his fingers occasionally in my sopping hole until I was so fucking horny that I came hard, clenching my thighs around his hand as I was engulfed by waves of pleasure.
Player A was smiling at me broadly as I came down off that high, obviously pleased with himself.
And so he should have been; that night was amazing.
I crawled over to him on all fours and he knelt in front of me, his cock bobbing around in front of my face as if crying out for attention. I licked the head slowly, tasting the pre-cum that was making it glisten, teasing my tongue around it, before taking him in my mouth entirely. I felt Player B moving behind me, and heard the tear of a condom wrapper moments before he slipped himself inside me. For a second I was disappointed that I never got to see his cock, but his slow but steady movements more than compensated. I mimicked his rhythm with my mouth around his friend’s cock, and we moved together, getting steadily faster as the boys moaned their encouragement.
I realised there was a mirror in the room, and managed to angle my head to watch us without the boys noticing. And while they’re not noticing what I’m doing I hadn’t noticed what they’re doing, but now I watched as they stroked each other’s faces, as they touched each other’s bodies. I moved carefully so I could stroke my clit as I watched Player A slide his finger inside Player B’s mouth, and it didn’t take long before I was coming hard again, and my orgasm released theirs’, their eyes meeting as they both came hard inside my mouth and cunt.
Afterwards they were both so sweet; they poured me a drink of champagne and let me use their shower while they switched off the porn and turned on the football highlights. I could have been cynical and thought it was all pretence so I wouldn’t go running to the tabloids to sell my story, but really if I were that kind of girl would a shower and a free drink have been enough to change my mind? And I knew that they could have turned the story around anyway, lied about high sex drives and how manly they were that they fucked hookers.
Instead I like to think that they were nice because they had something special between them that they couldn’t show, and I, for a brief moment, had helped them share that.
As I picked up my ever ready envelope of cash and left I thought how sad it was that this was the only way they could be together.
But then, I thought, I’d never entertained the idea of actually doing a threesome until I’d thought of it as a way of getting to Kat. And maybe that night had helped me understand some things.
***
I noticed Kat sat in the bar as I went to leave the hotel. I should have expected it really, and quickly, though now discretely, removed her twenty per cent from my bundle of cash.
“Was it everything you dreamed of?” she asked, not even making eye contact as I stand by her table and slid the money in front of her.
“Not quite,” I told her, moving to sit down.
She stopped me. “Please don’t, I have an appointment shortly.”
I moved back to stand by her side, disappointed to be brushed off but willingly standing there until I’m dismissed.
“They weren’t exactly that interested in me,” I told her, trying to be wry, trying to be sarcastic, trying not to let her see what’s truly bothering me.
That at least earned me a smile. “I had a feeling they might not be. But at least it’s another fantasy you can tick off your list.”
“Not exactly,” I said, my words becoming rushed and mumbled as I watched her checking her watch. “I wanted a woman.”
It’s too blunt, not what I should have said at all, I should have been more specific, should have explained it was her I wanted, I thought as I blushed furiously.
She raised an eyebrow at my embarrassment.
“I think we could arrange that. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
She stood to peck me on the cheek quickly, then sat back down without another word.
I was dismissed.
Chapter Six
I went to Kat’s usual suite and should not have been surprised when it wasn’t her that answered.
“Not who you expected?” the short blonde at the door asked as she ushered me in. She looked me up and down quickly, taking in my very casual jeans and t-shirt ensemble. “You’d better get changed quickly, he’ll be here soon.”
I took my small overnight bag into the bathroom and shut the door; even though I thought I was supposed to be fucking this woman shortly, I didn’t want her to see me getting changed.
At times I was less than logical.
And this wasn’t what I’d expected.
“I’m Ellie by the way,” she called through as I slipped out of my boring underwear and put on my basque, thong and stockings. “I’m gay, but don’t let that don’t bother you as it certainly doesn’t bother me.”
I opened the door and she looked me up and down and wolf whistled appreciatively. “Very nice.”
She pulled off her short robe and turned for me, showing off expensive underwear that perfectly gift wrapped her amazing breasts and pert ass. With her long wavy blonde hair and her curvy figure she was so different from Kat, but I still felt an unexpected attraction.
Despite my disappointment that Katrina had let me down once more, I was getting turned on.
Suddenly she moved forward and kissed me hard. I kissed her back, just as hard, surprised but responsive.
“Call that a practise run,” she said as she pulled way and opened a bottle of champagne, filling three flutes with a practised hand.
“I’m sure this will be fine. Just remember, no eye contact, it’s his fantasy that we corrupt innocent girls together, so just follow my lead.”
“Corrupt?” I asked, worried suddenly that this was a lot darker scenario than I’d anticipated.
&nb
sp; “Don’t worry, you just have to look a little unwilling at first, let me make all the moves, nothing scary. I don’t do that sort of thing.”
She stroked my face, and I reached for the champagne, quickly taking a sip.
“I don’t do any of this sort of thing,” I explained, unsure of what Kat had told her.
“I know, Kat said.”
“So is my outfit not innocent enough?” I asked, worried about that.
“It will be fine, stick my robe over it, and just make a slight protest when I take it off,” she said with a wink, throwing me her robe. It smelt likes her, exotic and sensual.
“Anything else?” I asked; this whole thing sounding less like a sexy encounter than a situation planned with military precision.
“You have to remember to think about the angles. If you’re doing something to me, or I’m doing something to you, he has to be able to see it.”
I frowned; this was not at all what I’d expected.
Then there was a knock at the door.
“Sit on the bed,” she told me, going to answer it.
I did as I was told, observing the man who entered from the corner of my eye, remembering my instructions not to make eye contact.
He was maybe mid-forties, early fifties, and while I would not have described him as attractive, he seemed distinguished, like a trusted newsreader or a respected lawyer.
She handed him the champagne as he took off his jacket, a routine it seemed they had performed countless times before.
“Jenni is my new find,” she told him in a stage whisper as he made himself comfortable in a chair. “She’s so deliciously naïve she didn’t even realise I was chatting her up, and I was hardly subtle.”
He smiled tightly, paying more attention to checking me out than listening to anything she was saying.
“When I invited her back to my hotel room she thought I meant for some girly bonding, painting nails and talking about boys or something.” Ellie laughed, a deep throated chuckle that made the man smile at last.
