by Abby Angel
This is the fucking life, isn't it?
I'm enjoying an evening at Happy Endings exotic nightclub. The place isn't half bad—one of the better Midtown strip clubs.
The brunette with the smoldering eyes—Vicki I think her stage name is?—is sliding my belt from its buckle with one hand and dragging her other hand up my thigh, slowly raking her red nails against the fabric.
The other two women are jostling for a piece of the action too, and who the fuck wouldn't?
Look at me—8-pack abs, a cock bigger than your imagination can handle, the chiseled physique of a Greek god, eyes bluer than a hot bolt of lightning. What else could you possibly want? If you were in this room right now, I guarantee you'd be staring at my cock, touching yourself, and …
Oh, come on; don't give me that look. Don't be shy. You can stare; I don't fucking mind.
It's not everyday that you're gonna see a cock like this one. Don't shake your head. You know it's true, Gorgeous.
And don't you see how these three women are practically begging for a fucking taste of me?
I hear the metallic trill of my zipper as both of the blondes pull it down. My cock is fucking harder than a tree trunk, and they both give a shriek as its full 12 inches pop out of my boxer briefs and slap them in the face.
Vicki pushes her way in, opens her mouth, and eagerly wraps her lips around my cock. She pushes all 12 inches down her throat.
Impressive, I think to myself.
"Someone's hungry," I smile.
She then pulls back, and I hear my cock pop out of her mouth with a single, wet sound. The other two women seize the opportunity and lean in, and they twirl their tongues around my tip. Then one woman grabs my cock, and the way her hand looks so small wrapped around it makes me even fucking harder, if you can believe that. She opens her mouth as wide as she can, and wraps her lips around my now throbbing cock. She presses it down against her tongue, moving slowly, allowing her lips to roll over my entire length, inch by fucking inch until it presses against the back of her throat. I throw my head back with the fucking perfection of it all.
"Fuck, that's it," I groan, resting both of my hands on top of her head. I grab her hair in one fist and move my hips, guiding the motions of my cock in and out of her mouth. Vicki reaches in and tugs on my balls, rolling them between her capable, expert fingers.
"Oh yeah, fuck that's good," I whisper. All three of them look up at me, and smile.
If you can think of anything better than having these three women worshiping my manhood, let me know. Because right now? Nothing fucking beats it.
Sure, I was married once, but all that woman just wanted was to weasel her way into the Governor's office.
That was seven years ago.
Big mistake.
But I've moved on and I'm better for it.
I learned a valuable lesson: always diversify. Translation: Multiple women are better than one.
"I want a taste," the other blonde purrs, leaning in and eyeing me hungrily.
"There's plenty to go around, ladies," I say, a grin growing on my lips.
Sure, as mayor of New York City, I do my fair share of fucking ribbon-cutting ceremonies, I shake hands, and I smile at babies, and I've even made appearances at weddings, but let me just say that I'm known as Parker "Pleasure" Trask for a fucking reason.
You know what I mean?
All three women are moving fast now, each one taking turns on my cock and I decide to change things up. I stand up and bend Vicki over the huge, shiny black table. We're on the top floor of the club, overlooking the stages and poles, and I fucking smile. I love New York City.
This is my city. The city of my fucking wealth.
I look down at Vicki and lift her skirt up, slapping her ass. It's firm and I grab a handful of one ass cheek in my hand. I have enough money to bounce $100 bills off her ass all day long. I can make it fucking rain for hours.
Don't believe me?
I've made an excess of a billion dollars on Wall Street, first working for Carter Jeffries, and then doing some currency trades. I still have a currency trading operation, Trask Phillips—a fucking power broker on Wall Street.
"I want you to fuck me hard," Vicki moans, looking back at me. I grin and grab her hips in one hand, and with the other, I yank her thong down.
Then I lean down and whisper in her ear, "Oh, I'll do it … but be careful what you wish for."
I push a finger inside of her pussy, sliding it in all the way.
"You’re so fucking wet, and I love it," I grin.
With a forceful thrust, I push my cock into Vicki and watch as she grips the table top with both of her hands. She's moaning and the two blondes get down on their knees behind me, dragging their hands up my thighs and grabbing my balls.
Yes, being Mayor of this city is a hell of a lot of fucking fun.
And I'm not just talking about fucking these women.
I've cleaned this city up, after the Anders administration. Unemployment is at 2%.
Crime is at all-time low.
People are making more fucking money than they have in years.
I fucking love seeing this city firing on all cylinders. And that's a direct result of my hard work.
Courts, transportation, EMS, urban planning, IT, public facilities, infrastructure, speaking with lawyers on legal issues, zoning and land use, finances, libraries, and even parking lots—you fucking name it and I've had my hands in it. Impressive list, isn't it?
And email—fuck let's not even talk about that. I spend hundreds of hours answering tens of thousands of fucking emails, communicating with the public, with my staff, with governments, and utilities, and on, and on.
You get the fucking picture.
Are you wondering how one person could possibly handle all of that?
Well, this job isn't for the weak-minded.
It takes a lot of fucking guts and determination.
And the bottom line is, I've changed the way the government interacts with people and their lives. And the city is thriving because of it.
But what now? What's my next big move?
A lot of high political jobs require that I have a fucking wife and kids.
But as I look down at Vicki, and at the other two women, their perfect tits and asses, and eager, open mouths … well, let's just say I'm in no fucking hurry to get married.
Been there, done that.
I'll take the foursome any day.
Vicki let's out a loud moan and I start working her pussy faster. I feel a growing desire coursing through my body and my movements become more erratic.
There's an electric current traveling through every muscle fiber, and the energy of it all is mounting. I feel like I'm about to fucking explode.
I pull my cock out of Vicki and all three women get on their knees. They grab my cock and stroke it for me, all three pairs of delicate hands moving in perfect unison.
Fuck, this is too good to be true.
But here I am.
All three of them looking up at me, mouths open, tongues out eagerly awaiting a taste. Their smiles wild and wide.
"Oh fuck," I groan, and then my cock is a geyser. It's twitching, and with every pulse, thick, hot ropes of cum are hitting all three women. It doesn't stop as they continue to milk me.
Rope after rope of cum.
I close my eyes for a moment and throw my head back.
When I open my eyes back up, I watch as all three of them are now swallowing my cum as if it were the best meal of their fucking lives. A few gooey strands are missed, and drip down their chins.
"Fuck yes," is all I manage to moan, as I continue to empty my load all over their faces, one by one.
Vicki grabs my cock and angles it down her mouth, catching the last two spasms and greedily swallowing my remaining cum.
And then I hear a sound that paralyzes me. It freezes time.
It's the sound of a camera.
A click.
A flash.
I
turn my head just in time to see a newspaper photographer snap a picture of all this.
But before I can say, or do anything further, he's a blur.
He's simply gone; he vanishes as quickly and as quietly as he appeared.
Fuck.
This should be a wild ride.
Think you can handle it?
If you think you can hold on, then you’re welcome to flip the page, darlin’.
Just make sure you take off those panties. Spread those legs. Go somewhere private.
That’s right, probably best not to read this in public.
And hold on for the ride.
New York Daily Journal
Bad Boy Mayor Caught With His Pants Down - City Says "Meh"
All the politics, scandals, and dirt...just the way you like it!
New York City's bad boy mayor, the Honorable Parker Trask was caught in a compromising situation yesterday that would have cut short the political career of any other public servant as he was photographed inside of a strip club with three exotic dancers engaging in a combination of sexual acts.
The Mayor's spokesman, when asked to comment during an evening press conference as to whether the Mayor's office had any statement regarding the photographs that were taken by an independent photographer and published online simply commented, "Is there anything left to say? Does anyone even care?"
Indeed, critics of the Mayor assert that he has brought a level of cheapness and coarseness to the office of Mayor, engaging in acts and saying things that prior holders of the office would have avoided.
The latest incident occurred at the Happy Endings exotic nightclub in Midtown. The Mayor was sequestered with multiple dancers in a private room on the second floor of the club when a freelance photographer gained access to the room, and captured the Mayor in a variety of poses that displayed the sex acts he was engaged in.
Within hours, the photographs were circulating online. TMZ, the celebrity gossip organization, mentioned the photographs in their television update but did not air the uncensored pictures, rather putting those on their website.
Word spread in a viral fashion and within five hours the TMZ servers were being desperately backed up as 30 million people clicked to view the New York City's bad boy mayor with his pants down. Less than an hour later, the TMZ servers crashed from overuse.
It is perhaps telling that none of the city leaders or members of the opposition party have come out to decry this latest development. Many observers credit this to the fact that the Mayor has built excellent relationships with opposition groups and done an admirable job of actually running the city.
"Listen, the guy's lowered my taxes, and dropped unemployment so I'm back to work, and made the streets safer and gotten schools and teachers back on track. If he wants to wet his whistle to take a break from all the hard work, I'm actually okay with it," commented one citizen when asked during his commute what his thoughts on the Mayoral non-scandal was.
This sentiment has been largely echoed throughout New York City as it looks at the latest act of its wunderkind Mayor. The city has been relatively prosperous for the better part of the decade following the troubling years of the Michael Anders administration, which were plagued by scandals both inside and out of his administration, as well as rising property values that pushed out residents in Manhattan, rising crime and unemployment levels, a breakdown in the city infrastructure, failing schools, and a shrinking tax base.
Those problems were tackled head on by the brash Parker Trask and within two years, had begun to subside.
Indeed, many in New York are wondering what the Mayor will do as he comes upon his final year in office. While many have requested that he stay for a third term, sources are saying that the Mayor may have greater ambitions in mind. What those will be, we have yet to find out, but rest assured that once we find out, we'll let you know...
Amy
"I’ll be in my office," I tell the production crew as they pack up for lunch. I eye the shirtless model under the spotlights one more time and make a beeline toward my office. It’s been a hectic morning, testing the new high-definition cameras I bought and getting them ready to go, and I need a break. A long one.
I step inside my office, shut the door behind me, and collapse on my chair, stretching as I yawn. I should be getting lunch right now, not lazing around inside my office, but we won’t pick back up till 3, so I’m not exactly in a hurry. Maybe I’ll answer a few emails before heading out.
Just look at me, turning into a workaholic beast all of a sudden. Believe it or not, it hasn’t always been like this. I guess starting your own company forces you to develop some work ethic. Especially when it’s a company that revolves around sex.
Oh, you thought that having a production crew and a few cameras meant I was a respectable young entrepreneur, didn’t you? Well, I guess that depends on your definition of respectable. As far as I’m concerned, working in the sex industry is as respectable as any other job; it’s just more fun. And, if you ask me, the sanest people I’ve ever met always have the craziest backgrounds.
It all started when I graduated college. Fresh out of Yale and with a finance degree tucked under my arm, I was ready to take the world by storm—except I was broke, of course. Welcome to the 21st century, right?
Thankfully, one day I got a call from a headhunter, and he was interested in seeing some pictures of me. I almost hung up then; I thought he was just one of these run-of-the-mill creeps, preying on desperate pretty girls. But, as it turned out, his offer was a pretty legitimate modeling gig. Sure, it was a racy modeling gig, but it paid handsomely.
So, smart girl that I am, I rolled up my profits into currencies and stock, and put my finance degree to work. When I reached a considerable monthly income, I gave up on the idea of getting a regular 9-to-5 job. So, yeah, I escaped the rat race before I even had a chance to participate in it.
I was only 23 years old when I opened up my first business. Instead of opening up a respectable burger franchise, or something equally boring, I instead decided to go for something a little more entertaining—a webcam business. And I don’t need to explain to you what a webcam business is, do I? I wasn’t selling webcams, if that’s what you’re wondering.
It was a wild success. From there, I expanded into the streaming-porn business, and it was only a matter of time until I caught the attention of the biggest shark in the ocean: Ethan Kane.
Owner of a billion-dollar porn industry behemoth, Kane did right by me; instead of treating me as a rival and shutting me down, he straight up bought my business. I was 24 years old and had enough money to retire for good.
For a few days I contemplated moving somewhere next to the beach and sipping on margaritas until I grew old and wrinkled. I took a two-week vacation in the Bahamas, but I grew tired of that hedonistic lifestyle quick enough. I grabbed a plane out of there and came back to New York, ready for another business venture.
Kinky Amy’s—does it ring a bell? It’s my new company slash club slash studio, and it’s on 43rd and 8th Avenue. And I probably don’t need to tell you that it’s all about sex. I mean, hell, the name’s Kinky Amy’s, not Prude Amy’s.
It’s basically a sex club with a specific department devoted to filming. I run what’s called an online peep show, and it’s blowing everyone else out of the water. Ethan Kane has once again offered to buy me out, but this time I decided against it. I love money, sure, but I need to keep busy. What the hell am I supposed to do all day if I’m not working?
Anyway, so that’s where I am right now, and this is my private office. The new huge cameras outside are my latest investment, and let me tell you: they were expensive. But I guess that if I want to keep on thriving in this business, I have to invest in top-of-the-line stuff, right? Always go for the best; that’s my motto in this business, and you can rest assured that I’m talking about more than just video cameras.
That’s why the shirtless model out there was as hot as a supernova. Square chin, washboard a
bs, and a delicious smile—you know, the works. That’s why I love my company. Where else would I have the chance to work in a place packed with scorching hot men? Yes, I love hot men and I’m not ashamed of it, not one bit. Why would I be? It’s not like I live in the 19th century, even though there are still some assholes that’d prefer women to wear chastity belts all the time. Thank you very much, but I’ll pass.
God, just thinking of hot men makes the gears inside my head start turning. And when that happens, I know exactly what I need.
Picking up my Kindle from one of the drawers, I prop my feet up on the desk and lean back against my chair. I power the Kindle up and launch Pierce Me, one hell of a steamy book by Simone Sowood. Oh, you haven’t read it yet?
It’s coming. She just sends it to me first because I’m just so awesome.
It’s surprising how fast I go through these books. As busy as I am, I should be reading one or two books per year… but I just can’t stop reading these dirty books. It’s like an addiction. The sweetest kind of addiction.
I pick up right where I left off, right before one steamy scene, and let my eyes wander over the words on the screen. Too bad perfect men only exist in Book Land; I wouldn’t mind having the power to just snap my fingers and make one of these men pop up into the real world.
And, God, why does Simone have to write so well? Seriously, two pages in one of these sexy scenes and my thong's already sticking to my skin. Okay, I need some action, and I need it right now.
I place my Kindle on the desk and jump up to my feet. I walk straight to the door and, opening it just a crack, I stick my neck out. "Justin!" I call out, and a few heads at the end of the room turn toward me. The production crew is having lunch on a makeshift table at the end of the studio and Justin, the model, is sitting with them.
"You need me?" he asks, jumping up to his feet. There’s an eager expression on his face, and I can’t help but smile at that. Justin has been eyeing me since his first day of work here, and today’s his lucky day.
"Yeah, I need you. Get in here," I tell him, and then take a few steps back as I wait for him to walk across the studio. He swings the door open hesitantly, and then shuts it behind him.
