Because by now, his cock was out. Oh yeah, that massive fuckrod stood straight at attention, pointing my way. And my pussy melted at the sight, more goo dripping out, a rivulet sliding hotly down one thigh.
“Yes,” I whispered, hungry brown eyes meeting his. “Yes.”
But Mr. Childs isn’t a guy that can be rushed.
“Champagne,” he commanded.
What? What was I supposed to do? But with trembling fingers, I handed him the flute, every nerve waiting with anticipation.
“Come here, sweetheart,” he beckoned. I moved closer to him, the space between us disappearing.
“Closer,” he rasped again. And this time, I moved even closer, so that my nude, lush form was merely inches from that big body seated in the white leather chair.
The dark man smiled at me then.
“I can smell your cunt,” he rasped. “It’s dying for dick. But sweetheart, I’m gonna make you feel good another way. You think you can handle it? You think this curvy bod can take what I’m about to give?”
Wordlessly, I nodded, every nerve quivering, juice streaming down my thighs now.
“Yes, Mr. Childs,” I whispered obediently. “Yes, I’ll try.”
“Good,” he ground out. “Because I want to suckle this sweet, meaty cunt flavored with champagne.”
And dipping his fingers into the flute, he lifted them, dripping with golden fizz. And then slowly, he leaned forwards to paint the champagne over my clit, stroking my throbbing nub and making circles around the pleasure point.”
“Oh!” I gasped, knees going weak. My hands gripped the back of his chair to stay upright. “Oh god!”
“That’s it,” Mr. Childs rasped, his eyes never leaving my juicing pussy. “That’s it sweetheart.”
And he dipped his finger in again, this time painting the golden liquid all over my folds. He stroked my outer labia, getting them soaking, before using two fingers to pull my lips apart, showing the gleaming ruby red within.
“So beautiful,” he breathed approvingly. “You’re sopping wet baby.”
Because of course I was. I was standing before a gorgeous billionaire, letting him play with my cunt. Not only that, but he was painting my private parts with champagne, smoothing fizzy all over my sensitive lips, and now, even into my interior.
“Oh,” I moaned, throwing my head back, white knuckles gripping the leather seat tighter. “Oh god, I’m gonna come.”
“Not yet,” he rasped. “Because we’re not even halfway there yet.”
And the man leaned forward then, placing his tongue against my sensitive spot. Slyly, those lips nibbled at my clit, jolts of pleasure going straight from pussy to spine, making me stiffen slightly.
“Oh!” came my helpless mewl. “Oh oh!”
“That’s right,” Mr. Childs murmured from between my folds. “I’m gonna eat this all up.”
And with that, he began in earnest. The alpha suckled my clit before biting at it, and then running circles around the stiff nub. And then he held my folds open and traced every sensitive crevice, every beautiful crease of my creaming pussy.
“Oh!” I shrieked this time. “Oh god!”
And it was so good that I almost fainted. But Mr. Childs gave no quarter. Because he kept kissing and licking and slurping, tasting my insides as female cream mixed with the champagne covering his mouth.
“Tastes good,” he muttered into my pussy. “Tastes real good.”
I thought I’d burst at that very moment. But then the man lifted his dark head, blue eyes gleaming.
“You know what would make this taste even better?”
I couldn’t’ answer, my breath coming in labored pants. He merely smiled again, chin slick with my wetness.
“Your puss would taste even better if there was some cum in the mix. Champagne and cum. You think you can handle that?”
And wordlessly, I’d stared at him, the heaving of my breasts my only answer. Because was this really going to happen? How would it work?
But Mr. Childs has all the answers. Reaching one big hand down, he stroked his cock slowly, easing out a heavy trickle of pre-cum. And then with the wetness on his hands, he painted my clit again, making me mewl and arch my back with pleasure.
“Oh!” was my helpless cry, clit so hard and ready, standing stiffly straight up. “Oh!”
The alpha rasped, eyes on his handiwork.
“Yeah, it’s beautiful like this,” was his harsh growl. “Your clit slick and smooth with a double coating of champagne and cum.”
And in one swoop, he was on it again, biting and sucking at my sweetest spot, drinking my cream mixed in with his potent juices.
“Oh!” came my helpless cry. “Oh oh OH!”
Because I’m a virgin. I’ve never been with a man in the biblical sense. My hymen’s still there, deep inside and secret. But Mr. Dawson and Mr. Childs didn’t know, and they were bringing me to new heights. I squealed, pussy bursting on the alpha’s lips.
“Oh!” came my gasp. “Oh god oh god oh god!”
The fall of cream was almost embarrassing. So much came rushing from my hole that it rivaled a man’s ejaculation, the river wild and wet. But Mr. Child’s was on it. He drank every last drop, lapping at my folds, forcing his tongue into a point and slipping it up my dripping canal.
“Oh!” I screamed again. “Oh oh!”
And something about the hot situation, the nastiness of what we were doing sent him over the edge. Because with a muffled roar into my pussy, the billionaire came as well.
That cock shivered in the air, trembling, before erupting with giant spurts.
“FUCK!” he shouted into my sweetly creaming cunt. “Fuck fuck fuck!”
And the semen was so beautiful. It was a waterfall, pulsing two feet into the air, landing on my breasts, my tummy, not to mention the chair, tabletop, and his immaculate suit. We were literally covered in man milk, hot jizz splattered everywhere.
But Mr. Childs doesn’t waste. Because once the pulsing subsided somewhat, he pulled back to take a look at my cum-splattered form.
“So beautiful,” was his murmur. “Absolutely gorgeous.”
And then the dark man did something that made the air seize in my lungs, senses going wild. Because reaching a big hand up, he scooped up some semen from my breast and tummy, the goopy white sticky and tacky between his fingers. And then the dark man caressed my intimate folds, rubbing virile baby batter into every crevice, even pushing it into my sweetly steaming hole.
“Oh,” was my sensuous murmur. “Oh god.”
The man glanced up at me, blue eyes wicked.
“You like that don’t you?” he rasped. “This slutty cunt likes getting the sperm rubbed in.”
And with his words, I came again. It wasn’t a huge one this time, just a small secondary explosion, creamy and fluid. But it was an orgasm all the same because Mr. Childs had touched something deep inside, literally and figuratively.
Yes, his fingers were stroking my sweetly steaming puss, making me feel good.
But it was more his words. Because I’m a slut. I’m letting a billionaire, a man I don’t know, touch me intimately. I’m even letting him push his semen into my most private spot, the thrill of a virile man’s seed throwing me over the edge. I wanted that sperm. I wanted the hot goopy white to coat my most intimate parts.
And crying out, I called his name then.
“Yes Charlie,” was my breathless gasp, body shaking as he stroked even more. “Yes.”
The billionaire caught my lips with his, pulling my head down even as his fingers glided over my private space, toying lightly with my hole.
“That’s it,” he whispered. “That’s it, pretty baby. Enjoy.”
And I collapsed then. My curvy form landed in his lap as we kissed, mouths fused, my naked form coated with his cum.
“Oh,” I murmured, the heady sensation overwhelming my senses. Somehow, our liplock was so meaningful even though I’d exchanged not ten words with this man. It thrilled
my soul, the alpha breathing life into my form.
“That’s it,” he murmured once more against my lips. “You belong to us now.”
And I mewed my assent, even if I didn’t understand the words. Because who was us? What did “belonging” mean? All I knew was the right here, right now, splattered in a billionaire’s cum as he touched my secret spaces, our breaths mingling as we enjoyed one another.
But the mystery grew deeper.
Because I was leaving tomorrow, on another leg to Atlanta.
What would happen then?
And as the billionaire teased my hole lightly, he murmured into my ear.
“Remember me,” were his words, thumb skating over my clit. “Remember.”
And I sighed into his arms, curvy form undulating.
Because how could I forget?
This was the adventure of a lifetime … and I’d never be the same again.
CHAPTER THREE
Aaron
My phone rang just as my foot stepped onto the metal rung. I grabbed my twin brother’s arm.
“Yo,” came my grunt. “Wait up. Damien’s on the line. Damien, my bro,” I boomed. “You’re on speaker. Andrew’s here with me.”
Because Andrew’s my identical twin. We’ve done everything together for years now. Played hockey when we were young. Roommates at college even. And finally, our empire. Oh yeah, we have a multi-billion dollar business called Aerodynamix, which is a holding corp. That means Aerodynamix owns other corporations, everything from dog food manufacturers to insurance. So yeah, Andrew and I have been called the new Warren Buffet, even if we didn’t live in Omaha.
“What up?” grunted Andrew, somewhat impatient. “About to board.”
But Damien Dawson was just as terse.
“She’s a good one,” his voice rasped, the connection a little crackly. “Real good. Treat her well, you’ll enjoy it.”
And with that the receiver clicked.
Andrew and I shared a surprised look. Because a thumbs-up from Damien is the equivalent of getting a pardon from the Pope after committing adultery. Man, the girl had to be something if our buddy had decided to call.
But hey, Damien is Damien. And we get it. Being CEO can be tedious. Lots of paperwork to review, lots of decisions to make. And the amount of travel would drive a sane person nuts.
So Elite Airlines was created by a group of my buddies in order to make the flights a little more enjoyable. Yes, there’s wi-fi on board. Yes, there’s a comfortable bed for red-eyes. Yes, there are good snacks and even better drinks, plenty of top shelf alcohol. It’s worth it for sure. Because when you’re in the air as much as us, who wants to go through airport security and breathe recycled air with the masses? Fuck no.
So yeah, Elite Airlines was formed by a group of billionaire CEOs. It aims to provide everything a man night need on a flight, including specific types of on-board entertainment.
Because we screen our stewardesses carefully. Or more accurately, we pay Helena to do the screening, with an eye towards a couple things.
Curves everywhere.
Sweet smiles.
And a willingness to serve.
Oh yeah, taking a ride aboard Elite Air is the perfect end to a long day of boring meetings and factory inspections. It was worth it hands down.
And Damien had just called to tell us that the newest stewardess was top notch. Holy shit. So massive figures towering, we moved like panthers up the metal ladder and into the small cabin.
Damien hadn’t exaggerated.
The girl was amazing.
Beautiful.
Lush.
Feminine.
Wide in the hips, heavy in the bust, with an ass that swayed enticingly. Pure heaven.
Because our thing has always been bigger girls. We tell Helena our preferences, and she complies. But this little filly was a winner hands down, with a rosebud mouth, big brown eyes, and long, brunette locks.
Plus that sweet smile, filled with innocence?
Perfection in every way.
My bro and I were hard already.
But Joanie acted like everything was normal. She took our suit jackets and hung them up as we buckled in for takeoff. And once we were off, the call light came on, Andrew and I hungry already.
The curvy girl made her way over.
“Gentlemen,” she said, leaning forwards so the view of those big boobies got even better. Shit. Double Ds at a minimum. “Here’s your paper and some champagne and warm nuts,” came that soft voice. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
Well, since you’re asking.
But there was no sense in being brutes, we had a couple hours to play.
So I invited her to sit, gesturing with one hand.
“When did you start?” was my growled question.
The girl didn’t sit, instead hovering, that luscious bod taking up our fields of vision.
“Just a few days ago,” she acknowledged, biting her lip. “I spent six weeks training at flight school, and then got this job. I was very lucky,” she rushed. “Thank you for hiring me because as I understand it, you own Elite?”
We nodded.
“Sure thing,” rumbled Andrew. “We own this outfit with a couple of our friends. But tell me,” he said. “What made you become a flight attendant?”
The girl blushed then.
“It’s wasn’t my dream job,” she confessed. “Not that I don’t appreciate it,” came her quick words, realizing what that sound like. “It’s just that after graduation, my family didn’t have money for college. Not four years at least, so I wanted to work a little before applying to school. And this seemed like a good fit.”
We nodded.
“What are you looking to study?” I rumbled curiously. College isn’t usually what our stewardesses aim for. More often they’re wannabe actresses and models trying to save up money before heading out to Los Angeles. And Elite was the right place to be, our girls get paid real well.
But still. Joanie was interested in college. This was a change for sure.
Nodding her head, the brunette took a deep breath then.
“Well, I’ve always been interested in science,” she confessed in a low voice. “So I was thinking about becoming a chemist.”
Her words were so soft by the end that Andrew and I barely caught the last part. But we heard. Because a chemist? That was about as far from acting and modeling as you can get. Something to do with art or literature would have been more fitting, or maybe social work or environmental justice. So chemistry was real different.
But Joanie nodded again.
“I’ve always gotten good grades in my science classes, and I love all the experiments. Putting on the gloves, mixing things, and then watching action and reaction. It’s amazing,” she confessed once more, cheeks going pink. “Mother Nature is filled with mystery, and chemistry is a way of understanding those mysteries.”
I nodded thoughtfully. Because I often feel that way about my own job. Being CEO means being a jack of all trades, but originally, it was the numbers game that caught my eye. Our respect for the girl skyrocketed then, gazes curious.
“So how is working as a flight attendant gonna get you there?” I asked gently. “Is there something about this job that’s relevant to chemistry?”
She laughed then, tipping her head back and exposing that long, swan-like neck. Our mouths watered seeing it. Shit, Joanie was so lovely.
“Oh no,” she said, shooting us a smile. “I’m just doing this for the money. The pay is good, you know that,” she said, blushing wildly again, “but I just want to save as much as possible before going back to school.”
Andrew and I shared looks. Because the pay is generous for sure. There was the six figure salary, which is already double or triple what new flight attendants make. But the real money comes from the bonuses. Because every time she’s with one of us, there’ll be a parting gift of sorts. Cash and jewelry were common, not to mention clothes and even an apartment once. So yeah,
working for Elite can turn out really well financially, if the girl’s what we’re looking for.
And Joanie was just our type.
“So it seems you know a little about us already,” rumbled Andrew casually. “Or at least how the airline works. Can we ask who you’ve met so far?”
She blushed.
“Mr. Dawson and Mr. Childs,” was her soft admission, pink cheeks going even rosier. “They were very kind.”
My bro and I shared a look. Kind was one way of putting it. Damien has a thing for girls who squirt, and Charlie likes anal. Had those motherfuckers already done that?
But first things first. Because the best way to learn about Joanie was to see for ourselves. We CEOs had made a pact to share, and really, it didn’t matter who’d gone before us. All that mattered was that the girl was ripe and ready, willing and open.
So we leaned back in the white leather chairs, lazy grins on our faces.
“Those motherfuckers are assholes,” I grunted. “But they sang your praises.”
Joanie colored again, big breasts trembling a bit.
“Really?” she whispered.
“Really,” answered my bro. “But we want to see for ourselves.”
And like a good slut, the brunette’s hand immediately went to the back of her dress. But I held on big palm up.
“Not so fast,” was my rumble. “Because we want to see you dance.”
The girl colored again, the air in the cabin suddenly steamy and hot.
“What do you mean?” came her whisper. “Dance?”
But with a flick of the remote, soft music sounded in the cabin, melodic and pleasing. Shit, it didn’t matter if this was some pulsing metalcore or Spanish salsa. Girls who dance can dance to anything, the music comes from within.
“That’s right,” my brother rumbled, eyes intense. “Dance while showing us what you’ve got sweetheart. Let us see those sweet curves, everything bare.”
And that’s when the girl really blushed. Because it was clear we wanted her to do a striptease.
“Bu-but I,” she protested.
I held up my hand, palm out.
“Just do it,” were my terse words.
And eyes wide, she trembled for a moment, still like a doe. But then that curvy body began to sway, and shit the female was sexy. Those big hips swung like pendulums, her breasts bobbing to the beat. One small hand crept up her thigh, sliding over one hip before making its way to the back of her dress.
Taken by the Dom Page 24
