by Nicola Jane
Your legs are too shaky to take your weight and you sink back down at the same time the man who's still inside you, grunts and comes. You've no idea how Frank fared behind you and your instructions stop you having to care. You look around, completely sated and wondering if you can manage to deal with any of the other men. It occurs to you that carrying on, rather than getting in the mood in the first place, is what makes the escort worker's job so demanding. But to your relief, the room has emptied and only one of the older men remains seated. Giselle is sitting back on her heels between his knees and discreetly wiping her mouth. The others must have left at some point, more into spectating than participating. She catches your eye and winks as she begins retrieving her clothes.
Your first bachelor party is over.
The end
Or...
That was certainly wild, but it needn’t end there! There’s still plenty of fun to be had so you retrace your steps...
Room 942
You don't freeze up but you do stiffen enough that her kiss falls about as sensuously as a pat on the head, albeit ten times more uncomfortably. Luckily, she doesn't seem offended and simply steps back to report her appraisal of the situation.
'Not into that then. No problem, honey. Just seeing what cards we have in our hand – or I should say hands.' She smiles with a raised eyebrow. 'So, just relax, have fun and follow my lead. But,' she warns as the lift doors open and you start walking down the corridor, 'let me do the talking.'
Just before you reach Room 942, she pulls out a hotel key card from the envelope in her bag and jiggles it in the slot. You hold your breath as the door opens, not sure what to expect on the other side. But there's no one there and your bubble of expectation pops.
Giselle sees your expression and points towards the bathroom and it's only then that you notice the sound of a shower. It runs for a few more seconds then shuts off giving both of you only enough time to arrange yourselves on the edge of the bed, the mirror reflecting your cross-legged poses. It would be demure, if it weren't for the fact that the man who appears in the shower is paying for sex with you – well, with Giselle. What if he doesn't appreciate the uninvited guest?
But you needn't have worried. The towel clad man that enters the room does a split second double-take and then grins, making him even more gorgeous. His dark hair is wet from the shower and his skin is tanned and smooth. He's not the only one that's just discovered they got a better deal than they were expecting.
'You brought your twin.' He looks from one to the other of you. 'Or at least one of you did. Who did I meet in the bar?'
Mindful of Giselle's warning, you stay quiet and let her answer.
'You mean which one of us is wearing your present.' She crooks her finger to beckon him to the bed. 'You'll just have to find out for yourself.'
She uncurls her legs and kneels up on the bed, knees apart and shoulders back in a sexy invitation. A couple of seconds later you copy her, your legs trembling with nervous excitement, hoping you can fake the confident allure that Giselle exudes. She holds out one hand as he approaches the bed so you take his other hand as he reaches out.
You both guide him to the hemlines of your red dresses and leave him to wander your inner thighs. His touch is warm and soft and you wonder if the sensation it provokes in your skin is as delicious for Giselle as it is for you. Your eyes are on him though and you could almost forget she was in the room too. Your gasp as he skims the fabric of your panties at the front is genuine and she follows with an intake of breath of her own.
He cups the mound of your pussy and probes further with his fingers, sliding over your lips and the dampening material that still guards the way inside. He finds the sensitive spot at the back and you shiver when he digs in slightly to push against the material covering your most secret place. His hand relaxes and you guess that he's discovered Giselle's string of rhinestones as he moves back and forth under her skirts.
'Hello again,' he says.
'Actually…' she says as she reaches behind her, winking at you. She unzips her dress, moving her hips and pulling it over her head, shaking her hair free to so that her naked breasts quiver invitingly.
You take her cue. 'That was me.' You tug your dress up and off and drop it on the floor, conscious that his hand has become more active and his fingers splay out through your pleasure soaked panties. You unhook your bra and your breasts fall free.
'Then consider the introductions made.' He clearly doesn't have enough hands to do all the things he wants to do.
Giselle moves closer towards him and starts kissing and licking his neck and chest. You drape yourself over the other side of him. He brings his arms around both of you and holds you at the base of your spine. His cock springs up underneath the towel. One eye on Giselle, you work your way across the firm muscles of his chest, pausing to flicker your tongue over his nipples. She's loosening the towel at his waist and you join in for the mirror effect. The towel falls away and his erection glistens between you.
Catching your eye, Giselle bows her head and pauses to give you time to position yourself. Slowly, simultaneously, you run your tongues down either side of the shaft and up again, briefly meeting over the head and around the rim. He groans, his hand woven into the hair at the nape of your neck. Back down to the base of his cock but this time you both dip lower and take one ball into your mouths, sucking gently. The skin moves around under your lips as delicate as tissue paper.
He grabs your left breast, squeezing and kneading it roughly but not painfully. Giselle encases the whole length of him with her mouth, down as deep as she can go, sucking hard as she pulls back up and releases, nudging you subtly so that you replace her and the two of you alternate in complete sync with one another.
He cries out and his balls contract and stomach muscles tense. You're the one who tastes the salty conclusion to your double act. You press down with your tongue just underneath the rim and Giselle winks at you surreptitiously and mouths 'thanks' at you. One for the team you suppose, swallowing. You wonder if that's it, a faint but insistent pulse beating between your legs.
Again, you look to Giselle for your cue but she has is on her feet and going for the champagne bottle on the tray next to the door. He has collapsed onto the bed beside you, naked and becoming limp but still glorious looking. His eyes are closed so he doesn't see the knockout effect of Giselle's pert behind in the thong. She passes you the first glass and you swill it around your mouth, the bubbles fizzing against your tongue as your reward. She takes a sip from the second glass, then offers it to him.
'Champagne?'
He sits up and accepts the glass. 'Not enough glasses,' He shakes his head ruefully. 'I see I wasn't prepared at all.' He makes a wry reference to how quickly he came. 'That was one hell of a sexy blow job!'
Giselle leans over him and dips her finger in his glass. 'There's plenty more to come,' she purrs and circles her right nipple and then the other with the champagne. Her nipples are brown and erect but go even harder at the touch of the champagne. You accidentally on purpose spill some over your chest.
'Oh, how clumsy!' You pretend to mock yourself.
'Far too good to waste.' His eyes lighting up.
The liquid froths its way down between your breasts before he catches it with his tongue. Giselle takes his glass from his hand, tipping her head back to empty it, and joins the two of you on the bed. He fumbles for her breasts while nibbling on your nipples. Once again he doesn't have as many hands and mouths as he would like. Nor as you would like as a matter of fact. Sharing his attention is frustrating but you note the beginnings of his hard on so perhaps there will be enough to go round after all.
Giselle puts one hand on his cock, coaxing it upright, and he turns to her sucking on her nipples in turn. You join her hand with yours and the two of you stroke together, your hands following each other's in a smooth, uninterrupted flow. He leans into her and pushes her legs apart. She hooks one leg back over his waist and lays on her side. You pro
p yourself up on one elbow, smooth your hands over his back and reach between his legs to play with his balls as he enters her, the tiny thong providing scant obstacle.
He suddenly pulls out after only one or two thrusts and rolls over to you. 'Turn over.' His voice is hoarse, commanding.
He pushes your shoulders so you face away from him and he enters you from behind. Giselle's hand appears at the base of his cock and bumps against you as he pushes, stopping him from penetrating very deeply but concentrating the pressure on the hot spots just inside. She lets go of him, allowing him to push fully inside you but leaving her fingers there to stretch apart the lips of your pussy.
Somehow this is completely different from her kissing you in the lift and the feel of her fingers as they hone in on your clitoris makes you stiffen again, this time with pleasure. With him grinding inside you and her rubbing on your clit, your insides melt and you push back against him.
He's intent on prolonging his enjoyment of both of you for as long as possible and withdraws again. He lays back pulling Giselle on top of him so that she's straddling him backwards and he can watch her pump up and down on his cock, still wearing the glittering thong. His groping hand finds you and you slide down onto his fingers, using them as a substitute and rocking against them. Almost on the brink you guide him so three of his fingers are inside you. Giselle writhes and moans, dragging her hands through her hair and arching her back.
'Oh God! Oh yes! Fuck, YES!' It seems so over the top as she obviously fakes an orgasm.
She throws you a clear look and clambers off him. Then you understand. She's done it for you so you can take advantage of his cock. His thoughts flow in similar directions and he helps you climb on top of him. You sink down, filling your pussy and riding him hard. You massage your clit to get you there. Circle upon circle. His hands cup your buttocks, raising you up and slamming you down and down, hard. Harder. Harder. The circles become a point, red hot. You feel your body shrink into the single point under your fingers. Then the feeling expands suddenly and your moans come loud and genuine as you crash to an orgasm. His face contorts and he comes a second after you do.
You look down at him as his fluid trickles down the inside of your thigh. Giselle, laying next to him, sees it and mouths 'thanks' at you again. This one you definitely didn't mind. His eyes swivel from her to you and he grins broadly, feeling like an Emperor after seemingly bringing the two of you to climax. There's no doubting Giselle's expertise in inviting you along. She knew exactly how to play it.
You lay back too, looking to her to initiate the protocol for how to leave. But in the end, it's the client's choice of course.
'I could definitely do that all over again,' he says.
The end
Or...
That was certainly mind-blowing, but there’s no need to stop the fun here so you retrace your steps......
The Phone Call
You've had enough excitement for one night. This is as close as you want to go to being paid for sex. You put the envelope of cash with the key card on top on the side next to the champagne. Then you have an idea.
You're still wearing the thong after all so some explanation wouldn't be a bad idea. Plus you have to admit you're intrigued by the events of the evening so far. A cheeky note can't hurt, can it?
The shower is still running so you can risk being here a couple more minutes. You grab a pen and a piece of hotel stationery and scribble a short note.
Hi,
Wrong girl at the bar I'm afraid. I hope you don't mind I used the key card to let myself in. The money is all there. But if you mind about the key, you probably mind about the thong…I'm wearing it. If you need it back, you never know, I might be willing to meet you for champagne. Call me.
You jot your phone number at the bottom but don't leave a name. Your pulse is as fast as if you had run up the stairs to the ninth floor and the thought of being caught with the note is worse than being caught in the thong. You shove the piece of paper onto the drinks tray and leave the room.
You don't want to sit in the bar alone again and after the rush of leaving the note, the night has flattened back into boring reality. You don't really expect him to call, it's as if you had dozed off in the bar and dreamed the whole thing. He's probably furious not curious. Even so, you find yourself checking your phone repeatedly on the journey home. Nothing.
Deflated, you switch on the computer when you get home and idly flick through your emails without finding anything to absorb your attention. You wonder what the real escort is doing now. He probably called her as soon as he realised what happened and they're together now. You squirm in your seat, cringing at the amateur wording of your note when he pays for professional, high class services whenever he wants.
You switch the computer off and stare at the blank screen. Just as you're about to heave yourself from the sofa, your phone rings. An unknown number. It doesn't necessarily mean it's him but your heart speeds up just the same.
'Hello.' You try to sound as normal as possible.
'Is that my Thong Thief?' You'd recognise his deep voice from the bar even without the direct opener. Your stomach contracts in panic but the tone is light and frees you to recapture your earlier playfulness.
'Well that depends on whether you're recording this call as evidence.'
'Let's just skip straight to the punishment part.'
'No trial first?'
'OK, you're right. Send me a picture in the next minute of you in your panties and if it's not the thong, I'll let you off.'
The phone beeps as he ends the call.
You bounce the phone on the sofa in triumph. He called you instead of the escort! Rising to the challenge you giggle to yourself as you pull up your dress and quickly position your phone so it angles down your body showing your hips and stomach and the scrap of fabric below. You take the picture, attach it to a message saying: Guilty as charged and send it to the number he was calling from.
A few seconds later, the reply comes.
They could be any panties. The jury needs a further exhibit to reach a verdict
This time you need to take the dress off. You twist round to hold the phone so it can take a shot of your butt, the cheeks separated by the row of rhinestones.
The reply takes longer this time and your breathing ratchets up a notch in anticipation. You lay on the sofa, not bothering to get dressed again. Your phone beeps.
Just making myself comfortable. Verdict definitely guilty. Sentencing is the tricky part. What does the crime deserve?
How comfortable?
It's only fair that you get to see a picture of him too. After all, you don't know what he looks like except for that quick glance at his back as he left the bar. The picture he sends back has been taken from about chest height, looking down at a body laying on the bed. Sculpted abs and a narrow waist lead down to tight, black shorts. It looks like an underwear ad but the grainy quality of the photo proves it's him and that's definitely a hotel bed.
Snap! You send back the same kind of photo. Laying back on the sofa, your stomach looks flat and your breasts are full in the lacy, black bra you're wearing.
Not quite the same. I'm not wearing a bra
Normally, you'd be much more cautious than this. But the situation is so unreal, you wonder if you're just dreaming in the bar. You don't want reality to slip in by pausing for time to think instead of react. Besides, you're keeping your face out of the photos so nothing can ever come back to haunt you. Even he couldn't identify you from them. You kneel up on the sofa and unclip the bra at the back. The straps fall forward and the bra starts to slip down your breasts. Shoulders back, the phone in one hand you take a picture from the side, revealing the full curve of your right breast as the bra dangles from your nipples.
You let it fall completely and you take another photo from another angle but with your hand just covering the nipples. You send the first photo then: What bra? I'm just as comfortable as you and send it with the second picture attached
.
I'm not that comfortable anymore.
The accompanying picture leaves no doubt what he means. It shows a close up of his lower torso and upper thighs with an unmistakeable bulge in his tight shorts.
I'm guilty of more than one crime then. Multiple punishments surely?
You don't send a photo with this message. You want to see what he suggests next and don't have to wait long to find out.
Yes. Bend over and get ready to be punished
Heat pulses between your legs and you're dying to move the photo foreplay on. You kneel again arched over the back of the sofa so your butt points up, knees parted to show the thong clearly. The technicalities of this shot are more demanding and you have to prop the phone onto the coffee table and set the timer. You wait impatiently for the click as the picture is taken. The thong strains inflexibly against your pussy and you press back, feeling it dig in and raise the temperature a few more degrees to simmering.
Tell me again why you left my hotel room?!?! I think I'm the one being punished. You could always come back…
You think about it. Would the reality of it be as exciting as this? You can't remember the last time you had so much fun. You send a cheeky reply.
Well, I would but it's too cold out and I'm not dressed for it
Setting up another shot, you open the window above you so the cold night air tightens up your nipples and the skin on your breasts goes goose bumpy. Attach photo. Send.
I've got somewhere warm for you
You pause to see if a photo of the 'warm' place is coming. But taking the photos is actually more fun than receiving his pictures although seeing the effect you're having heightens the fun. You set up one more to see if he'll take the cue.
Laying on your back you stretch out and raise your knees, letting your thighs fall open. You adjust the elastic of the thong so one side is lower as if you're taking them off. Then with one hand you hold the camera while you slide the other into the top of the panties and rest it there. You have to stop your fingers seeking any lower. Not yet.
