Bree's Grift

Chapter One

Brianna Morgan Long called herself many names in the course of any given day, but in her head she called herself Bree. She spoke to herself at times, the way most of us do. A typical conversation might go something like this.

"Jesus Bree, are you really going to let him go down on you?"

"As if I wouldn't! Hahahahaha!"

"Well, why wouldn't I? It feels awesome. I don't give a shit if he doesn't deserve it, I wanna cum."

"He has great shoulders from down there. But I can see his bald spot."

"Is it wrong I think it's' cute?"

"You are a pervert. You like these older guys."

"They fuck better, duh!"

"I hope this one does, anyway. I was getting so horny out on the beach."

"Shut up, his tongue feels fucking awesome!"

The current paramour lapping her slit was named George, he looked to be in his late forties. Not bad shape, all things considered, but he was handsome. A sort of George Clooney thing.

"Wait. That's why I called him George. His name is French, isn't it?"

"I wasn't listening."

Then Bree began to moan as George worked over her clit with his tongue and she writhed in pure delight.

These two had met less than thirty minutes ago. Bree had been doing yoga on the beach in front of George's hotel. After a period of stretching and bending in many provocative positions Bree had sat beside George on the beach and said hi.

George had immediately begun to flirt with her as hard as humanly possible. He fired as many shots as he could in the hopes that something would land. Bree had stopped him simply because she didn't want to hear the timbre of desperation in his voice anymore.

George was now fucking her with his fingers and she began to buck her hips, humping his clever fingers. Bree began to massage her breasts with both hands, panting as her body grew flushed with desire.

"You weren't kidding I was horny. I'm totally going to cum. Fuck this guy is great."

George lifted his free hand, the one not pressing hard on her g-spot and took over massaging one of her breasts. Alternating between grinding his tongue hard on her button and doing something she couldn't see that was making it burn with a biting sweet pleasure, George had Bree on the verge of climax. The thing he was doing with his mouth made her stop breathing after a few seconds each time it happened.

Lifting up on her hands she peered down between her wide flung thighs and tried to see what he was doing. But he saw her movement, and she felt and saw him smile into her folds, and do the Thing harder. Bree tensed up as her clit flared with the most glorious feeling she had ever experienced.

Thrown to her back, her climax exploded the instant her mind was distracted trying to discover what the Thing was. Focusing on her clit intensely she tried to dissect the mechanics of what his mouth was doing, and she forgot about pleasure.

Paradoxically her pleasure fought harder for her attention. Her orgasm grew more powerful. As her mind fragmented into two parts, she lost any resistance to George's tongue and the miraculous thing he was doing. The part behind her eyes that tried to form thought failed, while her clitoris suddenly became a sentient being that beamed pure euphoria back up her spine.

Gasping and panting Bree squirmed in delight until suddenly George stopped licking her and removed his hands from groping her breasts and plunging into her depths.

Opening her eyes reluctantly, Bree huffed as she tried to regain her composure. She looked at George who was trying to stand up, but couldn't keep his balance.

"Whaaazz happennnn..." George slurred. He staggered like a man powerfully inebriated, but he had only had two beers. Bree curled up on the couch and avoided his flailing hands. George looked very concerned, but also uncomprehending. Struggling for a few minutes George slumped, asleep on the floor, or at least he was so incapacitated he wasn't opening his eyes. He moaned and sniveled every so often.

Naked, Bree stopped surfing Facebook, stood and put her phone back down on the sofa. She began to look through all the drawers in the hotel room and to open ever pocket on every piece of Georges clothing. When Bree found his wallet she discovered his name was actually Norm Chenier, hence the French thought.

In the end she had found a thousand dollars, and had taken half of every dollar she found, rounding up when the bills didn't work. Hopefully Norm wouldn't even notice he's lost five hundred bucks. Bree's sincere desire was that all Norm remembered flirting with a gorgeous blond teen, with a perky as fuck body.

The memory would be that- miracle of miracles this utterly adorable, little cutie pie had agreed to come to his room, that they had had some drinks and kissed. After he had fondled her a bit he had passed out and was happy to find money in his wallet and everywhere he had stashed it. Phwef, nothing bad happened.

That was her fantasy, the loop she played in her head as she began her Grifts.

Dressing in her tiny, faded pink bikini she made sure to arrange the small bottoms so that the front was loose and baggy, the back slipping up into her crack, exposing one cheek. She tied the teeny triangles of the top in such a way that the front sagged and her pale pink nipples peeped out when she shrugged her shoulders forward.

She slipped on her flip-flops, tied her long, blond hair up in a top-knot, put her headphones on and plugged them into her phone, pressing play on her "vocal chill" trance playlist. Grabbing her yoga mat in its sling bag, she glanced at herself in the mirror as she walked out the door.

Bree was twenty seven, but at five foot one and ninety five pounds she looked like a teenager. As a great cosmic joke she looked Innocent and Pure. The arrangement of her features, particularly when she adopted the role of a childish young woman, appeared to be the face of an unsoiled, unjaded young woman with no fear of the wide world.

This was rather funny considering all the shitty things that had happened to Bree to bring this point. Here to the point where she robbed tourists for a few hundred dollars at a time and often had sex with them for no other reason that it made her feel good.

It felt good to feel pleasure at all; it was noticeably absent most of the time.

Not that she didn't live in paradise.

"God I love these islands." Bree sang to herself as she walked out of George's hotel right out onto the beach of Wailea, Maui. Bree's family had moved here in the early nineties when she had been five. By the time she had driven her father off, after her mom died, she had been fourteen.

If it hadn't been for the amazing climate here, and the abundance of tourists, Bree would very likely have died or had to become a hidden prostitute. The flesh trade in Hawaii was hard to see, and so much seedier than in other places, or so it seemed to Bree from outside all of it.

It had been a very hard journey to avoid prostitution until she had discovered her most tried and true Grift.

Yoga Girl was so simple it worked every time. Even now, after George, she was going to do it again, probably two more times today. Simply walking down the beach to the next hotel along the water front, Bree looked for a spot where a significant group of men sat watching the women on the beach.

It was easy to find a spot in the middle of the area the men surrounded because few women were brave enough or unobservant enough not to notice the wolves drooling over the smorgasbord of exposed females.

Feigning obliviousness, Bree unrolled her mat on a strip of lawn that separated the sand from the hotel lobby. Enjoying the EDM music, she kicked off her flip-flops and removed her sunglasses. Facing the mat toward the sun, high in the afternoon sky, she was essentially parallel to the hotel, giving the widest possible audience the best view of her body.

That was why she chose this time of day for her Grift, the light made her look excellent. The Sun's angle was perfect to showcase her body to her audience, and marks were dopey in the afternoon heat.

Starting with a Sun Salutation, Bree began to honestly do yoga. She had been practicing since she'd seen in on the beach years ago. The first form of this Grift was to let people give her free lessons. Now, over a decade later, she was very, very practiced.

Bree was built like a pixie; tiny breasted, small-waisted and fine boned. This added to the youthful look. After her sun salutation, Bree began to flow through a series of moves that displayed her body to most provocative effect.

Every pose she could think of that thrust her pert breasts up and out, she did. Bree's nipples often got caught, the hard points of them trapped on the outside of her bikini. When this happened Bree pretended not to notice and would stretch for as long as she could justify with either nipple exposed.

Each pose that made her part her legs and expose her poorly concealed crotch she did as well. Bree self-consciously left a small tuft of trimmed hair above her pussy. The sides and lips she waxed regularly. When she did as she was now; lunging forward on one leg, pressing her hips far forward to stretch her hip flexor, her poorly fitted swimsuit would pull down and expose the top of the hair.

Bree felt this was far more inciting to her marks, a little, tiny bit of hair showing, than being obviously bald. Her thinking was that if she had some hair men would feel more confident that she was of legal age. She might scare off a mark if he thought she were too young.

Also the golden glint of her almost white pubes made her happy. Bree- "As if it isn't obvious." -was an exhibitionist.

Sweating heavily now in the mid-afternoon heat, Bree did some much deeper, more serious stretches, taking advantage of how limber she was becoming. At one point, with her own face near her crotch as she curled over, she noticed the large wet spot on her bikini bottoms.

"You little slut." She said to herself. "You've gone and told everyone you like this."

"Well, fuck 'em. I am horny. And if they aren't- then they aren't breathing."

"It's because of that orgasm. What was he doing to my clit?"

"I wish I knew!"

Clearing her mind of the distracting voice, and the watching eyes, Bree gave over to a real, spiritual yoga practice now. For a long period, that seemed like it might have been twenty minutes, Bree simply emptied her mind of all else, putting her body through a series of difficult poses that had her shaking by the end.

Then she cooled herself down, aligned her body lying on the mat and lay in death pose to allow her muscles to absorb what had been done to them and to memorize the perfect looseness.

When her mind returned to prod her to get to work, Bree enjoyed the feel of her body and tried to hear the conversations around her. That made her sleepy though, so she sat up, put on her sunglasses and took her stuff in a jumble to the verge of grass.

Scanning as she walked, Bree selected a mark and sat as close as she could to a handsome and muscular Persian-looking guy who sat in swim shorts and sandals, pretending not be ogling her behind his sunglasses.

Fumbling in her bag she pulled out her water bottle and as she twisted off the cap she looked around like she had just woken from a nap.

"Oh hi." She blurted at the stud beside her. "Do you mind if I sit here, I didn't even ask, I was a little disoriented."

"Are you okay?"

"I was doing some yoga and I think maybe I over did it."

"I saw you. That was serious stuff. You are gor-super flexible."

"Aw. Thanks." She blushed, falling into the role of Ariana, her most successful persona for hooking hunky, young guys who expect to be admired by women.

She drank some more water, giving him time to pitch his line if he wanted.

He wanted.

"I'm Zak."

"Hah. Funny! I'm Ariana, we would never be next to each other be in class. Opposite ends of the alphabet."

"Unless there were no-one else around."

"Are you alone?"

"Yes, are you?" He begged her to be.

"Yeah. So I guess we can be next to each other now."

"No-one between us." Zak let his face grow soft and inviting, peering over his own sunglasses with his dark brown eyes twinkling. It was really sexy.

"Oh this boy knows how to play the game! But so do I?"

Bree let her eyes grow hopeful and yearning. Zak's expression grew sharper, a predator with the scent in his nostrils. Weak meat.

Long ago Bree had started watching movies as a way to escape a horrible home. She had dreamed of being an actor when she was young and foolish. That hadn't lasted long. Yet she never stopped loving the movies and doing her level best to act as well as the best movie stars when she worked her Grift.

The trick, she's found, was to feel the emotion she wanted, then try and hide it from the other person. People usually try to present a mask, not wear their emotions on their sleeve. Bree would attempt to hide her feelings but fail, slightly. If she gave them a glimpse of what she was feeling they received it loud and clear without her putting on a show. She acted for herself and, slightly less so, for her audience of one.

So now she felt the hope and longing of a young woman unsure of her desirability, but eager for attention, and then masked it behind casual indifference, which failed.

It worked perfectly.

Zak flirted with who he thought of as Ariana for just two or three minutes before her fake sun stroke impelled him to invite her up to his room. Bree had no problem giving in to her lust in this case, Zak was very attractive. He wasn't tall, maybe 5'7", but because she was so small he towered over her, no doubt loving it.

Once inside she asked if he had anything to drink. He brought her a beer.

"Oh. Cool!" she said, behaving like she was under 21 and unused to drinking beer. Glancing around nervously she took in his hotel room. She's been in similar ones hundreds of times so it was easy to assess Zak in an instant.

His luggage matched, in three sizes. He was here for a while, had money enough to buy a set, or his parents did. His clothes confirmed his own money; shoes everywhere, and all nice designer brands in a wide variety. A pair for every occasion.

The few items of outer wear she could see were all made of natural fibres and tailored. He was doing well for himself. That was why she chose this hotel. Rooms started at $400 a night and this was on the upper floors with a view.

That scan took three quick glances from the items to Zak's handsome confident face, his excellent haircut, his sculpted personal-trainer quality physique, back to the room, and down to his shorts where she hoped his cock lived up to the rest of him.

Using her own desire to fuel her innocent flirtation, Bree took every opportunity to touch Zak as he made her laugh or to make a point in the banal, stream-of-consciousness conversation they were having. Bree had been Ariana so many times in so many hotel rooms she didn't need to even pay attention to what she was saying.

Ariana's story of being on vacation from Wisconsin with her whole family spilled out of her mouth in gushing, embarrassed fits and starts. All three personalities in the room found the story boring, but Ariana needed something to say to stop her from begging Zak to kiss her.

Every molecule in her quivering, nubile, overtly displayed body yearned to be touched by Zak's strong, smooth, manicured hands. Carefully chosen as the perfect costume for just such an occasion, her bikini rode up her ass and crotch from all her squirming around on the couch, opening and closing her legs.

Zak was trying to maintain his casual, confident demeanor, while his eyes roamed her body, unsure where to ogle next. His utter glee at the idea of plundering some virgin on holidays with her family was shorting out his brain.

"Perhaps it isn't Ariana he wants? Perhaps, Bree, you underestimated your own appeal, your wit, your compassion. Or perhaps it's simply your fucking amazing body, or your adorable face? Look at him drooling over my legs. His hands are literally clawing his thighs. He can't wait to grab your little titties Bree."

"And I can't fucking wait for him to either."

"But do. Do wait. Virgin. You are terrified he will fuck you and terrified he won't. Remember."

"Shut up, I'm going to faint in his crotch. This will be hilarious!"

"Excuse me, Zak, I'm going to go powder my nose, okay?" she leaned over to pat his thigh, stood, bending over him and then smiling into his face she rolled her eyes up and went totally slack from head to toe.

Falling forward, her face pressed down onto his obvious erection and she let her weight collapse onto his lap, her ass still in the air as it fell against the back of the sofa. Zak flinched then relaxed, pleased with her cheek pressing his shaft.

Slowly languidly Bree rolled over onto her side facing the back of the sofa. While her face massaging his cock, her breasts popped out of her top as she used the couch to pull the material from her tits as she turned.

Settling, she rested her head on his thigh facing up his body, his balls under her chin, her mouth an inch from his shaft.

"I'm sorry." She pawed at his arm, groggily. "I think I'm fainted." She spoke like a drunk woman.

"Don't move for a second. You got up too fast." He said. His hand stroked her hair, brushing it from her face.

"I don't drink much."

Zak laughed. "Beer can make you light headed."

"I'm fine." Bree put her hand on his cock and leveraged herself up, bringing her face closer to Zak's. "I feel great."

Tilting her head back slightly Bree gazed at Zak, her eyes heavily lidded, her mouth moist and softly open. She held his cock, but didn't squeeze, or in any way indicate she was aware she was holding it.

The layers of this Grift were deep; Bree herself was as aroused as hell. Ariana was burning to be touched, but terrified of rejection. Ariana was drunk, sun stroked and far from home. Bree was a criminal who wanted to rob Zak.

It was a complex situation, so Bree made it simple for herself. She took it one task at a time. Make Zak kiss her first.

When he did moments later, her mouth exalted to feel the press of his thick lips. Now, she waited to use tongue until his did. After ten seconds of closed mouth, but delicious kisses, his tongue crept into her mouth.

Panting now from true desire, Bree allowed his tongue to explore her mouth, passive for a few moments, and then she mirrored his movements with her own tongue, softly mimicking his kissing style. Mirroring quickly created deeper bonds with the mark.

As Zak's passion grew his kisses grew more fierce. Instinct told Bree Zak was a top, and wanted a submissive woman. He had been a nice guy so far but he was a predator after all. That was why she was here, she'd pretended to be prey.

Dialing her intensity to remain just below his, Bree kissed him, and more often allowed him to kiss her. Their tongues danced for a few delicious moments, Ariana finding his aggression deliriously perfect.

Abruptly things changed. No longer able to remain cool and collected Zak erupted in a powerful wave of hunger for Bree. His hands began to run all over her body, grabbing her ass, massaging her thighs, opening her legs and pressing over her sex momentarily, then moving on to grope her breasts.

It happened in seconds, zero to sixty. Stupefied by lust, and the joy of his hands massaging her flesh, Ariana whimpered her desire, helpless to aid in her defilement. From moment to moment Zak's hands moved from place to place, but always one was groping her breasts, massaging the bared mounds possessively.