Gigolo Ch. 07

My first client was a woman, in her late teens, a woman who had a wedding ring, her husband's credit card, G cup breasts and thick glasses. I didn't discriminate, though, and just took her glasses off before sitting myself in the back seat of her lawyer husband's Maserati Quattroporte (a car I had an eye on to buy myself, loving the looks and the obvious sexual practicalities), hooking my knob out and watching her strip completely nude before riding me to two orgasms in half an hour.

Unfortunately, her breasts weren't real, and actually the result of four operations since she was eighteen until now (three months short of her twenty-second birthday), but I still came harder through seeing them bound around in front of me. I asked to cum on them, but she said only if I took ten grand instead of fifteen. It was good sex, so I just said yes to her offer, pulled out, took the condom off and came all over her huge tits.

"Fuck, that was good," she groaned, and proceeded to rub my spunk all over her nipples. "Forget the discount, you can have all fifteen grand."

And that wasn't the end of generosity for tonight, as I picked up a very good looking guy who had booked me for three hours, and took him back to my house. Thankfully, Matt and Emma had finished; I'd seen Matt between the woman and this guy long enough to get a bit of detail on their shag before leaving.

He was in his early twenties, like me, and bi-curious about guys. He told me, as we snogged and stripped on the bed, that his girlfriend was unaware of his fantasies, and up until now, he'd managed to look up gay porn on the Internet, fantasise about men whilst he shagged her, and, of course, book me for a few hours.

I asked him to show me a picture of his girlfriend, and she was actually hot.

"Maybe I'll bring her by next time?" he asked, as I pushed him onto his back and made for his increasingly erect penis; a lovely looking nine-incher with a fat bellend.

"With this knob, I doubt she'll mind sharing you."

I licked it long, and sucked it hard, taking him to moaning and groaning my name; telling me he loved gay sex although he figured it may just be me. I recommended Matt to prove him wrong, although we did have a certain real chemistry that wasn't affected detrimentally or otherwise by the large sum of cash he'd promised me, and I reckoned it would be better with him than Matt or any other guys (Oliver and Tom included) once he went down on me... which he soon did.

He was called Harry, and sucked cock like a natural considering he'd only ever practised on a dildo of his girlfriend's whilst she was at work one day, and that didn't give any feedback.

After I'd swallowed his rather sweet tasting cum, he tasted some of my pre-cum and let me cum down his throat before we rested.

"So... you're not gay then?" he asked as I began lubing up his asshole. My phone rang for a text, so I went to read it with my dry hand.

"No, bi," I replied. "Girls are too fucking fit, like your girlfriend," I added, just as I got another text.

Dude, you may have a problem. Sam came around, I told her you were out soliciting, she's on her way. Sorry, Joe.

Hey baby, so that's your little secret, is it? No matter, it's cool, I'll come and watch you in action! Sam xxx

Come to 63 Mayfield Drive, front door is open, come quietly to the upstairs main bedroom and see what you think. Grant xxxx

She arrived ten minutes later, appearing quietly in the door in a short skirt amongst her other clothes as Harry and I still romped around; he had lubed me up and was now banging my brains out with really fucking good anal sex after I'd taken just five minutes to make him cum.

I watched, Harry oblivious, Sam touch her chest with one hand, and with the other, lift up her skirt and put it down her lacy panties to begin rubbing herself quite visibly.

Harry looked to the door a minute later, but as I looked with him, just about to cum myself, Sam wasn't there. Harry put his hand on my knob, spunked inside my arse (and the rubber as well, of course), and then jacked me off to cum on his pubes before he made his excuses and moved to the bathroom. I left the bedroom and found Sam downstairs in her lingerie still touching herself.

Neither of us spoke; in two minutes she was naked and I had her bent over the arm of the sofa fucking her tits off.

"Any chance of a threesome?" came a voice, but it wasn't Sam. I turned, and there was Harry, clean again and stroking another hard-on.

Sam turned and whistled. "Grant?"

"It's okay with me."

"Come here," she beckoned.

He moved to her front, stopping briefly to kiss me, watch my cock enter and exit her pussy, and stroke her ass, before just sitting on the sofa, cock raised high.

It didn't take any effort on Sam's part to just move her head down a little and begin sucking his dick; Harry panting and helping her head a little. I now knew his preferences pretty well; black women and white men. His girlfriend was a fit black chick with a fantastic arse and beautifully pert breasts (the picture he'd showed me was of her naked in a pose on his bed... she was fucking fit as fuck), which was very much like Sam; probably why he was so interested in her, and I was so interested in his missus.

I thought a little about black guys, and how I hadn't actually had one as a client yet; although another guy soliciting a street down was black, really hot and apparently had such a humongous knob, he actually put off female clients because he'd made a couple actually bleed. Yeah, not nice, but hey; he'd had sex with Hannah once and she said that despite me, Matt, and her best clients, she'd never had such an orgasm. She was sore for two days afterwards, so she hadn't gone back there.

Sam came, and concentrated on sucking off Harry as I stuck my knob in his mouth, got him to suck me off to climax, and spunked all in Sam's hair.

"Right, I'm off," she excused, stepping out of bed to put on her knickers. I'd just had her sitting on my face and was still now receiving a blowjob from Harry. "Gotta go get some sleep."

"I'm soon off, don't leave on my account," Harry said, stopping his sucking but continuing a handjob.

"It's cool, I'm knackered," she yawned, slipping on a top and tossing her bra to Harry. "Call me."

"Will do."

Harry gave me eighty grand in total; the original seventy-five plus another five for the impromptu threesome. I put him onto Claire; he said he'd make a booking, told me he was bisexual, and drove me back to my spot where I waited for my next booking.

She was a married woman, and six months pregnant. Absolutely gorgeous was how I found her, but as I showed her into my bedroom ready for fifty grand (what I had now put as my standard fee) of sex, I shared my worries.

"You're pretty heavily pregnant," I said of her, despite the fact she was still stunning; worryingly so. "When was the last time you had sex?"

"My husband won't touch me, he hasn't since we got it confirmed from our doctor. Five months ago. And quite frankly, I've got too much money to just lie in bed every night with a vibrator against my clit. I need a man, and I liked your photos."

"Your husband won't touch you?" I asked, touching her myself as I gently fondled her clearly enlarged breasts.

"No, he thinks shagging a pregnant chick is dangerous. I've checked with my GP, I'm cool for another month."

"Fair enough. Jacuzzi?"

"Nah, I'm too horny to wait. Sit down and get your knob out."

I did exactly as she said, stripping the rest of my clothes off as she knelt down, got her bump all comfortable, and began sucking me off. Ten minutes later, I was returning the oral favour, and before the half hour was out, I had her sitting delicately upon my dick and staying perfectly still as I shagged her from below.

It was a little disrespectful, and a little wrong too, but she wanted me to spunk on her stomach and boobs, so that was what I did, before taking a photo on my phone and then banging her up her arse.

It was half five when I finished for the day, promising myself a day off once I'd woken up, and found myself still in bed with my last client; a woman in her mid thirties who wanted to give me a hundred grand by wire transfer in return for unprotected vaginal sex. She showed me her proof, I showed her mine, and we just did it twice before falling asleep.

My alarm went off at midday, and we got up before shagging in the shower and back in bed before I let her go at around one o'clock, took the money and went out to lunch.

In total, last night had got me the first three clients as you met, that last woman, and a man inbetween who gave me another hundred grand by wire transfer if I just sucked his knob for an hour. He was sweet, and kinda cute, so I tossed in a shag for free. It was enough to take me way past six million in my account, so I decided to treat myself to more nice things.

My new hotel called me to brief me on the latest month's profits and takings; informing me that my 50% cut of the profits was £1.243million; another stunning figure I would look to splurge completely on houses and cars.

It was three o'clock, though, when I entered an estate agent in Central London that was selling lots of apartments, studios and penthouses for anything from half a million to ten million pounds. I whistled at that penthouse; a twenty-fifth floor massive apartment about five times the size of my house in a prime location right on the business end of The Thames. The estate agent smiled at me.

"Would you like a viewing?" he asked.

"Can't afford ten million," I replied.

"Well, we can take 50% deposit if you'd prefer."

It didn't take much consideration; I had the five million necessary to have the keys by dinnertime, and if I signed up on a low-interest high-payment mortgage deal, I could be in full ownership in just months. "Yes," I replied. "Yes, I'd like a viewing."

Forget dinnertime, it was half four when I was making the wire transfer for five million direct to the estate agent who had re-possessed the house from a vendor who wasn't keeping up repayments and was selling it for 90% of market value.

I got the keys, and arranged to put up for sale my current home near my spot for two hundred grand -- a slight profit on what I bought it for.

The arrangement was that I paid off at least half a million pounds on the penthouse every month, and I knew I could easily keep up with that so long as I kept my high earnings up.

Half an hour later I was in the flat in Cockfosters checking my personal e-mails and website when I found a surprising booking. Out of five, I had one all-nighter for a million quid on the same night Mickie had texted me to say she was having her million-pound-man tonight. It was unprotected all night with a woman in her mid-twenties who was about to start a one-year sabbatical from her job as a City Banker. She was hot, clean, and single, plus from France which meant her accent would surely be even hotter than her.

She was due to pick me up at seven, so I tossed my clothes on and saw to my other four clients without ever leaving my spot; once on the pavement with a guy, three times on three women's car bonnet for a total of £130,000. I was recovering from a very hard fifty grand shag when she arrived and invited me back to her hotel room. Seeing this as a perfect opportunity, I switched venues to my new penthouse.

"Wow, this is nice," she whistled as I showed her into the huge open plan area. Left was a fully fitted luxury, gadget-filled kitchen, an eight-seater dining area, straight ahead was a living area and huge balcony, and right was private access to the roof garden, plus the en-suite king-sized bedroom.

"Drink?" I asked, making for the kitchen.

"What do you have?"

The estate agent had been game enough to take ten grand from my account and buy loads of chilled wine and champagne, and I opened my fridge to see it all, as well as the receipt. "Champagne?"

"You live well. I mustn't be the only rich woman."

I saw her looking at a door that didn't seem to go anywhere. "That's the roof terrace, go up and I'll bring your drink."

Amélié -- that was her name -- smiled and went up there. One of the gadgets in the kitchen was a control panel laptop-type contraption that meant I could control almost everything electrical in the house. I pressed some buttons and the lights and patio heater came on up on the roof. I poured champagne and went up there to find her in her underwear, sitting on the side of the upstairs pool (I could reveal it from under its cover from downstairs too) with her legs in the warm water.

I smiled, stripped to my boxers and went into the Jacuzzi annexed to the pool where she joined me for some drinking and kissing, which turned into her baring her naked body to the March air and riding me unprotected right there to our shared orgasms.

This lasted until not even the patio heaters and heated water were containing the cold night air, and we returned naked to the warmth of the indoor penthouse.

"I could get used to this life," she groaned as I now had her on my bed licking her out whilst helping her fondle her amazing CC breasts. "Is it always like this for you?" she asked.

"No," I answered in a muffled fashion. "I've only just bought this place and met you."

She smiled at that, and grabbed me to pull me on top of her, flip us over and start sensually sucking my cock.

"Can you get it in yet?" she asked, now bending over as the night drew to a close. On her say so, I'd spent half an hour teasing her asshole with a cucumber and some lube, and now I was ready to break her anal cherry (yeah, I know, a fit 26 year-old Frenchwoman and she hadn't had anal sex).

I moved my knob towards her ass. "Yeah, are you ready?"

"Oui. Fuck me, you gorgeous man."

Slowly, I tried to push it in but it slipped in quickly, and in minutes, I was banging her tits off once again and bringing her to two consecutive orgasms before I even pulled out and came on her cunt.

She stayed the night, and I woke her up with a grand's worth of exotic breakfast and some more shagging before she dropped me back off at my spot, completed the wire transfer, agreed she would try and come back to me once she was done sunning herself in the Caribbean, and left.