Raoul's 18th Birthday Ch. 04

She dances around in front of him a while, touching herself, waving her hips back and forth, bending over. Then, grinding on his cock again, she guides his hands to cup her breasts. She unsnaps her bra, but when she stands up and turns around she covers her nipples with her arm, smirking as she prances around, slowly moving her arm to reveal more and more of her tits. But finally she cups them in both hands, mounts his body again, and rubs his face with them, placing first one bright pink nipple and then the other in his lips.

Then, still straddling him, she begins to undress him. She pulls his t-shirt over his head, brushing her hands all over his chest and stomach, obviously enjoying herself. She kisses his nipples, then down his torso as her hands massage his cock through his jeans.

Finally she unsnaps his jeans, rubs his dick through them some more, unzips them and pulls them down to his knees, and rubs his dick through his underwear.

She turns around to grind him again, her panties on his underwear, basically dry-humping him.

"Oh, fuck," he says, holding her waist in his hands.

But she pulls away, wagging her hips in front of him. She bends over to pull off the fishnet stockings, pushing her butt up in the air as high as she can get it.

"Nice," he growls.

She turns around and begins running her hands over his body, from his chest to his crotch and down his thighs, over and over, each time closer and closer to his cock.

Then she begins massaging it through his underwear with both hands.

A moment later a spot of precum soaks through.

"Oh," she coos, "looks like you're reading then."

"Any time," he affirms.

She pulls his underwear off, but then she stands on the sofa, her butt in front of his face. Before he realizes what she's doing, she somehow gets her knees up over his shoulders, locking her thighs around his head. Her panties are on his face so he can't see anything, but he feels her sucking his dick while he hears her open the condom, and then feels her sliding the condom on with her mouth.

He's never had a girl put a condom on him with her mouth before. That is how it should be done, he thinks appreciatively.

Just as quick as anything, she's suddenly standing in front of him, her fingers beginning to pull her panties down.

"You ready for a little pussy, Big Cock?" she teases.

With one finger, he gestures for her to come to him.

She turns around, rubbing her hips on his dick as she pulls her panties down.

And then she hops up, straddling him backwards, and he's inside her already. She grabs his hands and slaps them onto her breasts, pressing them firmly into her little tits.

She does indeed know how to ride a cock, moving expertly over it with her back arched like a bow.

Raoul, extremely impressed, watches her work.

But she has to work harder than she probably expected — since, again, this is literally the eighth time he's cum today — but she eventually gets the job done alright. Grabbing her waist, he pulls her down onto his shaft as his body shakes.

She leans back against him, still arching her back expertly, and he holds her there until his softening cock finally slips out of her pussy.

"You liked that, didn't you?" she asks happily, looking over her shoulder.

"Oh, fuck," he sighs.

She giggles, turning around to straddle him. "That's the best fuck I've ever had in here," she says. "We can do that any time you want, but don't tell anyone. I mean, not like your sisters or anyone."

"Okay."

"You can tell them you did it with other girls here. Just not with me."

"Okay."

"If we do it outside, you can tell them, but not about doing it here."

"Okay." He's lazy from cumming, but this series of instructions is starting to worry him, so he tries to cut it off. "I never tell anyone about what I do with a girl. You can tell, I don't care, but I never do."

"Thank you," she kisses his cheek. "But did you like it?"

"You have a fucking hot body and you know how to use it. Great tits, nice ass, and fantastic technique." He takes her chin in his fingers, "Emma, I definitely want to do that with you again sometime, and I don't care where we do it or who you want to tell."

Giggling, she kisses his cheek again. "Thank you, Raoul. You're so sweet. But can you give me some money? The guys won't like it if I do this for free. They'll want some. I'll give the rest back to you when we're outside afterwards."

"How much?" He reaches for his jeans and pulls out his wallet.

"They're gonna know what we did, so we better go with fifty. They won't like it if I did it for less."

She sees him start to count it out and realizes she could've asked for more.

"Can I have twenty too? Just for me?"

"You want a tip, huh?" he winks.

She gives him her cutest, most pathetic smile and shrug.

"Here's fifty for the tip. Don't tell anyone I'm such a good tipper. That's only for you and I don't want other girls expecting that much."

"It's our secret," she promises, pressing her naked body up against him and sucking his earlobe.

"And you don't have to give it back outside," he tells her. "We had fun. You did backflips and shit."

She kisses him on the cheek again, reaching down to rub his cock a little.

"Since you've been so sweet, I'll give you some advice," she tells him, pulling the condom off and wiping it with some tissues.

"Good."

"If you want a blowjob, ask for Candy. She's supposedly the best at that."

"Well, I appreciate that."

"She'll probably ask for a hundred, but she'll do it for fifty. Twenty for the room and fifty for the suck."

This is the moment Raoul realizes that Emma is not just role-playing with him.

This is prostitution.

He's just become a punter, a john...

He scowls, trying to take that in. What is happening here?

"Actually, Emma, can I ask you for a favor?"

"Don't forget to call me 'Raven,' though."

"Okay, I will, out there, but right now I want to talk to Emma, not Raven."

"What?"

She seems worried.

"Please don't tell anyone that we did this. Especially not anyone we both know. I don't want people to know that I did this."

"That's what I want too."

He thinks about it some more.

She was scared not to have enough money for "them."

"How much of the money do you have to give them?" he asks.

Something, perhaps a hint of worry in his voice, changes her mood completely. She stops rubbing his dick, simply holding it in her hand.

"Why do you want to talk about things like that? You make it sound like a bad thing. Just have a good time and don't think about things like that."

So he realizes she's not going to talk about that with him, at least right now.

"Okay, you're right. I was just curious."

"Anyway, we need to get out of here," she jumps up and starts putting on her clothes.

He sees her throw the condom and tissues in an open trash bucket already about half full of tissues.

"Did the ribbing work for your pleasure, Raven?"

"Your cock worked for my pleasure, Boss."

When they go back out, the crowd has gotten bigger, maybe ten or fifteen new guys have arrived, and from the way everyone looks at him he can tell they've been talking about him. (Whenever Raoul walks into a room, heads turn because of his size. But he can feel the difference when people know who he is.)

Uneasy that they all must know that he's just paid for sex, he worries for a moment that they may be judging him, but then he realizes, no, they're all at a strip club, if they're even thinking about what he's been doing, they're congratulating him.

It's just his own uneasiness. Will Emma tell people? Will people be gossipping about him?

Was it wrong?

This is not the kind of reputation he wants. Women line up to fuck him because they want to fuck him, not because he has cash for them. Hell, some women — none of them tempting — have even offered to pay him.

But even more, he's disappointed himself again. He thinks of himself as a man who protects women, not one who participates in their exploitation and oppression.

Raven apparently notices people staring at them too, because she starts strutting proudly, sticking her butt out and wagging her hips.

Or maybe that's just how she walks around when she's working.

Raoul is looking around for Scott or Jerry, but someone stops him.

"Hey, Boss?"

He recognizes the tone instantly. This is one of those guys who's intimidated and wants to prove that he's not intimidated.

"Yeah?"

He tries to keep his own tone flat. If possible, he'd like to reassure the guy. Let him look tough for his buddies, let him know he doesn't have to prove anything.

But he's not going to disrespect himself either. If the guy's belligerent, he'll have to learn a lesson.

"How tough you think you are, Boss?"

"Pretty tough." He looks down at the guy.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"You think you could kick my ass?"

Raoul sizes the guy up. White guy, clearly drunk, but only about six inches shorter than Raoul. He's tattooed, long hair, wearing a leather vest, so probably one of the bikers. He looks pretty strong but he's also a bit fat. Probably less than twenty-five years old, probably always been one of the biggest guys around, hasn't been in too many fights.

So there's no question in Raoul's mind about who will win this fight and little question about how long it will take — unless something unexpected happens.

And a lot of guys are listening carefully now.

Raoul learned a long time ago, all the way back when he knocked that boy senseless with a pipe, that if you avoid fights, you have to go around avoiding fights, but if you go around welcoming fights, the fights avoid you.

It's also a very welcome distraction from the thoughts he was dealing with a few moments ago.

But there's an audience whose behavior he can't predict. Is this guy a Khan? Are they going to stay out of it?

So the first step is to alienate his antagonist a bit.

Raoul smirks down at him.

"Relax, sweetheart. You don't want to get hurt."

"Oooooh," the crowd of men laugh. "You gonna let him talk to you like that, Todd?"

Todd's face turns red.

"You think you can hurt me, asshole? Who you callin' sweetheart? I'll break your fuckin' neck!"

Raoul only laughs. Shaking his head, he looks at the guys standing around like, "Can you believe this fool?" He's including them, inviting them to be on his side, and some of them are accepting.

So he's got at least a few of them already, and he guesses that's all he needs.

"What's so funny, you stupid son of a bitch?" the guy is barking. "I'll knock that smile off your big brown face!"

In response, Raoul merely gestures for the guy to step forward. He does it as insultingly as he can, as if he doesn't think Todd is manly enough to do it.

Of course the point of that is to force Todd to do it.

So Todd does it. He steps forward, chin up.

"Let's place some bets," Raoul tells the crowd loudly. "I've got fifty bucks that says Todd here —" he pronounces the word "Todd" with all the scorn he can load into his voice — "can't last ten seconds against me. Anyone want to take that bet?"

"What's that? The hell?"

It's Scott. He apparently heard Raoul's challenge and has just realized what's about to happen, so he jogs over.

"I'm about to beat the fuck out of little Todd here," Raoul tells him.

"No he aint," Todd insists.

Scott looks at them, sees that this fight is not going to be easy to stop. But he also sees that Todd isn't going to last long.

And, he sees, he'll get to watch Boss Badoss himself whup somebody's ass right there in person!

Todd's a troublemaker anyway, Scott reflects.

"Have at it," he shrugs, stepping back.

"I'm looking for someone to put fifty on Todd lasting ten seconds but no one seems to believe in him."

"Hell, I wouldn't take that bet either," Scott says. Raoul thinks his goal is to humiliate Todd to prevent the fight, but then he says, "How about five seconds?"

"I'll take it myself," Todd says.

"Good!" Raoul says. "Hold this money for us."

As Raoul takes his wallet out, Scott asks him, "You sure you want to do this?"

"Why not?" Raoul shrugs. "I'm gonna take fifty from Todd here and get another dance."

Scott nods, and he goes around taking men's money. To keep them straight, he puts guys who bet on Raoul behind Todd, and guys who bet on Todd behind Raoul. That also limits how far Todd and Raoul can move.

Raoul watches them as they bet. More than half seem to be on his side, even the guys who bet on Todd. Clearly Todd's not so popular here.

Then Scott addresses the crowd. "Y'all stand back. We ain't having no brawl here. It's just Todd and Boss, man to man, and it ends when I say it ends. Y'all hear me? It ends when I say it ends!"

The men agree readily.

Raoul takes off his jacket and watch, handing them to Raven along with the box that has the brass knuckles. He notices Todd scowling at her, and notices that Emma seems to flinch away from Todd's gaze, but Raoul dismisses it as Todd being drunk and Emma being, naturally, a little frightened.

"Alright, stand back!" Scott orders, and the crowd makes a little more space for the fight.

Todd steps back too, putting a little more distance between him and Raoul.

Raoul taunts him, laughing and raising his chin.

"Mother fucking faggot," Todd mutters, raising his fists.

"Alright!" Scott shouts. "Fight!"

Immediately Raoul leaps forward, feinting a right hook. As you'd expect, Todd flinches and a roundhouse from Raoul's left hand catches him square in the jaw.

That punch might have already knocked Todd out but Raoul follows up with a right-handed uppercut before anyone can be sure. Both punches carry the full force of Raoul's core strength — as well as his years of training and experience.

He'd aimed the upperut for Todd's chin, of course, but Todd's face is still sideways from the impact of the first punch, so it lands on his left jaw, snapping his neck back and spinning him around as he collapses. Raoul tries to get in a left hook too, but Todd falls too fast, so it misses.

Completely unconscious, Todd's head hits the concrete floor so hard that it bounces.

The savagery of Raoul's punches shocks the men so much that there's silence for at least half a second. Probably none of them have ever witnessed firsthand and close-up the ferocity that a very strong man who knows what he's doing can put into a punch — and none of them will forget it soon either.

It's one of Raoul's favorite combinations, and he works on it every week.

"Holy fuck!" Scott gasps as the men erupt into cheers.

Raoul, standing over Todd, takes a deep breath to calm himself down and then tries to shake the pain out of his left hand.

"Goddamn!" he laughs. "That motherfucker's head is hard!"

"Did you kill him?" Scott worries. He squats to roll Todd over while the crowd congratulates Raoul, "high fiving" him and saluting him with exclamations like, "Fucking awesome!"

"Well, he's breathing," Scott says, standing up. "I thought you killed him. God damn!"

Raoul laughs, putting his arm around Scott's shoulder. "He'll have a headache. Where's my money? I need a drink and another dance!"

"Yeah!" one of the men shouts. "Get him a dance!"

Emma offers his possessions back to him, beaming with happiness, so as he receives them he picks her up by the waist and twirls her around as she screams happily.

"Here's your loot," Scott laughs, clearly over his worries. He turns to the crowd. "Get him out of the way. I got to give y'all your money."

"I'll take care of him," Raoul says. He pulls Todd up by his arms and heaves him over a shoulder. "Jesus, this fat fuck," Raoul grunts. "Where you want him?"

"Take him back to Jerry's office and leave him on the couch."

"Gotcha."

He carries Todd's limp body across the club to Jerry's office, escorted by cheers.

"Boss! Boss! Boss! Boss!"

So when he steps back out of Jerry's office he puts on a little show for them, kissing each of his biceps like Hulk Hogan.

After that, there's a lot of drinking. Guys take turns buying him shots until he insists he can't take anymore, and then they have the ladies line up to take turns motorboating him and giving him lap dances.

He's so drunk, though, that he doesn't even care about the women. He just needs them to get a break from the drinking.

Everything becomes a blur.

Eventually he's outside in the back parking lot, laying on a long propane tank, one leg on each side, using the cap over the valve as a pillow. He's vomiting on the other side of the tank, away from the parking lot, as "Raven" and a couple other girls rub his back and shoulders.

Then Jerry calls them back to work and they leave him there alone.

He actually feels a lot better after vomiting, but he stays there because the coolness of the night and the steel through his sweaty t-shirt feels good, and he wants to think things over.

Before long, he realizes that he couldn't be happier. He got in a fight, knocked a guy out. Bunch of motorcycle guys bought him shots. All kinds of boobs got bounced against his face.

The prostitution thing, well, that wasn't intentional. Clearly Emma wanted to fuck him, and the money was to cover her own ass when "they" asked her what had gone on. She was going to give it back to him anyway.

Yeah, she's a prostitute, but she basically fucked him for free, so his conscience is almost clear.

He considers how long it'll take him to be ready to ride his bike again. He can't get all the way home. He'll have to sober up a bit and then just go to a little motel somewhere close. He'll have to save enough of his stripper money to pay for it.

At some point, Scott comes out to get him.

"How ya doin', son? Ya have too much fun tonight?"

"Shit," Raoul groans, turning his head to look at him. "I'm not done yet."

"Well, you might want to stay out here a bit. Some of Todd's brothers come to get him and they ain't too happy."

Raoul laughs. "Really?"

"I'm serious, son. They've got friends too. There's six or eight of them at least. Somebody been calling folks. You can come back in when you're ready but I figure you ought to know there might be trouble."

"Well," Raoul drawls, "Now I'm interested."

"You got your knuckle dusters?"

"Got 'em right here." He taps his jacket.

"But you might want to have them on when you come in."

Raoul looks at him skeptically.

"I'm serious, son. Them boys is mad. Tell you the truth, I don't know if I want you out here or in there."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, in there, you're likely to cause a fight. But I have a feeling it might start anyway. Guys have been pretty rowdy already tonight. And if it does start, we could use you in there."

"These guys, Todd's friends, are they Khans?"

"Hell no. Just some punks. Troublemakers. Not our type at all. Some boys say they're actually Compas. A few more of our guys are on their way though."

"Compas?"

"Another gang. I don't believe it though. They'd be crazy to come here though."

"How would you feel if I come in an' whooped their ass a bit then?"

"Shit, we wouldn't mind much. Lately Jerry an' me been talkin' about whether that lot's even good for business. They're a bit on the rough side, maybe they scare away the white collar boys that come around and spend real dough. This is a business."

"Alright then," Raoul sits up on the propane tank like it's a horse. "Let's go back inside. I'll get one more dance off in a corner by myself and then I'll go. If nothing happens by the time I leave, it's not gonna happen."

"Hey, son, you be careful though. No tellin' what those fools'll do. Throw that old cigar box away and put them things in your pockets so you can reach 'em fast."