The Girlfriend Experience Ch. 27

Daddy/little girl age-play still stood high atop Lindsay's list of favorite role-plays, so the deep moan she emitted as she slid down his dick was guttural, authentic. Joe couldn't suppress his own shriek, either, as the nineteen-year-old's Kegel muscles seized his girth and he started her off with tiny bounces, reverse cowgirl style, extraordinary pleasure clawing up his spine.

"Put your hands on my thighs, little girl," Joe said, "and ride. You can ride the pony as long as you like."

Lindsay obeyed him and began to ride with frantic up and down motions, his cock skewering her wetness with blazing friction.

"There you go. That's it." Joe reached out and bracketed Lindsay's waist, rubbing the arc of her hipbones with his thumbs. "Ahh, 'atta girl. Daddy likes to see you ride. You're so good at it." Holding her around her middle was enchanting, too, and the pinkness of her bottom from the earlier fondling, as well as her harsh, panting breaths as his cock had its way, made it a memorable bang for Joe.

As he burrowed his face into the hollow of her collarbone, the scent of mandarin and orange blossom perfume intoxicated him. "You can ride your pony whenever you want from now on."

Of course, in keeping with the theme of the role-play, Lindsay's enviable curves were showcased in a black and gray bra; a black open front cropped tie-top fastened at her midriff, exposing her flat stomach; a flimsy gray plaid miniskirt; and knee-high checkered socks. Joe reclined farther and enjoyed the coupling with his private, all-inclusive schoolgirl - the fantasy he had paid a hefty premium for - while also swatting her ass from time to time so he could hear those lovely whimpers of distress.

Anticipation for more launched through his body, so he took Lindsay's pig-tail braids in both hands to pull her head back like she was the filly and gave her pussy a masterful jockeying. The heat around them intensified. Together with the feeling of her petite frame all along his front, possessing Lindsay in this manner and having her at his disposal no matter how she writhed, the pressure on his cock, and the idea that she was young enough to be his granddaughter, Joe could taste his heart thudding in his throat. This girl had opened the doors to a paradise of indulgence he had never once considered could exist.

"Daddy... oh, Daddy. Oh, Daddy, that feels so good." Lindsay's voice had departed from her conscious control, but she still had the wherewithal to look at her face in the mirror and witness a wince cross it as Joe's hands scoured her torso and mauled her breasts. His bony, calloused fingers curled over the dual cups of her bra and pulled it down, exposing her nipples. Lindsay's pussy, stretched by this married man's cock, and her rectum, well lubricated by his tongue, clenched hard, and soon an orgasm washed over her in a skin-shifting dance. "I love my new pony, Daddy!"

Several hours later, the lewd ritual again repeated itself, only this time with a different monger and vibe. With Shahid's calves on either side of her thighs and his cock giving her pussy what it had coming doggy style, Lindsay's eyes were trained straight ahead, her mouth dangling open, as he held her hips and rode her hard, over her pulled-down G-string, like a Bay Arabian stallion moving fast across the desert. She flattened her palms against the headboard, pushing back into him to keep from banging her skull.

In fact, Shahid used Lindsay all night, purchasing twelve hours in total, and woke her at seven in the morning to suck his cock. He let his hands do all the instructing, too, wordlessly moving Lindsay down the bed so that she would do what she must, and herself stay silent except for the splendid wet sounds of professional fellatio. Shahid loved the sloppy drip of saliva falling from her chin as he pulled out to allow Lindsay feverish gasps but was anxious to fill her mouth and make her gag again.

"Too hot, too cold?"

"It's fine, sir."

"Get inside and face the wall, then, you filthy American girl."

Forty-five minutes prior to the end of their party, Lindsay did what she was told, hands pressed to the tiles while the soothing run of water cascaded from above. It soaked Lindsay's face, all her hair. She bowed her head and let it flow like a river down her spine.

Shahid stepped into the shower as well, closing the beveled glass door with a soft magnetic click before his body settled in behind Lindsay. Though fit and handsome in a worldly, aristocratic way, and with bankrolls of money at his disposal, Shahid did little to impress Lindsay on a personal level. He reminds me of Mike; he's way too arrogant. Thinks the world revolves around him. Still, Lindsay had a job to do, a customer to satisfy.

Shahid stroked her hair, combing his fingers through it, pulling the locks back over her shoulder and into the streaming water.

"Face the wall," he again said when Lindsay started to look back. "Do as I tell you." She pursed her lips and resisted rolling her eyes before he took the showerhead from its holder. "Tip your head back. Farther."

Lindsay lifted her eyes to the ceiling, half closing them in sudden pleasure when Shahid again wet her hair. He soothed his hands down the long blonde lengths, mindful to first keep the water and then the shampoo out of her eyes while lathering it.

One of Lindsay's weaknesses was the sensation of masculine hands running through her hair, soaping, stroking, and massaging her scalp until the bones seemed to dissolve from her legs. Shahid washed, rinsed, and washed again. He was silent, gauging her reactions, working the conditioner in until every strand was taken care of. Lindsay had a lot of hair, but the man was in no rush, running his fingers through over and over again. Once done, he gathered all her hair, twisting the mass up into a loose bun on top of Lindsay's head where he pinned it with two clips.

"Hips back," Shahid said. "Feet apart. Now we fuck."

Joe returned Saturday evening and enjoyed dinner at the bar before he purchased another hour, this time with Lindsay role-playing as Little Red Riding Hood (and him the Big Bad Wolf), prompting a chorus of moans and wet slaps of energetic fucking to filter out from her bedroom.

Lucas Morrison, a veteran, long-time monger, and staunch supporter of the house, showed up for the first time since December, and plucked Lindsay from a lineup. "Get on the bed now, Kayleigh, and prepare for your fucking."

Drowning in need after all the kissing and heavy groping, and a full round of oral, Lindsay climbed atop the bed and waved her ass in the air. She pressed her forehead to the blue linen and felt the mattress yield under Lucas's weight as he got into position behind her, and the latex-sheathed tip of his burgeoning shaft bumped between her legs. Her pussy spasmed as he spread her ass cheeks, his fingers digging into her skin, and pushed inside.

She loved the strength of his hands, too, rooting her hips in place, and yanking her back onto his cock with every merciless pump and knocking free all the cries she had no interest in biting back. "Yes. Right there. Don't stop," she pleaded. This felt so wrong, but nothing could have been more right. Lindsay was sexy, seductive, submissive, and safe all at the same time, and all because of the brothel. "Please don't stop." Over and over, Lucas thrust, claiming her body as her wet heat coalesced around his length and the slap of his hips gave her what she needed - a good, hard ramrodding - and she basked in it.

"No, ignore that for now," Lindsay said in the aftermath once Colt knocked on the door to inform them that their sixty minutes were up. Her subdued breath tickled Lucas's ear as she curled her face against the side of his throat and hummed. "I just want you to hold me right here for a few minutes, baby, because this feels really good."

But once Lindsay said goodbye to Lucas and she believed she had a moment to rest, she was back at it again as the prized plaything of Cordell Rice, a farmer, and mountain of a man from Montana. It had been a lifelong fantasy of Cordell's to have a sweet young girl like this to call his private property, even if it was only temporary.

He indulged that fantasy to the fullest, too, immediately bending a naked Lindsay across his lap, with her ass front and center over his left thigh. With a simple shift of his knees and push of his hand across her opposite thigh, Lindsay's left leg was imprisoned in the trap of Cordell's, leaving her right to dangle from his lap. Her knee almost touched the floor but couldn't quite reach. Every secret, intimate, feminine aspect lay open and exposed to his eyes.

"Beautiful," he said, and Lindsay nearly jumped out of her skin when he drew back his hand and swatted, catching her ass and filling the whole of the bedroom with the loud, sharp sound of impact and her shrill gasp of air. Lindsay fisted both hands and said nothing. It was all she could do just to remember to breathe as the broad flat of his hand landed subsequent blows across the swells of each bottom cheek. Right, left. Right, left. Steady as a beat and hard enough to make her really feel it. Right, left, smack!

"Your ass was made for spanking, girl." Cordell rained down hellfire and brimstone, covering both cheeks and Lindsay's upper thighs with blistering wallops that soon had her hips bucking. His lap did its job, of course: Lindsay could squirm and struggle, but could not avoid punishment. "If you were my wife, you'd be waiting for me in bed - on your hands and knees, your sweet little ass up - every day when I come home from work." Her backside had been covered with bright pink handprints which gradually began to meld together. "Would you like that, slave?"

"Yes, sir."

"Of course. I can tell you're the type of girl who needs constant discipline. Man, I'd love to be the one who gives it to you."

It was a fight for Lindsay to hold still. It was a fight she lost, too, with her eyes wide as saucers and her knuckles bone white from where she gripped the sofa cushion. She twisted, trying to catch sight of Cordell back over her shoulder, yet her hair kept getting in the way. Lindsay arched as well, her arms and legs straining against his hold, wanting anything but to break free as the swats came faster, jarring, audible slaps falling tighter and tighter together with each passing second, escalating the alluring hurt into something that felt both awful and intoxicating at the same time. Lindsay tossed her head back, groaning animalistic sounds as her poor bottom bounced and burned.

"Please!" she gasped, whimpering and panting, held captive by this stranger who couldn't seem to get enough of her either. "Please...."

"I'm going to fuck you soon. Say your safe word if this is too much and you want to stop, otherwise, I'm going to pound your beautiful little cunt until neither of us is able to walk straight in the morning. What do you say to that?" The spanking resumed, his palm again bounding off her backside hard enough that the smack sounded like a gunshot. Lindsay opened her mouth wide, drawing in a great rushing breath with which to scream, but she was interrupted by another swat. "What do you want?"

She wanted this man's dick. She wanted it so badly that she was ready to beg for it.

Cordell gazed down on Lindsay as if he were a god, admiring his most favored creation. And for these sixty minutes, well, he was a god.

Of course, Lindsay wasn't the only prostitute staying busy on this hectic Saturday.

"Holy fuck, Pamela. Your mouth. I've missed your mouth." While Shahid was bidding farewell to Lindsay earlier this morning in the parlor, Charlie Winters, of Detroit, reclaimed Pamela's lips in her bedroom, relishing the taste.

Though it had only been two months since their last party, that was far too long to be away from his all-time favorite provider, so Charlie was akin to a starving man, eating for the time in ages, yet somehow also felt like no time had passed. Pamela's kisses, her scent, and the feel of her hand stroking his erection through his Bermuda shorts like she never wanted to let go were downright titillating. Her tongue met his lick for lick, like a blissful dance. This would be Charlie's fifth visit to Flagstone, the first happening in July 2018 when Pamela took his virginity.

Aside from an ill-advised threesome with Scarlett, the thirty-seven-year-old hadn't been with another woman since.

Nor did he have any desire to.

Charlie broke their kiss and rested his forehead against Pamela's. His heart leaped like a wild stag in his throat as trembling fingers undid the zipper on the back of her metallic black dress, which accentuated a narrow waist and clung to perfect breasts. With the material parted, Pamela started to shrug it away, but Charlie stopped her.

"Please don't," he said.

"Why not?" Pamela's skin was flushed, her lips swollen, and her body ripe for consumption. She was a sublime mixture of seductive and innocent. A lethal dose of beauty and intelligence. An intriguing combination of vulnerability and strength. She was Charlie's dream come true, dammit, and he still had visions of making hers come true as well.

"We have fourteen hours to be together today." From his smartphone streamed the romantic love tune "Right Here Waiting" by Richard Marx. "Let's take it slow because I want to enjoy you. Please."

The longing in Pamela's eyes belied her inner defenses being on high alert. "Of course, baby. We'll go as slow as you want. You tell me what you want, and that's what we'll do." No monger had ever become so attached to her, not even close, and Colt wanted Pamela to blacklist this man - to never see him again. Pamela, however, wanted the oodles of cash he always spent at the ranch more.

That took precedence.

Charlie spun her so she was facing away but kept her close as he nudged a thigh between her legs, and their bodies swayed and brushed while the music moved through them. His hands transitioned from Pamela's waistline to her ass, pressing his hardness against her. That incredible body moved with him, against him. Pamela felt so good, so right, as waves of emotion surged to his surface. Charlie yearned for this woman twenty-four/seven, every waking moment. He ached for her touch, and to finally give himself over to the obsession and hold nothing back.

His hips jerked, his hands wandered, and he was lost in his own private bubble of eroticism. Hair fell over Pamela's face in a golden cascade and was pushed back by the forearm of the man who would possess her until midnight. When Charlie brought his lips closer, his tongue slicked over Pamela's ear, and goosebumps pebbled her skin. "I love you, beautiful girl. I'll always love you." He trailed kisses across her cheek, her neck, and when he brushed his lips upon hers, Pamela's eyes, giving and wholesome, devastated him. "Good God; I wish I could marry you."

Obedient, Kenzie placed her hands on the counter and held on as if her life depended on it. Two doors down the hall, her veiled smile and eagerness did nothing but escalate Lucas's desire for her. He towered over Kenzie's prone body and leaned in, his weight pressing her belly against the kitchenette countertop, and pulled her long hair back to kiss her cheek. "Here we go, sweetheart." Lucas grasped Kenzie's waist with his free hand and entered her.

He held her firmly and dictated the cadence. His hips slapped against her delicious ass and the faster and deeper he fucked Kenzie, the more contorted her expression turned as he held her gaze in the mirror. She witnessed veins pumping on his neck. Lucas could hear the ticks of his heart, too, and was sweating from being so turned on, this being his third party (and third girl) of the day.

To Cooper Andrews, a Flagstone native, few things were more pleasurable than having Nicolette on her knees in front of him, her moist, glossy lips stretched to accommodate his hard, aching cock, as she offered up one of her patented blowjobs. Nicolette seemed happy to be on her knees whenever partying with Cooper - and that was good - because he had spent thousands of dollars on her, too, over the years. She relaxed the well of her throat in order to wedge him deeper, then pulled back up and dove down again. His fingers threaded in her hair and fisted.

"Holy fuck, Nikki. That feels awesome."

Few things, for sure, but Cooper would freely admit that receiving a blowjob from Nicolette and Elisabeth at the same time was even better.

Elisabeth coiled her long, slender fingers around the base of Cooper's dick and motioned for Nicolette, who was beside her on the floor, to back off. Nicolette obliged and watched Elisabeth as she wrapped her opposite arm around the gentleman's midsection and presented her face to his crotch. On her knees as well, Elisabeth gagged and choked for an instant at insertion, adjusting to the pressure, but then gazed up at Cooper with smoldering eyes. His grip moved to either side of her head as her right hand followed her mouth in quick strokes up and down his cock, ending each with a swirl of her tongue along the head.

"Jesus," Cooper muttered. "Elisabeth, baby...."

"Watching you suck cock is so erotic," Nicolette murmured, before turning her attention to Cooper. "Do you mind if I play with myself while she does that, baby? I have this sudden urge to masturbate."

"Uhh... not at all. Please do!"

Brown eyes, full lips, frizzy, windblown hair, a killer body. But it was the way Pamela looked at Charlie, the penetrating gaze cruising his face as if she'd always been part of his life and, more importantly, always would be.

Charlie blew out an anguished breath, lifted Pamela's ass, tilted her hips to line up with his, and hit the spot that made her head roll back and neck arch. The air ignited all around them as she again leaned forward and thrust her tongue into his mouth, running her fingers up his face and through his hair.

Charlie tried to summon all the willpower he had within to keep himself in control. He wanted to savor everything - the taste of Pamela's mouth and tongue as each took their fill and the tornado of heat and intimacy as she put her hands on his chest, realizing just how fast, how hard his heart was beating, as his pelvis slapped against her ass. He broke the kiss but sealed his lips to her neck, gorging his hunger as she straddled his cock and rode him like a champion cowgirl. Sensations travelled all throughout Charlie's body until he was more sensation than man.

Ninety minutes prior to closing time, the impenetrable brick wall in her bedroom bumped against Lindsay's back. She hitched a breath, but there wasn't time for anything else as Frank's mouth crashed down on hers in the most brutal fashion. A seasoned monger from Wisconsin, Frank stole what little breath Lindsay had through their kiss and made it his own with the same level of intensity that buckled her weakening knees. The torrid grip on her upper arms was gone, but only so he could shift his hold. Frank grabbed her ass with equal rage, his fingers digging in, scrubbing Lindsay up against the wall as he jerked her off her tiptoes and yanked her hips into his.

She caught his shoulders, but instead of getting stability, he lifted her all the way off her feet. She didn't fall, though. With the wall at her back, his sheer size held her captive.

"Please fuck me," Lindsay said. "Oh God, I need it so bad. Please, please fuck me."

The veneer of respect and chivalry soon fell away to reveal this man's true nature, and in Lindsay's fuck-addled mind she reveled in it, her feminine cries of surrender flooding the room as he used her long and hard, his thick cock taking her pussy to capacity over and over again.