The Perks of Having a Sugar Daddy

Having money = happiness, happiness = lingerie, lingerie = teasing my sugar daddy. And teasing my sugar daddy = having money. It's a beautiful cyclical process.

I could end this piece here, but I have so much more to share. Thanks for welcoming me to Literotica, this is my first post.

I don't know if this twisted f*ck really thinks I'm going to send him pictures of me in the lingerie, but he knows I just bought a piece. That's enough for him to send me $450 and a dick pic to play with later.

A little bit about myself (since I'm going to be contributing for the foreseeable future). I'm 27, recently laid off from work, tiny, blonde, busty. When I'm not at the pool working on my tan, I'm shopping for vintage lingerie. Picture a black 100% silk piece I found for $4 at the local Goodwill (dry cleaned and fitted perfectly to my petite frame, mini). Red bows line the hemline. My DD tits sit perfectly, peacefully. It's the perfect whimsy-gothic piece.

Being unemployed means I'm BORED. So I figure let's hit up my mac daddy. 'Happy Monday', I say. I want money. He says I'm mean. He knows I'm a tease. He knows I'm sitting around touching my breasts texting him, giggling at the fact he'll never see this body. He's too f*cking old for me. But he persists.

He asks for pictures or dirty stories about me and I could tell him the story about me masturbating in front of a mirror but he knows I've got more quality men lining up to actually f*ck me. And I let him know that too.

He likes to tell me he has other girls sending him sexy pics in lingerie, and often he sends me updates of what he gets, and I can't help but laugh. Is this his pathetic way of trying to make me jealous? I ignore him.

When I ignore him, he often reaches out about an hour later with an: 'I see how it is. Let me know when you want to play.' So I ignore him again.

Another hour goes by. 'You are so mean. My ego is crushed.' Guess how I respond?

'Good.'

I believe in killing the ego, so what do I give a sh*t if his ego is bruised? That's the point. I want him to feel UNIMPORTANT to me.

'Fuck it, I quit.' He says. I respond 'Spitters are quitters.' And he's back up on my ass again. Clearly that got his dick hard. And it's so small. Why does he continue to call it the hammer?

I really am so mean. My MO is not to make him feel like a paypig, but I do want him to feel like a pathetic cuck who sits at home playing with his dick while I masturbate in front of the mirror to the thought of the money he'll give me later. He cannot touch me or see me, but I can describe it to him.

I can tell him I'm on my hands and knees in front of the mirror, towel on the ground (to attempt to squirt even though I struggle), ass facing the mirror. I love looking back at my little pussy taking the 12 inch pink dildo my ex boyfriend bought for me and sent me from across the country. I love to watch what my asshole looks like too, something about that really gets me going.

I f*ck myself for a good five minutes, watching my face in pure ecstasy and pleasure still wearing the black silk lingerie with red bows. I take the dildo out and taste myself. It tastes sweet and sour. I love the taste. I love my body. I love seeing my tits bounce around in this slip dress as I take this huge dildo from behind. I'm almost done. I'm so glad I'm ignoring my sugar daddy.

There are silent moans. When I'm about to cum, I know I might lose myself and my soft sighs may get louder and heard by my roommate, but I make sure to maintain composure.

This is when I use my secret weapon - my fingers. While I'm penetrating my pussy, I can now find my sweet clit and begin my symphony. I know I'm about to cum when I feel the tingling in my feet. It's like getting ready for a sneeze, closer, closer, closer. I'm still hammering away with my dildo. The sensation starts in my tingling feet, sends shivers up my thighs and then electricity. The pulsing begins and I collapse onto the ground. The pulsing. The pulsing. The pulsing. I'm cumming. I'm cumming. I smile.

I'm good for the day. I don't even need to text the f*cker but I know he's going to text me.

I don't know if it's the thought of neglecting my sugar daddy the opportunity to see myself in the mirror (I really should record this for future references to touch myself when I can't sleep at night, happily living in my hidden album) OR if it's the thought of money to buy the lingerie that makes me feel so f*cking sexy.

I know I'm publishing this here, but this will be the first sex story I send to my sugar daddy. I want $450 today to go shopping for new lingerie. I wonder if this will do the trick.

And there you have it: the perks of having a sugar daddy.

Now I can take a nap.

Xoxo,

littleblondeangel