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That was enough verbal stimulation for me. I arched my back so that I could admire Madison's breasts, pushed up as they were by the expensive lingerie, and stare into her blue eyes. Madison wrapped her legs around my ass, digging her Louboutins into my butt-cheeks as I thrust into her.
"George, too," she whispered, right as I cried out, and began to unload inside her. "Although I only charged him three hundred, because he is a bartender."
I came so hard as Madison regaled me with the tales of her paid encounters. It was one of the most intense orgasms of my life, fueled by one of the most unlikely reasons to get a man off. After I came I felt a mixture of jealousy and shame. I did consider the possibility that Madison was talking dirty just to get me off, but that idea was quickly squashed, as Madison spoke up again.
"The older guy, Clarkson, that I was kneeling in front of, when you showed up at my work, too!" she added playfully. "I spend a lot of time on my knees in front of him."
I had heard enough and started to pull out of her. Madison tightened her legs around my waist and signaled her desire for us to remain coupled.
"What's your hurry?" she asked, with a huge smile on her face. "It is my turn to come, now. Have you heard enough?"
She knew that she had me, when I neither stated that I had heard enough, nor tried to uncouple from her. She started to kiss me tenderly, and rake her fingers through my hair, as she occasionally whispered another name, adding to her list of jerk-off buddies. By the time she had finished, we had a prodigious list of guys that paid her for the privilege of jerking off on her, and I had another erection.
Madison bit my earlobe gently, and encouraged me to start fucking her again. It took me ages to come this time, and Madison experienced two orgasms, both of which passed the test of authenticity. After she came, her vagina was nice and moist from her self-lubrication, and I ejaculated inside her shortly after she said she was completely satisfied.
As we lay there snuggling and kissing, me still buried inside Madison, I started to reflect on the financial divide between us. Madison made around fifty grand a year, which was about what my trust disbursed to me every nine days or so. Yet, in her day to day life, Madison had some expensive tastes, far beyond her own financial capabilities.
I looked across at our underwear, my Target briefs that I had paid twelve dollars for a pack of three, intertwined with her one hundred and thirty dollar La Perla undies. I knew that she owned dozens of pairs of those expensive panties, presumably paid for by men that enjoyed jerking off on her.
I should have been thoroughly disgusted, but I was as aroused as I had ever been, at the thought of Madison laying in front of another man as he masturbated until he ejaculated all over her.
