tagGroup SexUrban Fantasies: Three's A Crowd

Urban Fantasies: Three's A Crowd


I'm not going to beat around the bush with you. Well, not unless you ask me to; pay me to.

My name is Elise, and I'm a call-girl. I love my job.

I'm also good at it. I'm guessing this is because I honestly adore it – the bringing a smile to my clients face. Or faces, as the case might be. The touches and kisses and caresses and sounds. Mmm – the feel of physical connection.

It's not often I get requests like this, despite the fact that my hourly rate is nearing quadruple digits; like I said – I'm good at what I do.

If I wasn't so bored tonight that I'd be spitting out nails otherwise, I wouldn't be crossing the street to enter the Hotel, either.

But I was, so here I am.

Making my way to the desk I flash my welcoming smile to the front deskman, naturally swaying my C-breasts in their low-V shirt. Yeah, he's watching. I smile wider.

"Room eighteen. Mr. and Ms. Carlian are expecting me, I believe," my voice is sultry; hypnotizing.

Yes, I trained it; took years. I'm still satisfied with the results.

He's nodding like the silly, easily swayed fool I thought him to be and pointing towards my new destination, barely intelligible in his babbled directions.

"Thank you," I'm replying even as I hurry away, "You have a great night."


I pegged him as the type of man that could use a night with a woman like me, couldn't afford a night with a woman like me, and would never 'stoop so low' as to 'involve himself with a woman like me.'

I'm smiling wider still as I raise my hand to knock on the door.

"I-'s –pen." I hear mumbled through the barrier.

Grabbing the doorknob I twist, pushing open as I make my way inside. I close it behind me and notice I'm in an entryway. To the left is a table under which is lined two pairs of shoes. Above a scattering of personal belongings: Silenced phones, keys, wallets and a purse.

Fuck. They're that type.

Kneeling, I reach for the strap on my left heel, pushing it through the lock and unraveling its security before pulling the 3" black sandal from my stocking-covered flesh. I do the same with the right.

Erecting myself, I leave my small excuse for a purse by my shoes and make my way further into the room.

"Hello?" I ask loudly, "Where are you?"

A man comes out of a door to the left and I jump – "Oh!"

He's bald on the top; heavy around the waist and elsewhere. His face is adorable in its boyish nature, though, and I can easily see myself enjoying tonight.

"Hi!" he's saying, excited, "So glad you could make it. Come on, come in – don't be shy, now. I don't like shy."

Did I mention he's naked?

His cock hangs a little past half mast, a nice thick little thing that I hope I get to taste later.

I'm glad I took this call.

"Hi. I'm Elise. Tell me: What do you desire of me tonight? I promise I'll give you all you ask, and more if I'm able," my words are accompanied with my normal smile; the perfected drooped seduction of my hazel eyes.

Even I couldn't tell you their color at the moment. They're mercurial, like me.

He's looking behind him into the room. I'm assuming that's where the Ms. is; waiting for me? Then he's returning those eyes to me. I'm closer now and can see they're a dark, vivid blue.

His pupils are huge and I wonder if he's on drugs then realize it's not my business; not why I'm here.

Goose bumps rise on my shoulder and arm as his fingers graze my flesh in a light caress, "So soft, Elise," his eyes watching that leader of awakening sensations.

"Thank you," gratitude.

Piercing me with his stare, "Have you ever had a fantasy of your own, Elise? A fantasy involving another woman, perhaps?"

Digging in to my soul and finding my secret.

"Of course," I accept his challenge with truthful evasion, "I've even lived it, as has my occupation allowed. Why do you ask?"

"Because I want to fulfill a whore's fantasy? Because you're beautiful. Because my wife agreed. Who can know and why do you care?"

He's right. I'm not getting paid to ask questions like that, "Because I wish to please you – the both of you! So, as you like. You wish to be involved within my fantasy? I'm more than happy to show you!"

My eagerness must have paid off because he's smiling again and we're moving towards the door; the bedroom.

Beautiful, small feet and long legs meeting a well-kept splash of curls at the V of flesh; higher to a slightly sloped belly – voluptuous breasts.

I admit it. I'm already wet and ready to fuck this woman. She's gorgeous.

Then I'm looking at her face – Soft, pale pink lips silenced with a gag, and aristocratic slopes rising to large light brown eyes pleading me for help – and I'm drowning in my own lust wanting to sink my hands into her glorious mane of rich golden curls that surround her shoulders and waist, pooling under her back and ass.

She's fucking Rupunzel, and I want to make her mine. Now. In this very instant.

Luckily for me I get to; no holding back.

My fantasy. This is what he asked for and he's even prepared her perfectly.

I point to a chair I notice in the corner of the room, "You sit over there. For now, you can watch. You cannot touch; I won't be listening much if you speak and would rather you didn't. I don't care if you please yourself: do as you will; just sit."

For a moment he's looking at me as if I've gone crazy.

I just raise my left eyebrow, "Isn't this what you asked for? MY fantasy?"

Then he's following instructions like a well-behaved mongrel, seating himself in the chair, cock hard and ready in his hand.

I wonder if he's even aware that he's playing with it.

Doesn't matter; I return my attention to her.

She's beautiful beyond description. My brain is shutting down as my need to possess is taking over. But not like this – oh no. Never like this.

Reaching her side I pull the gag from out of her mouth.

She's gasping breath; breathing "Thank you," while glaring daggers at him.

"You have no-" I silence her with my mouth, pushing wide her already open lips and laying claim to her tongue. I'm sucking her tongue into my mouth before she's perhaps aware of my intentions, clamping my teeth about the middle of hers to still it and using suction and my own to keep it in place.

I pull back.

And take her moment of stunned silence to state clearly, "I don't care.

"I am not here to talk about him, My Lady."

"Oh. But yo-"

This time I place my finger over her lips and shake my head, "I will gag you if I have to. This is your last warning."

She's silent like a good girl when I remove it.

"Now," I'm asking, because my own personal honor demands I know the truth of things, her being tied to the bed arms and feet – not to mention gagged – when I walked in a moment ago not looking good for me, "Did you consent to this? I won't be a party to rape, no matter how much you might pay me."

She's drilling me with her eyes, no hesitation – "Yes. Absolutely."

"Good. I don't want to hear any complaints, do you understand me."

She nods.

And I'm thinking 'Good, because it wasn't a question,' and then I'm not caring.

She is a striking feast before my eyes and all mine.

Sinking at the edge of the bed I grab one bound foot in my hands, gently massaging the underside of it with the pads of my thumbs.

Her moans bring a smile to my lips as I keep twirling and moving my thumbs along the tender, tight flesh there. I know how often feet get ignored; how much tension they can hold.

After some time I move to the other, her bliss-filled vocals music to my ears.

Oh my darling, I whisper in my head, this is only the beginning.

When my fingers ache past the point of further harm, I stop my massage and curl my palms around the warm flesh of her calves, moving slowly up with my touch and body as I crawl over the edge of the bed, between her open limbs.

Higher to the more tender skin of her spread thighs, fingers twirling and playing in light fun; her whimpers reaching my ears though I'm sure she's trying to keep them contained.

In the distance his soft, rhythmic thwacking; I knew he wouldn't be able to refuse his own pleasure.

"You are beautiful," I whisper between the kisses I'm now assigning on those tender places, moving north, "You smell beautiful; no – no, don't attempt to hide from me," grabbing her hips and stilling her movements as she attempts to shift away.

Settling my lips on the opening of her pussy before turning my tongue into a stiff weapon and impaling her with it; pulling out and lapping along the entirety of her slit.

Juicy; not bad.

I give her another long, thorough lick with the full flat of my tongue, this time pausing on her engorged little 'cock' with a few wiggling tickles gifted by the tip of that slick, experienced muscle.

Kissing my way over her gut and belly; nuzzling her navel with my nose even as the middle and ring finger of my right hand bury themselves in her moist cunt.

"Tell me what you want, My Lady, and I'll give it to you," slowly, each pull and thrust a calculated, rhythmic torture, I stroke her with my digits; in and out.

She can only moan.

I couldn't stop the laugh that filters out, low and real.

But fuck, she's stunning as she's writhing beneath me; pulling at the bindings to perhaps grasp me to her and further control the sensations I'm giving her.

Sensations that have been taught, just so, to me at one point.

I further kiss my way up her body, stopping at her breasts only long enough to pinch each nipple with my teeth; soothe it with my tongue. Up and over her collarbone my kisses trail, marching along her neck to her ear.

"My Lady, I am going to fuck you," each word punctuated by my now still fingers rubbing and strumming the insides of her pussy walls, "with my fingers and my lips, and you are going to let yourself enjoy it. Nod if you understand."

Not only does she nod, her breasts and body are arching into my body, now coating hers.

Glaring into my eyes and shouting into my face, "God Damn it woman, just fuck me already. You're driving me insane with this teasing," turning to him, "Honey – make her fucking fuck me already."

Throwing back her head and growling on moans that became deeper – harder.

As they should; I'm fucking her in earnest now with my fingers and my lips; limbs thrusting into her over and over in a hasty, demanding, possessive rhythm as her clit is locked between my lips and fluttered – flushed and toyed with indiscriminately – by my tongue.

She's thrusting her hips into the air, begging between low-pitched howls for more, enough, more.

Cumming around my fingers, clenching tight with her pussy muscles.

I withdrawal my flesh even as she's flexing around me; continue to claim mastery of her clit.

She howls – loudly – in protest even as her hips continue to buck off the mattress.

I remove my mouth; remove my body, and she calms down, replete.

For now.

I notice the man in the chair again, still stroking his hard cock, eyes locked on the two of us. I smile and crook my finger at him.

At first he pauses, his hand leaving his cock to point at himself and mouth the word, 'me?'

I nod.

He's standing in a rush and falling just as quickly, perhaps forgetting that his pants lay in a now twisted mess around his ankles that he's kicking off; vertical again.

I don't wait for him to fix this comical error before I'm pointing to her and making my command known, "Fuck her. Not for your pleasure – for hers. I have prepared her, now get her to cum.

That is, if you want me to suck your cock. I don't like the taste of sperm, so I mean it. Just her."

My arms are crossing beneath my breasts, elevating them and pushing my cleavage deeper above the light, thin, cropped t. My brow is again raised as I wait.

I watch as he moves to the bed; between her legs. My eyes are on the tip of his cock as he's pushing it into her wet, waiting body – a body I have, as I said, prepared for him.

My fingers, still coated in her drying juices, dip between my legs and beneath my short, tight skirt, pushing it up to my waist and out of the way as I lay claim to his chair; his previous enjoyment.

In and out they slide as my eyes take in the way his cock is skimming in and out of her welcoming pussy; listening to the moans that each of them are making and singing for me as they rock the very bed they exercise upon.

Then she must be cumming because she's screaming and fighting and flexing; he's pinning me to my chair with his sapphire eyes and my pussy is vibrating around my fingers with knowing, sexual energy.

And I am so aroused I'm wondering why I haven't cum yet myself. But it doesn't matter because he's pulling out of her and leaving her as if she's nothing so much as spent material, and walking over to me with the tip of his still-hard cock glistening it's stare at me.

"I didn't cum," he's saying as he closes in, right hand moving to still his cock, fingers clamping around the base; tip maybe an inch from my mouth, "so give me what you promised."

I raise my right hand and circle his hard shaft with my fingers, pulling the tip between my lips and into my mouth. I stop when I reach the under curl that denotes the edge of his tip, and focus on this part.

My tongue swirls under the lid and over across the very tip; I widen my mouth and push my hand out of the way as I suck all of him in deep and then pull back to spit him out, focusing again on the tip.

My hand winds up and down the pole like a barbershops ribbon, dancing as I bob a bit up and down; my hums of approval vibrating that cavern to his moans of acceptance.

And I know he's admiring because his hands are in my hair in an attempt to force me to go faster; harder. My hands are on his hips and my strengthened muscles in resistance to this very thing the only thing stopping him from winning the argument.

Then I'm pulling back – thrusting him out of my mouth. He's growing and I know that means he's about to cum.

Not in my mouth, buddy.



"Hey! I was-"

"I know," I cut him off, "That's a deal breaker, Sir. I don't swallow or spit. You're welcome to stuff my twat. Or your Lady's." I nod towards the bed where she's still tied up, watching this interplay in mute silence.

"Lay down on the floor," he commands, taking control of the situation.

So I do.

On my belly.

I hear him laughing even as he's laying the bulk of his weight atop me, spreading the cheeks of my ass and thrusting the tip of his hard cock between.

I shift away.

"No ass, either. I swear I will murder you if you try."

More laughter.

Then he's stuffing that fat little thing between the folds of my wet pussy and I'm done complaining. Instead, I'm shifting my thighs open a little wider; raising my ass a bit higher to encourage deeper penetration.

He's sliding in further then pulling back.

Sliding in; pulling back.

Getting in to a rhythm he's ramming me hard, back and forth as he grabs my shoulders for stability.

My body is shaking as I allow him use of it, giving his hands and cock free reign – for that's what this position gives. I am nothing but his toy – his plaything. I am his to command, and the way his cock is stuffing me – mastering me – had passion and bliss roar inside of me, originating in that place of his continued conquest.

I saw stars as my climax hit, pussy muscles flexing and releasing in rapid, gripping sensation around the hard, straining flesh that still assaulted its walls.

Every muscle in my body tightened and released, my screams penetrating the silence with high-pitched wails of consumed bliss.

He's incredible; this is incredible.

Every fuck was a new experience – a new sensation, and this one is no different in its own way.

And as I'm cumming I'm recognizing why I adore my occupation; the joy it brings me through the pleasing of others. And myself, when I'm being honest about it.

As I'm coming down I feel him reach end, stilling above me as his cock paints the inside walls of my pussy with his slick, salty cum.

He's pulling out and lying on his back, gasping breath.

"Fucking incredible."

"I agree!" from the bed.

Turning his head to look at me; meet my gaze, "Can we do this again?"

I'm smiling, ever the professional, "You have my number. Any time you like. I'm glad I could please you – both."

I'm standing, "Now, about my fee..."

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