World's Worst Whore

The man looks down at his penis, mouthing silent prayers. I think he's saying something like, "Please don't get hard".

A little at a time, moaning and writhing every step of the way, the whole thing gets inside her. You can see it bulging from the outside, and Milla lays down, panting, a smug smile on her face.

"I win," Milla says, then catches her breath.

"No you don't!" Olga says, "you must fuck yourself with it, until you come!"

Milla groans. "Really? You sure we said that? Nadia, did we say that?"

I don't think we did. I really don't. But It's not the time to argue, I'm afraid.

I nod solemnly. "Yes. Yes we did."

"Oh well," Milla says, grabbing the fruit's stamen, "here I go!"

She begins moving it back and forth inside her, the smallest movement shaking her limbs in pleasure. She smiles and pants, pushing it in and out, in and out, loving every second of the merry ride. Her juices leak out onto the floor, her pale skin turns bright red.

I think she's holding the widest part of the fruit on her g-spot, and she pushes down on the stamen, slapping her clitoris with her free hand.

Her moans get louder. With feet on the floor and legs bent, she pushes up her hips and shakes in place, squirting all over and screaming in ecstasy.

The fruit flops out of Milla and rolls under the bed. She lays there, panting, gaping, then looks at me.

"I won," she whispers.

She won.

The crazy amazon lady groans, then drops the scissors. She hops off the bed and sits on a chair, sobbing quietly.

Our client also jumps off the bed and starts frantically looking for something, presumably his pants. I catch up to him and say: "Please, not so fast. We had a deal, remember? Milla has to show Olga how to please you..."

He pouts. He looks at his sobbing wife, then at Milla, who is getting back to her feet, and sighs.

"Fine," he says, "but let's make it quick."

"Now, Olga, look at this!" Milla says. She grabs the man's arm and pulls him toward her. I can tell Olga is offended but she's been through worse.

"To get your man hard," Milla says, "you usually just have to look sexy. Hug him real tight," she does so as she speaks, her voice becoming a low, seductive growl, "rub yourself against him. Make him feel your skin on his."

Milla tightens around the man, pushing her soft skin against his fat body, but he's still limp.

"It's not working," Olga says, and snorts.

"It's all about love," Milla continues, uncaring, "you look him in the eye. You show him how much you care. Let him see the spark in your gaze. Make him long for your kiss."

The man stares at Milla, mouth agape, hypnotized by her pale blue eyes. But he's still limp.

"And then," Milla says, fingers running chills down his neck, "you stick two fingers in his ass!"

The man squeals like a stuck pig. His cock comes to life, jumping in a second from pen cap to a very respectable sharpie size.

Milla pulls her fingers out, then wipes them on the velvet cover. "You try!" she says, gesturing at Olga.

Olga dries her tears, then slips off her gloves.

"That won't be necessary," her husband says, "I'm pretty sure she wants a divorce anyways, I mean, I-"

And then he squeals like a stuck pig.

One thing leads to another, and soon enough, the crazy amazon lady is riding our client on the bed. I gather up all my stuff while Milla gets dressed, and when we're done, they take a break just to pay us then get back to it.

"Ah, love!" Milla says, staring at the beast with two backs, "isn't it wonderful?"

"Milla," I say, leaving, "why don't you go fuck yourself with a cactus?"

She catches up with me and asks, "Is that a challenge?"