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The guy tried to avoid
manhandling me at first, but let’s be honest for a minute. What gal is going
to willingly drop to the floor, squat in front of two legs that weigh at
least two hundred pounds each, put a tiny pecker in her mouth, and gladly
suck. Nope, it wasn’t happening without lots of alcohol, I admit it, and I’m
supposed to be a professional. There are some things that still make me sick
to my stomach, and sucking cock is one of them. So, he had to be a little
rough or it wasn’t going to happen. At all.
Later, he quickly showered while
I cleaned up. The bastard had squirted his load everywhere. I stood in front
of the mirror and cleaned his cream off my chin before tracing the towel
down my neck to swipe away the last visible evidence from my left breast.
“Fucking prick.” I said the words
out loud and wheeled around to see him standing behind me.
“What were you saying?” He looked
pleased rather than disturbed.
I turned to face off with him. “I
said you’re a fucking prick.”
He slapped me, but it didn’t
hurt. He’d told me he wouldn’t hurt me, and he was right. The slight
tingling on my skin actually felt good compared to having his teeny weenie
in my mouth.
Just as quickly as his palm hit
the side of my face, he grabbed my wrist. The john turned me to the mirror.
He laughed loudly in my ear, showing off his gold-capped teeth in the
captured reflection. “That’s it, baby. Struggle against Frank. Make me force
you.”
What a loser.
I pretended to put up a fight, and just when I thought it couldn’t get much
worse, this act of ours that is, he bent me over and drove into me without a
condom. “Wait!” I tried to resist, but he was already in place. Once he felt
the tunnel of pleasure welcome him, it was all over. What can I say? Even
bad dick gets me wet, and the guy had been getting head for well over an
hour, so I was good and ready for him. I was hoping to at least get off too,
since I’d worked so hard for my money.
He watched us screw in the
mirror. It was uneventful at best. He held onto my hips as he twisted his
micro-dick into me. I really didn’t feel much. It was just that damn small.
I could have been fucked with an eraser and gotten off with some measure of
satisfaction. We’re talking the kind that goes on the end of a number two
pencil and not the block used on a chalkboard. Just to clarify. Of course,
he wasn’t made of rubber, and I wasn’t going to reach that peak.
My boobs bounced loosely as he
moved into my pussy. He held me just right, sliding in and out and in and
out. I swear I don’t know how it reached past one hole to hit the other.
Somehow he managed.
“Oh, baby doll . . . look at your
boobies bounce for Frank. Is this dick big enough for you, baby?”
I moaned and then closed my eyes.
It was a tough act pretending it was completely divine.
“I thought so, honey. Just give
me another minute here . . . ooh . . . ahh . . . ooh . . . ah . . .” It was
finally over. He got off after another couple of “oohs” and “ah, yeahs,” and
our business was complete.
As quick as
he came, he was gone. I liked that about some of the casino’s finest
players. They liked to shoot off quickly and then return to the tables. The
guy I’d just entertained thought he was going to be a big winner since he’d
had his cock sucked dry and then rode “high,” something, he explained, that
meant that he was able to do effectively since I showcased my perfectly
shaped ass on a platform made for a real man to fuck. The platform was the
dresser in front of the mirror. Some men are
true legends in their own minds, especially the
big players found in many of the casinos.
A real man to fuck?
I’d had those men in my life
before. They were few and far between these days but they did stroll in and
out of town now and again. When they did, they were worth their weight in
casino chips, every black and purple chip they threw my way. |
