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Sabrina’s screams have reached a new level. They are no longer screams of pure pleasure. There is more than a hint of actual discomfort thrown in. She turns her head around, looking back at Josh with something close to panic as he continues destroying her asshole with his cock.
Josh can tell that Sabrina isn’t enjoying herself as much as she had been earlier, but he doesn’t care. He’s mere moments away from cumming now and he knows she can take what he’s offering for just a little while longer.
He slams his body down onto Sabrina a few more times and then he’s there. Clambering up her body, his weight still pressing down on her, Josh ends up with his legs on either side of her neck, squatting down so the tip of his cock is practically touching the back of her head.
Holding on tight to his cock, delaying the cum for the moment, Josh grabs ahold of Sabrina’s hair with his free hand and wrenches her head to the side, so that half of her face is pressing against the couch while the other half is exposed.
Josh jerks himself off, sending his sperm rocketing out of his cock and splattering all over Sabrina’s face, leaving milky white trails that cover her cheek, her temple, her hairline. The entire right side of her face is covered in cum, there’s even some pooled in her ear.
As Sabrina glares up at him with malice in her eyes and a scowl on her mouth, Josh laughs softly, amazed that she maintains her attitude all the way to the end. Just to top things off, as he climbs off the couch and onto the floor, he stops for a moment to stick his cock in her mouth one final time.
Sabrina sucks on the tip of his cock while he looks down at her cum-stained face and marvels at how such a young girl could be such a huge slut. For a
moment he thinks about asking her about her past, but quickly pushes the thought aside. There’s no reason for sentiment. He doesn’t have time for it. There is too much money to spend, too many parties to go to, too many women to fuck to worry about stupid shit like the human element. The way he sees things, everyone is just a piece of meat, himself included. Good for fucking and not much else. He knows is a simplistic way to view things, but that’s the way he likes things. Nice and simple. It makes life so much easier.
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OWNING THE KINKY SLUT
In general, I like some variety with my sexual encounters. Sometimes I want to be dominated, sometimes I want to be the one dominating, sometimes I want to be surprised, sometimes I’ve craving anal and so on. It changes based on my mood.
But at the same time my tastes are very specific. When I decide on a scenario, I want it a very specific way. And this evening I’m going to play out a fantasy of mine.
I think of it as the reluctant submissive.
Basically, I want to dominate a young lady, make her do exactly what I want her to do, exactly how I want her to do it. But I don’t want a passive submissive, someone who just gives in completely. I want a fighter, a girl with attitude, someone who’s going to make me take from her what I want. Or at least pretend to.
Of course, this sort of thing isn’t possible in the real world. Not unless you want to get yourself arrested. Which is exactly why I prefer escorts. All it takes is a few hundred bucks and a phone call and I can lay out the scenario in detail and get a girl that will fit my needs perfectly. This way, she knows exactly what she’s getting into. And even if she doesn’t necessarily enjoy it (although I much prefer getting the girls that do) she’s at least willing to do it and pretend like she’s enjoying it. And if she’s a good enough actress (and virtually all of them are, at least in the upper levels of the escort industry where I get my girls from) you never know the difference anyway.
It’s the best of both worlds, really. A sexual role-play but one that doesn’t come with any of the pre or post sex awkwardness that inevitably happens when you do it with a significant other. Both parties know exactly what they’re getting into and both parties are fine with the parameters. I get to live out a fantasy of mine and she gets to make a living and we all go home happy. Or at least satisfied. And in this uncertain world of ours, how often can you say something like that?
#
There’s an aggressive knock on my hotel room door and I head over and turn the handle without peeking through the eyehole. I’ve learned it’s better to get the first glimpse in the flesh, so to speak.
I’ve barely got the door open when she saunters in like she owns the place, with nothing more than a flip of her chin in my direction. She drops a small purse on the floor near the door and turns to face me, giving me the first full look at her.
She’s not too small of girl, about 5’6” and right around 125 pounds. Solid enough looking to take the pounding I had in mind. Long, sandy blonde hair, big brown eyes, bright red lipstick on pouty, full lips. Her attitude is apparent, all the way from the slightly disdainful look on her face to the way she holds herself to the combination black leather jacket and shorts she’s wearing. Not to mention the knee-high black leather boots on her feet.
In other words, perfect. Exactly what I was looking for.
“So are we gonna get this party started or what?” she says, looking right at me without any hint of embarrassment.
“You know what you’re getting into, right?”
“Yeah, you hired me to push me around and make yourself feel like a big man. But you don’t want it to be too easy.”
“And you’re game for that?”
“I’m game for whatever you’ve got,” she says.
“Are you sure?” I say. “It’s going to get a bit rough.”
She scoffs and glares at me sideways. “From you? I doubt it. You’re a pathetic little businessman and I do this sort of thing for a living. You won’t even be able to make me uncomfortable.”
“Is that what I look like to you?” I ask her as I undo my belt. “A middle management loser who has to hire women to get laid?”
“Yeah, that pretty much sums it up,” she says.
