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Oh, right. I quickly remove my shirt, then unbuckle my pants.
I don’t miss the fact that her eyes are on me all the way, taking me in eagerly, hungrily.
“You can take a picture if you’d like. It’s not allowed in the spa, but I won’t tell if you don’t.” I wink, and she grunts a little, making a show of turning around.
She’s so easily riled up.
“So, what does that story have to do with some old guy getting head from a girl who can barely vote?”
I roll my eyes. “Well, good uncle Jacob almost died. He’s allergic to peanuts and someone added extract to his drink before locking him up, so he couldn’t get to his epi pen.”
She gasps.
“He would have croaked if he didn’t have his weekly appointment with the prostitute he was fucking back then. She had a key to a side entrance and a secret way of getting into his room, so no one would know. She ended up sneaking him out of the house and bringing him to the hospital.”
“Someone actually tried tokillhim?”
I shrug. “He’s worth like, six hundred mil? He has no family except two nephews and a niece. Any of them would have two hundred million reasons to try it.”
She’s scandalized. “That’s no excuse to murder someone.”
Isn’t she sweet? But better men have been killed for far less. Rather than giving her a taste of reality, I open the basket, and hand her a pair of flip-flops before putting mine on.
“Anyway, he figured he was in actual danger so long as those three vipers were his direct heirs, so he married the whore who saved him.”
Sarah chokes on air. “No!”
I laugh. “Yeah, that was the reaction of about everyone at the time. But it was clever, really. He rewrote his will, and all his money goes to her, so they have no motive to try to fuck with him anymore. By the way, Pilar isn’tthatyoung. I mean, she’s too young for him, and she’s in it for the money, but she’s twenty-five.”
I lead us to the showers adjacent to the locker rooms.
“And he’s, what? Eighty?”
I grin. “Seventy-two. He looks older because he drinks too much and doesn’t have one healthy habit to speak of.”
It was all everyone could talk about a few months ago, so I know all the details.
“She didn’t look twenty-five.”
I nod. Sarah and I are younger, but out of the three of us, I’d ID Pilar first for sure. She’s petite, slender, and built like a tomboy.
“Well, she is. Now that you’re reassured we’re not running an underage prostitution ring, let’s get you washed.”
“I can do it myself,” she protests.
I ignore her, squeezing a generous amount of the fancy foaming soap provided on my palm before lathering her arms.
I take my time, my eyes fixed on her as I run my hands over her bare skin. Her chest, her wondrous tits, her stomach. She shivers when I take her waist, bringing her flush against me. She can feel how fucking hard I am for her, but she glances down between us to look at my cock, too.
She lets out a small breath when I let her go, delightfully disappointed. I do her legs first, one after the other, only washing her pretty little cunt in passing.
“Your turn,” I tell her. “You do me.”
I assume she’ll protest, but her highness has stopped being uptight for the time being, either because of the wine, or the food, or the simple fact that she very much wants this night to end with my cock inside her again. She’s as pliant as Sarah can get.
She reaches for the first choice of foam hanging on the wall, and commences washing me, too, her little hands caressing my muscles. She takes her time, exploring my skin, the little minx. My balls tighten, sending signals through my legs. My cock’s twitching, demanding to drive right home.
Like I did, she saves the most sensitive area for last, but instead of just cleaning my cock, she wraps both hands around it and jerks it.
