New Girl At Club NawTee Ch. 4

For some reason, Forebrain was all wrapped up in trying to dig up the key events in my long, weird life that had brought me here. Specifically, Club NawTee, the awfully named seconddingiest tit bar in the state, where I sprawled on my specially installed sofa booth. On my table, my satchel was still quarterfull of joy, yet empty of any cash at all: the bills once and briefly mine, at that moment in the possession of the loveliest, bustiest (how can they be that freakin’ big and still demand the word perky I don’t understand, Lizard Brain was whining), curviest, filthytalkingest, most powerful argument for a benevolent God I had ever had the joy of watching snort yak. Better still, she’d just had what felt like an actual orgasm, not the fake shit those nobrain spinners were hawking, against my jeanscovered cock. I think she might have pushed a zipper imprint into my dickskin. Unsure if I was bleeding. Didn’t care.

Then she stood, balancing against my knees, naked and free save for one rainbow sock. After a quick readjust of her glasses, her hands were on her flaring hips, which rolled to the sound of AC/DC; one hand reached to cover her crotch, her arm pushing against heavy hanger as she twisted in delicious reverie. Her other hand was high above her head as she sucked in the vibe of the song. Then she focused, bringing the sockcovered foot to rest on my dick, before quickly slipping the fabric off, then reaching forward to stuff it in my mouth.

And with a “watch this” eyebrow waggle, she leaned back and deftly maneuvered her thick, sculpted leg to reach over the table, and karatekicked the brown bottle into my lap. It was so lovely to watch, I didn’t mind her mistake (second that evening, Lizard Brain grumbled) of touching my own goddamn cocaine. She was, however, A) about to ingest a bunch of it with me, and B) once again let me be clear, a goddamn angel of ; so my forgiveness was swift as she pulled back to plant more firmly, a triumphant sneer on her mouth.

Her smiles were changing from the naïve, ohthisisjustmyfirstnightMister beauties I’d admired before. Now they were more Iamthehottestthinginthisgoddamnroom, with an occasional where’sthehorseIwannaride. That one I knew real well. Especially glad to see it on this lovely teenager, as she looked from my eyes to the bottle expectantly. Repeatedly.

I yanked her sweaty thin sock out of my mouth and threw it at her, before dispensing some C onto my hand. She leaned in, gazing at me adoringly through halflidded eyes behind those glasses. I never got over watching the way physics worked on her mountainous mammaries; seeing me looking, she wiggled slightly. I whimpered something about they should have sent a poet, as she sweetly sniffed the generous white pile, softly kissing and cooing at it for a second.

Then she was straddling me again, holding my hand holding the bottle and laying out a generous amount too much of rocket fuel on the mountains of Olympus, before pulling my head down toward it. After a lot of it went where it needed to, she shoved me back on the sofa rudely, rubbing the remainder all over her skin and nipples, leaning back with ginger hair falling behind her, buzzing happily.

Before I could track she’s in my ear again, knockers ballooned out against me, whispering that this is the greatest night of her life before she was back standing up. She had that jackedup quickness common to the gakked, but she still carried that twofiftyplus frame of hers like it weighed nothing at all. With the knowledge she was in fact the hottest thing in the room, Jennifer began gyrating slowly to, in my not so humble opinion, the greatest metal blues jam ever to come out of Australia.

Now there are other classic tracks from every generation of rock I could’ve gone with. Stormy Monday, maybe Erotic City: wellknown pantydroppers, always strong picks. I’d already put this club through most of Lovage’s Music To Make Love To Your Old Lady By record. Always had a hankerin’ to watch a stripper actually enjoy Jon Spencer Blues Explosion’s Full Grown. Put it on, you’ll get it. Lots of Lizzo, or maybe Make It Wit Chu, Queens of the Stone Age: songs a lot of these girls actually knew, damn near guaranteed good time. And don’t get me started on the Cult’s Memphis Hip Shake; fantastic track, a dance I’ve actually experienced, but the dancer was bored, the experience mediocre.

But this was the king of them all, my personal Kilimanjaro. I was saving this one. Night Prowler, serial murderer Richard Ramirez’ favorite song, thumped along swimmingly as Jennifer threw her hips back and forth to the unhurried beat, stretching and posing before whispering the lyrics right along with good ol’ Bon. The clock struck midnight as she sashayed; she swished around in time to give me her full moon in the sky, with a clever yeahIthoughtofthat grin. I just tried to breathe, as Jennifer languidly and lovingly maneuvered her naked flesh through the air.

Bon wailed about a rat in an alley, as a chill went up her spine. Someone walked across my grave as she wished the sun would shine; then she leaned forward, wagging her finger in my face slowly… No one was gonna to warn me, or gonna yell attack… Her eyes squinched shut as she silent screamed that I wouldn’t feel the steel, til it’s hanging out my back.

“I’m your niiiiiiiiiight, prowlah!” she soft sang, stretching her arms to the ceiling. God, she was so tall, too. In my peripheral I could see a couple other dancers staring at Jennifer in awe like I’d been. I turned my head to gawk at them – did I see a phone aimed at us? but with speed my beauty’s hand had hold of my chin, angrily pulling me back to watch her and her only. There’s that jealousy again. I grinned like a schoolboy as my muse put her foot on my chest, urging me to watch out tonight as I turn out the light. Snuck a peek at her pussy and that shit was glistening in the smoky, dim lighting.

At six and a half minutes, Accadacca’s ode to the stabbystabby is a little long for a stage dance. Staff were well aware of my penchant for a request every once in a while, when I felt like hearing a drop of my own excellent taste between bad hip hop and the floaty airy soulless vocals in vogue at that time. Another sad (to them) fact was that sometimes my requests would run long. After one memorable gakfest in which I’d demanded the entirety of the Doors’ The End, three times in a row, Rico’d put his foot down and insisted: no more than a single request a night, played once, no longer than eight minutes. He’d had a point, so sure. Now they tended to call them special breaks for the dancers, allowing girls to ask for a little extra for something a little longer, a little more special, a little weirder than the other forgettable nonsense.

Jennifer was, as the kids were saying those days, vibing like a mufuckuh. She weaved her bulk beauty, seemingly featherlight, in wide lazy circles as she provided an impromptu abstract interpretation of the music, ignorant of the audience she was attracting. I saw a flash: though schmoe filming earned quick repercussions from Meat, the ladies had no such restrictions, and there were several phones aimed at us. Looks on faces varied from awe to repulsion, but my lovely didn’t care, lost in the snow and the sweet distortion of good rock and roll. My eyes darted around the room looking for Meat to ensure I wasn’t gonna get bothered or interrupted, when Jennifer slapped me. Hard.

Wait, what?

“Daaaaaamn,” I heard from my left. Lizard Brain was first to start wailing about ruined reputation, lost respect, stripperitis, and above all, retribution. Forebrain nervously counseled patience for a second. I guess the lizard had my expression for a brief period, because Jennifer shifted from playfully dominant to severely regretful in record time.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She wasn’t moving at all.  Then – and she almost stopped herself, I watched it happen – she began unbuttoning my jeans. Forebrain was nodding saying this is why you listen to me as she coaxed off first my boots, then my pants and underwear. It was almost meditative, Zenlike even. But then she’s gently shoving me back down on the sofa, kneeling between my legs, looking up at me prettily from behind my dick.

“I’m a lucky girl, huh,” her soft voice floated at me. You have no idea, muttered Lizard Brain as she posed a bit, moving around and eyeing me from behind my despitealltheblowI’mGibraltar cock. Being bottomless was a little further than I let myself get this early on a busy Friday; Lizard Brain said he wanted it known that Rico wasn’t gonna be pleased with me. Again my friend, I told it, shut the fuck up.

Wrapping her arms around her tiggo biddies she rose a bit, tilted her head, and a river of spit suddenly coated my dick, directly from inches above without missing: impressive. She gazed at me adoringly. “Practiced that a lot,” she whisperyelled with pride, my Baynaskbran suckslut.

“Question,” I hoarsely spit out. She had this halfgrin as she flopped her lovely large breasts on my erect penis.

She nodded at me with an “Mmmhmmm,” pinching her nips.

“So really, you’re a –”

“Shhh,” she nearly yelled, a finger on my lips to silence me. “Don’t tell everybody, I’ve got a rep to keep up for the schmoes, as a total whore.” Her chest was warm and enveloping. “But… Mmmhmmm,” she nodded, the smile growing.

“What about in your…”

“Why Mister, that seems like something only nasty perverts do,” she countered, shaking her head gently and bringing her arms together to press titflesh on my cock. I groaned. “Nothing below the waist… well, no penetration.  I mean, no deep penetration… Okay, no penis penetration, or dildo, or fist…”

“Hymen?” It came out like a prayer as I watched my cockhead vanish and reappear on a snowy mountain quest, reports of its survivability mixed.

“Unsure,” she replied, and I couldn’t tell if that was true or not, but then I was rapidly starting not to care as the last chorus began. My main man Bon’s voice must have stimulated her, as she began to put on the most amazing titfuck show I have seen in porn, yet it was happening to my own wang live in front of me. My life is goddamn amazing, Forebrain cheered, as Jennifer bounced happily on me, throwing her head about yelling along with Bon that she was gonna make a mess of me.

Suddenly she’s looking at me over those glasses and sticking her tongue towards my cockhead. In a fierce whisper I hear “G’wan, gimme…” And she’s squeezing tight and bouncing like a succubus on meth and I’m off, cum spurting at her face like a rocket and she’s giggling along with Bon that there ain’t nothin’, nothin’ I could do as my cum splashed out into and over her canyon. Jennifer stared agape at me with a look of pure victorious satisfaction, along with my jizz, all over her pretty face. I would remember this for the rest of my life. I’d think about it whenever anyone said Shazbot. Not heard often, but still.

Goddamn applause erupted around us. I looked around and dancers, schmoes and, shit, Meat standing not fifteen feet away. As Meat looked at each other and me nervously, the other club denizens’ attention were almost fully on us, with some clapping and hooting.

Meat, not. Fuck. “Scram,” I growled in everyone’s general direction. Most hoes and schmoes found other things to look at. There were two Meat closer than the others, looking at me funny. Were I schmoe I’d’ve been eightysixed quick unless I coughed up a thick folding green present. And me with no presents like that to give at the moment, having just spent every bit of it purchasing the greatest lap dance in unrecorded hi. Rico’s forbidden Meat to buy from me, and forbidden me from handing them any, reserving that benevolence for himself. So no white presents either. But, as established: I was not a schmoe.

All this is going through my mind, until I glance down at Jennifer, and things stop suddenly.

She was looking at one of the skanks, who was holding a camera and still pumping her skinnyarm fist in the air. And Jennifer looked… Frightened? Horrified? Disgusted? Back then I counted myself pretty damn good at reading people – I had to be – and though I wasn’t a hundred percent on the exact emotion here, something was obviously really wrong. Gone was the teenage pot; this was a distressed young woman. Jarring to see in anyone, but especially this young succubus whose tremendous tits wore my seed.

Fortunately, I know another girl who’s really good at helping you forget anything going wrong, and I could see bits of her smeared into my muse’s heaving boobflesh, caked with my sperm. She looked to be hyperventilating, as the gak absorbed into her skin and nasal membranes; I reach down and scoop a bit with my pinky, and take it to her nose, holding it there a moment for her to decide.

The motion at her face made her glance back at me. I could see gears turning, but not their destination, but then she grabbed my hand and snorted hard. “Yeah baby, let’s get fucked up,” she’s whispering in that fiending note you get in the middle of skiing a truly epic slope, hoisting her tits to her mouth, and licking the bits she can get to. “I can barely feel my tongue,” she’s giggling as she scoots up next to me, throwing a leg over mine and somewhat covering my exposed genitalia, as she nuzzled into my neck.

Meat didn’t look impressed. Fuck it. I ignored them. Mitzi materialized again, little underfed thing apparently existed on and was part of the air at that stage. Like an imp she was grinning at us and bouncing a little.

“That was so cool…” She stretched it out slow, like saying words in this humanish form was hard for her. “You are so y, ‘Candy,’ I, you just, dance so nice…” Mitzi was gazing at my sofamate and her powdersmeared face and chest like it’d always been her dream to die on Everest, and kinda rubbing her leg a bit. Then Jennifer was in my ear whispering. And it was a hot idea. So sure, why not. I’ve come this far. Once you get into a good snortsong like this, like my man Hunter S. told us, why not fuckin’ push it.

“Mitzi, if you’d like, you can clean up my friend here,” I intoned, “but it’d better end with your face in her cunt like you were made for it, understand?”

“Oh no problem,” she whined, stumbling toward us, “no problem at all.” The fleshy lovely curled into my side giggled like a madwoman as she rolled to her back. Mitzi, I swear to Christ, climbed up the girl like a mountain to lick and suck and sniffle at Jennifer’s coke encrusted face, neck and tits.

“Fuck yeah whore, get all your snort right off my hot body,” Jennifer groangasped, as the emaciated slut went to town, cleaning up and slobbering on every curve and cranny where a molecule of flake might’ve been hiding. Every winding road, every back alley, every flawless inch of this young girls’ y pudgy flesh got Mitzi’s little rat face rubbed all over it. The owner of those curves writhed in post and preorgasmic ecstasy, kneading her melons and spewing out profanity and praise at equal rates.

Thanks to the twin gods tadalafil and sildenafil as well as the debauched sapphic scene before me, my stillgranite dick once again pulsed its song gently in the air as I glanced again at Meat: no closer, good. Talking into a walkie, not as good. Ignore. I looked back Mitzi, working her way down my lovely’s generous flesh to plant herself right in Jennifer’s soaking pussy, where the scrawny thing eagerly lapped its secretions like they were a protein replacement. Jennifers hands were tight in the girl’s hair, who protested but didn’t stop.

“That’s fuckin’ right bitch, lick that hole, lick my tight little hole, it’s so fuckin’ tight, gah!” Jennifer’s hips whanged into Mitzi’s face hard, I was afraid the poor thing would get a nosebleed, but other than a muffled squeal Mitzi continued her war, a lonely soldier lost in the jungle, or whatever metaphor Forebrain as on about. Jennifer was suddenly holding my dick in a tight grip as she thrashed, one hand still firmly holding Mitzi’s hair to keep tongue in the right spot.

“Yeah, yeah, there,” the big beauty began to yell in a staccato cry. “Don’t, stop, right, there, right, fuck, yeah, oh yeah!” Jennifer’s voice carried out over Billie Elish’s latest as she squeezed her thighs tight around Mitzi’s head. I wasn’t sure if the skinny blonde was gonna die from having her skull pop like a rubberbanded watermelon, or have her neck broken by an accidental deathroll by my curvaceous new friend. I was pretty curious to find out, but Jennifer saw trouble before I did, going stock still and releasing her lickslave.

“Sir?  A word?” I looked up. Lizard Brain started shouting that I should’ve listened to him, and maybe it was right.

“Hello, Rico.” See I knew it was trouble because it was before two AM, and Rico’s got a thing about walking on the floor; said he didn’t wanna scare the schmoes. This made it obvious that he and I disagreed on his ability to be found scary; yet I’ve never told him so, because less Rico on the floor meant less scenes like this one. Specifically, a confrontation between Rico and the coke dealer he tolerated for money; said dealer naked from the waist down getting a handy from one of his employees (though I really think she was just trying to hang onto something) while another sucked the former’s twat. Even I knew I’d gone a little far. Inside my head was silent for a change as neither of my internal companions knew what’d happen next.  “What do you need?”

Mitzi’s head bobbed back and forth between me and Rico before settling on her boss. “Hey, uh, can I –”

“Beat it, cunt,” Rico suggested, his eyes never leaving mine. His bald head shone in the flashing lights Fuckin’ Todd had turned on for some reason. “Sir, was it possible we could discuss,” he waved his hand around in our general direction, “things, and possibly some business, in my office? It won’t take long.” Mitzi had never been there, selfvaporized or whatever before he finished the first sentence.

Jennifer’s hand was still wrapped around the base of my nowdeflating dick, but released as I shifted in the sofa. She barely breathed, seemingly frozen like a lit deer, legs splayed and staring at her boss, the one who’d said she had a lot of potential or some shit.

“Hmmm,” I pulled at my beard. “I’m not exactly disposed for discussion right this very second, Rico. I’m… A little busy.”

The greaseball’s brow twisted a little. “I see that, I see that.” Louie was at his side. This was worrisome, because despite Louie’s earning a name in my head, his loyalty to this little prick was unquestionable. I think he was Rico’s niece or something, or maybe it was vice versa. Rico’s chest hair poking through his medallions made my head hurt a little. “But, uh, frankly Sir,” and he paused.

I could see he was struggling to come up with a way to convey his exact level of pissed off, the strength of his desire for me to come speak to him about this level in his office. Me, prick that I was: not super inclined to cooperate. Whether it was still being in a refractory haze, or gakked to the gills, or too naked and fucked up to move right this moment, irrelevant.

“… Frankly, Sir, I can’t have this.” Again with the gesture, his rings glinting in the light. He dropped his voice low. “You know cops already got a hardon for this place. I wanna keep ‘em out, you wanna keep ‘em out, shit like this,” did I mention he talked with his hands a lot? “It’s bad for business. You know.” He sounded the last two syllables out carefully, making it clear in his mind that he wasn’t saying this in a friendly way at all to the two mostly naked people in front of him and his security.

I sighed. Sure, let’s make this right, okay fine; but I stared at him hard for a good half minute before gently pushing Jennifer to the side a bit, so I could reach my pants, socks and boots. I yanked on the jeans as Jennifer slowly roused herself, and picked up the green latex to dress. “No, bitch,” Rico said firmly, “you stay naked. They all heard you, might as well see you.”

She glared, and grabbed her ancient boots off my table. “I ain’t walkin’ on that floor then,” she muttered, stuffing her feet into paratrooper protection. I said nothing and pulled on my own boots, before grabbing my satchel of cocaine and my bottle of cocaine. Forebrain shot me an image of the future involving Mitzi resolidifying and rolling her nostrils over every inch of my table the moment I left sight of it.

I followed Rico across the club to his office, ignoring the gawking hoes and schmoes, even the ones wanting to highfive or whatever. The hard slap Jennifer’d given me earlier was still on my mind: I didn’t like the thought of these losers thinking any chick here could slap me and get her way. But since I was obviously being taken to school a bit by Rico, in our escorted walk across this shithole’s floor, perhaps that was the least of my reputational worries.

One reason I hated being in Rico’s office: it made him incredibly difficult to take seriously. The goon had decorated it to match almost exactly Frank Lopez’ office from Scarface: orange behind black palm trees, mirrors, huge ass ugly table he didn’t need. Stupid, right? Had nobody pointed out to him, Tony Lopez died in that office? Apparently not, because Rico pointed out his décor choices to everybody who walked in its door, twice if he think you forgot.

Louie closed the door behind us; another Meat was at the back door, and Rico turned and halfsat on the stupid paneling of the “authentically Scarface” cheapass table. Jennifer stood naked, large and beautiful: white clutch in one hand, latex dress in the other, with her back to one of the walls. Just what I do, to keep everybody in eyesight; I plopped down in a similar position opposite. The poor girl had that deerinheadlights look again, with a mix of the fright I’d spotted earlier. I wanted to reassure her, but she wasn’t mine to reassure. Still. goddess, I mentioned that part, right? Lizard Brain had apparently accepted the stripperitis diagnosis and was just shrugging and rolling with it.

I could see Rico trying to mentally figure how to handle this. Good cop? Disappointed dad? Concerned business partner? Then he sighed and stood up to all of his sixty five inches. “Bitch, what the fuck?” he exploded finally. “First goddamn night on my floor you’re giving titjobs, that’s completely goddamn unaccepta—”

“Hey,” I said quietly, and Rico shut up. “You said business.  You wanna do business? Let’s do business.  Ready to reup?” I tossed him his gallon Ziploc full of smaller ones, his weekly trip to Vermont. Rico looked at me a bit astonished, as I’d figured: he typically got his cut in cash from my profits, not as his weekly, which I insisted be done as a separate deal. He’d long complained of this, not winning against my counteroffer of fuck you. But there I was, breaking protocol. He didn’t need to know that I was doing so, because I had no cash to give, thanks to the naked chick shivering in front of me, Rico, and his two Meat.

Rico picked up his rum and coke and toasted me. “Salud,” and he slurped, before sloppily putting the drink back down on the ugly brown. “Now bitch – “

“Hey,” I said a little more loudly. “I thought you wanted to talk to me. Let’s talk.”

Rico’s eyes widened. I knew he did not at all like being told to shut up in his own office, but I didn’t feel like watching his employee teardown, and felt I could help conclude the encounter. “I went too far, my friend. I’m sorry.” Those wide eyes narrowed, a lot. I bet he was having flashbacks of his own of the time we had to get mean, knowing that my words of friendship were pretty empty. I knew he knew that, but wanted to convey my harmlessness at this juncture. As I truly was, ish.

“Yeah, that was too far,” he agreed, again with the handwaving. “I mean, I fuckin’ get it, look at this girl, I ain’t ever seen her naked before! Look at this!” Jennifer halfgrinned in spite of herself, and twisted into a coquettish façade for our benefit for a moment. “y as fuck, right! I don’t fuckin’ blame you, dude, I bet those tits felt amazing. I’m sure we’ll see it on the internet pretty soon for everybody to know, huh?”

There was that look of raw fear again from Jennifer. Maybe little girl wasn’t quite ready for her whorehopping daddy to see her getting titfucked on the intarwebs; too late for that.

“But. C’mon. Sir,” Rico looked like he was genuinely pleading with me. “I can’t have this shit, not obvious and screaming like that! It’s bad – for – business!” He whacked his hand into the other, like I didn’t fuckin’ know that.  He sighed again. “I am just… Not happy right now.”

“You could get happy,” I said, rocking my head towards his weekly. 

“Eh. In a minute.” He was slowly moving around Jennifer, taking in the delicious roadmap of her body the way I had. “Bitch, I do like you…”

“Hey,” I said. “Isn’t her name ‘Candy’?” Rico looked over at me. “She’s not a bitch. She’s a nice girl, who made a mistake, encouraged by me. I repent, promise to go forth and sin more, and apologize sincerely for my transgressions. As a sign of good faith… Quarter point.”

That had his attention. He nodded almost imperceptibly. “Half point.”

“Quarter point. It’s appropriate. Our ‘thing’ is week to week and you know I have options.” I knew Rico wouldn’t like the subtle threat of leaving mixed in with my offer of an increased take, but in the end like me Rico was a simple man.

He looked back at Candy before taking a step back toward the desk. “And I fuck the bitch.”

“My name is ‘Candy,’ Rico,” spat Jennifer. Yeah, I knew that wasn’t his real name as well. I liked this girl. “We’re not gonna fuck.”

“What the fuck,” Rico moaned, clearly annoyed at getting repeatedly contradicted in this, his authentic inner sanctum. I almost felt bad for the prick.

“Hey Candy,” I called quietly, “Tell Rico your nickname back home.”

Jennifer glared at me for a second, then took my meaning. I watched her pretty face as she took a few nanoseconds to contemplate, then surrender to the idea. I watched her body language shift from protective, to seductive, as she strolled in slow motion towards Rico.

“They called me the suckslut of Nebraska,” she said, with the sultry halfmoan she’d used on me earlier. “Wanna find out why? I’m sorry, Rico,” she dropped to a gentle whisper, “but below the waist, off limits. To everybody.” I saw her shudder a little – she was really contemplating the thought of having to blowbang all four of us. “But no, nobody’s me.”

“Really, ‘Candy’,” he drawled, “Nobody’s you?” But he was already unbuckling and staring at the newbie stripper’s succulent frame.

“Well, he’s gonna fuck me later,” she raised her arm to point at me, but still facing and closing on Rico. This was news I hadn’t expected, but was pleased to hear. “But that’s later. For now… Rico, baby, can I suck your dick?” She took Rico’s hands from holding his pants, and placed them on her humongous rack. “Can I lick your cock, up and down,” she drawled deliberately, “until my spit is all over every bit of it?” His pants slid to the floor as Rico started to wonder what he’d ever seen in the titless wonders he normally indulged in. “Can I get my slobber all over your balls, baby? Would you like it if I suck on your balls, just a little?” As Rico squeezed and prodded her voice cracked. “But you’re gonna fuck my mouth, right?  You can’t use my pussy baby, but you can fuck my mouth like a pussy.”

“ hell,” Rico groaned, and grabbed Jennifer’s head to pull it at his dick. Jennifer moaned loudly – don’t push it, I thought quickly – and engulfed his short fat cock in one go, gluckgluck noises as she buried her nose in his black wiry pubes, I thought there’s no way he’s really at the back of her throat, but girl was smart enough to flatter the goombah.

He groped for his weekly and extracted a bag, half paying attention to the pile he was pouring onto his hand, a quarter watching Jennifer’s glorious ass bouncing in the air, a quarter watching the master practice her craft in awe. With a thick hork he snorted the snow, his eyes widening and his hips jerking a little at the blowjob queen’s mouth. She took it in stride like the pro she was.

“Here, ‘Candy,’ want some candy, fuck yeah you do,” he muttered, dumping some powder on his dick, which the pretty girl hoovered into her nose with a quickness. Then the dick was in her mouth again, her hand on his hips as she bent at the waist. Louie had a fantastic view of her cunt and asshole as she sucked off his boss, but Louie was far too professional to relieve his own obvious erection in front of us, without permission, though relieving himself was not on his mind as Jennifer noisily blew the owner of her strip club. I swear she read my mind, because one hand came back to rest on a big beautiful asscheek and pulled; from my angle I could just make out reddened labia and the cutest little asshole. Coulda swore I heard Louie groan in frustration. Probably because he didn’t have the angle to see her lovely  large breasts swaying as she gave Rico the best oral pleasure he’d ever known.

Rico was laughing in that justgotgak happiness of and drugs that kept me in this profession as Jennifer pulled at his hips, urging him to fuck her mouth. He got the point, took her head in his hands, and started forcibly thrusting and yelling about loving y whores. It was a sight to see, especially when she turned her head just a little to look me dead in the eye, as a hand reached back and frigged at her clit.

It was right about then Rico gave a thin little gasp and spurted in her mouth, his mouth open like an idiot as he watched her ginger hair on his belly. She choked only a little but pulled his hips hard against her face and moaned loud. “She’s sucking hard, oh fuck that tongue, is, oh fuck,” Rico offered. A master, indeed, I thought as she released him.

Rico collapsed back on his shitty table. Baggie still in hand, he fixed himself another little treat, then looked at me square. “Alright. No more bullshit. We’re good. I apologize for any… disagreements we may have had. We agree now.” He was gazing at Jennifer as he spoke, who’d risen back to her full height – she had a good five inches on the little fuck, her fat tits right below eye level – and wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand.

“That include me, Rico?” She said it softly and carefully, but the guy still looked exasperated as I rose from my chair, my hardon shifting uncomfortably. Fuck that was hot.

“Yeah, ‘Candy,’ that includes you. You get the rest of the night off. Go home with Mister, ah, Mister Sir here.”

“Louie,” I said to my man, “wheel my bike in back, yeah? I’m calling a car.” He nodded, but didn’t try to disguise his stare at the bodacious teenager wiping cum off her face. I extended my hand, and Jennifer took it; out of the office we strode, off to figure out what the fuck she meant about me her later.