They jump into his Jaguar and make their way back to Emilia’s flat. It’s small, with kitschy decor. A neon sign over the fireplace which reads ‘Girls Girls Girls’ in pink cursive. A retro record player in the corner. Two pink velvet pouffes. When he compares the size of this place to his own gargantuan home, Piers suffers a moment of uncharacteristic guilt. When he thinks about it, he doesn’t pay her much to be his PA. The business could afford to pay her more, and for how good she was at the role she probably deserved it.
‘That’s capitalism, though,’ he tells himself. Low-skilled work earns someone a low wage, that’s just the way it is. It’s the way the world goes round.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” Emilia says, with a tantalising smile, and she disappears into her bedroom. Piers checks his phone; one text, from Aoife.
‘What time are you getting home?’
Piers turns off his phone and chucks it on Emilia’s coffee table, just as Emilia emerges from her bedroom again. She’s wearing black lingerie, a suspender belt and sheer stockings.
“Fucking hell,” Piers says, with a wolfish grin. Emilia smiles back, walking towards him in her black stilettos. Piers pulls her towards him and kisses her, urgently, his hands moving all over her body, cupping one ass cheek while the other hand snakes up to her hair. He suddenly seizes a handful of it, hard, and tilts her head back. She gasps.
“Get down on your knees,” Piers orders. She does as he says.
He pulls his cock out of his trousers and puts it in her mouth, then he pushes the back of her head and makes her deep throat it. There’s a gorgeous moment where his dick slips from her mouth right into the warm, wet depths of back of her throat. She starts to gag on it, and he relents only for a moment to let her breathe… then he puts it back in and starts face fucking her again. Her eyes start to water, her mascara running, and she looks up at him with an expression of worshipful lust as he continues to slide his dick back and forth across her tongue. He starts to feel his orgasm building up, and he finally unleashes all of his cum at the back of her throat. He groans as it pumps out of him, then pulls his dick out and taps it on the tip of her tongue. She looks up at him, slightly confused.
“Did you cum?” she says.
He laughs, pleased.
“I did. You didn’t taste it?”
“No, it must have gone straight down the back of my throat,” she giggles.
“I like that,” he says, and he pulls her up by one hand and gives her a big kiss on the lips. He puts out one hand, cups her tit with one hand and squeezes it, hard.
“Go and make me a drink, darling,” he says. “Something alcoholic.”
She walks obediently to her kitchen. He picks up his phone, turns it on and texts Aoife.
‘Won’t be coming home tonight, one of the guys offered to host me at his. Can’t turn it down without risking a sale.’
He turns his phone off again, walks to Emilia’s bedroom, strips to his boxers, and lays back on her bed. His dick is growing hard again, in the anticipation of a long night of fucking her lithe little body.
Friday 7th September 2012
6.39pm
Charton Manor Hotel
“Would you like me to carry your bag?” the concierge says, and I nod at him and smile. Piers and I have come to Charton Manor Hotel for the weekend of my birthday; far, far from our city, far from running into anyone either of us might know. Just the two of us, together, alone, for two days straight. I can’t wait.
We get into the lift and I catch sight of the two of us in the mirrored wall. We’re a good looking couple. Piers is in a light blue shirt, with his shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal tanned forearms, and straight dark blue trousers. I’m in a ruffled, floral minidress, showing plenty of leg, and raffia wedge pumps. My hair is in gentle waves and my toenails are painted bubblegum pink. Considering it’s September, it’s still warm and summery today; perfect conditions for the trip.
The concierge shows us into our suite, and discreetly makes his leave. Piers locks the door behind him, and immediately strips down to his white Calvins. He unbuttons the front of my dress and peels off my pale pink bra and g string.
“On the bed, on your hands and knees,” he says. “Let me see it.”
The ‘it’ is the pink gemstone butt plug he bought me for this weekend, which he insisted I wear for the entire journey out here. We drove in his Jag, roof down, the sun kissing my skin, and I squirmed with the plug inside me. I felt it with every movement I made.
Piers stands over me, pulling my ass cheeks apart gently, examining the plug.
“How did it feel wearing it for the journey?” he asks.
“Weird,” I say truthfully, with a little laugh.
He pulls down his boxers, gives my ass cheek a little tap with his erect penis.
“Well, you did very well,” he says, and he slides his dick inside my pussy. I feel it rub up against the plug in the other hole. He starts fucking me gently.
“The plug was to get you prepared for me to fuck you in the arse,” he says, and I give a tiny moan. “I think you’re ready now. I want to be able to use every hole.”
He pulls his dick out, then gently eases the plug out of my asshole. I hear him squirt some lube on his cock, then he starts to insert it, oh-so-slowly, into my ass.
“Can you handle all of it?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I moan, and he pushes inside of me until every inch of him fills up my asshole. He groans with pleasure.
“Wow, you are perfect,” he says, and he starts slowly fucking me. “Are you happy that I can use all your holes now?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
“Yes what?” he replies.
“Yes sir,” I say.
“I want you to be amenable to me using any hole, whenever I want to, from now on,” he says, as he continues to fuck me, his rhythm building, growing faster.
“I will,” I moan.
“How does it feel, having me fuck that tight little arsehole?” he asks me.
“Good,” I moan.
He hands me one of my little sex toys, a small wand that vibrates.
“Use this against your clit, baby, I want to hear you cum,” he says. I do as he says.
I start feeling my climax building. The feeling of his dick in my ass, so uncomfortable and strange yet so pleasurable. The vibration on my clit. I catch sight of him in the bedroom mirror, standing over me, his flat brown stomach, his abs, the way his handsome face is looking down at me with achingly pleasured concentration. I feel my orgasm build and I cum, crying out as loud as I like.
It must turn him on, to hear me cum loudly like this, because he climaxes too, shooting a great warm load up inside my ass. I wait until he’s finished thrusting, massaging all of the cum out of his cock. He falls onto his back on the bed beside me, stark naked. I lean over, resting on my elbows, and kiss him happily on the mouth.
“That was great,” he says.
“Yeah,” I agree, and I go to the shower to let all of the cum run out of me and down the drain. When I come out, he’s fixing us a drink from the minibar; coke in glass bottles, a little rum, straight into a couple of tumblers. The suite is beautiful; we have a bedroom, a living room, and even an outside deck with a hot tub built into it.
“Get into that bikini I bought you and let’s christen the jacuzzi,” Piers says. He bought me a lot of things for my birthday, one of which is a tiny peach g string bikini with tie-sides. I pull it on, admiring how cute it makes my figure look in the mirror, and then I sweep my hair up into a messy topknot. Walking out onto the deck, I note with relief that it’s not overlooked by any other suites.
“Lie down, darling, let me do your suncream for you,” Piers says, gesturing to the cream-coloured padded deck chair.
I lie on my front, and he meticulously applies suncream to my ankles, my legs, lingering on the globe of each ass cheek, rubbing the cream in and giving my ass little spanks as though he’s enjoying watching it jiggle. Then he massages it into my back, his big warm hands working out the kinks in my muscles, too. My head is laying on my arms. I moan with pleasure.
“That feels so good,” I say.
He gives my ass a little spank. “Turn over, let’s do your front.”
He does the same to the front of my body, his hands creeping into the bikini top and rubbing the cream into my boobs, pinching my nipples a little so I giggle and squirm. He tells me to give it fifteen minutes before I get into the pool, to let the suncream sink in. He leaves me with a magazine and my cola, lying on my front, bathing in the warm sun. When he comes back, he gives me ass cheek a little bite.
“Ouch!” I say, giggling.
“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” he says with a vampiric smile. “That bikini makes your arse look like a fucking peach.”
He’s wearing dark blue swimming trunks. He steps into the jacuzzi.
“Come on, let’s get in,” he says. I join him. The hot tub is wonderfully warm, the bubbles caressing my skin and the jets massaging my back. He pulls me onto his lap and starts kissing me fiercely, then pulls his hard dick out of his swimming shorts.
“Pull your thong to the side,” he instructs me, and I do so. He slides his cock inside my pussy.
“Ride me,” he says, and I start to bounce up and down on his dick. He grips the sides of my slim waist, taking control of the rhythm he wants me to go at, and his eyes fall on my tits, jiggling in front of him. He slides the fabric of my bikini top to the side, so that I’m exposed, and he starts to caress them, putting each one in his mouth in turn and gently biting my nipples. I moan.
“I want you to make me cum again, baby,” he says, and I start riding him faster, eager to satisfy him. He closes his eyes, leans back, puts his arms out across the sides of the hot tub. I watch his face change as I bounce; his brow starts to furrow, and I know he’s close.
“Let me cum on your face, darling,” he says, and he stands just in time to unleash it all on me as I kneel, looking up at him. He groans as he covers my face in it, then he chuckles.
“Oops,” he says. “Some of it went in the pool.”
I laugh, swallowing a little of his cum as I do so.
“Oh well,” he says. “Fuck it.”
Saturday 8th September 2012
4.41pm
Charton Manor Hotel
We go to the hotel spa the next day, a new renovation that’s cost them ten million to build. It’s stunning. The indoor pool is warm and steamy, the walls dotted with pebbles, so that it feels like the inside of a particularly luxurious cave. I wanted to wear the g string bikini again, but even I know that’s probably not a good idea considering the hotel’s undoubtedly quite conservative clientele. Instead, I wore another of Piers’ presents; a high waisted Malibu pink number that makes my legs look endless.
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