“Hold still, Lindsay. I'm going to fuck you now.” He got into position and lined his erection up with her pussy. Bent over the bed in an obscene, unladylike position, Lindsay's legs were widespread as she glanced back over her shoulder with a desperate, clouded look in her eyes.
“Yes, please! Yes! Please fuck me, Sammy.” Lindsay bit her lower lip as another crimson blush overtook her cheeks. “Please! Oh God. Don't make me beg for it.”
“You're wet already, aren't you?” Sammy’s trademarked hard gaze, his ruthless desire, didn’t waver. “Keep that ass spread and take your fucking like a good girl and I may let you suck my dick and swallow my cum afterward.”
With one swift, powerful thrust, Lindsay wailed out at the top of her lungs as her pussy accepted his manhood. “So nice and tight, darlin'.” She spread her thighs further and buried her face in the mattress. “Don't you dare let go of those ass-cheeks. Keep them spread so I can admire your anus.” Sammy's words were laced with warning as he pulled back and plowed inward again. “I'll be fucking it tonight, too, you know.”
“I won't, Sammy! I won't let go, I swear! Please take me. Please! Oh my God. Make me yours!”
The bedframe creaked violently as masculine grunts and feminine sobs helped form a decadent symphony that serenaded the room. Lindsay Anastacio wasn't one to take a dicking lying down. No, she matched Sammy with equal effort and intensity, and used every last ounce of strength in her petite, ninety-eight-pound frame to snatch back as much as he took from her.
Holding Lindsay around her waist delighted Sammy as his pelvis slammed into her upturned backside, his heavy balls thwacking away. “Oh, good, baby. That’s good. Oh, wow. Your pussy feels so good.” Sammy fucked with a confident rhythm that was brazen, almost arrogant, and it spoke volumes to all the times he'd sampled gorgeous, young working girls over the past four decades.
Yet in all that time, I’ve never experienced a cunt this tight, this spectacular. To Sammy, Lindsay could be the runaway winner for Miss Teen USA. Or Miss America, Miss Universe, even. Perfect body, beautiful face, all kinds of sensuality. And it helped that she looked absolutely delicious with his dick stuffed deep inside her.
Lindsay responded to this aggressive treatment with rising sobs of pleasure as he plowed a path all the way to her cervix again and again. Sammy aimed to take, conquer, and claim. Every inch of Lindsay's pussy, her body, her soul itself would belong to him. Her thoughts splintered into madness as he held her firmly in place, one hand on the back of her neck, the other steadying her hips for his savage insertions.
“You love my dick, don't you? Don't you? Say it, slut. Say you love my dick!”
“I love your dick! More, Sammy! More!” Lindsay was begging – pleading for it – whining, squirming, churning as she lay defenseless beneath him. “Oh, I love it when you stretch my pussy. Harder! Oh, fuck.” Lindsay's neck strained and her torso rose off the bed. Disheveled hair hung around her face. Still, that ass never left the cradle of Sammy's pelvis as his hips pumped away like a supercharged locomotive. “Never stop fucking me, please! It feels so good! I’ll always be your slut!”
Sammy gripped Lindsay's arms and pulled until her head was touching his shoulder. “What do you want, babygirl?” His hot breath tickled the nape of her neck and she shivered. “Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah, right there.” He followed with a flick of the tongue and Lindsay's body literally melted. “Tell Daddy what you want.”
“You!” She whimpered, the sensations in her pussy overwhelming. Sammy was so hard, so forceful, so brutal and demanding. She’d relinquished everything and given him total control. “You, Daddy! I want you!”
To her credit, Lindsay didn't let go, digging her fingernails into her ass to keep from disobeying orders and risk going over his knee for a punishment. The sight of Lindsay's crinkly little anus, exposed and inviting, made Sammy's mouth water and his heart pound wildly.
“How does that make your sweet, little cunt feel, Lindsay?” His tone turned predatory. “Slutsay? To be fucked by your Master – your owner – the way a needy concubine's cunt should be fucked?”
“Oh Daddy … Master … oh my God.” She choked back cries as he increased his tempo, plowing deeper, further, giving her a half-second or so between thrusts in which to brace herself for the next. Lindsay’s breathing stuttered. “I like that. Thank you, thank you.” Her cries became louder, and her head thrashed from side-to-side. “May I come?”
“No, Lindsay. No, you may not.” Sammy gave another stark reminder of the authority he possessed while offering a hard, open-handed spank across her right ass-cheek. “Not until I say so.”
Lindsay screeched and lurched back with her hips in a maddening frenzy. Sammy's own breathing became labored at the sensation of his cock looting Lindsay's treasures time and time again. Yet she wasn't about to voice her displeasure at being denied orgasm. No, not with a man like Sammy, a true man who understood his rights when it came to a nymphomaniac like her.
“Do you want to come, sweetheart?”
“Yes, please!”
“Too bad. Not yet.”
“Please, Daddy!” She raised her face and glanced back at him, her eyes wide and wild. “Please, let me come!”
Sammy gave her backside another heavy-handed swat as he continued to thrust. “What happens if you come without my permission?”
“I'll get five with the belt. And no more orgasms the rest of the week.” Saying those words nearly caused Lindsay to burst into flames right on the spot. She loved the sensory experience of BDSM, and nothing brought her closer to another human being than a true power play.
“Oh my God!” Her howls were piercing. “Yes! Oh my God. You fucking fill me so much. I need to come!” She writhed beneath him, her pussy begging for the words that would send her over the edge. “Oh my God … you're so fucking deep. So fucking deep inside my whore pussy! Oh, yes! Let me come!”
“One more word, bitch, and you’ll get twenty with the belt.”
Lindsay bit her lip and emitted a little sob.
“You’ll come when I say you can.”
Sammy towered over Lindsay for two more minutes as his hips thrusted and his dick drove to the hilt. He kept his hands around Lindsay’s waist and held her still, using her exactly as he pleased.
The walls of her pussy clenched his cock like a slippery little fist. Sammy’s own climax hit like a tidal wave as he deposited his load in Lindsay and he didn't care about any long-term ramifications that may occur. He was too blinded with passion. The fifty-eight-year-old held on with a vise-tight grip as he thrusted once, twice, a third time, before stilling and jerking the final remnants of his release into Lindsay's delicate, fertile womb.
All the while, Sammy played with Lindsay's clitoris and when he gave her the permission she so desperately needed, an orgasm tore through her so fiercely it seemed to shake the foundation of the Earth itself. Or a tornado that started in him and ripped right through her with no pity, no remorse, leaving a devastating wake of sexual destruction in its path.
Sammy had taken Lindsay beyond gasps, well beyond screams, the ability to think, and she was now a hot mess that lay quivering in her own pool of wanton satisfaction.
It took a minute or two, but once settling down, Lindsay bowed her head and whimpers of pure, unbridled gratitude emerged from her lips. “Thank you, Master, for training me to be a good girl. Thank you.” There was such love in her voice that Sammy could scarcely believe in the reality of the world around him. “Thank you.”
“We’re not done, darlin’. I’m going to fuck you all night. And your ass is next.”
“Mike!” called a female’s voice. “Michael Steele, it's five-thirty! Get your tired old self out of bed! You have to be at work by seven o'clock.”
Sammy's eyes shot open and he was cruelly ripped from the most vivid, amazing dream he'd ever experienced. He recognized the all-too-familiar dresser-drawer and retro stereo system sideways in his blurry vision and realized the unfortunate truth: I'm in my bedroom, not with Lindsay.
Fuck!
Forever sunken into the mattress after eight hours of sleep, he was too relaxed to consider leaving such a prime, luxurious piece of real estate.
Sammy rubbed his groggy eyes. His wife of thirty-nine years was standing in the doorway with both hands on her hips, her eyes fixated on him. Damn, not that old hag. Sammy was acutely aware of his raging erection. Oh, wow. I had a dream. He didn’t remember his dick being this hard in ages. But what a dream it was!
Not wanting to explain himself, Sammy piled on an extra bedsheet and didn’t dare turn over from his side. “Uhh, mornin', Barbara.”
She made a face. “You have to be at work in ninety minutes. If you want time to enjoy your breakfast, I suggest you drag yourself out of bed.”
“Yeah, yeah, okay.” His voice scratchy, Sammy put his cheek back on the pillow and avoided eye contact. I don't want her to become suspicious and find me with this boner. “I'll be downstairs in a few.”
“You better not doze off again.”
Sammy gave a silent prayer that he hadn't been moaning or calling out Lindsay's name in his sleep. If I did, Barbara would've said something by now. “I won't. I promise.” He forced himself to keep his eyes open. She'll nag even more if I nod off again and I won’t hear the end of it for days. “Thanks for waking me, darlin'. Appreciate it.”
“I'll have your sausage, eggs, and biscuits ready and on the breakfast table in ten minutes. Come on, wake up. Make yourself decent.”
When his wife descended the staircase seconds later, Michael Steele had no choice but to pull himself out of bed. He snatched his cell phone from the hutch, typed in his passcode, and barricaded himself in the washroom.
Michael, Mike, or Sammy, as he was known throughout the LPIN community – his monger name to safeguard both his professional and personal identities – had three new e-mails waiting, but only one mattered and was worth his attention.
From: Anastacio, Lindsay
To: Sodomy, Sammy
Sent: July 23, 2018, 3:54am MST
Subject: 15 days and counting down!
Sammy –
It's the middle of the night and I'm in bed, and though I just had back-to-back clients who booked appointments with me because of your reviews on the website, all I can do is think about you. I YEARN for you, hunny. You have no idea how much.
I'm playing with myself and my pussy is soaked at the thought of what you're going to do to me once we're together again in 15 days. I can’t wait to have your dick in my mouth and for you to show me how to be a proper anal slut. I want to be your pleasure slave and fulfill every filthy desire you've ever had!
I love you, Sammy!!! I do! I really do!
I cannot think straight or sit still throughout the day anymore with the thought of you fucking me always on my mind. You're driving me crazy, and I promise you the most passionate day of your life when we meet in SLC 15 short days from now.
Please, please, please, jerk your cock off sometime today and imagine it's my hand doing it to you instead. I'm going to fuck myself with my dildo now and pretend it's your big dick.
-Slurps and swallows, Lindsay
*
“Holy shit!” Within the privacy of his home in Briar Bluff, Utah – an upscale suburb of Salt Lake City – Sammy's mouth was agape as he re-read the e-mail. This chick is incredible! Why couldn’t every brothel hoe be so willing to think outside the box like this? I’d love to hook up with Pamela McCarron in a hotel, too, and give her the type of no-holds-barred dicking she deserves. Just fuck the ever-loving hell out of her.
The constant back-and-forth between Lindsay and Sammy over the past few days kept getting steamier and steamier. Sammy had met some real keepers throughout the years, for sure, but never one so authentic about sex like this. Lindsay is my ultimate fantasy come to life. Not only was she adamant about giving Sammy her anal cherry in two weeks, but Lindsay wanted him to take complete control and use her like a rag doll, a fuck-toy. She pleaded with him to spank her – even break her – and not have any hesitation while doing so. Says she wants to know what it’s like to be with a strong, dominant alpha male who doesn’t hold back.
Man, oh, man. How repressed did this girl have to be while growing up in such a secluded town? She’s always been a kinky little slut, I think. Was Citronelle even on the map? Perhaps Lindsay needed the right environment – the right people – to help bring this side of her to the surface. She’s only been away from home for a week and has made more money, I bet, than both her parents combined in that same amount of time.
He cackled out loud. That’s fucking fantastic!
Oh, Sammy wanted to be inside Lindsay. It had been six long, excruciating days since they were together and, at this point, it didn’t matter the position or the orifice. I don’t know if I can wait fifteen more days.
There were three things that he loved most about Lindsay. One was that charming, little mouth that could make a lesser man orgasm in an instant, another was her tight pussy that was willing to take on anything, and the third was her virgin anus that would be trained for his pleasure in due time. I wanna fuck those small-ass titties too. He craved this girl, needed her so much, as anticipation coursed through his blood like molten lava. Hell, I’d fuck her armpits.
Amazingly, Lindsay was the one who initiated this. She offered to meet him in Salt Lake City, not the other way around. And most surprising of all, she was willing to do it for free. She’s too green to understand how whoring works. Lindsay told Sammy multiple times that she didn't want any money to spend a day or two with him. “I love you, Sammy. You popped my brothel cherry and I want to be with you for real. I'll never have a client as special as you ever again.”
Sammy had never met a prostitute off the clock – away from her brothel – and not offered generous compensation for her services. These are business transactions and, in my mind, they’re worth every penny. He had a lucrative, high-paying job – I’m the CEO of Gradiph Pharmaceuticals – and over two hundred million dollars split up in investments and across several bank accounts. Our house, our yacht, the cars, everything is paid off. Girls like Lindsay were a luxury he could afford to spoil rotten without fear of financial burden.
Whores need to be paid. I don’t mind; they’re a gift to the world. Money fuels them. In his experiences, the more money he offered, the harder these ladies worked to please him.
If Sammy had his way, he was going to shower young Lindsay with countless gifts and a steady stream of income. He loved seeing prostitutes in his favorite penthouse hotel suite or his own home – but only when Barbara is away visiting her sister – and giving them what they wanted while taking what he wanted too. It’s a transaction that’s mutually beneficial for both sides.
Lindsay was special – very special – and Sammy had grand plans for her immediate future. Our future. He wanted much more than a meetup at the hotel for a night, or perhaps several nights of sex. That wouldn’t be enough. Instead, it would be step one of the process. A delicate process, no doubt, one that would require additional time to gain the trust needed from Lindsay to offer such a risky, unlawful proposition.
This girl is so young, so fresh and innocent, and full of boundless energy when she fucks. Working in a brothel would change her, Sammy knew, and it wouldn’t be for the better. Elisabeth and Nicolette were prime examples of that. I remember how they were when they first started and compare their younger selves to now. It's sad.
Nicolette used to be similar to Lindsay. Not on Lindsay's level, no, but in the same ballpark. Nicolette puts on an act nowadays, but I can tell she's disinterested during parties. Nicolette had a young son back in Vegas who wasn't in the best of health and she worried about him constantly. She's preoccupied and for good reason.
Regardless, disinterest was common amongst the older ladies. I see right through their bad acting. Sammy didn’t want the same thing to happen to Lindsay down the road. I don't want her to lose that zest and enthusiasm and the eagerness to please at all costs.
It's a rare trait in any woman – whore or not – and it needs to be nourished, not deadened.
Indeed, Sammy had lofty plans for the eighteen-year-old.
I want this chick out of the brothels and living in a downtown Salt Lake City high-rise where I can show up whenever I want and fuck her to my heart’s content. Not since Alana, his all-time favorite in the business, had Sammy felt the urge to employ a full-time “sugar baby.” I miss Alana so much, but her pain is gone, and she’s in a better place now … God rest her soul.
He wanted to finance Lindsay’s way through college, pay her rent and living expenses, buy her outrageous gifts such as a convertible and dream vacations, and provide more money than she could spend. When the time is right, I’ll offer Lindsay five hundred thousand dollars for the first year and promise to increase it every year thereafter.
The tradeoff? She’ll take my dick whenever I tell her to. Day or night, night or day, holidays, it wouldn’t matter. I’ll add Lindsay to my Centurion credit card account and tell her she can buy whatever she wants with it.
Not even Alana had this type of impact on Sammy, and he’d been with well over a thousand working girls. For whatever reason, Lindsay is genuinely interested in me too. He wasn’t looking to save her – I sure as hell ain’t no white knight – but by Christmastime, Sammy planned on legitimately owning this girl. I’ve always dreamed of having a sexy little plaything on the side that I could fuck on a moment’s notice.
Brothels were fun. So was hooking up with and banging a fine piece of ass like Amy Zeitler on his own terms, which Sammy would do later today instead of going to work. But I’m older now and I’d like something consistent, something set in stone. Not a commitment, but something that was there whenever he wanted it.
Memories from last Christmas brought a wicked smile to Sammy’s face. During a trip to Happy Ending Ranch, he offered Amy (Scarlett) a gift card for $100 if she’d suck and finish his dick off without a condom. Sure, they had to whisper so no one would hear them via the microphones, but Scarlett was eager to agree. That bitch swallowed me whole and put on a show, gargling my cum like it was Scope or Listerine before guzzling it down.
Scarlett was a special girl in Sammy’s eyes too.
He was glad that Colt rarely checked the video feeds because he’d made similar offers to Sahara, Riley, and Mariko. Everything was hush-hush and discreet. And never once did any of them turn him down. I work hard each day. I deserve an honest cocksucking and to come down a girl’s throat whenever I’m in the mood.
Would Lindsay quit Happy Ending Ranch and move to Utah if Sammy offered her a starting rate of $500,000 per year while also covering all expenses? I’d take a few hours off from work on certain days and go over to Lindsay’s apartment and fuck her. Two days a week? Why not three? Or perhaps an entire weekend? Lindsay would have to be on birth control, pills or injections, an IUD, something. At that price, I’ll demand to fuck her raw, bareback, the way a man is entitled to.
Hell, I could offer her more money and knock her up too. That way, long after Sammy was dead and buried, Lindsay would never forget him. She’d always have a little something to remember me by, huh?
If she agreed to this proposition, Lindsay would earn a quality education and collect a bankroll of money. The dream scenario for any whore. Taking trips around the world would be a possibility. I’d allow her to have as many friends as she wants, the life she wants. Sammy wouldn’t have any issue with her dating and fucking others either.
It’d be a business transaction, nothing more.
But when Daddy came calling, he’d expect Lindsay to drop everything and do what she was being compensated so nicely for. I take care of her and she takes care of me. I’ll break her, train her, and use her whatever way I want.
And oh man, that ass. That ass would belong to Sammy and Sammy alone. No one else would be allowed near it. It’d be mine, only mine, to fuck whenever I want.
Make no mistake about it, though – Sammy cared about his wife and had no intention of leaving her.
At least not yet.
He’d been with Barbara since 1977. By comparison, Lindsay wasn’t born until 1999. Sex with Barbara definitely isn’t what it used to be. She had trouble dealing with the typical discomforts of getting older and suffered from a loss of interest and sexual desire. Barbara was a helluva fuck back in the day, but not anymore. Still, Sammy was forever bound to her. What would our kids think if I left her? The grandkids?
On the plus side, Barbara had always known of Sammy’s brothel fetish and the fact he could never get enough of sweet, young pussy. She’s never cared for that side of me but has looked the other way, mostly, for the thirty-nine years I’ve been feeding this addiction.
Sammy recalled the one and only time he convinced Barbara to visit Happy Ending Ranch with him and party with Alana. 1984; it was our lone threesome. Barbara was so timid, so apprehensive, but she warmed up quick once Alana licked her pussy and Sammy fucked her mouth at the same time. Ahh, the good ol’ days.
If his plans for Lindsay went through, he could never tell his wife that he had a full-time sugar baby on the side right here in Salt Lake City. It would upset her and rightfully so. Barbara doesn’t know I already meet several girls illegally.
Nor did she need to.
Sammy loved Alana and had a unique relationship with her until she passed away. We had a lot of fun times together and, though she was married, too, I always thought of her like another wife. Yet Lindsay had already eclipsed Alana as his all-time favorite.
Just. Like. That.
Fuck it! I’ll offer Lindsay a million dollars a year to start! No way she’d turn that down, right?
“Mike, did you fall asleep again? For crying out loud, your breakfast is ready! Come downstairs before it gets too cold!”
Still in the washroom, Sammy clenched his fists and growled like a wild bear. I fucking hate the way Barbara’s voice carries and screeches when she calls out from elsewhere in the house. Not only that, but he despised life’s normalcies too. All I want any more is to fuck whores like Lindsay – day and night – and not worry about relationships or deal with any of the petty bullshit drama. Barbara tore into him when he’d admitted to visiting Happy Ending Ranch Tuesday night and spending $1,800 without asking for her consent first. Like I fucking need it. I’m the one who makes all the money!
And this tendency of hers to go all nuclear because he was two minutes late to the dining room table had to stop. It really does. Shit got old thirty years ago.
“Coming, Barbara!” Goddammit. …
<> <> <> <> <>
Colt exhaled sharply as he leaned against a metal banister in the baggage claim area of McCarran International Airport in Las Vegas, Nevada. He'd been busy admiring Pamela's profile page on Happy Ending Ranch’s website for the past few minutes – that pic of her in the red dress is stunning – while waiting for Elisabeth (real name: Samantha Walcott) to appear and meet him. She should be along any minute now. Her flight from Denver having landed a half-hour ago, twenty-nine-year-old Elisabeth had been working at the brothel since 2016 and was set to return for a three-week tour after a month off.
Colt arrived at the airport at five-thirty this morning – three-and-a-half hours ago – and was operating on minimal sleep. He drove Scarlett 175 miles from Flagstone in the middle of the night and dropped her off for what he believed was a six-thirty nonstop flight to Cincinnati, Ohio (though Scarlett didn't take it). The timing was perfect because Elisabeth's flight landed two hours later. Colt would drive Elisabeth to the brothel so she wouldn't have to pay for any rideshare transportation herself.
And then, he’d finally catch some much-needed sleep.
I hope Scarlett enjoys her week off. The thought slipped from Colt's mind as he continued to admire the image on his smartphone. I’m worried about Pamela. She was the one who convinced him to step away from the house and go to the airport. Told me it would take my mind off her back and she’d do nothing but sleep while I’m gone anyway.
How many times had random customers seen this same picture and went to Happy Ending Ranch and booked a party with Pamela because of it?
Colt's heart rumbled. Too many times. He sniffed his nose and stared off into the distance. The eighth largest airport in the United States in terms of passenger volume, McCarran International was buzzing with activity. It averaged 490 flights per day to 150 worldwide cities and 125,000 travelers. Waves of tourists came and went in every direction as Colt focused on a lone man and woman, likely a married couple, retrieving their suitcases.
I wonder if that dude subjects himself to listening to his wife getting fucked by strangers like I do? Colt chuckled and hissed at the same time. No, of course not. He’d wager they had a joyful, little existence back in Nebraska or Georgia, or wherever it was they were from. Look how happy and monogamous they seem. Colt would bet that woman wouldn’t touch another guy for the rest of her life too. He has nothing to worry about.
But hey, perhaps Colt could make the same claim for Pamela from now on as well. Wasn’t that a good thing? What he wanted? I’m at the point in my life where I want Pamela for myself, yes, but not this way. Despite all the insecurity that had been bubbling to the surface this past week, Colt didn’t want Pamela to be forced out of the business because of a devastating spinal injury. She loves taking care of her clients and I’d never want that to be ripped away from her like this.
I want us to have a normal life, for us to settle down once and for all and have kids, but if I had my way, Pamela would have another five or six parties today with all her favorite mongers. Hell, even Charlie, and for every party to be a threesome with Kayleigh included too.
She enjoys busy days like Saturday. It was obvious she enjoyed being with Lindsay too. Kayleigh is cute, but that little dodo bird does nothing for me. I don’t know what Pamela sees in her.
Instead, Colt’s wish was for Pamela to be at that same point as he was, where she wanted a one-on-one relationship with him too. I’ve always wanted her to walk away from the industry without regret and on her own terms. Colt loved Pamela more than anything but knew what he signed up for when marrying a prostitute. Maybe I’m waiting for the day when she wants to devote herself to me the same way I want to devote myself to her.
No mongers like Charlie or Gabriel … and no Kayleigh. This life isn’t for me anymore.
Pamela loved him too. I don’t doubt that for a second. But Colt also realized, as a professional companion for hire, she was programmed differently than the typical woman. It’ll take some time, but I trust she’ll come around. Pamela kept saying she’d step away from the business in three years, right? Stepping away came quicker than expected, unfortunately, but maybe she’ll have everything about the business completely out of her system in three years. …
Oh, look.
When the pretty young wife at the baggage carousel rotated and Colt caught a glimpse of her from a different angle, he realized something significant.
She’s pregnant.
Five months along? Six months? Congrats? Dude she is with is so lucky. I wonder if he realizes how lucky. Look how radiant the wife is. She's glowing. Colt eyed the pronounced swell of her belly. God, that’s beautiful. Just beautiful.
Pamela would be an excellent mother herself.
At this rate, should they ever have children, Colt figured he’d be a senior citizen by the time the eldest graduated from high school. Is that fair to do to any child? To be an older parent like that? He sure as hell wasn’t getting any younger. I’d like, once Pamela gets past this injury, for us to work on starting a family. It’s time. If nothing else, Colt believed parenthood may help settle Pamela down and further distance her from the draw of brothel life.
