“Hi… er, I believe my boyfriend left a key for me at the front desk,” I stammered nervously, addressing the woman with bright red lips and shiny pulled-back hair at the front desk of the hotel. She gazed at me with an earnest, but puzzled, expression.
“Yes!” her uniformed male colleague grinned, sidling smarmily up to my rescue. “Indeed he did!”
Key in hand, I dashed off to the restrooms (luckily I know where the restrooms are in every hotel in London – haha! just joking! NOT!) and quickly checked my clothes my hair my face and inserted a large metal butt-plug into my ass. After spending the last eight days trapped in a cytokine storm, I had barely been able to drag myself out of bed that morning, let alone wash and straighten my hair – not at all the way I would have liked to approach such a potentially ego-deflating occasion. But I gritted my teeth, and decided to pretend that my total lack of effort was actually just evidence of my supreme self-confidence and non-competitive spirit.
My hand was shaking as I held the key card up to the door. I paused, for no reason other than to relish this moment, almost unable to believe it. Of course, I have had threesomes before, and, in fact, the last one had been pretty disastrous, so it wasn’t this in and of itself which excited me. It was something more, much more than that…
I paused outside the door, listening, hoping to catch just a muffled sound or two from inside the room. But I couldn’t hear anything. I felt a wild surge of fear and excitement as I turned the handle and stepped in, my heart fluttering and my thoughts racing. What would I see? And how would it make me feel?? I stepped into a sort of little living room, with a doorway opening into the bedroom. And through the doorway – like a fly on the wall – I could see it all. I stood there as though turned to stone, overcome with voyeuristic shame at my own unthinkable intrusion, and yet transfixed, unable to tear my eyes away from this incredible sight.
“Get in here and sit down,” barked the Edge, without even bothering to turn towards me. “NOW!”
I struggled out of my coat, trembling so much that my keys and other random items completely missed the desk where I tried to discreetly place them and instead fell crashing to the floor. I hurried into the bedroom, where Annabel peeked out from under the Edge to flash me a charming smile and a wink. What a minx! I sat down on the edge of the chair, quivering all over as I watched him fuck her.
Now I know that, coming from a submissive girl like me, this sounds like a classic “cuckquean” scenario. Doesn’t it? But it wasn’t. It doesn’t turn me on to know that he fucks other women. That’s another shameful little secret of mine. I’m actually extremely jealous and possessive. In fact, one of the reasons I quit AdultWork is because I had started obsessively stalking all my clients to see whom else they were fucking. Oh no – I didn’t just admit that, NO!! Stop reading, stop reading now!
All right, so back to reality. (Because that last thing I said wasn’t real – that was just a joke. Really.) I was watching him fuck her, holding her legs up over her head, slamming his dick into her pussy, with that characteristic little extra thrust at the end. Just as he fucks me. Unsurprising, I guess. But, somehow… unexpected. She was smiling happily and uttering little encouragements. How annoying!
He had told me not to touch myself as I watched them. Geez, how like a man! Like there was any way I would just hike up my skirt and start touching myself in front of this strange woman! Unless ordered to, of course. (And how embarrassing would that have been?!) But as it was, I could have sat there watching them for hours, really. It was like a 3-dimensional porn movie. With one’s favourite porn stars in it. Because, well, the Edge is the Edge, and Annabel is my favourite of all his sex partners. She had intrigued – and intimidated – me from the start. In fact, I think the Edge’s first encounter with her was what made up my mind to exit the world of AdultWork forever. She was just so out of my league.
So this was incredibly hot. At the same time, there was something kind of grotesque about it. To see him fuck her so savagely. Knowing that there was no affection between them – nothing sentimental, no emotion. It was brutal and animalistic. You see, that’s another of my fetishes. I’m obsessed with prostitution. It seems the ultimate domination of a man over a woman. And it’s something so shameful, so shrouded in secrecy. I felt like I had gained entrance to an arcane cult.
But the spell was broken when he rose, and told her to strip me. She eagerly obliged, towering intimidatingly over me on those endless legs of hers, her gorgeous brown hair swinging silkily over her shoulders as she bent down to unzip my dress. She had the perfect body, really, with firm, full breasts and smooth, rounded hips, and a long, flat stomach with the trace of a racy little belly-button piercing, no longer in use. And her pussy, like a beautiful, many-petalled flower…
He made me lie down on the bed, with my head at one end of it, and with Annabel bent down over me as he penetrated her ass. She squealed, but he bravely persevered, while I timidly sought out her clitoris with my tongue. She reached for mine, to return the favour, but the Edge slapped her hand away. “She doesn’t deserve it,” he told her. “Oh my!” exclaimed Annabel, in surprise.
They seemed to switch out of this position with unusual alacrity, and began to fiddle around with the strap-on. I was horribly embarrassed and tried not to look. But, I must say, Annabel climbed into it with remarkable grace, showing us her gaudy new purple appendage. I cringed with fear. But there was no hanging back – the Edge made me remove my butt-plug, which I did with a reluctant grimace, tossing it into the sink behind me. Then he asked her to lie down and pushed me on to her, entering my ass with his dick as I cried out in pain. After a couple of thrusts, he told her to slide the strap-on into my pussy. She did so obligingly, but my mind was on the searing pain in my ass, and I could barely feel it. Also, I suppose, I knew that she couldn’t feel it either. It’s not the same, is it? As a real, live…
I went down on her again, pressing my face into her flowery pussy, unlike any other I had seen, envelopping me in pheromones as I lapped at her warm, sweet juices, pouring from her like honey! I could see how one could get totally addicted to this, if one let oneself do it for too long. But then I became vaguely aware of the Edge dipping his fingers into my own pussy and possibly, from the sound of things, pushing them into Annabel’s mouth for her to suck. Horrified and hugely self-conscious, I managed to wriggle away.
He began to fuck me, very hard, while Annabel watched curiously beside us. Gradually her hand stole down towards her pussy and she began to touch herself, emitting little moans of excitement. The Edge looked over at her approvingly. Damn her – stealing my thunder! I was almost relieved when it was time for her to leave. But one couldn’t be cross with her – she was just the sweetest thing, chattering gaily about this and that. Before I met her, I had imagined her flirting with the Edge, conversely wittily and rather pretentiously with him as she raised a wine glass to her coy lips. And that had made me seethe. But nothing could have been further from the truth. There was something endearingly open and unguarded about her, and yet, at the same time, so tactful, so considerate. It was just impossible not to adore her.
She left, wondrously Amazonian in her stiletto heels, wrapped in an elegant cape. I turned to the Edge, a little annoyed with him for having wilfully revealed some of my more embarrassing personal details to Annabel, and I kissed him with passion. He pushed me down on to the bed on my back, spreading my legs apart and plunging into my ass again. I gasped as he began to fuck me, thrusting into me so savagely that I could hear the squeak of air being drawn in and out of my pussy from the sheer force of his dick slamming into my ass. I was powerless to protest, or resist, as he fucked me harder and faster.
“Tell me when you’re getting close,” he murmured.
“Oh God… oh God, I’m close,” I babbled incoherently, just before he pulled out of my ass and rammed his dick straight into my mouth, exploding with come. I gulped it up hungrily. Mmmm…
Half an hour later, I was watching him from the passenger seat of his car, my eyes round with undisguised lust, as he drove me home… while my new butt-plug lay abandoned and forgotten in the hotel room sink. Damn!!