I looked up as the young girl writhed and gyrated on the counter above me, a university student in a whore's costume. Her adult but almost boyish body looking incongruous in electric blue hot pants and pink push up bra, quaint in its old fashioned seedy promise. Her eyes fixed straight ahead, looking at herself in the gilded mirror on the wall opposite in almost a sad and lonely way, the way a polar bear in a zoo would, going slowly insane dancing in its cage for the paying public.
I idly thought how tight her cunt must be, judging from the beckoning little mound in her suede shorts. Then I mused what those slim ankles and dainty feet, crammed into Fuck Me strappy heels, would look like over my shoulders. My reverie was broken by the second girl, sitting ever closer to me on identical stools in the nightclub, moving her hand from my thigh to a full-on grope of my flaccid cock and balls. I took another sip of JD, feeling the ice clink against the glass and the glass burn my cheek, and looked at her. She may have been in her mid-20's, a veteran in such a place. She looked slutty and used, with that curious mix of sordid innocence that Asian girls seemed to be borne with.
She raised one eyebrow with an unspoken question. I sighed, and drained my glass and took her tiny hand as the other was busy teasing the by now growing erection in the front of my shorts. She looked dirty and she at least had breasts worthy of the name. She smiled and tried to banter with me in broken English.
She would do, she would have to- too long without a woman. But she was not Her.
Five thousand miles away, Prim felt the warm gas rise in her as she ascended to the fifth floor in the elevator, counting the floors on the display above her, checking her lipstick and cleavage in the mirror opposite until the doors swished open. Metaphorically pulling her game face cap down tight, she strode down the hotel corridor, feeling her nipples harden and the spasm between her legs as she for the first time forgot the hollow emptiness that seemed to precede such adventures these days and replaced it with growing anticipation and excitement. A new one, kinky enough, a transitory thrill for sure.
He had left the hotel door open as she had asked...or was it his idea? She often forgot and didn't really care who came up with these little eccentricities - some sexy, some crazy, some pathetic. She looked at him now keeling on all fours on the bed, again as one of them had suggested - shaven head, collar on, her name written all over him in a specific lipstick she had got him to buy, a child's toy carefully already inserted into his arse, his wife's stockings stretched over his blond hairy legs.
She put down her bag, closed the curtains, and began to pull on her black latex gloves in silence. She could hear him breathing and smell his arousal. His caged cock hung heavily between his legs, his back arched offering her the goods with indecent haste. Her mind suddenly flew back to all those nights in that hotel, how her lover would wait for her naked, still marked from their previous encounter, his love for her as big and hearty as his swollen cock. Waiting for that golden moment when she would collar him.
Yes this one would do. They always did. But it was not Him.
Sheltered from the thick humid blackness of another Shanghai summer night by the air-conditioning in my apartment, I lay back in the armchair and looked out over the myriad of lights twinkling and shinning and bringing faint illumination to the darkness in my living room. Apart from absent minded hum of the air conditioning, the only sound was the wet and contented slurping sounds of the young girl's lips, whistling for her supper, working on my thick and veiny erection with the practiced dedication of a girl I had just rented for that very purpose.
I squeezed one of her tiny hands as she made me twitch with a pointed tongue across my now engorged helmet, and ran my other hand through her long thick lustrous hair, smelling as it did of too much perfume and cheap cigarettes. I could feel her naked breasts warming my thighs, and see her lilywhite backside beyond jiggling in time to her circular sucking motion, changing colour in the neon glow of the huge electric billboard in the street opposite, a Mercedes briefly portrayed along the length of her back. She did the tongue thing again and I couldn't help but grunt some kind of appreciation.
At that moment though I was transported back thousands of miles and several months to my old bedroom in London; it wasn't dark and she wasn't half my age, but as I lay there in the bright Sunday morning sunshine and watched her suck contentedly on me, feeding her own arousal more than mine, her magnificent tongue snaking out and worshipping my entire length, I found myself getting more aroused than anything my take-away on her knees in front of me could have provided.
It was a mouth. It was on my cock. But it was not Her.
Prim paused for breath, wiping her brow with a latex hand. She had built up quite a rhythm now, satisfying her engineer spirit and pleasing her with its monotony and regimen. Moving slowly from one implement to another, focussing her attentions solely on one part of his body before moving on to another, she looked at the mosaic of pain she was building on his white flesh. He seemed close to being broken but she could tell when he was faking and frankly, underneath her chummy Mistress exterior, she didn't really care until she felt she was finished with him. If he was careless enough to put himself in this position, then she would take advantage of that.
He fidgeted and tried to show her how hard his cock was getting in his cage. She knew he wanted her to do lots of other things, mix it up a bit, humiliate him, tease him, and hurt him in other ways. She could sense his impatience and his urge to be back in control. Fuck him. It was only about her, only ever about her.
