This one is a bit outside the box for me. I'm writing it at the request of another member and while the ending is one of romance, it certainly doesn't start that way. The beginning provides you with a bit of history in order to bring the remainder of the story into context. I'm cautiously optimistic as I submit this for publication, it could go either way.
I want to thank my proofreader. His suggestions and corrections are greatly appreciated.
One Last Gangbang
As the older smelly guy with a beer gut finished ejaculating, grunting and carrying on like he'd just dumped a gallon of semen in me I thought to myself, *two more, Karen, and that's it, you'll never do this again*. The only reason I knew the guy had finished was because of his grunting. Some of the earlier guys were quite good in technique and equipment, leaving large deposits of semen within their condom. Beer Gut's condom had barely a dribble. The last two wanted it doggy which suited me fine, I wouldn't have to look in their eyes and pretend. All I had to do was rest a few minutes, apply more KY, make lots of noise and thrash around on the bed a little.
I had agreed to a gangbang of six guys, all older and divorced, all potential customers of the company paying my bill. They would abide by my rules. One at a time, no spit roasts, no double penetration, no blow jobs. Those rules would be assured by Elvis, a tall heavy dude who loved hurting people for fun. He was happily married with three kids and never wanted my body. Only the five hundred I paid him each time to make sure I was safe if multiple people were involved.
They could have me any way they wanted vaginally, it was an extra five hundred if they insisted on anal, and they could only cum once. In the earlier days that would not have flown, but it was no longer the earlier days. I had enough money stashed away to not need the life of prostitution any longer. I wasn't angry or hateful of my clientele, it was a career choice I had made at a much younger age. Fact of the matter was, I simply didn't care anymore. If they weren't going to do it on my terms, it wasn't going to happen.
I had turned the offer down initially until the owner of the company wanting to entertain his foreign potential customers sweetened the pot so much that it was nearly impossible to turn away. A thousand dollars each along with my normal corporate fee of two thousand and I set the rules. Who would pay money like that for a hooker you might ask. It's certainly a legitimate question.
In my humble opinion most men who hire girls like me dream of screwing a younger version of the woman they married. They think they're fucking someone less experienced than I am, (I can play the innocent college girl and fake an orgasm with the best) when in reality they're in bed with a twenty-six-year-old professional. By the time they might figure out I'm older than what they thought they saw they're thinking with their dicks, and it no longer matters. Twenty-six is not old for an experienced hooker. It was entirely my decision to quit when I did. It was time to move on to the next phase of my life.
My heroin-addicted mother began pimping me at an early age. The choice of prostitution was more palatable to me than being dirt poor and living with a heroin-addicted mother. It provided money and a degree of independence I liked. Mother may have ended up an addict, but she wasn't stupid. It all began with pain meds following a work injury which eventually morphed into addiction.
People have asked how I became so street smart, it was quite simple. I watched and made sure that I didn't make the same mistakes others around me had. It wasn't hard to figure out the world is full of educated idiots. How do you avoid the streets and pimps? Mother knew the real money was in older men and initially set up my "dates" accordingly. They were generally well off, had manners, and weren't abusive. All men she had met one place or another looking for a good time with what they thought was someone less experienced than they were.
I had seen the movie Pretty Woman with Julia Roberts and decided that was the avenue I would pursue, no street corners or mean abusive pimps for me. My clients were more interested in having eye candy alongside them, fine meals in elegant restaurants, followed by me being in the wrappings of seductive lingerie. I learned early on the most exciting part about the present was in the unwrapping, so I dressed accordingly. I was also willing to do what their wives or girlfriends wouldn't. It was not unusual to be flown across the country in someone's private jet for a weekend of playtime. There were several I initiated into the mile-high club, always a winner. I had once spent a week in Paris, the days were mine, the nights were his. With the sizeable amount of money transferred into my offshore bank account it was a win-win all the way around.
By the time my mother departed this earth I was already in charge of my finances, I had the clientele list along with any other pertinent information concerning my existence. It was she who had originally found Elvis to protect me, he and I had worked together for years. Elvis was an interesting person to say the least. By day he was an excavator operator. If he wasn't working for me on Thursday, Friday or Saturday night he worked as a bouncer for Puss 'N Boots, a self-proclaimed "gentleman's bar" which in reality was no more than a high-priced titty bar.
I wisely stayed away from the drugs and limited my alcohol intake to a minimum. When I was home, I worked out at least three mornings a week keeping my body toned and inviting. At five foot seven with a petite frame and naturally larger than usual breasts for someone my size (34DD) turning heads was never a task. My waist is slim, my legs are long, my butt is big enough to look good without being a bubble butt, and I keep my over the shoulder hair long to frame my favorable facial features. Through the years I have never had to recruit work. Word of mouth travels fast when you're young, discrete, in shape, and fuck like a mink.
Back to the present ***
*Two more Karen* I silently said to myself. Only two more loads of spunk before Elvis would usher them out the door and on their way. He would remain in the suite area while I showered, take the five hundred I normally pay him for a gangbang and be on his way. Through the years there had been more than a few times I was so glad to have Elvis with me, drunks who have paid for sex think it's theirs to take anytime and any way they choose. They sometimes don't grasp the concept that once they've cum we're done, unless they paid for more. As I walked from the bathroom after showering and changing into different clothing, I noticed Elvis had a sad look on his face.
"This gonna be your last gig Karen?" I nodded. "We been together a long time, I wish you the best. SooLin (his wife) told me to tell you it's time to go find yourself a good man and have some babies. Let me know where you are when you get there, me and the little woman will want to know you're okay."
You need to understand Elvis. He's a massive southern white boy version of a steam roller. How this stuff works I'll never understand but he's married to this skinny little Korean girl who pops out babies like they're loose corks in over filled wine bottles. The second most amazing part about him is that he has no desire to bed me. He's seen me in just about every conceivable position sexually and still remains true to SooLin. I once jokingly asked why he never tried to hit on me. His answer floored me.
