The Stud Palace Page 3
She smirks, looking me up and down. “That’s cool, for now. But, by the time I finish eating your pussy and giving you what ya man can’t, you’ll be forgetting his name. I eat pussy like a pro, better than any man ever will.” She puts her arm around my waist. Her cockiness has my already wet pussy even more soaked. “Let me make you cum, then fuck you real good.” She senses my hesitation. “Don’t be shy. I promise you, I don’t bite.” She grins, then adds, “I only nibble.” I swallow, hard, finishing off the rest of my drink. I glance around the area for any sign of Sheena. There is none. She takes me by the hand and I allow her to lead me down a hall where there are a number of closed doors. She stops in front of the fourth one, pulling out a key.
“What’s in here?”
“The fuck of your life,” she says, turning the knob, then pushing the door open. She turns on the recessed lights, then shuts the door behind us. The walls are painted black. There’s a mural of a pair of large red lips painted on one of the walls with a long pink tongue hanging out of its mouth. It almost looks as if it’s glowing. The only piece of furniture is a red leather sofa situated in the middle of the floor.
She takes my empty glass from my hand, then walks over and turns on the gas fireplace, sitting the glass up on the mantel. Before I can open my mouth to tell her I’ve had a change of heart and bolt out the door, she is on me—her lips on mine, her tongue slipping into mouth. Her hands are sliding down my back to my ass, cupping it. Everything is happening so fast.
“Wait, wait,” I say, panting. “I don’t even know your name.”
“We don’t need names,” she whispers, licking my neck. I toss my head back. Moan again as her fingers inch between my legs. And then . . . in a flash my clothes are being peeled off and I am naked. She turns away, tells me to stand right here and walks into a closet. A few minutes later, she walks back out naked, too, with a big, chocolate-colored cock jutting out of her harness.
Suck my dick, baby,” she hisses, low and raspy. Her hands glide slowly down her body, fingers pulling at her beautiful breasts, then gripping the big dick. I am surprised at how real, lifelike, it looks. She strokes her cock as she stalks toward me, sending shivers down my spine. “Get on your knees and suck this dick.”
A low moan bubbles up from the back of my throat as I drop to my knees and take her into my mouth. I work her cock as if it were real, sliding it smoothly in and out, in and out. I gladly take it all. Nine inches of rubber dick hit the back of my throat, causing me to gag.
“Relax, baby,” she coaxes, gripping the sides of my head. My fingers inch into my pussy, one at a time until I have three tucked inside my wetness. I am slick and ready, my pussy gripping my fingers, hungry for her to mount me and claim my cunt. But she makes me wait. And beg. And beg some more.
A soft whimper escapes me as I pull the dildo from out of my mouth and glance up at her. “I wanna taste your pussy.” It flutters out of my mouth in a whispery plea. I cannot believe I am practically begging another woman to eat her pussy.
“Get back up on this dick,” she says, smirking as she’s smacking my lips with her fleshy, spit-drenched cock. I lick my lips and do as I am told, my mouth engulfing the head, my head bobbing back and forth as she grinds her hips forward. “Yeah, suck that shit.”
I can smell her wet sex, its tangy scent seeping out from the base of her dildo. It, the base, is pressed tight against her clit, lightly brushing against it as I suck her dick. My own cum-soaked pussy wafts through the air adding to my heightened desires. I want her, this cock, deep in my pussy. I shove three fingers into my slippery slit and fuck myself in sync with the bobbing of my head until she pulls her cock out of my mouth and tells me to lie down on the red leather sofa. She gets between my legs, buries her face in, working her tongue around my clit, pushing it in, stroking it back up, then gently tugging it with her teeth. She reaches up, plays with my breasts, rolling each nipple between her fingers. I arch my back, pushing my pussy into her mouth and orgasm. I cum faster and harder than I’ve ever cum in my life.
She drinks in my juices, then inhales my pussy. “Mmmm, you smell good. And taste even better.” She flicks my clit with her tongue again, then slides a finger in, scooping out my cum. She pulls her finger out, puts it to her lips, then slowly slides it into her mouth, licking and sucking it clean. “Yeah, you got that nice, sweet, creamy pussy, boo.” She plunges her finger back into my heated cunt. She pulls it out, then pushes it back in. In. Out. In. Out. Slides two fingers in, pulls out. In. Out. In. Out. Pushes three fingers in, then with her other hand, plunges a finger into my ass.
I moan as she pumps her fingers hard into me. Faster, harder, pressing in, pulling out, her knuckles brushing up against my clit with each thrust. “Ohgodohgodohgod . . . yes, yes, yes,” I chant breathlessly. “Ohgodohgodohgod . . . . I’m going to cum, again . . .”
I gasp, feeling my cunt spasm. A powerful orgasm was working its way through me. I never knew a tongue could feel so fucking good. I am trying to hold back, but her tongue feels . . . ohgod . . . good. Each stroke more delicious than the one before it. Three strokes more and I am gushing. She laps it up, thrusting deep inside my pussy, licking and probing my insides.
She looks up at me and smiles, her lips sticky and shiny from my juices. “Now, you’re ready for me.” She hovers up over me, pushing my legs back, then plunges her cock inside my wet basin. I gulp in air, then yelp. “You want me to cum in your pussy, baby?” She’s asking this as if she has a real dick that can unload a real nut inside of me. She feels so good inside of me, her finger in my asshole, her cock stroking my pussy—in slow, deliberate thrusts. I wriggle beneath her. She is everything I imagined. Everything I fantasized and dreamed about.
She fucks me, slowly; long, slow thrusts deep into me. Her mouth is on mine, again, her tongue inching its way back inside. I taste my pussy, sucking her lips, then her tongue, feverishly. She pulls out of me, runs the shaft of her cock up against my clit before sliding it back into my warm, juicy cunt. I moan again as she thrusts her way in. She reaches underneath me, cups my ass. My body tenses and I arch my back as she stretches and fills me up. She is gentle at first, moving slowly in and out of me, as if she’s being careful not to hurt me, then thrusts harder and faster. She fucks me deep and oh, so good. I squeal with pleasure as she impales me with her strap-on, rock against her, meeting her hungry thrusts, wetting her hard cock with my juices.
“This pussy’s mine now, baby,” she says. I’m not sure if it is a comment or a question, but I respond, moaning, “Yessssss. It’s all yours. Oh, yessssss . . . fuck me . . . ooooh, ooooh . . . fuck meeeee . . .”
“Welcome to The Stud Palace,” she whispers in between kisses, plunging in and out of me, hitting my spot with each thrust. I cum over and over and over.
I close my eyes and hold my breath as my body squirms. My toes curl. My whole body is on fire as another wave of pleasure washes over me. Blood races to my head. The room begins to spin as colors of the rainbow dance behind my lids. I replay Sheena’s words in my head. “And when you leave up out of here, nothing about you will ever be the same. Nothing about you will ever be the same . . .”
And she’s right. With each deep stroke being delivered to my pussy, I know without a doubt that I’ll be back every chance I get. I bite down on my bottom lip, then arch my back and let out a piercing moan. “Ohhhhh, yessssssssss . . . mmmmm . . . I’m cuming!”
***
Three weeks later, with my new laminated membership card tucked in my clutch, I slip out of my apartment—scantily dressed in an ultra-short black dress with a cutout back and plunging V-neckline and a pair of black four-inch Jason Wu lace-up sandals—and creep my way back to The Stud Palace—the place where seduction and lust opened up a whole new world of being for me. The place where being fucked slow and deep by a stud unleashed a burning desire within me, unlocke
d inhibitions I’d kept repressed for far too long.
This time . . . alone.
Perched up on a leather stool in the section of the club called the CockTail Lounge. A decadent oasis, hidden behind thick mahogany doors, which is located on the top floor down a long dimly lit corridor. Upon entrance through the double doors, you ascend a flight of winding stairs onto the roof with its retractable glass ceiling, heated floors, and breathtaking view of New York City.
Gas-lit Tiki torches and flickering candles of enormous sizes and varying heights add to the seductive ambiance and décor. There’s a gorgeous wraparound bar—where I’m sitting—in the middle of the stunning space with private leather booths along the glass walls and plush purple leather sofas and overstuffed leather chairs situated throughout the area. Huge go-go cages sit atop massive speakers, displaying the most succulent pieces of pelvis-thrusting eye-candy clad in wife beaters, colorful boxer briefs, and Timberland boots.
The CockTail Lounge is where discreet, horny women teetering on whoredom and tossing their inhibitions to the wind, releasing their inner freaks, like myself, can fulfill their carnal desires by selecting the stud of their choice off of ornate purple and red menus, along with any combination of drinks of their liking. There’s a picture beside each studs’ name, along with their stats: age, height, weight, nationality, and turn-ons. Delicious boi treats such as: Cocoa Bombshell, The Smack Down, Caribbean Breeze, Chocolate Pleasure, Cream de Cocoa, Dred Delight, The Red Dragon, Chocolate Thunder, The Incredible Hunk, King Kong, Stud Daddy, Whip Appeal, G-Spot, The Pussy Pleaser, and a list of others are all available for one’s decadent pleasures.
Tonight, I am feeling slutty and bold, sipping on my second Pussy Pleaser—a mixture of Absolut vodka, blue Curacao, and grenadine with splashes of pineapple and cranberry juices.
I slowly slide the tip of my tongue over my glossed lips. I twist in my seat, discreetly grinding my pussy into the center of the leather stool as one stud after another swaggers out and into the middle of the room, flexing and profiling. Then saunter off. I have my sights on the Pussy Pleaser.
In her photo, she’s the color of licorice. Dark. And, hopefully, just as sweet. Her stats state she’s five-eleven, 157 pounds, brown eyes. Dreads. Her turn-ons: tight wet pussy. And squirters.
“Glad to see you came back, ma,” a husky voice says in my ear; soft lips gently brush against my lobe, startling me. “You look good enough to eat.”
My pulse quickens.
My whole body shudders, heated realization dances up and down the center of my spine, finding its way along the inner part of my smooth thighs, twirling along the seam of my pussy. There is no name, just the silken voice and the delicious memory.
I swivel slightly on the stool, bringing into view the one who changed my whole life three weeks ago. Tonight she’s wearing a white T-shirt, baggy faded jeans and crisp white Nikes. She has a black Brooklyn Nets fitted pulled down over her dark brown eyes. Her bone-straight hair is pulled tightly into a ponytail.
Her heated gaze slides over my body like melted butter. My eyes lower to the bulge in her jeans. Instantly, her thick dick jutting out from its harness flashes through my mind, replaying the way she slowly fucked me in long even strokes, plunging deep on the in-stroke, then slowly pulling out until the head of her dick kissed the mouth of my pussy before plunging back in, hitting the bottom of my Honeywell.
The way she fucked me was . . . sweet torture.
She’s handsomely beautiful—if that makes sense. Hell, nothing makes sense to me anymore.
A month ago I would still be home somewhere fighting my truth, hiding behind pretense, still surreptitiously masturbating to mental snapshots of naked women—the swell of their breasts, the dark, succulent ridges of their nipples, the smooth curve of their hips, the scented heat of their pussies and asses—stained into my memory as I finger-fucked one orgasm after the other out of myself.
But now secret fantasies have become a reality. The Stud Palace—in all of its opulence and decadent pleasures—is addictive.
From the moment I stepped through these doors with my girl Sheena three weeks ago, I was hooked. Its debauchery has rented space in my head ever since. It has kept me craving more of its delicious, dirty deeds.
And I am here, again. Hungry for another round of seductive pleasure, craving the soft touch of a masculine woman, yearning to taste her steamed juices as they seep out of her womanhood and coat the base of her harness.
I press my thighs together, squeezing back want and desire. “Isn’t this a nice surprise,” I say, eyeing her over the rim of my glass. God, I’d love to feel her lips on my body again; the wet, warmth of her mouth capturing my cunt and clit. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were stalking me.” Amusement laces my tone as I arch my brows.
“Hey. I could ask you the same thing.”
“I’m too classy to stalk,” I say teasingly. “But you, on the other hand . . .”
She chuckles. “Nah, never that, baby. But I’d like to stalk that sweet, tight pussy, again.”
She licks her plump, pillow-soft, pussy-eating lips. I watch as she pulls out a piece of cinnamon gum and folds it into her lush mouth. A tinge of jealousy creeps up in me, wishing it were my chocolate nipples being rolled into her mouth instead of chewing gum.
I swallow.
I feel my smooth cunt starting to slicken as I imagine her long tongue flicking up and down on my clit as she pushes three slender fingers deep into my swelling river of juices.
“Let’s go to one of the booths,” she offers, her voice throaty and filled with lust. Salacious intent dances in her eyes, her attention completely focused on me.
I give her a coquettish grin. “Why on earth would I want to do that? A lady never walks off with strange women.”
“Then don’t be a lady. Be a tramp.”
I can’t help but smile. “I don’t even know you,” I tease. “You could be some pervert looking to molest me.”
She steps in closer. I breathe in the scent of coconut oil and cinnamon and feel myself getting lightheaded as I’m being mentally transported to a Caribbean island, the lick of a warm breeze caressing my skin, tickling my senses and causing my nipples to harden.
She smirks. “You don’t need to know me, ma. I’m not a pervert. But I’d damn sure like to molest you.”
“Right, right. I forgot. We don’t need names,” I say, repeating her words to me from our first encounter. “You’re anonymous.” I take a slow, deliberate sip of my drink.
She grins. “Exactly, baby. All you need to know is, I wanna eat that pussy real quick, then stretch it open with my cock. I know you remember how I made you feel a few weeks back. I know I do. I loved the way you sucked my dick, then gave me all of you.” She slowly glides her tongue over her top lip. “Mmm . . . all that good pussy.”
I blush.
“And the way you sucked my dick . . .” She shudders. “Damn. You got some good mouth.”
“You have good dick,” I bashfully admit, swallowing back the drool gathering in my mouth. “I loved sucking that big chocolate dick.”
She grabs her crotch, revealing her thick imprint. “You can get it again. It’s all yours, baby.”
A slow burning fire starts in the pit of my belly, then fans out along the lining of my uterus, causing the juices in my pussy to steam. I glance around the dimly lit room and start to notice semi-inebriated women stripping out of their clothing. The gleam of half-naked bodies shimmer under the moonlight. The glow of flickering candles reflecting off the glass walls enhance the images, causing lusty silhouettes to dance about the room. The scent of arousal floats all around me. Wet pussies clickety-click-clicking, glistening cocks, sensual grunts and moans coming from the speakers heighten my need to be fucked. I strain to keep from getting lost in what’s beginning to unfold all around me.
Two stools to the right
of me, a beautiful cocoa-brown, plus-size vixen clad in a red bra and heels is bent over between the cocked legs of a brown-skinned cutie with a low-top fade, feverishly sucking her long purple dick as if she’s auditioning for a starring role in a Deep Throat Diva film.
It takes everything in me not to topple over when a short stocky stud with long thick braids sidles up in back of her, pulls open her ass cheeks, then shoves her face in between her ass and starts tongue-fucking her before pushing what looks to be close to nine inches of condom-wrapped cock into the back of her pussy. The stud immediately begins to bang fast and hard in and out of her, assaulting her pussy with each stroke.
My own pussy feels left out.
I swallow, hard . . . wishing it were me.
“Maybe later on. But in the meantime, can I at least get a name?”
She grins. “It’s Anonymous, remember?”
I playfully roll my eyes, dismissing her with the flick of my wrist. “Whatever.”
The seductive sounds of Art of Noise fade from the speakers, and a husky voice comes through. “Okay my freaky, horny lil’ femme beauties. Welcome to The Stud Palace where erotic passions and sensuality meet. If this is your first time up on the rooftop, you’re in for a real sexy treat. If you’ve been here before, then you already know how we do it up here away from the other club patrons. And ladies . . . what’s done in the CockTail Lounge, stays in the CockTail Lounge. So without further ado, feast your eyes on some of The Stud Palace’s most scrumptious, hottest, finger-licking, make-your-hearts-flutter-pussy-melting stud-bois in the Tri-State area.”
The thirty or so women who are in the room eager to be fed start clapping and catcalling as one hot stud after another hits the floor. Chiseled bodies, toned bodies, some more masculine than others, dark, light, and every skin tone in between with locks and long braids and cornrows and waves, all work the floor. Some are barefoot donned in boxer briefs and wife beaters; some in baggy sweats and wife beaters with crisp white sneakers; others wearing camouflage pants and combat boots. Some have on colorful do-rags, others have on fitted hats, the brim snapped down over their eyes.