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Can't Buy Me Love

paying the price

By Kevin RoachePublished 3 years ago 11 min read
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‘Sucker’ was my immediate assessment of the ageing male punter stuffing a $50 note into the donations gratefully accepted box by the entrance to the delightful little art gallery I had found on the last day of my short holiday.

Of all the paintings that vied for my attention and thrilled me was a quarter-sized copy of a little known Henry Fuseli painting. The painting entitled It’s All Mine. It was of a hooded woman (or at least we presume it is a woman – Fuseli would never confirm or deny it) dressed in a long black cloak with her back to the viewer, gazing out onto a desolate, misty moorland. She stood staring into the middle distance on a raised hill, seemingly awed by the surrounding beauty.

I was so lost in the moment of giving myself to this work of art I failed to notice somebody approaching me. A husky voice breathed in my ear, “Do you want to see the original?” couldn’t help jumping with fright making and emitting an embarrassing noise.

I immediately felt sorry for an apologetic nun who hadn’t intended to startle me, but could see my attraction to this particular work and thought I would be interested in finding out more.

After I had affirmed that I indeed would be extremely grateful to be allowed to cast eyes upon the original, my new found tour guide placed a hand on my shoulder and lightly ushered me towards a small office not 20 metres from where we stood. On entering this dark, musky room the nun confidently walked further into the darkness whereby she pulled a cord which illuminated a giant full-sized version of my earlier scrutiny.

The effect on my person was both effective and immediate. Whether because of the room’s climatic conditions, because of how overawed I felt, or just because of the sheer excitement, I became as erect as I had been when I had first awoken that morning. This of course was not lost on Sister Anastasia, as was the name of my personal tour guide I later discovered, who serenely manoeuvred herself to stand side-on to me to my right. Gently and expertly easing my aching cock from its restraint, Sister Anastasia proved she was not unaccustomed to procedures of this nature.

Whilst at the same time softly rubbing her crotch up and down against the top of my leg, which quite rapidly brought me to orgasm, Sister Anastasia divulged a potted history of this great work of art whilst thus pleasuring me.

Before I finally spurted on to the dusty, threadbare carpet of this dim room, a lyric from a Clash song, which I still believe to be extremely unlikely, floated into my mind. I could clearly hear Joe Strummer singing “He who fucks Nuns will later join the church.” This temporary divorce from the current reality probably slightly delayed my ejaculation.

On reflection, I have to admit I didn’t take in a great deal of the history Sister Anastasia proffered to me. I did, however, find the whole experience immensely gratifying.

Upon leaving that beautiful little gallery which left an unforgettable imprint on my physical and mental wellbeing, I willingly gifted my $50 donation to help with the historic building’s upkeep.

Checking into a nice little hotel in downtown Manila, just 2 minutes away from the airport and my connecting flight to Auckland, New Zealand, I was faced with a dour little man. This man’s whole demeanour and tone of voice alerted me to the fact that he would rather not be doing that particular job at that particular moment, or in fact be there at all. Everything seemed to be an effort for him. The fact that it was 10:40 pm may have had some bearing on the situation.

Once it became clear that I only wanted a room for 1 night, and I would be leaving for the airport at 7am – less than 9 hours hence, checking in and out and paying in full, all at the same time, seemed the appropriate way to proceed.

The hotelier needlessly and assertively announced that I would need to pay for everything in advance prior to assessing the requirements for my stay.

An alarm call was a priority – set for 06:00 am. A single room was ticked off next. When he asked if I would like breakfast in bed (which I eagerly accepted), and if I wanted a quick/light or full/extensive service (I opted for the full/extensive service), the transaction became easier. I cordially presented my credit card which was swiftly debited. A porter was summoned to take my bags to my ground floor room, and I retired for the night.

My full extensive service began during the early hours of the morning. I can’t have been asleep for more than three hours when I suddenly I came awake in the darkness as I became aware of slight draught. The sheet on my bed was slowly and carefully lifted to allow a soft warm body to slide into the bed beside me.

The feeling of pubic hair gently nestling against the top of my leg, and soft, hard-tipped breasts gently touching my naked torso, had me hard instantly, even in my jet-lagged and half-comatose state.

Nimble fingers quickly grasped my cock and explored its potentiality prior to beginning what was indeed a satisfying and pleasurable experience. Starting very slowly, then gradually increasing in pace, I was given a good, hard, wank.

On spraying the bed with semen following my unexpected release, I fell into a deep sleep with my companion hugging and gently rocking me.

I became conscious again to the feel of a nice soft hand gently squeezing my once again fully erect penis. I looked at my bedside table to see my alarm clock alerting me to the fact that it was exactly 06:00 am.

My ‘alarm clock’ dragged me out of bed and into the shower where she liberally soaped and rubbed me all over. She gave my erect todger a good soaping, and when she slipped a finger into my anus I nearly came again.

For my own pleasure I lost the soap a couple of times in her tight vagina. When we were clean I was towelled dry vigorously all over except for my throbbing member.

Back to the bedroom, my ‘breakfast’ sat on the edge of the bed and slipped a condom on me, then lay back expectantly with her legs wide part.

I didn’t need a second invitation. Carefully taking up a missionary position on my knees, hovering over my intended vessel of pleasure, I took my full weight on my elbows. I quickly and silently said a prayer of thanks to whoever was listening when I had ordered breakfast in bed.

With the tip of my penis I located the welcoming entrance to a well lubricated vagina, and applied just enough pressure to see me home. The thrilling sensation of being gripped by a compact pudenda gave me ripples of delight that which almost enough.

I just lay there in the grip of pleasure for a full minute before moving. As I felt ankles lock behind me and resting on my buttocks, I sensed I was being engulfed by a little body that only thought of my pleasure.

A slow pumping began my campaign. Trying not to rush too much and risk coming too quickly, I slowed quickened my thrusts alternately. On reflection I would like to say that it was my awareness of pressing time that spurred me on to a greater, more frantic pace, but that would be to utter an untruth.

I became so caught up in the ecstasy of the act, and bringing about my own release, that with much uncontrolled thrashing and a few eventual, wild stabs, ejaculation eventually occurred.

I did successfully rendezvous with my connecting flight to Auckland. As it transpired I had plenty of time to spare. Sitting at departure gate 42, I reflected on my previous night’s experience. Very little actual speech was uttered between us throughout the entire episode. My biggest regret is that I never found out her name.

11 young men stood in a neat row. It felt like I was choosing from a police line-up in an overcrowded station instead of a cheap whorehouse. I found myself currently in a Marrakesh brothel. The place catered for all tastes and sexual proclivities. I felt in need of attaining a quick release by way of sodomizing a young male at this present moment. On completing a little research I had found this inexpensive, clean place that treated their ‘staff’ well and catered for all tastes.

I chose the youngest and best looking of the bunch, an 18 year old George Michael lookalike. Having completed the negotiated transaction by handing over the allotted dirhams to the Madam in charge, I was led down a long passage into a small, dimly lit room.

As my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I became aware of outstretched hands that were offering me what turned out to be a condom and a tube of lubricant.

As soon as I took the offering, George turned, lifted his floor-length robes to expose a pure white, fuckable anus, then he bent over what appeared to be a pile of sacks, presenting me with an inviting target.

This sight stirred me to the requisite stiffness which provoked me into dropping my trousers, securing the proffered condom, applying vast amounts of lubricant, then jumping on.

George had obviously been assailed similarly on many previous occasions as his ‘looseness’ wasn’t giving me as much grip and friction as I had previously received on lots of other occasions. Nevertheless, with a great deal of furious pounding and a couple of outlandish imagined scenarios, I managed to achieve relative satisfaction and fill my condom.

However, I had to admit the experience left me extremely underwhelmed.

I had a very interesting experience as I culminated my shopping expedition yesterday. I was approached by a very confident looking young black girl who was trying to look and sound as mature as she possibly could, as I headed for the mall elevator.

I was offered ‘a blowjob’ for the niggardly sum of $40. I have never been the sort of chap to resist a bargain. Rapidly assenting to the terms of her agreement, I arranged to meet the young lady by the elevator leading to the multi-storey car park following a brief stop to perform an ATM transaction at the bank.

Sure enough, Gloria (probably not her real name) was patiently waiting by the elevator. Just the 2 of us, and an awkward silence, shared the brief trip to 1st floor car park where my car was situated. On reaching my vehicle I was advised to drive to the 5th floor as there was only one camera in operation there, and it was pretty ineffectual.

As I carefully reversed from my parking spot and headed for my destination, Gloria turned on the radio with her left hand, all in one movement, unbuckled her coat – which up until now had been tightly fastened – and skilfully removed her panties. Gloria’s naked crotch was exposed to my glare, which I was trying to keep focussed on where I was driving. When she stared to masturbate, I nearly came in my pants. Thankfully we soon arrived at our destination. Gloria directed me to a point that the camera was unable to spy on. Then we proceeded to conduct our business.

I unbuckled and unzipped myself as nonchalantly as I could manage considering the urgency of the situation. I must say Gloria was an expert in her field and certainly knew her job. She has all the moves I would expect from a thoroughly satisfying blowjob. From teasing, tongue flicking movements gently probing my stiff cock, speeding up to rapid, long mouth fucks, whilst lightly fondling my testicles, Gloria treated me to the full works.

In the middle of our tryst, I slid back my seat giving Gloria more room to operate. By now she was practically facing me in her eagerness to get the job done. All her efforts so far hadn’t produced the end goal. I was thoroughly enjoying the ride though. The tactic that produced the final result though, was when Gloria’s grasped my left hand a thrust it between her legs. I was surprised and thrilled to feel sticky wetness and a thick hairy bush. Inserting my middle finger and frigging ferociously had me spurting in seconds.

Each time I shop at that particular mall I look out for Gloria, but we never came into contact again. In this situation I can’t help bringing to mind my elderly grandmother’s saying that ‘you must buy as much as you can afford when encountering a bargain’. I wonder how that would work in this case?

erotic
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About the Creator

Kevin Roache

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