Tales of Debauchery and Lust

I sat outside the convenience store trying to decide what my next move should be. I’d just used my last three dollars to put some gas in my tank, and now my stupid car wouldn’t start. I was being evicted from my apartment, so I was hoping I’d be able to live in my car, but the sign on the building that read “no overnight parking” assured me that my car would be impounded and there goes my shelter. This all started a few months ago when I fell and sprained my wrist. I’d gone to urgent care, not knowing if it was just a sprain or something more serious. They took x-rays, gave me a brace, and told me to rest it. Unfortunately, the four-hundred-dollar bill for that visit put me short for rent that month. Then I got laid off from my job and unemployment wasn’t nearly enough to pay all my bills. Everything just snowballed, and now I was facing homelessness with a broken down car, and not even two pennies to rub together. I called one of my friends, but he was going to be at work for another three hours before he could come get me. I knew he’d want s*x or a bl*wjob in exchange for crashing on his couch for a few days. Honestly, I didn’t know if that counted as pr*stitution, but I was so desperate, I no longer cared. Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them back. It wasn’t that I was ashamed of crying, it was more because it was a hot day and I was forced to sit in the sun. I needed every drop of moisture I had left. A shadow covered me, and I opened my eyes to see a bottle of Coke hovering in front of me. Looking up, the bottle was being offered by an attractive older man smiling kindly at me. His brown hair was slightly long and with the barest hint of grey beginning to show at the temples. His eyes were a dark green with flecks of deep golden amber in them. A strong jawline, covered in sparse, dark stubble that gave him a look that made me think he was trying hard to look like he wasn’t trying at all. Jeans and a t-shirt added to his casual look, but they were obviously expensive name brands. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, because on paper, this was just an average man at the gas station, but somehow, I knew he was wealthy. “You looked like you could use something to drink,” he said as I shyly reached for the bottle. I mumbled my thanks, checking the seal on the bottle. I’d been roofied once, and the experience had made me a little paranoid about accepting drinks from anyone, but especially from people I didn’t know. Seeing as how the bottle was still sealed, however, thirst won out over paranoia and I opened it and downed half the bottle in a single gulp. It was the first thing I’d had that contained any calories since the day before and the sudden sugar rush made me a little dizzy. The kind stranger started to walk away, but seemed to change his mind and came back to sit on the bench next to me. “What’s your story?” he asked quietly. Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was the lack of food. Maybe it was my complete and total devastation at being at the end of my rope with nowhere left to go. Or maybe it was something about him that effortlessly put me at ease. He had an easy-going vibe that reminded me of how I’d always wished the adults in my life would be when I was growing up being bounced from one relative to the next. Whatever it was, I told him everything. Every sordid detail, right down to hoping my friend would take a bl*wjob as p*****t instead of s*x, or, shudder, an*l. He listened patiently the entire time I spoke, and by the end, I was openly sobbing. He merely handed me a handkerchief- I had no idea people still carried those! I used it to wipe my eyes, grateful that make-up hadn’t been in the budget for a while so I didn’t end up leaving black smudges of mascara on the soft fabric. I tried to hand it back, but he just smiled and shook his head. He stood up and my heart sank at the thought of being left alone again. He was a stranger, but having him sit with me, even for a short time, made me feel like I’d be able to get through anything life threw at me. “Would you like to get something to eat with me?” he asked, surprising me. “A late lunch? I haven’t eaten yet today.” I wasn’t sure what to do and I just blinked at him. Did he miss the part of my story where I said I was broke? “My treat, of course,” he said, as though he read my mind. He held his hand out to me, and without thinking, I placed my hand in his. He was warm, his hand was soft, but strong and it dwarfed my petite digits in his gentle grip. I threw the now empty Coke bottle in the trashcan as he led me to a sleek black BMW. He drove us to an upscale restaurant and I was sure they would turn me away at the door for looking like a street urchin, but the wait staff called him Mr. Conroe, and didn’t even bat an eye at my ragamuffin appearance as they led us to a table at the back of the restaurant. The prices on the menu just about made me swallow my tongue. I glanced up at him, suddenly suspicious of what he would want as repayment. He chuckled without looking up from his menu and shook his head. “I assure you, Kendra,” he said as he met my eyes, “I have no ulterior motives with you. I simply find you intriguing.” “It’s been my experience, Roark, that everyone has their own ulterior motives for everything they do,” I pointed out a tad cynically. One of his perfectly formed eyebrows arched at my remark, but his eyes twinkled with a mirth that should have put me on edge. “Is that so?” he said with a slow smile. “What are your ulterior motives to dining with me, then?” I shifted uneasily in my seat, not sure how to answer that. I’d accepted his invitation without thinking. “It’s not like I had any other pressing offers,” I shrugged. He laughed, a warm sound that travelled up from his flat belly, and shook his impressively muscular shoulders. I smiled at him, feeling oddly safe in his company. When the waiter came to take our order, Roark folded the menu in his hand and said, “We’ll have whatever the chef would like to make.” We spent the next hour and half feasting on food fit for royalty and wine that probably cost more than a month’s rent on my last apartment. Roark told me all about himself. He owned a tech startup that developed a key component of software that was included in every new car released to the market. Something to do with emissions, but for the life of me, I couldn’t understand all the technical terms he used. “What about you, Kendra?” he asked towards the end of the meal. “I know you said you’re in between jobs at the moment, but you said you have student loans. What did you get your degree in?” “Oh, umm… it’s kind of silly,” I hedged. The wine and rich foods were going to my head, though, so I found myself blurting out, “I majored in International Communication.” “Why do you think that’s silly?” he tilted his head. I have to admit, it felt very good to have this successful, handsome man seem to be genuinely interested in what I had to say. “Because the only job I could find was in an insurance call center,” I shrugged, embarrassed to be so useless in front of him. “And I didn’t actually finish my degree,” I mumbled. He reached across the table and gently rubbed the back of my hand with his thumb as he stared deep in my eyes. “I’m quite impressed by you, Kendra,” he said sincerely. “You are a fighter. Not everyone can claim the same.” After our meal, we got back in his car. I assumed he’d take me back to the gas station where he found me and that would be the last I saw of him. Instead, he drove in the opposite direction. He pulled up in front of a gorgeous hotel, and led me to the front desk where he checked in with my name. Pocketing the key card, he held my hand as we rode the elevator up and walked the maze of hallways to the room. Obviously, I’d had too much to drink to not question what he was doing, but when we got to the room, he hung back as I looked around. “Is this where you’re staying?” I asked, admiring the view from the window that looked out over the city. “I guess I thought you lived… closer.” “I do,” he said quietly. “I figured you could use a safe place to stay until you get back on your feet. I wouldn’t want that friend of yours to take advantage of you in your time of need.” I turned around to stare at him, not entirely sure I understood what was happening. He had his hands in his pockets, but his shoulders were tense and his eyes dark as he watched me. “Thank you,” I whispered. “But… I’ll never be able to pay you back for this.” “No p*****t is necessary,” he assured me. “Ok,” I whispered, stepping towards him. I blamed the wine, the heavy meal, perhaps the gratitude I felt towards him for what I did next. My arms slid around his shoulders, and, lifting up onto my toes, I tugged him down so I could press my lips to his. His arms came around my waist, pressing my hips into his as he returned and deepened the kiss. His tongue ran along my bottom lip, as though asking permission that I gladly granted. Our tongues danced together. He tasted warm, inviting, a little bit like coming home. I’d known him less than three hours, but I felt such a strong connection to him. Like a fire had been ignited between us, we quickly began stripping clothes off each other. I was desperate to feel his skin slide along mine. I wanted his hands on me, wanted to caress him. He backed me up until the back of my knees hit the bed and we tumbled together onto the soft mattress, a tangle of limbs on the stark white bedding. His hands squeezed and pinched and soothed as they moved all over my body, exploring every inch of me. I gasped into his mouth as his long fingers probed at my core, easily sliding through my wet folds to lay claim to my intimate places. His tongue drove into my mouth forcefully, mimicking the actions of his fingers in my p*ssy as I ground my hips into his hand, wordlessly begging him to go deeper. I felt like I was losing my mind, my body had completely taken over, leaving me a pile of primal need. His tip nudged at my entrance and before I could fully appreciate how big he truly was, he was driving his long, hot shaft deep into my dripping c*nt. My muscles screamed at the intrusion, trying to stretch to accommodate his girth. He was much bigger than anyone I’d ever been with previously, though that number was fairly low. I wasn’t a virgin, and I’ve never been accused of being a prude, but no one would ever have called me a slut either. He grunted above me as he slammed his d*ck into me over and over as I moaned. With every thrust forward he made, my breasts bounced on my chest, adding to the overwhelming sensations distracting my mind from freaking out over what was happening. I could feel a strange heat building in my belly, growing and spreading out to my limbs as he continued to piston in and out of me. “C*m, baby girl,” the command was a growl in my ear, but my body responded instantly. I felt that bubble of heat in my belly burst and consume me with its fire, screaming out my pleasure as my body convulsed around him, still moving his c*ck in and out of me, but at a slower pace now, allowing my org*sm to stretch out until I was limp and out of breath. He gave me less than a second to catch my breath before he pulled out of me, dragged me further down the bed, and plunged his c*ck into my mouth, forcing it down my throat. I had to hum to stop my gag reflex, and he let out an appreciative groan at the vibrations it created along his steel rod. I tried my best to suck him, tasting myself on his slick member, but mostly he seemed content to simply f*ck my mouth. It wasn’t long until his hot seed shot down my throat and filled my mouth. I swallowed quickly, not wanting to waste a single drop of the thick syrup he poured into me. I relished the slightly salty, bitter taste of him as it seared my throat. Satisfied at last, he pulled out of my mouth and slid down to the bed beside me, idly caressing my breast in a gentle, almost loving way. After a few minutes, when our breathing had returned to normal, he rolled over to give me a soft, almost chaste kiss, before standing up to get dressed. I pouted, disappointed to see him apparently so eager to go. Turning around with his pants still undone and hanging low on his narrow hips, he smiled at my petulance. “Sorry, baby girl,” he said easily. “I’d stay longer if I could, but I still have a few errands to run and my wife will be expecting me for dinner.” My face fell instantly at the revelation. “Your wife?” I screeched. “You’re married?” I tried to cover myself with the blanket on the bed, a futile effort, but I was reeling from finding out I’d just f*cked a married man! His eyebrows drew together. “Did I not mention that?” he sounded concerned. “No, you did not mention that you’re f*cking married!” I yelled at him, hurt and angry and utterly confused. I’m sure he never mentioned a wife during our conversation. “Sweetheart, calm down,” he said gently, sitting on the side of the bed. “My wife is well aware of my proclivities and encourages them. In fact, I have a proposition for you if you can stay calm and let me explain.” I was hyperventilating, not really hearing what he was saying. “On a scale of one to ten, how crazy is she?” I asked wondering if I may be in real physical danger. “How likely is she to hunt me down and skin me alive for f*cking her husband?” “A solid zero,” he laughed. He reached out for me, but seemed to think better of it and let his hand drop back to the bed as he studied me. “Kendra, I’m telling you the truth. She won’t be angry about this. She knows what I’ve wanted for a long time now, and she’d be happy if you agree.” “Agree to what?” I squeaked, feeling like a trap was closing around me. “I love my wife very much,” he began, “but she’s a very independent woman. She has her own business and is highly respected and successful. We never had children, but I’ve always wanted someone to take care of. Not quite a daughter, but…” This time, when he reached out for me, he cupped my cheek gently with his hand. “I’d like to take care of you. We can find you an apartment, I’ll buy you a new car. If you really want to work, I’m sure I can find a position for you with my firm. You could go back to school, finish your degree if you wanted.” “You’re telling me you want to be my sugar daddy?” I asked incredulously. This couldn’t be happening. “Precisely,” he beamed a bright smile, happy that I understood. But I shook my head, not sure how I had found myself in this situation, and his smile faded. “Please, don’t answer yet,” he said quietly. “Think about it, ok? Think about your options. I promise I’d take good care of you.” I watched him stand up and finish getting dressed. “What’s the catch?” I asked, knowing there had to be something he wanted in return. “The catch?” he turned to look at me, his eyes once again dark with lust as his eyes roamed over my partially covered body lying on the bed, rumpled from s*x. “The catch is, you’d be available to me whenever, wherever, however I want,” his tone was dark and sent a shiver of thrill racing down my spine. Heaven help me, my p*ssy throbbed at the thought of it. He walked to the bed and grabbed my face between his big hands, leaning close enough that I could feel his breath fan over my skin. “If I want to f*ck you, then I’ll f*ck you. If I want you n*ked, you will be n*ked. If I want your mouth on me, you open wide. And no one else can touch you, understand.” I nodded dumbly, my mind hazy with renewed lust. “Do I have to call you daddy?” His smile was almost sinister. “Sometimes it would be nice, kitten. I’d treat you like a princess. My princess.” He kissed me softly on the lips, nipping my bottom lip before pulling back. “Think about it. No pressure. I’ll be back tomorrow for breakfast and you can tell me what you’ve decided then.” I watched him leave, and fell back on the bed with a groan as the door clicked shut behind him. What choice did I really have? He was offering a home, a car, a job, security, and a daddy who would no doubt f*ck my brains out every chance he got. The deep throb between my legs was promise enough that it would be amazing. He didn’t mention love, but wouldn’t a daddy love his little girl? I didn’t know enough about these sorts of arrangements to know the answer to that. I did know that the alternative was homelessness, unemployment, debt, and more than likely dying in some ditch at the hands of some sort of pimp. I didn’t sleep much that night as my mind weighed everything. As I watched the sunrise over the buildings and streets of the bustling city below me, I waited for him with nervous anticipation, still not completely sure of what I was going to tell him. The door opened, and as I heard his footsteps behind me, a shiver clawed down my spine and I smiled, my choice was easy after all. “Good morning, daddy,” I whispered as his arms slid around my waist and I leaned into his strong chest.