I m a Pornographer
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The Magiq Pornographer free porn video
"The Majiq Pornographer"
The latest attraction was swaying her way across the stage. Spilling her silky robe to the floor, she let the luscious curves of her black, shadowy, v-necked mesh, hint, in tantalizing way, at the buxom glory beneath, as it hung just long enough to tease, even more mercilessly, at her lowers. It made the eye ache to discern what she was wearing underneath, down there, and imagine bare beauty. Slowly lifting her leading leg along the pole, then sliding/thrusting her pelvis up it, she arched her back, threw her head, and raised her body into an elegant, swinging, backward swan. Her mesh slid up her body, off her lowers, which turned out to be slim, stylish black lace, then slid over her taught tummy, as she swung, but they stopped sliding just shy of revealing her bounty.
Trixie was doing her make up at her station in the back stage dressing room of "Leather & Lace", one of the more up scale erotic clubs in town. She looked up as Stacy walked in through the hallway from the stage, naked from head to toe, having just finished her show.
"Hi Stacy, how's Michael doing?" said Trixie, giving her an encouraging, appreciative glance over, while subtly smiling, raising her eyebrows, and licking her lips.
Michael was Stacy's 11 year old son. He'd recently been in an accident, and the doctor bills were taking their toll. He'd been riding his bike over an overpass, and a semi truck had rumbled by, moving fast, and the wind had caused him to lose control. When his front tire hit a cement support, he'd pitched over the railing onto the freeway below. Fortunately, the traffic swerved and stopped without hitting him, but the fall had broken several bones, and given him a bad concussion. He'd arrived at the hospital in critical condition, and remained u*********s for several hours.
"He's doing alright," Stacy sighed, picking up her regular smalls. She struck a brief pose, featuring a nice full frontal spread, and smiled back at Trixie, then wiggled her tush a little at her, as she slipped her panties on. She sat sideways in the chair at her station, casually dangling an elbow over the back of it, and began idly twsting the end of one of her long, blonde tresels between her fingers. "But it's going to be a while before he's back in school. They're saying he's going to need several more surgeries." Now her mood more visibly soured. "I still don't know where the money's gonna come from." She pressed her fingers to her forehead, half burying her face in her hand, for a moment. Her insurance was fair enough, and was covering most of the costs, but even the out-of-pocket portions were staggering. Her credit was excellent, but her cards were quickly maxing out, even at what she'd been so sure were ridiculous limits. The father was a sperm donor (in the "dirty word" sense), who'd skipped town when he'd heard she was pregnant, and hadn't been seen or heard from since. There was no help coming from that direction. She knew he didn't have any money, anyway.
"Damn. I'm sorry. That sucks." Trixie gave Stacy a sympathetic look before turning back to her mirror. "Did you talk to Mr. Parvait?"
Mr. Parvait was strapping, young photographer who created web sites for strippers. Of the folks around who did that, he gave strippers the best individual work ups, and by far the best revenue percentages.
"I did, in fact I had lunch with him yesterday."
"Oh yeah? How'd it go?"
Stacy smirked. "He said he thought I had 'potential.' "
"Ha," Trixie laughed, knowingly. "I bet he did." Stacy was one of hottest young bomb shells to hit the scene, recently. Lace's typical evening take had already moved up a few notches since she'd started, several weeks prior.
Stacy recalled the last part of her conversation with Mr. Riquerto Parvait:
"From what I hear, the girls who've made by far the most off the sites you've set up for them are the ones who fucked you after their work up."
Riq smiled, and cocked his head, giving his nose a slight, playful wrinkle. "That's just because I only fuck the really hot ones."
She smiled fake, then gave him a hard, serious look: "That won't be happening with me."
But he only smiled bigger. "Sure it will."
Galled, Stacy straightened and darkened her look even further. "You're awfully confident. I don't even know you! I don't need the money that badly. I just want a decent work up and a solid contract."
"It has nothing to do with money," he said, waving her off. "Honestly, I give every girl my best. I have no control over how many people will pay to see their bodies." Sitting back, he returned his cheerful gaze to her face. "It's just that by the time I finish working a girl over, she wants me so bad, she can't help herself." Delight danced in Riquerto's eyes: "And I only invite the real sizzlers into bed with me."
Now Stacy's glare was downright s**thing. She didn't say a word.
"What?" He shrugged with exaggerated aplomb. "It's not my fault hot women find me irresistible."
She'd huffed in disgust and gotten up and left, at that point, but they'd already made an appointment for her work up, and she needed whatever money she could get; at least without crossing any lines. "Irresistible my ass, padre."
Trixy looked over at Stacy. "You're gonna fuck him, you know," she said, as if reading her thoughts.
"What!? I am not! I don't even know him! I'm a stripper, not a whore." Stacy couldn't believe what she was hearing. "And he's what, 15 years older!? That's gross!"
"That's what I thought, too, but he got to me. I came way more and way harder with him then I've ever cum before or since. I've never touched hardcore with a mile long pole, but I'd probably drop my panties and jump him on the wall if he came strolling into this room right now. Mark my words, sweetie. He's a 'Magic Man'. If you don't want to fuck him, stay the hell away from him."
Stacy scowled at her in mollified disbelief, then shook her head. "Whatever. Who you fuck is your business."
- - -
That night, she had the strangest dream. It was like she was wandering, invisibly, through a huge, open, locker room showering area. Steam and jets of water prevented her from seeing very far, but In every direction, there were naked glamour girls, standing around, lathering and rinsing their bodies. Some were walking in between the showers, without a drop of water on them. Some she knew, others she didn't. Every one of them were the hottest of the hot, with full, luscious breasts and curvaceously-slender figures. They were all wearing these bulky "virtual reality" headset things. She had no idea what they were looking at, but whatever it was it must have been pretty arousing, because all at once, they started pushing dildos up their vaginas. Where had those things come from?
Then came the weirdest part: She saw herself among them, wearing a VR headset, and pushing a dildo up and down, in and out. Suddenly she realized she could feel a penis inside her, doing exactly what that dildo was, and it was feeling really, really good. Up and down, in and out. She looked down at herself, but there was nothing there; the only 'self' she could see was standing some ways off. She tried to get herself to stop, but it was as if she were out of her body, looking at herself. She couldn't do a thing about it, as the salacious penis continued it's work on her.
Whatever the women were looking at must have started gaining heat. Bodies were tensing, legs were spreading, dildos were moving more frantically, and a chorus of breathless grunts were echoing around, as if heavy weights were being pushed up steep hills, one desperate inch at a time. She saw herself rapidly working that dildo, and the passionately sliding penis inside her built her tension up to a full rolling boil, nearing the bursting point. They all seemed to be doing the same thing she was, as she rode the edge, breathing hard, but clinging to dignity, trying not to cum. Then the penis finally got the best of her, and she went over the edge to a chorus of gasping yells and showers of squirting and gushing gizm, including her own. When she was thoroughly spent, the penis slowly slipped out, the dream faded and she awoke, panting and exhausted, drenched in sweat, and swimming in her panties.
- - -
It was Tuesday afternoon, and Stacy was approaching Riq's door. He's studio was in his residence, which was a small mansion on a fair sized plot. The door opened just before she reached it. He smiled, greeted her warmly, and beckoned her in. Showing her the double doors leading to the set, he took a right down a hallway, and lead her to a dressing room, where he showed her an outfit he wanted her to put on. Layer upon layer of sheer and semi sheer, sinewy sexiness. He left her to it, telling her to come to the set when she was ready.
"Twist your hip out just a little more, arch your back, push out your torso just a little.. no not quite that much.. tilt your head back and to the left just a little.. a little more.. that's it. Yeah, now you're getting it. Keep working it like that." She couldn't smell anything in the air, but for some reason she couldn't quite put a finger on, she felt slightly dazed, and her heart began to race as she slid out of the layers for the camera, striking pose after pose. Something raw and bestial was rising within her, despite her efforts to repress it while still giving the camera all the juice she could. An inner b**st was rising to match the blazing, consuming hunger she thought she saw in his eyes, lurking just beneath the surface, when he would peek out from behind the camera, briefly, to set an angle. When she finally exposed herself completely, for the final series, she thought she saw him catch his breath, subtly adjust himself, and lick his lips.
This shouldn't be happening, she knew, but somehow, it was. For some reason should could not for the life of her fathom, she wanted him more badly than she'd ever wanted anything. He was staring at her openly, now, not even pretending to take pictures. Her poses had left her lying on her side. Practically trembling with desire, she locked eyes with him, pushed herself into a sitting position, then pushed her knees toward the camera, together, then slowly spread them, and thrust her pelvis out for a crotch shot.
"Follow me," he said, and headed out of the room. She practically jumped to her feet, and followed, heart pounding, completely helpless to stop herself. After a brisk walk down the hall, they entered a bedroom, where he stepped out of his shoes, flung off his shirt, and slid his pants and boxers to the floor. With a flare he spread a large beech towel over the floor at the foot of the bed, that she instinctively kneeled on. He approached her, and she reached for him, gathering him into her mouth with one hand as she began to stroke herself with the other. As her ministrations proceeded, he grabbed her by the hair, and the motion of her fingers over her wet, dripping clitoris began to became more frantic. After a few minutes, she felt herself nearing the edge, so she tried to retreat from it, and avoid cumming before he did. She squeezed her legs together, and struggled to keep her lips and tongue tight around him, but shouldn't quite remove her finger from her vagina, and little gasping cries burst out of her around him. Then some kind of a force that she couldn't identify gently pulled her legs apart, and her fingers dove back into their efforts with furious gusto, seemingly of their own accord. Completely unable to contain herself, she began yelling and squirting gizm through her fingers. He pulled out of her, and finished himself all over her face and into her gasping mouth.
Panting with pleasure, she licked and swallowed everything she could, as the rest gradually evaporated without a trace. Looking down at the towel, she brushed her hand across her face. The towel was dry, and her hand came back clean; there really was no trace of of the quarter cup or so of semen she'd just had spilled all over her, or the half cup or so of gizm she'd just gushed and squirted onto the thick beech towel. She looked at him, and he smiled, knowing her thoughts. Yes, he truly was some kind of magician.
She rested for a moment, but his feasting of her had only just begun. He laid back on the bed, and placed a pillow beneath his head the long way, giving her something to straddle comfortably. She rose, climbed onto the bed, up to his head, and straddled it. As she lowered herself into his rich, soft lips, his tongue began to play her like a master violinist, and the sensation was so excruciatingly arousing and pleasurable her toes and fingers tingled as they curled and clenched the bedspread. She could do nothing now but throw her head back and moan. She could hear him stroking himself behind her, as his tongue rode her like a race horse, rushing straight for the finish line. She felt his body tense beneath her, and her own body tense in response. She could tell he was near finishing, but his lips and tongue did not let up; if anything, they were even more powerful than ever. Finally, she reached and crossed the finish, and while she was yelling, squirting and gushing yet again, he began to jerk beneath her, and gasp through his nose, and she felt his cum hit and cascade down the back of her head, neck and back.
Despite all the cumming, her heart was still pounding, and the inside of her vagina still ached for him. Without any prompting, she lifted herself off his mouth, slid down him, and lowered herself onto his still-erect penis. As he entered her, it was as though every square millimeter of her vaginal tunnel was g-spot. The sensation was more intensely pleasurable than anything she'd ever imagined possible. She gasped and then rode for all she was worth. This time there was no holding back. She found herself flying over the edge again and again, yelling and gushing gizm for all she was worth. Where it all came from, she had no idea, but it manifested in spades, over and over. Finally, seemingly without any effort, and without slipping out of her, he flung her onto her back and into a spread-wide missionary position, and, pounding her like a gorilla, furiously spent himself inside her.
Then he put some pillows against the wall at the head of the bed, sat her on him, facing away from him, and made her cum a dozen or so times. Then he pitched her forward on all fours, reached around her and fondled and squeezed her breasts while and pounding and then cumming into her again. Then, laying on his back, he turned her and set her on top of him again, and made her cum some more. Finally, after one last mutual yelling and cumming fest, she collapsed in exhaustion all over him, her hair spilling everywhere around him, and they just laid there, panting, and basking in the brightest glow she'd ever had.
"Fuck," she said, staring at him, as her senses began to return. Gradually, her stare became a glare. How the fuck had he done that!?
"Indeed," he said, smiling. His smile was completely guileless, but she was having none of it.
"FUCK!" she yelled, and got up and left.
He chuckled softly, shook his head a little, then sighed and stretched, luxuriating in thoroughly satiated contentment, and nodded off.
- - -
This time, Stacy was the one putting the finishing touches on her stage look as Trixie came in, having just finished her act. She stopped at the door, and looked at Stacy, who pretended to be obsessing over her mascara.
"Told ya you'd fuck him," she said, and headed for her station.
Stacy slapped her wand down on her table and looked over at Trixie. "What the hell was that!? Does he vaporize some kind of oderless, hallucinogenic d**g into the air or something!?"
Trixie laughed, and shook her head. "Nobody knows, starling," she said as she began putting on her regulars. "All we know is," she paused, and then looked Stacy in the eye, and finished with a rueful smile: "He's one hell of a ride."
__
The latest attraction was swaying her way across the stage. Spilling her silky robe to the floor, she let the luscious curves of her black, shadowy, v-necked mesh, hint, in tantalizing way, at the buxom glory beneath, as it hung just long enough to tease, even more mercilessly, at her lowers. It made the eye ache to discern what she was wearing underneath, down there, and imagine bare beauty. Slowly lifting her leading leg along the pole, then sliding/thrusting her pelvis up it, she arched her back, threw her head, and raised her body into an elegant, swinging, backward swan. Her mesh slid up her body, off her lowers, which turned out to be slim, stylish black lace, then slid over her taught tummy, as she swung, but they stopped sliding just shy of revealing her bounty.
Trixie was doing her make up at her station in the back stage dressing room of "Leather & Lace", one of the more up scale erotic clubs in town. She looked up as Stacy walked in through the hallway from the stage, naked from head to toe, having just finished her show.
"Hi Stacy, how's Michael doing?" said Trixie, giving her an encouraging, appreciative glance over, while subtly smiling, raising her eyebrows, and licking her lips.
Michael was Stacy's 11 year old son. He'd recently been in an accident, and the doctor bills were taking their toll. He'd been riding his bike over an overpass, and a semi truck had rumbled by, moving fast, and the wind had caused him to lose control. When his front tire hit a cement support, he'd pitched over the railing onto the freeway below. Fortunately, the traffic swerved and stopped without hitting him, but the fall had broken several bones, and given him a bad concussion. He'd arrived at the hospital in critical condition, and remained u*********s for several hours.
"He's doing alright," Stacy sighed, picking up her regular smalls. She struck a brief pose, featuring a nice full frontal spread, and smiled back at Trixie, then wiggled her tush a little at her, as she slipped her panties on. She sat sideways in the chair at her station, casually dangling an elbow over the back of it, and began idly twsting the end of one of her long, blonde tresels between her fingers. "But it's going to be a while before he's back in school. They're saying he's going to need several more surgeries." Now her mood more visibly soured. "I still don't know where the money's gonna come from." She pressed her fingers to her forehead, half burying her face in her hand, for a moment. Her insurance was fair enough, and was covering most of the costs, but even the out-of-pocket portions were staggering. Her credit was excellent, but her cards were quickly maxing out, even at what she'd been so sure were ridiculous limits. The father was a sperm donor (in the "dirty word" sense), who'd skipped town when he'd heard she was pregnant, and hadn't been seen or heard from since. There was no help coming from that direction. She knew he didn't have any money, anyway.
"Damn. I'm sorry. That sucks." Trixie gave Stacy a sympathetic look before turning back to her mirror. "Did you talk to Mr. Parvait?"
Mr. Parvait was strapping, young photographer who created web sites for strippers. Of the folks around who did that, he gave strippers the best individual work ups, and by far the best revenue percentages.
"I did, in fact I had lunch with him yesterday."
"Oh yeah? How'd it go?"
Stacy smirked. "He said he thought I had 'potential.' "
"Ha," Trixie laughed, knowingly. "I bet he did." Stacy was one of hottest young bomb shells to hit the scene, recently. Lace's typical evening take had already moved up a few notches since she'd started, several weeks prior.
Stacy recalled the last part of her conversation with Mr. Riquerto Parvait:
"From what I hear, the girls who've made by far the most off the sites you've set up for them are the ones who fucked you after their work up."
Riq smiled, and cocked his head, giving his nose a slight, playful wrinkle. "That's just because I only fuck the really hot ones."
She smiled fake, then gave him a hard, serious look: "That won't be happening with me."
But he only smiled bigger. "Sure it will."
Galled, Stacy straightened and darkened her look even further. "You're awfully confident. I don't even know you! I don't need the money that badly. I just want a decent work up and a solid contract."
"It has nothing to do with money," he said, waving her off. "Honestly, I give every girl my best. I have no control over how many people will pay to see their bodies." Sitting back, he returned his cheerful gaze to her face. "It's just that by the time I finish working a girl over, she wants me so bad, she can't help herself." Delight danced in Riquerto's eyes: "And I only invite the real sizzlers into bed with me."
Now Stacy's glare was downright s**thing. She didn't say a word.
"What?" He shrugged with exaggerated aplomb. "It's not my fault hot women find me irresistible."
She'd huffed in disgust and gotten up and left, at that point, but they'd already made an appointment for her work up, and she needed whatever money she could get; at least without crossing any lines. "Irresistible my ass, padre."
Trixy looked over at Stacy. "You're gonna fuck him, you know," she said, as if reading her thoughts.
"What!? I am not! I don't even know him! I'm a stripper, not a whore." Stacy couldn't believe what she was hearing. "And he's what, 15 years older!? That's gross!"
"That's what I thought, too, but he got to me. I came way more and way harder with him then I've ever cum before or since. I've never touched hardcore with a mile long pole, but I'd probably drop my panties and jump him on the wall if he came strolling into this room right now. Mark my words, sweetie. He's a 'Magic Man'. If you don't want to fuck him, stay the hell away from him."
Stacy scowled at her in mollified disbelief, then shook her head. "Whatever. Who you fuck is your business."
- - -
That night, she had the strangest dream. It was like she was wandering, invisibly, through a huge, open, locker room showering area. Steam and jets of water prevented her from seeing very far, but In every direction, there were naked glamour girls, standing around, lathering and rinsing their bodies. Some were walking in between the showers, without a drop of water on them. Some she knew, others she didn't. Every one of them were the hottest of the hot, with full, luscious breasts and curvaceously-slender figures. They were all wearing these bulky "virtual reality" headset things. She had no idea what they were looking at, but whatever it was it must have been pretty arousing, because all at once, they started pushing dildos up their vaginas. Where had those things come from?
Then came the weirdest part: She saw herself among them, wearing a VR headset, and pushing a dildo up and down, in and out. Suddenly she realized she could feel a penis inside her, doing exactly what that dildo was, and it was feeling really, really good. Up and down, in and out. She looked down at herself, but there was nothing there; the only 'self' she could see was standing some ways off. She tried to get herself to stop, but it was as if she were out of her body, looking at herself. She couldn't do a thing about it, as the salacious penis continued it's work on her.
Whatever the women were looking at must have started gaining heat. Bodies were tensing, legs were spreading, dildos were moving more frantically, and a chorus of breathless grunts were echoing around, as if heavy weights were being pushed up steep hills, one desperate inch at a time. She saw herself rapidly working that dildo, and the passionately sliding penis inside her built her tension up to a full rolling boil, nearing the bursting point. They all seemed to be doing the same thing she was, as she rode the edge, breathing hard, but clinging to dignity, trying not to cum. Then the penis finally got the best of her, and she went over the edge to a chorus of gasping yells and showers of squirting and gushing gizm, including her own. When she was thoroughly spent, the penis slowly slipped out, the dream faded and she awoke, panting and exhausted, drenched in sweat, and swimming in her panties.
- - -
It was Tuesday afternoon, and Stacy was approaching Riq's door. He's studio was in his residence, which was a small mansion on a fair sized plot. The door opened just before she reached it. He smiled, greeted her warmly, and beckoned her in. Showing her the double doors leading to the set, he took a right down a hallway, and lead her to a dressing room, where he showed her an outfit he wanted her to put on. Layer upon layer of sheer and semi sheer, sinewy sexiness. He left her to it, telling her to come to the set when she was ready.
"Twist your hip out just a little more, arch your back, push out your torso just a little.. no not quite that much.. tilt your head back and to the left just a little.. a little more.. that's it. Yeah, now you're getting it. Keep working it like that." She couldn't smell anything in the air, but for some reason she couldn't quite put a finger on, she felt slightly dazed, and her heart began to race as she slid out of the layers for the camera, striking pose after pose. Something raw and bestial was rising within her, despite her efforts to repress it while still giving the camera all the juice she could. An inner b**st was rising to match the blazing, consuming hunger she thought she saw in his eyes, lurking just beneath the surface, when he would peek out from behind the camera, briefly, to set an angle. When she finally exposed herself completely, for the final series, she thought she saw him catch his breath, subtly adjust himself, and lick his lips.
This shouldn't be happening, she knew, but somehow, it was. For some reason should could not for the life of her fathom, she wanted him more badly than she'd ever wanted anything. He was staring at her openly, now, not even pretending to take pictures. Her poses had left her lying on her side. Practically trembling with desire, she locked eyes with him, pushed herself into a sitting position, then pushed her knees toward the camera, together, then slowly spread them, and thrust her pelvis out for a crotch shot.
"Follow me," he said, and headed out of the room. She practically jumped to her feet, and followed, heart pounding, completely helpless to stop herself. After a brisk walk down the hall, they entered a bedroom, where he stepped out of his shoes, flung off his shirt, and slid his pants and boxers to the floor. With a flare he spread a large beech towel over the floor at the foot of the bed, that she instinctively kneeled on. He approached her, and she reached for him, gathering him into her mouth with one hand as she began to stroke herself with the other. As her ministrations proceeded, he grabbed her by the hair, and the motion of her fingers over her wet, dripping clitoris began to became more frantic. After a few minutes, she felt herself nearing the edge, so she tried to retreat from it, and avoid cumming before he did. She squeezed her legs together, and struggled to keep her lips and tongue tight around him, but shouldn't quite remove her finger from her vagina, and little gasping cries burst out of her around him. Then some kind of a force that she couldn't identify gently pulled her legs apart, and her fingers dove back into their efforts with furious gusto, seemingly of their own accord. Completely unable to contain herself, she began yelling and squirting gizm through her fingers. He pulled out of her, and finished himself all over her face and into her gasping mouth.
Panting with pleasure, she licked and swallowed everything she could, as the rest gradually evaporated without a trace. Looking down at the towel, she brushed her hand across her face. The towel was dry, and her hand came back clean; there really was no trace of of the quarter cup or so of semen she'd just had spilled all over her, or the half cup or so of gizm she'd just gushed and squirted onto the thick beech towel. She looked at him, and he smiled, knowing her thoughts. Yes, he truly was some kind of magician.
She rested for a moment, but his feasting of her had only just begun. He laid back on the bed, and placed a pillow beneath his head the long way, giving her something to straddle comfortably. She rose, climbed onto the bed, up to his head, and straddled it. As she lowered herself into his rich, soft lips, his tongue began to play her like a master violinist, and the sensation was so excruciatingly arousing and pleasurable her toes and fingers tingled as they curled and clenched the bedspread. She could do nothing now but throw her head back and moan. She could hear him stroking himself behind her, as his tongue rode her like a race horse, rushing straight for the finish line. She felt his body tense beneath her, and her own body tense in response. She could tell he was near finishing, but his lips and tongue did not let up; if anything, they were even more powerful than ever. Finally, she reached and crossed the finish, and while she was yelling, squirting and gushing yet again, he began to jerk beneath her, and gasp through his nose, and she felt his cum hit and cascade down the back of her head, neck and back.
Despite all the cumming, her heart was still pounding, and the inside of her vagina still ached for him. Without any prompting, she lifted herself off his mouth, slid down him, and lowered herself onto his still-erect penis. As he entered her, it was as though every square millimeter of her vaginal tunnel was g-spot. The sensation was more intensely pleasurable than anything she'd ever imagined possible. She gasped and then rode for all she was worth. This time there was no holding back. She found herself flying over the edge again and again, yelling and gushing gizm for all she was worth. Where it all came from, she had no idea, but it manifested in spades, over and over. Finally, seemingly without any effort, and without slipping out of her, he flung her onto her back and into a spread-wide missionary position, and, pounding her like a gorilla, furiously spent himself inside her.
Then he put some pillows against the wall at the head of the bed, sat her on him, facing away from him, and made her cum a dozen or so times. Then he pitched her forward on all fours, reached around her and fondled and squeezed her breasts while and pounding and then cumming into her again. Then, laying on his back, he turned her and set her on top of him again, and made her cum some more. Finally, after one last mutual yelling and cumming fest, she collapsed in exhaustion all over him, her hair spilling everywhere around him, and they just laid there, panting, and basking in the brightest glow she'd ever had.
"Fuck," she said, staring at him, as her senses began to return. Gradually, her stare became a glare. How the fuck had he done that!?
"Indeed," he said, smiling. His smile was completely guileless, but she was having none of it.
"FUCK!" she yelled, and got up and left.
He chuckled softly, shook his head a little, then sighed and stretched, luxuriating in thoroughly satiated contentment, and nodded off.
- - -
This time, Stacy was the one putting the finishing touches on her stage look as Trixie came in, having just finished her act. She stopped at the door, and looked at Stacy, who pretended to be obsessing over her mascara.
"Told ya you'd fuck him," she said, and headed for her station.
Stacy slapped her wand down on her table and looked over at Trixie. "What the hell was that!? Does he vaporize some kind of oderless, hallucinogenic d**g into the air or something!?"
Trixie laughed, and shook her head. "Nobody knows, starling," she said as she began putting on her regulars. "All we know is," she paused, and then looked Stacy in the eye, and finished with a rueful smile: "He's one hell of a ride."
__
Maris
- 28.01.2023
- 24
- 0
