Anonymous Encounters(2)

By: Cassandra Dee


Pulling my jacket forwards once more, I ran one big hand up the back of a tiny thigh. It was okay. Not great. I like ‘em thick and juicy, and this girl was just too small. Her leg was a little gristly, like an underfed chicken, but it was fine. I’d survive.

And as the blonde gasped, the button on her jeans popped. Oh yeah, I have magic fingers and even though that denim was skin tight, I peeled it off to reveal a small, flat ass. Again, about C quality. This was no beautiful bubble butt, this was about five sizes too small, more like a Waffle House pancake rather than a rounded, luscious peach. But what the hell, the target was so near and there was no sense in beating around the bush.

So in one fell swoop, I pushed two fingers into the girl’s twat, making her gasp. Oh yeah, the female’s head fell back and she let out a tiny whimper, eyes falling shut as my digits made their entrance. When I said finger fuck, I didn’t say that we were going to a shit-ton of teasing or anything like that. I said “finger fuck” and that’s what I meant. So going for gold, I went to town on that little vag as the band played below, sawing my fingers in and out of that sweet hole as the girl gasped and panted, head nodding back and forth, bobbing to the music.

And as the song crescendoed, it happened. The blonde fell apart on my hand, that tiny pussy squeezing me tight, juices everywhere, squirting like a fountain into my palm. Fuck, fuck, fuck it felt good. I love it when a girl loses it, vaginal muscles clenching, personal nectar running like honey all over my fist, it’s the ultimate validation. And as she descended from earth, it was all good. Slowly, deftly, my digits exited, leaving that hot hole trembling and empty.

Immediately the girl’s head swung around, mouth already open to ask a question, to get my name, all that bullshit. But too late. I was already gone in the crowd, just the back of a tall, dark head and some broad shoulders disappearing with every passing second. I could have been the guy to the right, the one already looking at her with interest, smiling a slick grin with no idea what had just happened. Or I could have been the older geezer on the left, the one double-fisting PBR, eyes already blood-shot.

But it didn’t matter. She was too late, and besides, the deed was done. Our anonymous encounter was over, and we’d both gotten what we came for. The blonde had had a screaming orgasm at the skilled hands of a faceless dude, excitement and lust pouring through her veins. And I’d had a wet pussy clenching all over me, cunt juice spilling into my palm as one more woman gave it all up with a series of helpless quivers. But did I want more? Hell no. Did I want to see her again? Hell no. Did I care? Hell no. These things are one-off type events and that’s the beauty of it. We’d had our exchange … and I was fucking done.





CHAPTER ONE


Donovan




“Yo,” rumbled the voice. “Whaddup?”

I glanced up from my laptop.

“Nuthin’, why?” I asked, shutting the screen discreetly as Jared ambled near. It wasn’t that I didn’t want him to see, although it was better if he didn’t. I just didn’t want to talk about it. Because I was here, deep in the lair of the Billionaires Club, and yet I was surfing on-line for an anonymous encounter. Yeah, the Club is where anything goes, where the hottest, most delectable girls serve men, and I was on-line looking for an anonymous fuck.

It’s twisted for sure. At the Club, we source the hottest chicks, the most nubile, ravishing females and bring them here to be auctioned. So yeah, you can buy what you want, you can literally put money down and get a virgin for a week, enjoying that beautiful body until she’s nothing but a panting, trembling mess of hot pussy and clenching asshole.

And even better, after you’re done, it’s sayonara, see ya later. Actually that’s not right. See ya never is more accurate. There are no obligations, no nothing, no parting gifts, no sad goodbyes, no long, ten-paragraph desperate emails. There’s just a load of cash direct deposited to the virgin’s bank account once your week is done, and then poof, she’s vapor. You never have to see her again, it’s a clean break with a clear conscience, wham, bam, thank you ma’am.

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