The gym was crowded and sweaty girls milled around after Zumba class, but I moved around the Nautilus machines, finishing my work-out in good time. I showered, looked at my body in the mirror that I work hard to maintain. Women love me. And I love them. That’s why I make good money.
“Good bye, Ross,” said the girl at reception with big adoring eyes.
“Have a nice day.”
“You too.”
I had just put the key in the ignition when my phone alerted me to a message. It was from Mrs. McTavish.
‘Are you free tonight? 7?’
I smirked. Mrs. McTavish. Her husband must be out of town. I texted back, ‘Yes. See you then.’
Mrs. McTavish and I went about our day in Park Cities, the most affluent bedroom community south of Dallas as well as my hometown.
Park Cities women are gym toned women with great smiles and cheerleading daughters. They are women of southern graces, the women of the new south. And I was their toy.
Now most male gigolos have male clients but I never have. I’d make a hell of a lot more money if I did. I’m not homophobic. It’s just not my scene. Besides, Park Cities ladies give me everything I need.
That evening, I pulled my Cadillac CTS coupe into the McTavish drive, rounding a sprawled limbed oak to park in front of a nine thousand square foot plantation style mansion.
Mrs. McTavish opened the door dressed in designer slacks and a sleeveless silk blouse. I felt underdressed in black sweat pants and sweat shirt but that’s what she likes. She looked good for 59; a trim lady with a well shoulder length ash blonde page boy hair. She’s definitely fuckable which helps. I hate using Viagra, though I keep the ones I stole from my dad in my glove compartment just in case.
“Good evening,” she said, letting me in.
“Good evening, Dee.”
Her two Pomeranians yapped at my heels as we walked across her foyer into her family room. She stopped at the bar and pulled a bottle of white wine from the mini-fridge.
“How have you been doing,” she asked, making herself a white wine spritzer.
“Good,” I said, standing there waiting.
She gestured with her drink hand to the seven hundred dollars on the fireplace mantle sitting under her wedding picture. Her Pomeranians nipped at my ankles as I walked over to get my money. I wanted to punt one over the bar until she lured them out onto the patio with treats and closed the door behind them. I pocketed the money before following her out the family room and up the stairs to stand in the hall outside her bedroom door.
''I said, “Now don’t you go and shoot me with your husband’s 45.”
She gave me a well-practiced phony smile. “I would never shoot you, honey. What would I do for fun?”
She entered her bedroom as I leaned against the hallway wall. I could hear her humming to herself as she moved about the bedroom, finally going into the master bathroom and turning on the shower. The shower door clicked open and closed. I heard her showering, great cascades of splashes as she rinsed. Then the shower turned off. I heard her step out.
I pulled the balaclava from my pocket and slipped the mask over my head and waited. It was hot, being that its summer, but this is her fantasy. She likes being ravished.
I waited a minute before creeping into her bedroom. I’m ashamed to say that I was somewhat aroused lurking around her immaculate room, sneaking up on a woman. I made my way to the master bath. She was standing in front of the mirror, dressed in a plush robe, drying her hair with a towel. She spotted my reflection in the mirror. I moved fast and grabbed her around the waist. She yelped in surprise before my hand slammed over her mouth.
“Don’t scream, don’t say a word and you won’t get hurt. Okay?”
She nodded okay. I caught sight of us in the mirror. It looked so real and sinister with me dressed all in black with only my eyes and mouth exposed from my mask. Her eyes were big as she stared at us in the mirror. I stuck my free hand down her robe and pawed her breast making her watch as I held her mouth shut from behind.
“Is this what you want?” I asked, my breath hot in her ear.
She didn’t answer.
My mouth landed on her neck, mauling her like lion on fresh meat. She didn’t put up a fight when I dragged her backwards into the bedroom and slung her onto to her bed. She backed away from me on the bed, her robe falling away with every move she made. I pounced on her, pinning her body to the bed with my weight. My hand her wrists restrained above her head, my masked face stayed in hers as she flung her head from side to side. I was semi-hard from the game. Her squirming resistance made it even harder.
I gruffly asked, “Is that what you want? Huh? My cock in your wet pussy? You want that? Say it.”
“I want your cock in my pussy.”
Hearing Mrs. McTavish’s say ‘pussy’ amused me.
“Wet pussy. Say it.”
It trembled off her lips. “I want your cock in my wet pussy.”
I pulled my dick from my sweatpants fly, tore open a condom and put it on. A sound of pure pleasure escaped her lips as I entered her and fucked her. The headboard thumped against the wall.
“You like that, don’t you?”
“Yes, oh yes. Oh God.”
She came, her knees clinching against my hips as I drove deeper inside her.
I stopped and withdrew as though I was through with her.
“I’m not finished with you yet.”
I yanked her knees up to my ears and penetrated her again. She wrapped her legs around me and I ground hard as she quickly came again. I stayed in her for a while, her hazy eyes locked with mine. Her legs released me and I withdrew, slipping my sticky dick back into my sweatpants.
“You be a good girl.”
I kissed her cheek and staying true to my role, gave her a little shove which bounced her bed as I bounded away and left the house.
Excerpt from Hardsmith: The Texas Boy Toy Scandal by Julian Delacourt.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/3thjww/this_is_what_she_pays_me_for_mfrp