Bachelor Affairs

As the sunlight caressed her skin, promising a new smile on her makeup face, new shoes, new bags, she entombed thoughts of her client in brief seconds, her imagination beating to how he is, how big his penis is and how he uses it.

She walked as her hair fluttered in the air, her mind blowing gown clinging to her body like an estate model and abruptly stopped to preen her self on the glass windows of the almost gigantic hotel.

Satisfy, she killed the makeup and dresses, she took a slow breathe before she walked into the reception., her eyes roam around and she finally settled them on a man sitting on the lobby with crossed legs, he was cute, looks rich just like her type, if she wasn't there for business., she could as well be a boredom killer to the man.

"Hi." She said to the receptionist, a smile surrounding her red lipstick lip.

"Welcome to Chilled villa hotel madam." The receptionist reply, a crochet smile following her trimmed words.

"How may I serve you?"

"Am here to see the manager." She returned maintaining the smile on her face.

"He's expecting me."

"A minute please." The receptionist said and lower her gaze under the counter, she took a few second before she raised her head to her again."

Are you Miss Cynthia?"

"Yes., I am."

The receptionist called on the porter who in turn took the girl to the manager's office.

********************

Garry's smile slipped when he saw her; never in his world would he have thought call girls could look so pretty. he had actually met her on facebook three weeks ago and they've been chatting naughty since then, they exchanged lots of faceless nudes during their chats, he needed to see if what she sent to him were really what she posses, so he decided to take the risk on sending her transport fare to come see him.

"Garry." Her voice trailed low.

"Cynthia." He pouts standing up from the chair to meet her at the door.

"Wow, you look pretty in person." He said.

Her lips lifted upward as her dimples crinkled, his smile was genuinely sweet and made unexpected warmth rushed through her and all she wants to do is grab him, rip off his shirt and took his package out.

He was cute, fair, long hands, the perfect face, exactly her type. "

And you look so dashing." She replied him maintaining the wide smile on her face.

Garry lick his lips as his eyes roam around her frontal view., his eyes traveled from her face to her collar bone then to her breasts. Without lingerie her breast sat higher, well package and definitely beyond natural, they were close together just as he likes them, there's nothing more bewitching than thrusting his penis in the space between her breast, they were each so perfect and molded to her form.

His eyes didn't linger too long, but it was just enough for her to know it's game time.

"Make yourself comfortable." He said walking past her to lock the door. When he turns around to face her, he caught her smile again, damn; her smile was already giving him a boner.

"So you want to do it here?" She asked wishing he speedy up things so she can go down and find more potential customers, especially the man she had seen at the lobby.

"That's a good table." Garry said with a cringe at the office table.

Sighing, she walked up to him, counting her steps like a cat, she grabbed his tie and pulled him to herself, then she took off his suit, unbuttoned his inner white shirt and took it off from his body.

"Strong man." She pouts touching his broad shoulders.

"I workout." He managed to say locking his gaze with her.

Not bothering to take any flirtatious-L-sex look. She took off his singlet, bit her lips as she stared at his bare-chest, tight rolls of skin at the waist of his black-belted slacks. She knew that his flat belly would be warm and dry, the hair on it surprisingly soft.

"Sit on the chair." She ordered taking her clothes off.

For a thing, Garry hated been ordered especially by call girls., he loves to be dominant and he likes them submissive, to scream when he fùcks the hell from their wide pussy, but he obeyed anyway, crunching down on the office chair and watching what she intends doing.

She moved towards him, the bows like butterflies on her hips, the thin straps on her waist biting into her thighs, as she moved she felt her inner music build.

The slow strings and solemn drumbeat swelled behind her hip bones, and she turned her back to him, kicked away the pooled silk of her discarded kimono, settled herself across his lap and began to give him a lap dance.