This is a collection of some of my favorite stories some older ones and some new. Stories that will excite and entertain you. First, I must say that all my stories and the characters within are fictional. ass my characters are 18+ and not directly...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I sit between my masters in the limo; each has a hand on a thigh. I lean my head on Master's shoulder, and a finger on my right-hand draws small, imperceptible circles on Alex's hand that rests on my thigh. In response, he slides it further up, squeezes it tight, releases my flesh, and returns his hand to where it started. I my pinky finger in his; it stays there for the rest of the ride. The limo driver pulls up in front of a building with glass doors that are tinted black.
"Would you mind waiting here for just a moment? I'll be right back," Master says. Not waiting on a response, he exits the car and enters the building; as he does so, the sound of loud music inside can be heard until the door closes again.
"So, what's going on?" Master Alex asks.
"I assure you, Master Alex, I have no idea," I say as I lean into him to get a kiss. He kisses me, and I lay my head on his chest. I hear the music again and sit up. Master opens the door and offers me his hand to help me out of the car. Master Alex exits the other side, and when he closes the door to the limo, the driver drives off to park the car. Standing in front of the door, I see where we are; the business's name in gold lettering is high on the door. '
"SOLID GOLD"
"Las Vegas' Finest Gentleman's Club."
Master Alex comes up on my left.
"Well, this should be interesting," he says. I take the hand of each of my masters, not looking at either of them, and say,
"Well, shall we." The three of us walk toward the door. We enter a dimly lit lobby-like area of about twenty-foot square. The carpet is dark and patterned by small led lights like those that line an airline aisle. Next to the lobby is a cashier-type window. Signs around it have prices for cover charges, privet rooms, table and couch dances. As we walk by, the woman in the booth greets us all but does not attempt to collect money.
We enter a large open room at the end of the short hall. In the far corner is a bar with several scantily clad waitresses buzzing around. Toward the middle of the room are three small stages, behind which are two curved staircases leading up to a loft VIP area. The DJ booth is opposite the bar, and the area for couch dances is behind that. Occasionally a dancer will lead a customer in or out.
As soon as we enter the room, the manager comes up and shakes Master's hand and directs the three of us to a table with a reserved sign. The men take seats on either side of me, each resting a hand high up on my thighs
"This is something I could get used to," I think with a smile. A moment later, a beautiful young girl comes to the table with a large bottle of champagne on ice. Master reaches into his inner jacket pocket, pulls out a hundred-dollar bill, and hands it to her as she pours the third glass of champagne.
"Thank you, sir, it's covered," she says with a charming smile.
