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As a high-priced madam, I meet a lot of men – and women – in powerful corporate positions. Discretion runs high, and so do my services. Two things universal among the super rich are borderline lunacy, and a big appetite for sex. Put those two together, and pretty much anything can and does happen.
I draw the line at whatever leaves a permanent mark.
My most recent adventure, while not my wildest, certainly left me with some amusing memories. I was invited for a cruise on a spectacular yacht by a who’s who gaggle of investment gurus. All filthy rich, and no expense is ever spared to get what they want. Tonight that was me, and my purse and my puss were wide open!
It was a fairly dull beginning; jazz on the deck with men and women in power suits guzzling champagne, and a few ladies-for-hire, including me, in scanty swim suits. We were asked to just lie around topless, like ornaments, with our suit bottoms wedged in our pussies for a slippery and tempting show of camel toe.
Dinner came and went uneventfully; your typical haute cuisine with emphasis on presentation over actual nutrition, served with really expensive wines and cheap conversation. Then it was time for dessert. This is where I and three other pricey madams came in.
We were dressed in short black dresses and black panties. The huge dining table was cleared so we could strut the length, like a catwalk. All eyes followed us back and forth. With a change of music, we were then asked (ordered) to dance. We all moved to the music, showed a lot of leg, flashed our panties and cleavage, and rubbed our pussies in the assembled faces. The mood was quickly getting steamy.
The yacht’s owner, and host of tonight’s event, rang a small bell. A few servants entered with large bowls of cream, shaved chocolate, and of course, cherries, and set them in the table’s center. We were then asked to present our pussies to a guest of our choosing. I chose a rather pudgy and homely man that reeked of money.
I scooted to the edge of the table, set my feet on the arms of his chair, and opened my legs. My man licked his chops with a hungry grin, then proceeded to wipe his face all over my pantied crotch. Piggish, but cute in some weird way.
He gave me a wink, then pulled the panties off and gave me a surprisingly satisfying licking. Yes, I do enjoy my work most of the time. The occasional jerk will ruin a good night, but for the most part, getting licked for a living ain’t all bad.
So, he slurped away ‘till his hearts content while others waited patiently for their turn. A quick glance a round, and I could see the other three of tonight’s ‘desserts’ were in the same boat: a tongue up their hole with lots of eager eyes looking on. I also noticed none of my companions were paired with the power ladies at the table. Seemed a little unfair, so I rolled a few seats up the table, opened my legs for one of the ladies, and proceeded to turn my pussy into a gourmet éclair for her.
I scooped up a fist full of cream, bits of chocolate and few cherries, and let her dig in. What a pro! I do have to say it was rather comical to see her, undoubtedly a real bitch on the corporate floor, now smothered in whipped cream and looking like a clown. Despite that ‘priceless moment’, I was enjoying the tongue bath quite a lot.
Time to move a few more chairs. This time I got up on my knees and offered my backside to a cute old man . He put together his own ‘dessert’ with the table fixings, and dove in for a feast of - me. All told, he must have put away a few thousand calories and several good shots of girl cream.
This musical chairs went on until we had all made two complete rounds. The table was a mess, and every face seated around it was smeared in whipped cream and a big smile.
The yacht docked around three in the morning. Limos were lined up to take the drunk and satiated guests to their over-sized homes and suites. Some will wake with clear and pleasant memories, while others will wonder why they have put on a few pounds. For me, it was just another ‘routine’ day at work.
*****
A.W.
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