Prolog

"You still like the old days?" I asked after releasing the rough tug on the lips in front of me. He always had a sweet taste, especially when his tongue twisted around, taking turns sucking saliva into my oral cavity.

Never got tired of kissing him, again and again, after a long absence. How long has it been? Maybe a year?

"Engh... no, Sir." His answer sounded hoarse, more like a whimper as I gripped the evidence of his erection from outside his pants.

He still uses the same nickname for me. Yet earlier outside this room we had only shared gestures before separating ourselves from the engagement party outside, then removing all masks of falsehood after the door was locked from the inside.

I took off his suit, shirt, and the last of his belt and trousers. He... didn't struggle like most women who pretend to resist and then weaken under the erotic mix.

Obviously, the figure before me is clearly a man. He was mature and had a body that was well-proportioned among metrosexuals. His muscle bulges were not as big as a body builder's, but they were something to be proud of in front of the women who were his frequent customers.

"Why is this still reacting?" I asked after managing to drop him on the bed and grabbing the tension in front of my face.

Yes, the tantalizing shape of the half-arm-length club was leaking its transparent lubricant at the tip. It was a little salty to the tongue, but I loved his sexy moans.

"Sir..., go deeper...," he pleaded.

Of course, I happily moved my tongue around the outline of his mushroom head, then inserted little by little his hard rod.

Faster and faster, then the erectile evidence in my oral cavity twitched, expanding to its fullest.

"Damn it!" he cursed loudly when I left, "Why did you take it off, Ff—"

I stuffed his mouth with a pair of underwear that was lying around. Not mine. I'm still fully clothed and choose to sit on the edge of the bed, close to his head, laughing at the apparent disappointment.

"You want out?" I quipped deliberately while burning the nicotine stick tucked in my lips. Occasionally letting out smoke, then laughing at the situation that had just occurred.

He was always entertaining at times like this. At a time when I should have been able to refuse. The engagement.

"I need more."

His answer made me turn my head. It turned out that his panties were thrown in a random direction.

I pointed the cigarette in my fingers at her two fingers. His was still held upright like a monument without the impression that it needed to be covered. He confidently massaged it up and down.

I was almost hypnotized watching that simple movement with my mouth open.

I actually also needed a moment like this, to divert the annoyance of being framed by an impromptu fiancé while inaugurating a luxury housing development project in the north of the city. Why did he also show up at the same place?

"Didn't give it to your 'mommy'?" I took the rest of the cigarette he had just smoked, enjoying the sensation of puffing smoke alone ending with a brief jolt to one of his seeds. "Why didn't you answer?"

He gasped, spontaneously collapsing into a sitting position while chanting the names of various cursed animals and clutching his trusty heirloom.

What entertainment.

"I have the right to be quiet, don't I?" He grumbled, like a girl losing interest.

Have I ever faced a girl? I think it was a long time ago. Maybe two or thirty years ago, even I had almost forgotten what it was like to meet such an innocent girl. Most of the women I met were full of falsehoods.

In front of me, a man who was just facing adulthood. I could tell by the width of his shoulders and the hip bones I was beginning to explore.

At first he resisted by turning his back to me. However, the slipperiness of the sheets moving under his skin indicates acceptance. A superior sensation runs through the whole body as it overcomes her ego.

I extinguished the ember at the end of the cigarette by poking the corner of her knee. He screamed, I laughed even more.

What do you call it? A man of pleasure who is willing to do anything for a payment sheet called money.

My employees called him male prostitute, an urban word that was foreign to me. I'm more familiar with the word gigolo, which is what the service provider used to say.

"You have the right to be quiet," I whispered behind his ear, biting slightly, then releasing the monster preparing to rage down there, "and try not to make a sound at all."

Without feeling the need to lubricate, I wanted to torture someone. To enter her many times full of intimidation.

Okay, that part was pretty sadistic.

I could have described in detail how to try out all sorts of positions until I ended up spilling the viscosity inside his without a safety. It's risky, because I don't know if he's still getting health checks or not since he works alone.

Or maybe he doesn't accept customers anymore?

Seeing him at my party, I'd say he probably works in one of the marketing branches. A proper job, not an entertainer like she used to be.

He rolled over to face me. His crease-less eyelids were perfectly closed. A nose that's small enough to be considered plump and thin Asian lips. The kind of face that makes you feel at home looking at it all the time.

Interested in him? Who wouldn't be? Oh, a normal guy wouldn't confess, especially if it's to the taste of a self-proclaimed virgin pussy.

I said I liked him once, then he kept avoiding me time and time again. This meeting was an amazing jackpot.

I glance at the wrinkles of skin extending under his belly. Smooth, with almost no fine hair. He's so well-groomed that even the folds around his are flawlessly dark.

It's funny, I remember the few times he spurted carelessly at the end of penetration. I won the endurance battle this time.

I don't know how many hours I spent scanning him, but I went to the bathroom. Just to pee and wash off the dried-up remains of the struggle. My clothes are intact, only scuffed from being crushed against the bed.

"Sir? Are you not sleeping?" He apparently followed me to the pantry section of the suite.

In my experience with him in the past, he wouldn't bother to put on clothes when he was working. And that level of confidence was still there.

"I was bumping earlier." I patted his protruding back as he placed the cup under the faucet of the machine that dispensed the blackish liquid. "Coffee?" I laughed.

He protested, "Sir Levi...," using my first name. It still sounded spoiled and masculine, not like a woman's noisy screeching in the ear.

"Usually you order this suite with juice or milk, what is this?" He checked the refrigerator in the corner of the pantry and found a row of wine bottles along with beer cans. "Have you abandoned a healthy lifestyle?"

Yes, around five years ago I might have still been paranoid about routines that must be directly proportional to health. Getting sick in your thirties would only ruin your financial plans.

"Every now and then," I reasoned. I was just in case my fiancée was going to spend the night here, well that was a thought before she saw me carrying him out of the party.

"Do you have more problems?" My backside is pressed against the edge of the pantry as I sip the contents of the still hot cup without sugar, I need pure caffeine right now to realize that this isn't a dream. "Didn't you refuse? Really hard to get booked for your night."

He always makes excuses. I still remember him refusal very well. He said, "I don't turn," even though he accepted stabbing and being stabbed, just like last night.

And I lunged at him once again here. Dropping the cup so that it shatters along with the can he was holding.

Once again, he took me on, destroying the pantry's order in an explosive fit of rage. It ended in silence until someone started a conversation.

"I shouldn't have accepted your offer last night, Sir." He shook her head in my arms, while her limbs still dangled over my shoulders.

Damn! The shirt I wore turned out to be dirty this time.

I put his down while releasing the union that was very draggy despite being lubricated with my liquid. It still feels good even though he claims it hurts.

"Why not?" I asked as I removed the shirt and t-shirt from my body. Everything was wet. Sweat and cum. But I like the way it feels to attach myself to his firm back again and rub the evidence of arousal back in front of his hole. "It's fun. Right?"

I love scooping up his lips again. I love tickling the tops of his flat chest until they stiffen. I like to nestle those playful bites along his neck and shoulders that are the equivalent of my face when standing together.

"My life is not just about fun anymore, Sir." Starting to act all grown up? He added emphasis while holding my wrist in front of his stomach, "I need a real job to propose to someone's daughter. More income. Something real."

I just understood. So, "Is this what you call bribing me?"

Seriously. I was disappointed. This morning started with a messy mood.

I distanced myself, walked away, and picked up my own clothes.

"Aryo!" I called his name at the exit. "You, like a dog!"