C H A P T E R O N E
The world was my oyster.
From London to Tokyo, New York to Sidney.
Five-star hotels, private jets, nothing was off limits.
I flew wherever I wanted. I fucked whomever I wanted.
Money was no object, and neither was my choice of pussy.
While the faces changed as quickly as the destinations, only the rules remained the same.
No numbers, no emotions, no sexual limits, no further contact and definitely no relationships.
It worked, and you could say for a time, everything was fucking awesome, until New Year’s Eve.
***
“All flights have been delayed until tomorrow due to the storm. We are sorry for the inconvenience and we hope to…” the rest of the words became a blur as the reality of spending New Year’s Eve stuck in the armpit of America sunk in like the hideous third cup of coffee that I had just downed.
You’ve got to be fucking joking!
An hour earlier I’d been riding a red eye flight back to New York from China and the heaviest thing on my mind was the decision of spending the New Year entangled between one or two hot brunettes that I was supposed to meet the moment I stepped off the plane.
Fuck it, everything was arranged . The thought of not being able to indulge in that hot bit of ass, and have her mouth willingly slide over my cock was brutal . It was all planned out. My personal assistant had booked a table at my favorite steakhouse restaurant, we’d return to my penthouse suite at the Four Seasons, and then wouldn’t leave for several days. I would spend hours teasing her, her wrists tied to the bed with silky scarlet ties, flicking the tip of her clit with my tongue, withholding her from the most intense pleasure over and over again, only to devour her pussy until she screamed out through multiple orgasms.
My cock twitched at the thought. I sighed pushing the image of her innocent tight ass from my mind. I shifted in my seat; my body ached from the hard plastic. Gazing around the waiting room, I wondered if the shit storm has blown inside as it was cold, and a far cry from the VIP lounges that I was used to. Spoiled or not, there was no denying that once you’d tasted the finer things in life, anything less was hard to get used to.
I now sat sandwiched between a traveling salesman on my right who was overweight, wheezing his guts out and bordering on an early heart attack, and an elderly gentleman to my left who coughed repeatedly in my direction.
Shit, cover your mouth!
I wouldn’t mind it if it was an international airport, as at least there I was treated like a king, but Morgantown Municipal Airport? Are you kidding me? Obviously catering to celebs, executives and well-to-do folks was at the bottom of their priority list. Everyone convened in the same area, the coffee tasted like dirt, and the food might as well have been served with a side platter of puke.
Another cough in my face, and I’d had enough. I couldn’t stand another minute. I closed my notebook and make a beeline for the only bar in the place called The Last Round Bar & Grill.
C H A P T E R T W O
It never changed, and this night was no exception. Once again a long parade of guys ogled my breasts as I served them drinks. The younger ones took turns dishing out cheesy pickup lines and the married ones pocketed their wedding bands, as if the glaring pale white band beneath wasn’t a dead giveaway. I wasn’t sure what turned me off most, the fact that they thought that getting into a bartenders pants was part of their order, or that they lied through their teeth. They all seemed so desperate, needy and unattractive. Nevertheless I gave them my wicked smile, and leaned over just a little more. I knew how to get the tips, if nothing else. Truth was I had yet to meet a man who stood out, and while I had a few men pass through the airport that had caught my eye. It was going to take a bit more than a
The world was my oyster.
From London to Tokyo, New York to Sidney.
Five-star hotels, private jets, nothing was off limits.
I flew wherever I wanted. I fucked whomever I wanted.
Money was no object, and neither was my choice of pussy.
While the faces changed as quickly as the destinations, only the rules remained the same.
No numbers, no emotions, no sexual limits, no further contact and definitely no relationships.
It worked, and you could say for a time, everything was fucking awesome, until New Year’s Eve.
***
“All flights have been delayed until tomorrow due to the storm. We are sorry for the inconvenience and we hope to…” the rest of the words became a blur as the reality of spending New Year’s Eve stuck in the armpit of America sunk in like the hideous third cup of coffee that I had just downed.
You’ve got to be fucking joking!
An hour earlier I’d been riding a red eye flight back to New York from China and the heaviest thing on my mind was the decision of spending the New Year entangled between one or two hot brunettes that I was supposed to meet the moment I stepped off the plane.
Fuck it, everything was arranged . The thought of not being able to indulge in that hot bit of ass, and have her mouth willingly slide over my cock was brutal . It was all planned out. My personal assistant had booked a table at my favorite steakhouse restaurant, we’d return to my penthouse suite at the Four Seasons, and then wouldn’t leave for several days. I would spend hours teasing her, her wrists tied to the bed with silky scarlet ties, flicking the tip of her clit with my tongue, withholding her from the most intense pleasure over and over again, only to devour her pussy until she screamed out through multiple orgasms.
My cock twitched at the thought. I sighed pushing the image of her innocent tight ass from my mind. I shifted in my seat; my body ached from the hard plastic. Gazing around the waiting room, I wondered if the shit storm has blown inside as it was cold, and a far cry from the VIP lounges that I was used to. Spoiled or not, there was no denying that once you’d tasted the finer things in life, anything less was hard to get used to.
I now sat sandwiched between a traveling salesman on my right who was overweight, wheezing his guts out and bordering on an early heart attack, and an elderly gentleman to my left who coughed repeatedly in my direction.
Shit, cover your mouth!
I wouldn’t mind it if it was an international airport, as at least there I was treated like a king, but Morgantown Municipal Airport? Are you kidding me? Obviously catering to celebs, executives and well-to-do folks was at the bottom of their priority list. Everyone convened in the same area, the coffee tasted like dirt, and the food might as well have been served with a side platter of puke.
Another cough in my face, and I’d had enough. I couldn’t stand another minute. I closed my notebook and make a beeline for the only bar in the place called The Last Round Bar & Grill.
C H A P T E R T W O
It never changed, and this night was no exception. Once again a long parade of guys ogled my breasts as I served them drinks. The younger ones took turns dishing out cheesy pickup lines and the married ones pocketed their wedding bands, as if the glaring pale white band beneath wasn’t a dead giveaway. I wasn’t sure what turned me off most, the fact that they thought that getting into a bartenders pants was part of their order, or that they lied through their teeth. They all seemed so desperate, needy and unattractive. Nevertheless I gave them my wicked smile, and leaned over just a little more. I knew how to get the tips, if nothing else. Truth was I had yet to meet a man who stood out, and while I had a few men pass through the airport that had caught my eye. It was going to take a bit more than a
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