Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24977 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24977 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
But the problem is that my buddies and I aren’t your typical run-of-the-mill successful assholes. Instead, we like to share our women, and the fucking can get rancid as a result. The society types usually freak out when they discover that we prefer menage, and it’s led to some pretty awkward situations. Awkward for them, of course, and not for us. We don’t care about the women’s feelings, emotions, or general shock level. We just want to fuck the holes we want to fuck, and they can take it or leave it.
Yet, it hasn’t worked out for us so far, at least not from a long-term standpoint. Take our last paramour, Xenia. She was a gorgeous girl we met at the gym, with a body made for sin. Despite working out all the time, Xenia still had a lot of meat on her bones, which turns us on. It takes heft to satisfy three men at once, and as a result, Xenia was right up our alley with her big breasts, XXL ass, and generally slutty ways.
But the problem was that Xenia was too slutty because even with us three horny studs plugging her holes 24/7, she needed more. The way she put it was that “she has two hands too,” and those needed to be filled with cock even as she took three in her mouth, pussy, and asshole. She begged us to consider adding two men to our fuckfest, making it a five-on-one thing, but Brad, James, and I weren’t interested. We like to keep things “among friends,” so to say, so it was sayonara to Xenia. I think she was relieved after the break-up because last I heard, she linked up with a biker gang. Yeah, our ex is pulling a train, and the word on the street is that Xenia loves it.
But that’s why we’re back at Club Z tonight. It’s been a while since we were last here. Maybe even a year because after we met Xenia, there was no need to grace this place with our presence. But now, we’re single men once again, on the prowl to see what the night will bring.
“When are the girls arriving?” Brad grunts, looking around the lounge. “Goddamnit, this place is a sausage fest.”
“I’m sure they’ll be here soon enough,” James yawns, slumping against his seat. “Otherwise, what’s the point? Might as well take off.”
I nod.
“Yeah, but give it another five,” I say. “I heard they’ve got the usual retinue of hot hostesses, but they’re also experimenting with letting in the occasional “unicorn.” You know, a girl off the street who’s ready to play. I have no idea how they find these sluts, but does it really matter? So long as they put them through the screening process, then we’re all good.”
After all, like any sex club worth its salt, Club Z doesn’t just let anyone join. Instead, paid memberships are reserved for male members only, and in return, the club provides “hostesses” to meet our every need. But occasionally, they’ll admit a unicorn, which is a hot, cock-hungry girl who’s eager to play. She doesn’t necessary work for the organization, but she basically acts like a hostess for a pre-set amount of time.
“Yeah right, we’ll find a unicorn,” Brad snorts. “Fuck that shit.”
I’m just about to reply when the lights dim, and the air grows thick with anticipation. Goddamn, there really are too many guys here, judging from the surge of testosterone surrounding us. But then, a spotlight shines on one of the entryways, and a door opens to reveal a stream of gorgeous, nearly-nude girls.
“Fuck, they’re sexy,” Brad rasps from beside me. “Goddamn.”
“Hell yeah,” James moans, his eyes following the parade of female flesh. “Gotta love it.”
After all, this is what we came for. Sure enough, the women at Club Z are top notch tonight, and the girls glide in, smiling and tossing their hair while dressed in barely-there outfits. Our eyes immediately lock on a curvy brunette with tresses that go halfway down her back and not much else covering those luscious assets. Her tits look to be Double D’s, covered by the tiniest of glittery pasties, and she’s got a nude-colored thong disappearing between her ass cheeks. Best of all, however, is that she’s looking straight at us and smiling.
Sure enough, she sashays over, her generous assets swaying enticingly.
“Hi boys,” she purrs. “Are you all together?”
“We are,” James replies in a deep baritone. “I’m James, this is Brad, and this is Casey,” he says, gesturing vaguely in our direction. “And you are…?”
“Carrie,” she says promptly before slapping a small hand over her plush lips. “Oh my god, was I supposed to say that? Oops, ignore that. I’m not Carrie. I’m Viola.”
I chuckle then, amused.
“I take it this is your first time, and that Viola’s your stage name?”