“Oh I’m sure you can afford it.”
A strip club was no place for a naïve 20-something Caucasian man. Dinner in the microwave waiting to be zapped and eaten–always my favorites. He was no different when I approached his table ready to run game. “Hey Harry,” I said, walking to the bar. I didn’t mind either way if the money was right. “I’m Reese.”
“Ryan,” he replied, shaking my hand. Chapter Two
The door slammed into the wall as we came into the apartment. I didn’t hookup with men from the club nor sought out community dick available to every pussy. “Close your eyes.”
My body began to roll, hand gripped his neck and my back arched. His breath hummed on my clit, sending me into a tizzy. His body finally relaxed as moans escaped his mouth, turning me on even more. I pushed him on the couch and jumped on him. He kept on sucking while my body quivered and head thrashed. “How much?”
I placed my hand on his thigh. It had been six months since I threw him out for knocking up some thot. His hands ran the length on my back–gliding down it’s natural slope and around my ass. This was the first time in a long time I was going to quench the itch my pussy needed scratched.
