Paul's pov

"I adore sucking your massive cock," Sanaz sweeps her tongue up and down my shaft.

As I peer through the glass at the strip club's main stage, I hear Dean's rhythms. I wonder whether any of the patrons realize that the mirrors they're staring up from are one-sided and I can glance down from them at any time. Including now, when a gorgeous stripper is sucking my cock as a brunette rubbed my body.

As soon as I ponder, the hottie twisting my nipples, and I conclude it's a silly fucking thing to contemplate and I should just focus .

As soon as I ponder, the hottie twisting my nipples, and I conclude it's a silly fucking thing to contemplate and I should just focus . That job is to fuck two new strippers who are old pros at this game. That's for sure. Would boning the owner boost their careers?

I am Paul Caspar, 35, one of the fucking so called billionaire, and am having my cock in one woman's mouth and my hands in another's tits.

My mum died of a car accident when the night my dad had divorced her, I haven't spoken to my dad since then.

Sanaz groans, "Paul, I want your cock within me, darling." She notices my face, grins, and takes Kendel. The couple kisses for me, then turns aside to face the club's window, both nude. What blows my mind is when they both lean down and spit at me.

"Who want to fuck first?" Kendel asks, her eyes gleaming with want.

I rip open the condom, encase myself, grip sanaz's waist, and drive my quivering cock into her pussy. Yes, she's wet.

I'm pistoning in and out of sanaz's canal as she screams lewdly within seconds. Kendel licks and sucking sanaz's tits stimulates me. I'm increasing my speed and can hear my balls hitting sanaz's ass to the music.

Sanaz shouts, "Harder, Paul!" so I pound into her with enough power. It's lucky she has the window to stabilize herself while I attack her cunt.

Three, two, one, bingo! Her pussy grips around my cock and I feel her body tremble.

Sanaz shouts "Oh fuck!" as her muscles contract as she orgasms.

"My turn," Kendel says as she plays with my balls. Kendel helps me out of sanaz and rests her back against the window, elevating her leg for easy access. I glide in, wet with sanaz's fluids, and she hugs me.

I feel Kendel's tits and kneedles them while my cock is against her pussy, I suddenly penetrated,withe the melody of music.

Sanaz is still shaking.

Fuck, she's lovely. With the prettiest eyes and face. Her innocent-looking face is irrelevant; her body is evil. Perfect, huge tits. Slim waist. Legs thin. I'll cum. I'll cum hard. Calm down. I'm generally endless. What's wrong with me?

Kendel says, "Baby, I just felt your balls tighten" "No worries, my pussy's tight."

Her pussy is loose. I could fuck a plastic bag, but I don't care.

I've only fucked Kendel for five minutes, yet I pull out and chuck my condom.

I'm groggy. I'm watching her spin on the pole.

I'm dying.

Sanaz and Kendel, who have cooled down, kneel and pull me off. They tongue my scrotum.

I fire cumshot. Electric impulses from my nuts to my brain paralyze me as cum leaves my body. My muscles freeze and I get convulsions.

My semen drips from their faces and chins onto their bodies.

The phone rings.

I turn it on while the strippers were sucking my cum.

Brooke's voice says, "Paul." "Meet me immediately at the cROWN Hotel. Your father had a heart problem."

I hear the words but don't comprehend them.

Brooke pauses before saying, "Paul." "Sloane's dead. You're now Caspar Media's sole owner; come over. Now."

I must go. I must meet Brooke ASAP.

Arcadia's pov

I like performing naked when men hurl the cash over me.

No, I appreciate being on stage because I don't have to hustle. I like the feeling that I'm a dancer while not a stripper who were naked on stage while climed out of the bed of the clients.

They're watching each other harden as a chick rubs them. I'm ok hitting on men with my girlfriends. Women are harmless, however. These men at the club are crazy.

The audience makes me want to keep performing.

I never allow them to touch me but they'll buck their hips when I pound on them to get deeper.

Yes, I'm here.The more I can make them do this, the more money I earn and the faster I can pay off my student debts.

I'm 25. I had to decide whether not stripping was worth not paying rent and going home with my folks. By then, I'd sent out 500 resumes. Interviews aplenty but without reply.

I turn my head to look at him. "Baby, you like?" I pout. His wife may not know where he is. He wore a ring. I wonder whether he has a child and has saved for college. Will his kids need educational loans since Daddy gave them book money?

"Darling, could you turn around?" Mr. Wall asks, but remembers what I said about touching. "I want to see your breasts."

My breasts are a hit. They want it on their faces. They want to play with my nips.

"I like it here," I tell him and pound my ass on his crotch.

I've grinded on guys to make them cum. He has a moist spot. I felt his moist trousers. I couldn't feel his cock, so it must have been small. He returned to his table and ordered another drink.

"But..."

"See that line, honey?" I ask him, pointing to the males waiting to ask me to dance. "You may leave if you don't like it."

I underestimate Mr. Wall 's self-worth. He gently pulls me off and uses his hands to compel me to stand.

He responds, "OK." "Refund?"

He's right, and the song isn't even halfway through. The floor manager and House Mom notice individuals like him. All eyes are on me as I spill my wine over his body, and go for the bar. Men around grumble as I depart

I asked a glass of wine at the bar.

I don't need to turn around to know it's Ifan. You left many men miserable. House Mom Loefel run every club and cares for the girls.

She limits our drinking. She assists with our clothing and informs us when to go onstage. She ensures the club's financial success.

"It's not a good idea to leave while people are waiting for you, particularly when some females have no one to dance for," Loefel explains.

Shrugging, I sip my drink.

Ifan, Loefel replies, "you've needed a break since you began."

Exactly! I graduate from a university with honors.

I've told Loefel a million times, "I need money."

"Isn't there another way to generate money besides being unhappy while making others unhappy?" Loefel asks while grabbing my wine. "That's not healthy."

Whatever their appearance, women can always sell sex. Which is where I am financially. Sexual prostitute.

"I wish I could find work that pays this well without..." I struggle to find the right words.

"Pleasing men?!" Loefel asks. She nailed it. She grins.

Loefel pauses, contemplating. What's she thinking?

She slips a number from her phone.

"Go home, dear." "Call them in the morning."

" it's phone sex. They need your creativity and intellect. "

I thank Loefel. It's possible!

"Thanks, Ya..." Loefel stops me as I'm going to speak.

She says, "Go home." "Really. You're useless here."

Near midnight, I remove my makeup,.

Tonight, taxis are scarce. When one stops, I hop in.

As I enter, another door opens.A man enters.

My taxi. What the fuck is he doing?

"Please, Financial Street No. 56"! The man yells at driver. He's fresh from the club.

"Hi!" I shout, and he turns. He stares at me like he knows me.

If he wasn't leaving the club, I'd be crushing on him.

I said, "This is my taxi."

Finally, he speaks.

He says, "Listen, Miss." "My dad died and the taxi is coming..."

"Whatever. I'm done dealing with strippers. "

"Give me the money before you go," I said, pulling out my phone.

He gets off and gives me 200 dollars.

"Westwood No.39," I inform the cabdriver, thinking about the phone sex line.

The taxi passes the Plaza, where Gorgeous Jerk got out, and heads to 8th Avenue. As we reach Times Square, I check my watch.

Almost midnight. I shout at the taxi driver, who stops with a lack of astonishment from having seen everything in his career. I pay the fee and proceed to Kevin's building at 50th and 8th.

Kevin lives alone. As someone who completed college a couple of years before me, he's a major catch in New York City's dating pool.

As I unlock his door with his keys from my handbag, I think about this.

Indeed. I have keys. After two months of dating, he handed them to me last month. He finds me hot. I exercise to look beautiful. Dresses, heels, and yoga pants are my goals. I'm neither vain or a shopaholic. I'm cute, however. He probably likes it.

Kevin doesn't like putting me down, so I fake it to make sure everything is okay. Knowing what I can do to him turns me on and makes me wet.

So tonight . I want to sex. Will his cock please me tonight? Lucky evening.

Kevin should exercise more. Every time I bring it up, he says he's busy and needs to relax. He n ever skips the gym. That man works out daily.

As I open the door, I wonder what sex with that person might be like.

Maybe tonight I'll imagine Kevin is Gorgeous Jerk.

"Fuck, sweetie, that's good. Kevin says, just like that"

"Fuck baby," he says.

I should've contacted him before showing up.

Why do I soften my steps?

I don't know why my heart is so fast.

I'm in his bedroom. He is fucking with a girl. I shut my eyes and brace myself.

I liked us together. That's it. Perhaps I'm mistaken. Perhaps Kevin didn't like me. I dunno.

Kevin pauses while being lifted up. He turns to see me. Wide-eyed,

" Arcadia !" Kevin shouts.

I simply stand there while he stares down at whomever is below him and then at me.

"What's up, Arcadia?"

I'm shook.

Kevin repeats my name, as if it can change what I see.

I'll never forget what I'm witnessing. Kevin leaves the bed with him huge, slimy dick.

The lady snatches the blanket as she attempts to hide himself.

Huge breasts. Thin. Stupid face.

"Argonia!" Kevin continues.

I wish there was a way to expose my ex-scumbaggery. I'm clueless. So I grab my phone.

Facebook opens. I go live.

I'm young. I have many Facebook pals. Kevin. We share numerous pals. Friends from Kevin's job.

I push the button, and done. Facebook live!

"Everyone, Kevin, whose dick is firm.My ex. "

The wooman on the bed unfazed. Her tits swing as she gets out of bed, making me cringe. Did he cheat because I don't have her tits? D cups.

"Hey, love bug," she waves as she grabs pants. "Hi. $150/hr. Want my website? "

Hook?

Kevin Perry cheated on me with a hooker.

I say calmly, "Kevin Perry" "I want everyone my friends to know, so they don't question why we split up, that I caught you cheating on me with a whorel!"

Kevin's 5-inch cock deflates. I can't help smirking. It's crazy.

"Arcadia, stop!" Kevin yells.

Try turning off my phone.

I tell him, "I have nothing more to say, you dumb, selfish shitbag."

I switch off my phone.

The hooker says, "Hi!" "Just in case."

I descend stairs. Time flies. I'm outdoors suddenly. I cross the street and enter the subway.

I don't know where I'm heading, but I'm headed home.

On the way, I thought of what happened and can't help sobbing. Nope. No tears! Nope!

Paul's pov

"I'm sure that had my father been here at this moment and he came to this because he was especially fascinated by the nudes."

I had eight stepmothers. Each came to my home happily while leaving as they aged with money.

As I leave the stage, an elderly man adds, "Your father would be pleased." I don't know who he is,. I avoid all the leeches here. If I distance myself from my dad's smut realm and give them money, they'll allow me in. But if I break their rules, they'll abandon me.

I met Brooke on the stairs.He was checking emails on his phone. He was an excellent lawyer. Top-notch. After my mom died and my dad began marrying, he raised me. Brooke made sure I didn't fall over the deep end when I moved out before college because I couldn't stand Dad living with other women.

Brooke responds, "Henry Greenwood left you two emails and a voicemail." "He still mentions the remainder of the strip clubs"

Great. Does this city's mafia own all the sex businesses? If no one else is at the table, I can't help selling to them.

"Nothing else?" I'm dumbfounded. When combined, strip clubs earn about $1 million a night.

When together, they cost $6 million a night, he claims.

He's right. Costly strippers. They're pricey. What a waste of money!

I left in a hurry.

I've looked everywhere for the pole-dancing stripper.

When does she work? I should have asked her name that night at the taxi.

The vehicle drives up to the strip club where I first saw the beautiful blonde lady 10 days ago.

"Hey paul, you back!"

Loefel, the House Mom, greets me as I enter.

Loefel has long admired my fuckcock. She's the oldest here. A vet who sees hooks come and leave.

"Another girl tonight, Paul?" She asks, eyebrows raised.

"Another, but..."

She's eyed me, turns and exclaims, "Follow me!"

"So what? "I pinch her behind and ass.

She coos, "I've waited a long time, Paul." "I expected you tonight. You're always here. You haven't dated since Sanaz and Kendel. I know why."

Voilà! She didn't want to fuck me.

"You're done with them, baby?" Asks Loefel.

"You need a catch, don't you?" She inquires.

"Where can I find her?" Loefel grins. She touches my crotch.

"Hold up!"

"What's up, honey?" Loefel grins. But I'm distracted.

"She's Blondes. Goddess physique. I last saw her ten days ago, when Sanaz and Kendel were around", I tell Loefel.

Loefel retreats, feigning disappointment.

Loefel seems dissatisfied, because she wanted to fuck me tonight, huh?

Loefel whispers, "Arcadia."

"She no longer works here," Loefel replies, "Ifan is Arcadia Lane's stage name. Keep my secret."

She began working at Dreams last week

Bingo.

Thankfully, I haven't sold the strip club house.

Tomorrow, I'm dropping by to find this girl.

I kiss Loefel.I stop her from wanting more

"Thank you very much, Loefel," I exclaim as I run down the stairs.

Tomorrow's here!It'll be a good day.

Arcadia's pov

One week of taking calls and I've learnt a few things: never ask permission questions, never asked if they're married. So when the phone rings, I quickly shift into character. I drop my voice nearly to a whisper. I feel the lace of my bra and then move my hands up my stockings. I believe it should seem real, and donning the shoes and lingerie quickly puts me into character. I even turn down the lights. I find that the darker the room gets, the more I can concentrate on the voice on the other end of the line.

I answer the phone and settle back on my bed. I whisper in a sweet, sexy voice. "Hi, this is Ifan . I'm talking to who?"

Man coughs."Carl"

"That's my favorite man's name." "You're gorgeous and powerful."

" Thanks for calling. My neighbors' all-day sex has gotten me horny."

"A secret, I'm braless."

He says, "Is that right?" with a grin.

"I'm hot. It's unbearable. It's been a long day without sex. I'm so worked up and heated that I'm laying in front of a fan, making my nipples eret. Carl, do you enjoy nips?"

I continue when he mumbles "mmm"

"What would you do to me?" he says conspiratorially.

"I'd kiss every inch of you, Carl. I'd start by nibbling on your ear playfully, then move my lips down your neck and touch your powerful chest-I can tell by your voice. I'd circle my tongue around your nipples."

"I'd let my lips creep farther down your body, my tongue lingering over your jeans' waistline. Even the salt on your skin makes me want more."

"Is your pussy wet?"

"You make me drenched. Your voice and physique turn me on, Carl. My pussy wants you. I'm horny."

" I'd unbutton your pants and touch your cock. I'd run both hands up and down your shaft until you were erect, then kiss it. First licking the tip, then gently bathing your manhood with my warm, moist tongue."

He says, "Mm hmm"

"Then what? I'd smooch your cock and swallow you. I'd gulp it down. Would you prefer a cock gag?"

I hear him breathing harder, so I keep talking.

"Do you enjoy when I suck your cock?

He whispers "Yes-mm hmm-more."

"Your cock is delicious. "I say, and he pulls away the phone, I heard the sound of skin smacking flesh.

"Carl, I want to ride your cock with my hot pussy. I need it. I'll straddle your lap, descend my pussy on your massive shaft, and breast-bomb you. Please eat my nipples."

Then I hear Carl's breathing, so I perform my own climax .

He asks for my phone number as his breathing calms.

" Please dial my four-digit number again in private."

He reluctantly agrees, and we hang up. I gaze towards the ceiling. I agree with Loefel. Stripping is worse. These calls let me utilize my imagination. You're on stage being judged; you can't hide it. During these calls, the other party must utilize their imaginations, which is excellent since it removes my previous routine: waxing, cosmetics, manicures, pedicures, etc.