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From: arthurgthomas@aol.com (Arthur Thomas)
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Subject: {ASSM} The $2000 Breast Fuck by A Thomas {M/F}
Date: Sun, 29 Oct 2000 18:10:13 -0500
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Warning! This is a sexual story that contains themes, acts and words that
may be offensive to immature people. This story is copyrighted by me,
Arthur Thomas. Do not repost, steal or put on your website without my
permission. Contact me at ArthurGThomas@aol.com
The $2000 Breast Fuck by Arthur G Thomas
I saw the car first, a terrible looking Ford escort with its hood up.
It was sitting miserably on the side of the road so my chauffeur, Emily,
slowed down so I could get a good look at the people in trouble. She knows
I make my enjoyment from those who are desperate, so like a good employee,
she wanted to make sure I had a chance to find new victims.
We were lucky today. There was a small boy sitting in the car, looking
sad and bored, but what interested me was the woman looking at the engine.
She was young, much too young to be the mother of the child in her car but
her feminine shape said she was at least twenty. It didn't matter, with
her beauty I knew had to own her at least once. The woman was wearing
shorts that revealed long legs and her tight blue T-shirt revealed a
wonderful set of tits. Her blonde hair was tied up in a ponytail but had
the same color of the wheat field behind her.
As the limousine pulled up, I saw her turn her head to look at us
briefly. She smiled quickly and then frowned, trying to do her best
damsel-in-distress imitation. I laughed secretly behind my tinted windows.
I recognized the look of calculation in her eyes. She was looking for a
rescue but now hoped to get a handout.
Emily stepped out to open my door and I saw the stranded woman's mouth
drop. That was understandable, Emily didn't look like a normal chauffeur.
From her dark tan to her miniskirt that barely covered her ass, Emily
looked more like a slut than a driver did. Only the leather cap that held
her hair and her white blouse had the appearances of a chauffeur. Emily
was usually the first thing people see of me and I wanted them to be able
to look at Emily and understand just how I used my money.
I stepped out and recognized the relieved look on the young woman's
face. She saw I was a guy, and therefore, will be easy to manipulate. It
helped that I was considered handsome by some women's standard, but it's
hard to be sure. I was rich, and women will say anything to the wealthy.
"You look like you could use some help," I said. "My name is Arthur
Thomas and this is my assistant, Emily." I offered my hand and she shook
it.
"My name's Samantha," she said. "I was coming back from a family
reunion with my brother when my car broke down. The rest of my family is
on their way home so they won't be home for me to call for a couple of
hours. I guess I could call my aunt's house since that's where I was
coming from, but they're such a pill I doubt they would get off their asses
to help."
I had to supress a smile. If I were a rapist or a murderer, she would
have just told I could commit a near perfect crime. Why do people trust
rich people? Samantha was lucky that my parents were the only people I had
ever wanted to kill, and that was only to get their money. My killing days
were over.
"Emily is a trained mechanic, maybe she could see what is wrong," I
offered.
"That would be great, I don't know anything about cars," Samantha said.
Now that I was standing next to her, I realized Samantha's breasts were
even larger than I first guessed. They were 38D's at least.
"Got stuck taking your brother home?" I asked, trying to improve her
trust. Here's a tip: find out who her enemies were and agree that life is
unfair.
"Yeah," Samantha sighed. "He pestered my parents to let him ride home
with me. It really sucks, travelling across two states with your twelve
year old." Her mouth had full lips but I recognized the frown lines that
would one day settle on her face.
"I bet you can use a break," I sympathized. "I have a portable hand
television he can use. That should keep him busy."
"Really?" she cooed. Her voice dropped to a southern drawl, the type of
fake voice that is meant to be sweet. "That'll keep him quiet."
I retrieved the television from the trunk and handed it to the kid. I
felt a little bit of sympathy for him for having a sister that saw him
merely as burden. True, I felt the same way about him getting in the way
of me using his sister, but I wasn't related to him. As I gave him the
set, his eyes lit up and he started channel surfing immediately. I never
even learned his name.
"Come on," I suggested to Samantha. "Let's sit in my limousine with the
air conditioning while Emily looks at your engine. She can watch your
brother and let us know what she found."
Samantha's eyes widened briefly with excitement. "Sure!"
The back of my limousine was very spacious and I motioned her to sit
directly opposite me. I turned the air conditioning on as well as activate
the three hidden cameras. Samantha sighed audibly as the cool air hit her,
a welcome change from the heat outside. To aid her comfort, I offered her
a small glass of Champagne.
"Wow, I never thought that when my car broke down that I would end up
sitting in a limousine drinking," Samantha said.
"That is a very ragged car you have," I added. "Why haven't you bought
something better? A pretty woman such as you shouldn't be driving a car
that breaks down like this. It could be dangerous."
Samantha sat up straighter and uncrossed her long legs. I smiled as I
recognized the signs of a pitch coming. Her bottom lip poked out in the
universal sign of despair and sexual teasing.
"I want to buy a new car but my parents won't make the down payment for
me," Samantha whined. "They say I should save up for it, but that's
impossible on my salary. I could make the car payments, but it's the down
payment that's so hard to do."
"How much does a down payment cost?" I asked innocently.
She thought about it. "About two thousand dollars?" she asked.
"Two thousand dollars?" I asked back at her. I sighed. "Two thousand
dollars is a lot of money. On the other hand, it can get you a brand new
car. The real question is, how willing are you to work for your two
thousand dollars?"
"I'm not sure what you mean," she lied.
"I think you do," I disagreed. I opened a panel next to the champagne
and removed a money clip. While Samantha watched with wide eyes, I counted
out two thousand dollars in hundred dollar bills.
"Are you willing to work for this money?" I asked her again.
A smile almost broke on her lips but she was savvy enough to stop it.
"I'm a good worker, but I don't know what you are talking about."
I grew impatient with her coyness. If this continued, she was going to
start giggling. Some women are whores, some are shocked at the thought and
some sluts want to be begged to be whores. Samantha need to told who was
in charge.
"Listen, you have one minute to take off your shirt, or else I'm going
to throw you out of here and Emily can drive me to where the women are
smarter," I said. "You have sixty seconds, starting now."
Her mouth opened in shock, but she was smart enough not to say anything.
Samantha thought fast, about her brother, about her crappy car, and about
how much she could do with the money I was offering. I could tell she was
hurt that I wasn't trying to seduce her, but she had to realize that sluts
like her weren't rare. After only twenty seconds of silence, she crossed
her arms and pulled her T-shirt over her head. Her massive chest was being
held back by a nice Victoria's Secrets pink bra. She couldn't afford a
decent car but she could buy nice lingerie.
"That's better," I commended. "Now, take off that bra."
"I don't do this usually," Samantha complained.
"Sure you don't," I said, "but you do now. Take off the bra. I still
haven't decided if you are good enough to pay two thousand dollars for."
A flash of anger came across her face but she wisely held her tongue. A
little insulted, she sucked in her flat stomach and leaned forward.
Samantha reached behind her and unclasped her pink bra. Expertly, she
leaned forward and pulled her bra off to reveal magnificent, large breasts
with bright pink nipples. Sharp tan lines revealed that she wore the
skimpiest of bikinis when she suntanned. Samantha leaned back in her seat
with her chin tilted up in defiance. I just admired her lovely 38DD
breasts.
"They will do," I said as I unbuttoned my pants. I pulled my slacks off
with my underwear, shocking my new young employee. My cock sprang to
attention, ready for this girl despite my verbal insults.
"Come over here and kneel," I said as I sat back down.
Samantha smiled smugly, already spending her two thousand in her mind.
She got on her knees between my legs, and moved to reach for my cock. I
stopped her hands.
"No hands," I said and when she smiled, I added, "no lips or tongue
either."
Samantha thought about it and frowned. Understanding flashed on her
face and she cupped her full breasts with each hand.
"That's right," I said. "Use only your tits. Make sure they are nice
and wet first. I don't think your sweaty skin will be enough."
Awkwardly, she did as I commanded. She lifted her breasts to her mouth
and licked her tits as best she could. It was amusing to watch her stretch
and pull her young, pert breasts and try to get them into her mouth. After
a few minutes of this, she gave up and started wiping her hand with her
tongue and then wiping her hands onto her breasts. She put on quite a show
as she lathered her tits with her spit.
I wrapped my legs around Samantha's waist as she leaned forward and
wrapped her tits around my cock. I didn't allow her to touch me at all
with her hands, so she had to grab her breasts and manually wrap them
around my solid eight inches. My tip poked out of her soft breasts, aiming
right for her neck. I could tell Samantha was uncomfortable on her knees
on the limo floor, but that only turned me on more.
"Well, start moving slut," I ordered. "I'm not going to fuck your
breasts for you."
Samantha snarled a little but she said nothing. She used her knees to
move, sliding my cock between her slippery tits. Damn, it felt good! My
balls were being rubbed by her smooth skin, my pubic hair scrubbing at her
flesh. Her tits were so soft, my cock barely felt them but I appreciated
the sight of those large tits engulfing me. More priceless was the look of
disgust on the slut's face.
The car creaked slightly as she bounced between my legs. I imagined how
it must look from the road, one car with a sexy woman looking under the
hood while the other car was rocking. I wondered of the little brother
could guess what was happening. I wondered if Samantha worried.
"You're doing good," I said, and she grunted. Samantha was becoming
breathless for the awkward motion. She kept looking down at my cock,
struggling to keep her breasts wrapped around it. Her fingers were leaving
red marks where she was clutching her tits. One nipple was poking between
her fingers so I pinched it. Samantha cried out but she knew better than
to complain.
Her ponytail was whipping around as she bounced. I reached behind her
and she flinched as I leaned forward. I brutally ripped her scrunchy out
and she cried out in protest. I ignored her and smiled as her golden hair
fell around her bare shoulders. She had a dye job, maybe as much as six
months ago and her hair was a wonderful half-and-half of brown and gold.
Samantha's face was one of pure contempt now, but she still wanted her
money. She was growing tired though, and her humping was getting slower.
Worse, her spit was starting to dry and my cock was becoming hot from the
friction.
"Stop, you need to lubricate your breasts again," I said.
She stopped and let go of her tits. When she leaned back, I could see
where my cock had rubbed a red patch between her breasts. She was sweating
despite the air conditioning.
"My mouth is too dry," she complained. "Are you sure you just don't
want to fuck me?"
"I'm sure," I said. "Come closer," I commanded and she stood back up on
her knees. I grabbed the bottle of champagne and placed the neck above her
breasts. She shook her head but I tipped the bottle anyway. Out came the
sparkling champagne, splashing down onto Samantha's perky breasts. It
foamed down the middle of her cleavage and dripped from her nipples to the
floor. Samantha shrieked as the cold liquid cascaded down her chest, but
my legs around her waist prevented her from escaping.
"Now fuck me," I commanded. I grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled
her to me. Samantha cried out as her cold chest collided with my warm cock
but she quickly grabbed her tits again and wrapped my cock. The champagne
was very slippery, and my cock happily slid between her plant tits. A
small pool of champagne collected at the top of her cleavage and the tip of
my cock kept springing from this decadent pool.
"Faster, bitch," I grunted, for I could feel I was close.
Samantha grunted as she desperately bounced on her knees. She was
leaning completely on me on, her tits smashing into my thighs and stomach
while still trapping my cock. I held onto her hair as she moved, pointing
her head down so she could see my cock as it fucked her tits. Her chest
made a hypnotic noise as her bare skin rubbed against the leather seats.
My cock was in heaven and I decided Samantha's tits were well worth two
thousand dollars. As Samantha quickened her pace, the wet noise of flesh
sliding on flesh filled the limo. With my free hand I pinched her left
nipple, enjoying the soft feel, as her breasts kept moving. It didn't take
long for my cock to surge and release its first load.
I kept silent when I ejaculated, to better surprise Samantha. She was
looking down at my cock when it unexpectantly erupted and sent a nice
stream right into her face. Samantha's head sprang up and I smiled at the
white bit of cum on her forehead, trailing down her cheek. I continued to
smile as I released another load from between her breasts, shooting up
against the bottom of her chin. She tried to pull away, but my legs were
locked around her waist. I put a firm hand on her shoulder and forced her
to keep moving. I made sure she milked my cock for every once with her
nice, lovely, huge breasts. Load after load I fired onto her chin and I
watched as it dribbled back onto her chest.
"Damn!" Samantha complained as she wiped my cum from her face.
"Don't wipe any from your chest," I commanded. I pulled my pants back
on. "Just put your bra and shirt back on without wiping any of it off
first."
"No way, that's gross!" the slut complained.
"Do it, or you can kiss this money good-bye," I countered. "I mean it,
I won't pay you a cent until you put your bra and shirt back on like I
asked."
Samantha glared at me with all the hatred youth could muster. I
wondered how old she was. Twenty? Nineteen? I didn't ask. Why ruin the
romance?
She angrily snapped her bra back on, and I smiled as the champagne
darkened her bra as it got wet. My cum bothered her as well for she
grimaced as she snapped the bra on. She pulled the T-shirt over herself
and it too became wet, revealing the outline of her bra and other stains.
I tossed her the money and climbed out of the car. She followed me with
a stunned expression. I think she was surprised to actually get paid. If
she didn't think she was getting the money, then why the hell did she go
through with it?
"What's wrong with it?" I asked Emily. She was watching the television
with the kid.
"The fan belt blew," she answered. "I was going to use the cellphone to
call a tow, but I figured you would want to know first.
I debated it. Samantha was a great fuck, but she had a pissy attitude.
"No, let's just go," I ordered. Samantha's jaw dropped.
"You just earned yourself money," I said. "There was nothing in the
deal about phone service."
The end.
What did you think? Should I continue with similar examples of what
people will do for money? Any questions or requests? Anyone want to be in
a story? Let me know or ask at ArthurGThomas@aol.com
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