The Invitation

It’s amazing how and when inspiration for my stories can hit me. I can be anywhere or doing anything. For instance, I had just woken up when out of nowhere, the words “Yes, Master” popped into my head. And from two simple words, a rather astounding idea formed in my head. Here, for your pleasure is the result of my abrupt inspiration. 

“The Invitation”
An Erotic Michael Jackson Short Story By:
MJsLoveSlave

Downtown New York City
Summer 1986

It was a hot, muggy evening.
A thin sheen of perspiration was beginning to pop up on my skin as I picked my way down that long, dim alley, stepping around long smoked cigarette butts and broken beer bottles.
I had never been in that part of town before. What appeared to be the seedy area. God, there was a wino sleeping off a drunken stupor against one of the brick walls, his slight body covered in tatters of fabric.
And really, what was a girl like me, who had lived in Upper Manhattan all my life and had attended the best prep schools indeed doing on the end of town where most of the underbelly of society might have hung their hats.
Only one thing would have drawn me from my lofty penthouse apartment and into that alley that smelled strongly of human excrement.
The Seven Year Club.
For years, ever since I had been able to be up and move around through various social circles, I had heard tell of The Seven Year Club.
It wasn’t something openly spoke about. Every so often at different coming out parties or country club gatherings, if you listened just right…you could hear whispers of it.
I had no idea what the club was really about or what happened in it, but the effect I always got was that the women chosen for it were special. That something was special about them for them to be included in this association.
It was always in the back of my mind. That I wanted to be a part of this. But no one ever really said where the club met, how to join, or even who was a member. It was all so secretive.
I never thought I’d get a chance to be a part of it.
That all changed one day. I had arrived home after a day at the theatre, and there it was, a little red envelope with my name scribbled across the front of it.
There was no return address, just my name.
I was so excited, I just completely tore the envelope to shreds and, there in my hand was a simple invitation, printed on red paper:

It was all so intriguing.
Over the next five days, I went back and forth, over and over through my closet, trying to pick out just the perfect outfit to wear. Still I had no idea what I going to do once I reached my destination. But I was going to look good nonetheless.
Finally, the night of the twenty-third came around and I devoted most of the day to getting my hair just right--curled, fluffed as big as I could get it, and held in place with a bottle and a half of hairspray.
I did my make up as well I could to coordinate with my outfit--a simple white tank top and denim miniskirt with white patent leather stilettos.
For a while. I stood and admired myself in my bathroom. I looked good. My face was accentuated by my use of make up. Shades of silver and grey brought out my blue eyes, my cheeks tinted and lips colored in a frosted pink that matched my cheeks.
My thick, dark hair had never looked so good.
I was ready.
I had left my home on foot, as West 81st street wasn’t so far from my own home. But it was amazing how a with a handful of blocks the world could change.
Quickly, the high-rises and boutiques I was used to hanging out in became sparser and sparser, being replaced with older, less well kempt buildings.
Every so often I’d see a bum on the side of the road. The ones who were actually conscious held there hands out, asking for change.
I quickly ran past them.
That’s when I found myself in the alley.
That darkened, reeking alley.
Coming up to a door that seemed to just be set in that wall of old brick--the only door I could see--I squinted up at the street sign beside the door.
Written in chipped and peeling paint, I saw that it did say 34432 West 81st Street.
That was it? This place? I wondered, staring up at the building that went on for about six stories, all the windows covered with intertwining burglar bars. This was were the Seven Year Club met? This place? It looked more like a crack house than anything.
I wanted to turn back. Run away. Get as far away from that building as I could. And yet, I had an over powering urge to see what would happen. Just what would really happen.
And I found my hand raised, and knocking on the door.
A little peephole in the door opened, and a set of sleepy green eyes were gazing at me.
“What do you want?” Came the deep, rumbling bark, and I was shaken.
“Is…is this where The Seven Year Club is meeting?” I managed to squeak and was trying my best to keep my voice under control.
“What’s the password Little Girl?” The eyes blinked at me as the request was rumbled hoarsely.
Leaning up to the eyes, I glanced at the invite and replied,
“Quenched.”
“One minute!” The peephole was closed and I could hear various locks disengaging. A moment later the door opened to reveal a large, heavyset White man, dressed head to toe in leather.
Waving me into the brightly lit, yet bare hallway--the only thing there was the stool the man had been sitting on-- the man closed the door and questioned as he fiddled with the cap on his bald head,
“What’s your name?”
“Heather--Heather Randolph…” I replied looking around me, taking in the unadorned space.
“Are you older than eighteen and younger than twenty-five?” The man pushed and was producing a small piece of paper from his leather vest, and glancing at it.
“Yes…I’m twenty-two.” I was so nervous, I was amazed I could answer the questions appropriately. It wasn’t until the next day I realized that the “seven” in the Seven Year Club stood for the ages between eighteen and twenty-five.
Then the man made a request that nearly knocked the curl out my hair.
“Remove all your clothing, undergarments and jewelry. Leave your shoes on.”
“What the hell did you say?” I gasped, feeling my eyes swelling in my head and was backing against the door.
He wanted me to take my clothes off? To, to strip naked? What the hell was going on? What had I walked into? What was this? I didn’t even know this damn man!
The man appeared to become agitated with me, and growled,
“Come on Little Girl! We don’t have all day! The club is going to start in a few minutes. Now if you’re going to go, take off your clothes. If you’re not, there’s the door. Hit it.”
I don’t know why I took my clothes off. I don’t know why. It will forever puzzle me. Perhaps I just wanted to see what the club was about. Wanted to know why I had to be nude to even get to the next step. Maybe I’d be given different clothes--like a uniform or something.
Feeling slightly shy, I tried to cover myself as the man took my clothes and was folding them up.
“You got nothing to hide. I’ve seen plenty in my day…” The man started to chuckle, and then pointed. “Take that out! I said no jewelry!”
Following his pointing finger, I saw he was motioning to the little gold ring I had in my bellybutton.
Reluctantly, I unsnapped it and placed it in his hand.
I stood, suddenly cold, as the man took his time to fold my clothing and place them on the stool.
From his pocket he produced a black magic marker and before I could stop him, he wrote the number “47” on my right shoulder.
“Follow me.” Was all the man said. Somehow I made my legs move, and I was trudging along behind him.
In my mind, I was going crazy with a million unanswered questions.
What was I doing? Where was I going? What was going to happen to me? Was I about to be raped? Killed? Both? Should I run? Run away naked?
Just as I was about to take flight and make a run for my life, we rounded a corner and came to a steel door.
Latch on the door clicking, the man opened it and I was quickly pushed in, the door slamming behind me.
Standing in the room, I felt my eyes swelling in awe.
Standing all around the bare, whitewashed room were what had to be at least sixty other women. All of various races, all very pretty, and like me, all very nude. It was almost like a cattle call of women.
Why…why were there so many women? What was going on? Were we all going to be sold? Into some sort of slavery? Made into prostitutes? This was the worst decision I had made in my life I thought as all these worries nagged me, and going to the woman closest to me, I started to ask,
“Hey, just what is this--”
“Shut the f*ck up! No talking! I want silence! Absolute silence!” Came the bellowing order from the other side of the door.
The woman I had been trying to speak to only shook her head, eyes wide, and moved away from me.
Heart thudding in my chest, I looked around the room, even though we were all naked, exposed to one another, I was sure that these women were like me--ignorant to what was to become of us.
And yet, none of them seemed that nervous. Appeared that scared.
Just standing there like we were all hanging around the perfume counter at Bloomingdale’s. Like it wasn’t strange to be in a room full of nude strangers.
Above our heads, a silver clock showed the time as a quarter past nine.
Had I really only been there for just fifteen minutes? Would I live to ever see nine o’clock again? What had I done?
I stood there with the other women for about another ten minutes, when at exactly twenty-five past nine, the door to the room suddenly opened.
Almost automatically, all the women scrambled and lined up shoulder to shoulder. This really was like a cattle call! Not knowing what else to do, I found a spot near the end of the line, farthest from the door, squeezed between two other girls, who were beginning to look as stricken as I felt.
From far off, I could hear the sound of deep voices--men--speak indistinctly.
A short while later, five, well dressed Black men came through the door. They all looked so happy from the very tall muscular one, wearing a green mesh tank top and white trousers, to the short one with a mustache, who was dressed ala “Miami Vice” in a grey suit over a blue shirt and loafers without socks.
They were all holding something in their hands.
Standing on tip toe and squinting to get a better look, my breath caught in my throat.
Each man carried what appeared to a metal chain leash and a collar in their hands. Each leash was a different color.
They had dog leashes? Those men had leashes? Why? Oh Lord help me! I was so stupid--
Through the door, a sixth man jogged in, like he’d been late.
The sixth man stood out in that his appearance was slightly different than those of the others.
He was tall and slim, with skin the color of caramel--lighten then his chocolate toned counterparts. His hair, black and curled loosely, flowed just to the tops of shoulders.
He was dressed almost in a faux military style, wearing a black suit with a gold and white striped band crossing over his right shoulder and connecting to a sash around his trim waist.
The room was still silent, except for the noise the men made as the gathered near the door, shaking hands and greeting each other.
Sweat was trickling down my back. Were these pimps? Was I going to be sold?
The lighter man waved his hands and the darker ones split up, coming down the line and began pulling girls, walking around them, looking at them. Inspecting the women the way I would a blouse if I were out shopping.
Staring into their faces, fondling breasts, smacking bare behinds to see if they jiggled to their liking. The men called back and forth to each other, consulting, seeing if the next thought that particular woman was good enough.
Good enough for what? I didn’t want to know, but had a good idea just the same.
I averted my eyes, slightly sickened by the scene. Who’s eye would I catch? Was I going to be squeezed at like a tomato too?
It didn’t take long for me to find out whom I appealed to.
I felt as though I was being watched. A strange, pulling feeling.
Bringing my eyes up, I saw that I was indeed being watched.
The tall, caramel man was staring directly at me, seeming to ignore the man, who had a badly pockmarked face, that was talking at him eagerly.
Leaving the man talking to air, he was making an exact beeline over to me.
As he got closer, I saw he was quite attractive, with taut, angular features that were brought out by the lightest use of make up. Slanted, dark eyes, lined in kohl were staring at me boldly as he approached me.
The fragrant aroma of sandalwood reached my nose as he loomed over me, staring down at me.
If the whole situation wasn’t so god damned strange, I might have smiled at him. I was just so scared.
“Tell me your name…” His voice was very soft and mild, verging on the feminine, though there was the unmistakable note of authority in it.
Staring down, past his hands were he was clutching a red collar and metal chain, I saw he was wearing gold toed and heeled black boots.
“H-Heather.” I was wringing my hands and saw that he was twisting the chain around his long, smooth hands.
“Your age?” His hand, warm and soft, came up, gripping my chin and making me gaze up at him. I noticed that the women seemed…jealous…I was being chosen.
“I’m twenty-two…” Staring into his eyes, thick lashes fluttering as he blinked.
His eyes dropped, sweeping over me, and I saw he was looking directly at my chest.
“Your titties…are real?…” The same hand that had been on my chin was now resting between my breasts.
“Yes…” I trembled at his touch.
“Nice, big ones…” The man commented and before I could stop him, he’s grabbed the back of my neck, yanking me forward and was mashing his mouth to mine.
His mouth was moist, hot and tasted of caramel. He tasted the way he looked!
His mouth, moving wildly against mine--I was so stunned, I didn’t even know his name--was drawing me. Weakening me. His mouth…was so good.
Reaching up, he grabbed my head. Warm breath dampened my ear as he spoke.
“I’m Michael…and I want you, Heather.”
Not waiting for my reply, he began looping the red leather collar around my throat, pecking my cheek as he fastened it.
Leash in hand, he stood back to admire me, before producing a hanky from his pocket and was wiping the “47” off my shoulder.
“Come on. Don’t make me wait!” Michael instructed and yanked on the leash suddenly, causing me to stagger forward.
“Come on you B*tch!”
“Move your ass!”
“Let’s go, you s*ut!”
All around the room, the other five men had their women chosen, each wear a leash, and were all being led from the room. One was tugged so hard, she was being dragged on the floor.
“We’re gonna have some fun tonight! All this fresh p*ssy!” The rough-skinned man I had seen talking to Michael yelled and all the men laughed heartily.
“Come on…Little B*tch, come on….walk!” Michael ordered, tugging me along behind him, the two of us bringing up the rear of the group. “S*it, I hope I can make it to the room before I put my hands on you!”
Gasping, whimpering and still frightened, I followed in the crowd of twelve until we rounded a corner--we had to be in the rear of the building--to three elevators.
Couples paired off and four people each got onto an elevator. I found myself with Michael and the short mustached man in the grey suit. Beside him was a tiny Asian woman, her waited length hair dyed blonde , the number “25” on her shoulder and a Japanese flag tattooed on her left thigh.
I watched as Michael punched the button for the sixth floor.
“Where are we going--” The Asian woman started and nearly thrown off her feet as the short man tugged her leash.
Grabbing her by the throat, he put his face close to hers.
“Did I say you could speak? Shut the f*ck up!” He warned and with his free hand slapped her backside so hard, a red handprint shone and she cried out in pain.
Turning to Michael, he laughed,
“B*tch wants to talk…I don’t wanna talk, if you know what I mean!” He was wiggling his brows and grinning.
I just looked on, biting my bottom lip, afraid to even breathe too loud.
The men, they were rough. Too rough. What was I going to do?
Michael, who is watching the lights above the door showing the floors illuminate, warned in his still soft voice,
“Marlon don’t be so damn rough this time. You really did a number on your chick last week!”
As Marlon guffawed, the other woman and I exchanged glances.
What had Marlon done the week before? To whom?
Reaching over, Marlon began fondling the Asian woman’s breasts.
“Girl wasn’t ready…tore that ass up though.” Marlon shrugged bouncing a boob in each hand. The woman seemed embarrassed to be getting felt up on front of Michael and me and turned her head away, staring at the wall.
Wrapping his arms around the woman he pulled her close.
“You--you ready Ling?” He asked of her and reluctantly, I saw her nod.
Bing!
The bell for the floor rang and the doors opened slickly, revealing a hallway that was even more dimly lit than the one I had first walked down.
Excited, Marlon lifted Ling, placing her on his shoulder and kissed at the tattoo on her thigh.
“I’ll see y’all later!” He whooped before running away down the hall, Ling bouncing the entire way,
Shaking his head, thick curls swaying, Michael mumbled,
“Crazy ass.” And was pulling me, leading me off onto the floor.
Going down the hall, nearly blind in the darkness, I couldn’t help myself. Couldn’t calm my nerves.
“Where are we going?” I asked, banging into the walls as I was being led.
“Hush your god damn mouth. I didn’t tell you to talk!” Michael hissed and gave me a strict jerk, making me stumble.
Somewhere, far off, I could a woman screaming. Was that Ling? What was being done to her? What was Marlon doing?
Eventually, Michael and I came to a steel door and he began fumbling with a key to unlock it.
Grabbing onto Michael’s arm, I demanded,
“What’s going to happen to me? What are you going to do?”
Never looking at me, Michael unlocked the door and swung it open.
Looking straight ahead, he told me pointedly,
“We’re gonna f*ck, and you’re gonna like it.”
My jaw dropped in horror. I was there? For sex? I was really there for sex? Is that was the purpose of all this was?
He took my arm and shoved me on into the room.
As I fell to my knees on the cool, concrete floor, wincing in pain.
Behind me, I heard the door closing and several locks clicking and engaging. I was being locked in a room, to have sex, with a man I had barely known for thirty minutes. I didn’t even know his last name!
Heels tapping, Michael came over and grabbed my arm, lifting me up onto my feet.
Looking around the room. I saw that it was used as a bedroom and just that.
On the opposite side of the room, next to a window, was a king-sized canopy bed, draped in red satin sheets. On an adjoining table about a dozen, white candles burned, releasing the scent of vanilla in the air. On th e other end of the room, a telephone set on the floor.
That was it, the entire room.
Above my head, the bright lights began to go low, and turning, I saw Michael was spinning a dimmer.
Grabbing my shoulders, he turned me to face him.
Large eyes drifted up and down me, taking in my appearance once again.
“You’re a beautiful girl…I like beautiful girls….” His voice dropped, getting deeper and he was brushing my hair off my shoulders. He was taking the collar off of me, finally
“I started the Seven Year Club for girls just like you…”
“Is that all this club is for? For--for girls to have sex with you?” The words flew from my mouth before I could stop myself, knowing he seemed to hate when I spoke up.
I saw streaks of white, as Michael gripped me and struck me along the leg with the chain.
Arched brows waved as he told me through gritted teeth,
“You keep speaking out of turn! Shut the hell up! You will obey me! And yes…” Coming closer to me, he was cupping one of my buttocks squeezing it. “Yes, this club is for sex. I like walking into a room and picking from any girl I want. It’s so exciting to get what I want. I want you, Heather.”
The chain clanged as it was dropped to the floor, and Michael went to grab onto my other butt cheek.
Backing away, I let my mouth continue to cause me trouble.
“What if I don’t want you?”
My face stung as Michael slapped me with such force, my head whipped to the side.
“Insolent B*tch. It’s too late for that. You’ve been chosen….you WILL be f*cked.” He whispered in my ear and was grabbing onto me.
Turning my face to him.
We stared at each other a moment. He was so cold, seemed so removed from it all. And strangely, I was intrigued. Was I really, slowly, becoming attracted to this man.
Did I want this? This taboo meeting?
Gripping my shoulders, Michael mashed me against his slim form, lips pressing mine to the point it hurt, kissing my harshly. Holding onto me and was forcing his little pointed tongue into my mouth.
At the same time, I could feel him sliding his hand between my thighs starting to toy with me. As his finger bumped my cl*t, I pulled my mouth from him, sighing as a surge of heat hit me.
“Don‘t…no….” I began and shrieked as I was slapped a second time.
“Shut up, and get in bed. Go get in my bed. I don’t wanna talk. I wanna f*ck. Now!” Michael ordered pointing towards the mass of red satin.
I found myself sitting on the side of the bed, the sheets cold against me.
I was doing this. I was going to do this. I was going to let Michael screw me.
Michael remained where he was, near the door and began unhooking his sash and unbuttoning his jacket.
“You’re here for my pleasure tonight. That’s why you were invited in the first place…” His black shirt was unbuttoned and slipped off, revealing his slick, toned, and trim chest, his nipples, like little brown raisins, set as far apart as possible on him.
His flat abdomen boasted the smallest hint of an innie bellybutton.
Michael was handsome. A bronzy Adonis.
“I’m the Master. I’m in control. You submit to me. And if you don’t like it--go to Hell…” I was told as Michael removed his boots and socks and slipped his trousers off, revealing a pair of light blue boxers.
I was going to go. I was fighting with myself. I wanted him. I didn’t want him. I wanted to f*ck. I didn’t want to f*ck. I started to get up to leave.
Then Michael’s underwear came off.
Silently, they fell from his gently curved hips and landed on the floor.
And he was naked. He was naked before me as I was before him.
I got my first glimpse at Michael’s pubic area. From his loins, a long, thick c*ck swung. A brilliant mass of flesh, enticing me, as it hung there. To say Michael had been around so many nude women, he was markedly limp, the uncircumcised flesh on his pen*s concealing his tip. A very short, well trimmed patch of hair was above the pen*s, the rest bare.
I had never seen a man with a “landing strip” before.
Lovely, round, caramel balls were under his d*ck, flopping against his thighs as he slowly crossed the room to me.
Standing in front of me, Michael dropped a hand down and began to stroke himself. I watched as over and over, like some kind of perverse game, the bright pink tip of that d*ck was being revealed and hidden, revealed and hidden.
There it was, there it wasn’t!
Dropping the c*ck long enough to hug me, Michael tongued my mouth again and insisted,
“Suck me….suck my d*ck. Suck it hard. You’re gonna suck me good…”
Once again, the pink tip appeared.
Holding it out to me, the pink tip was offered.
I hesitated…I didn’t usually do this sort of this.
“God damn it, I want a blow job! You blow me!” Michael demanded shrilly and the pinkness was shoved past my lips.
Gripping onto my head, Michael was having sex with my mouth. Thrusting back and forth, threatening to choke me as I could feel the tip going back and forth, causing me to gag.
“Don’t choke…don’t dare choke. Suck it. Suck it. Deep throat my sh*t!” Michael gasped, pushing my face further into his crotch. I could feel him swelling, becoming more aroused. He was growing hard, in my mouth!
All at once, Michael shoved me back and I fell onto the bed with a low grunt.
“Ah! Ah! Ah!” I cringed as he was tickling at my cl*t again. “Michael!”
“Yes…I like that mouth. I like that sweet mouth of yours very much.” Michael cooed before turning and walking out of the light.
Sitting up, I tried to stare after him, figure where he went, but it was too dark.
I could hear some scuffling, him banging what sounded like plastic around.
He returned, his c*ck now standing up and away from him, that pink tip had gone scarlet and everything was swollen.
Even his nuts were engorged.
He had something in his hand, curled in his hand.
Opening it, Michael revealed an ice cube.
“I want your mouth cold. I want a cold mouth…” He told me and was pressing the cube in. a smile lit his lips and white teeth shimmered.
He stood before me, absently jerking himself, flashing that tip as I sucked on the cube.
Grasping my face, Michael bent so his face was even with mine.
“Spit it out. Spit it to me. Spit it, My Little Sl*t!” He instructed and was holding his mouth open.
This was strange. Far more freaky than anything I knew.
I did spit the cube in Michael’s mouth. He sucked on it a few seconds before spitting what was left across the room.
“No…Michael--” I protested as the large hunk of meat was shoved in my mouth again.
“Suck it B*tch…Ugh!” Michael threw his head back and shivered. “Ugh, gobble me….Nasty B*tch! I love Nasty B*tches!”
I screamed into Michael’s groin as he was put his hand to his mouth, dampening his fingertips and was pushing them inside of me.
“God damn…you’re one tight girl… oh I love the tight p*ssies” He confided, staring down at me as he was bumping himself in my mouth. His balls were banging against my chin. “I’m…I’m gonna stretch it…tear it up…”
I squirmed violently as Michael was rushing his fingers in and out me. Moaning with sexual pleasure as he was fingering me deeply.
“Baby, I wonder if you squirt. I love girls that f*cking squirt.” He mumbled watching me intently.
I tried to answer him, tell him, I did, but his meat was too much.
“I desperately hope you let it pour on me!” Michael exclaimed, hooting and pulled his pen*s glimmering with saliva from my mouth.
He was ripe. Fully ripe and ready to f*ck.
His c*ock was darker, the flesh a deeper brown, the tip almost black it was so full.
“I gotta taste…I gotta eat you. LIE DOWN!” Michael screamed at me, and I was on my back, watching as he climbed in with me.
“Michael…” I whispered, as he was thrusting my legs apart, letting my c*nt show plainly to him.
“This is nice. All sweet and pink. Damn…” Was all Michael said before I watched his face disappear between my legs.
“No…no…no..Ah! STOP! STOP! MICHAE!L AH! AH!” I wailed, taken suddenly as he forced my inner folds back and was unleashing his tongue at me, while spanking at my cl*t.
This was too much. This feeling. He had to stop. This was too quick, too soon.
Putting my hands on top of his head, I tried to push him away from me.
“You f*cking b*stard! Stop it! I…I’m gonna come! Oh sh*t!” I exclaimed and was pulling at his hair.
To spite me, Michael bit down on the inside of my thigh, making me scream louder.
Stormy eyes focused on me as Michael drew his mouth from me.
“You’re getting moist. You haven’t come yet…but you’re moist. That’s what I want. Nasty B*tch…” He whispered and I saw him holding on to that meat.
“Wait…no…”I started weakly as he was rubbing that tip against me, looking for the glory hole. Pressing my hands against his solid chest, I was pleading.
“It’s too big! It’s too damn big!”
“Ooooh, shut up! I’ll make it fit Baby…P*ssies stretch. I’m gonna stretch this one like the others!” Michael vowed and before I could stop him he was loading himself into me.
“AH! IT’S TOO BIG!” I cried as Michael fell on top og me, hugging me to him and began flexing his hips. Pounding into me.
“AH! AH! AH! MICHAEL! DAMN YOU!”
Undaunted, Michael taunted me.
“If you didn’t want to be f*cked to death, you shouldn’t have come. You wanted to come--I’m gonna make you come! That p*ssy is mine!”
Our nipples were rubbing each other and I clung to Michael, holding his hot, sweet body as he was plunging deeper and deeper into me. Making me wild.
Turning me out.
Maybe I was a b*tch, I was his b*tch.
He was an animal. Michael was an animal. Wild, crazy, perverse.
He was mine.
Somehow as he did me, Michael was all over my breasts, pulling at them. Squeezing, suckling. Yelling I had a wonderful pair of tits.
“You’re a b*stard! I hate you! I hate you!” I groaned as Michael reared and slapped me.
He turned colors when I brought my hand up and struck him across that delicate face.
“Aw! Hit me! Hit me! I like it! I like it! Little W*ore!” He egged, and I smacked him again.
Beads of sweat flowing from his slick body Michael announced,
‘Come! Come! I want you to COME! I’m gonna make you come! I wanna see you. See your face. B*TCH!”
I couldn’t handle it any longer, I couldn’t take it.
“AAAAAHHHHH! MOTHERF*CKER! AW! YEAH! YEAH! AW! MICHAEL! YOU MOTHERF*CKER!” I shouted as Michael wrenched himself from me, just in time for a torrent of liquid to come gushing from me.
“AHA! Hell yeah! That’s what I want! Squirt it, Baby. Squirt it!” Michael exclaimed and putting his hand down, was catching the liquid as the orgasm wracked my body and left me weakened.
I watched as Michael tilted his hands to his mouth, sampling the fluid erotica.
I didn’t get a break.
“No--!” Michael had shoved his c*ck back into me and was forcing his hips in and out once more.
Beautiful face squinched up, Michael tossed his head back again, puckering those pretty lips of his.
“Hoo!” He hooted, bringing his head down, disheveled curls dancing across his forehead and sticking to the sweat. “My turn!”
Hips were pounding into me, and Michael was mashing me cl*t to pieces.
“I want you to see me! I want you to see me come. See what you’ve done to me Heather. Oh, you f*uck so god damn GOOD!”
I knew Michael was close to his end.
“Ugh, ugh, ugh….please…” I whined, clutching his shoulders.
The bellowing commenced.
“OH MY GOD! YOU B*TCH! YOU B*TCH. LOOK WHAT YOU’RE MAKING …. ME DO. I’M GONNA COME! I’M…GONNA…COME…”
Loss for words, and just screaming shrilly into the air, Michael removed himself from me in one swift motion and was crawling up me.
Like vermin.
He sat on my chest. Slim buttocks on my breasts, Michael was sitting on my chest.
“I’m about to explode! I’m gonna explode. I wanna go in your face. Open your mouth! OPEN IT, YOU B*TCH! I GONNA BLOW! F*CK! SH*T! HERE I GO-- AHHHH TASTE ME! ”
My jaw was grabbed and forced open with Michael holding his pen*s over my face, tugging wildly, forcing his orgasm. Forcing himself to come.
He was excited. Too excited.
Michael stream of lust completely missed my face, sailed over my head and splashed the headboard.
“Oh…sh*t….oh….sh*t….” Michael panted, letting go of his d*ck and it bounced on my face.
Slipping off me, Michael dipped his fingers in his still warm juice, and shoved his fingers in my mouth, making me suck the flavor from him.
“Good sl*t…” He moaned, leaning and kissing me, nibbling on my lips. Tasting himself on my mouth.
“You were so….damn good. I really like you…” He murmured and his tongue swabbed the side of my face, where his come was running away.
Pulling my up into a seated position, Michael embraced me warmly, smooching at my neck.
“You can speak if you want to…” His voice, soft like it had been earlier that night stated as he stroked my hair.
I bit my bottom lip, trying to make sense of everything that had just happened.
I had been treated rather roughly, leashed like a dog, screwed like I had no nerves running to my p*ssy. All by a man whom I’d never seen before, still didn’t know his damn last name. A man who had a club solely for selecting women to bone.
I looked up at Michael. That sweaty, slightly funky, innocent looking man. The man with the wet hair, who was wiping at the sweat on my bosom.
“Will…will I see you again, Michael?” I questioned…feeling taken by him.
Michael bit on his bottom lip and eyes grew glassy. “I want to see you again.”
“As good as you are, I guarantee you’ll receive another invite soon…”

The End