Desi Lover Romance-3

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I started working (surprisingly) at the mall. I worked for retail store of a very well known nation wide telecommunications company. I started as a part time sales girl. With the help of looks and experience flirting I soon became the best sales girl, eventually becoming full time. But the flirting and occasional one night stands weren't enough. I secretly started working as a stripper at night. It wasn't at a regular strip club or gentleman's club. It was at a bar. I would walk around in a bikini offering lap dances to the people that would come in for a drink. I enjoyed the thrill of meeting strange (horny) men, letting them touch me and grab me and treating me like an object. I kept this job for years, while at the same time keeping my other job. At my other job I was getting more and more sales. I kept getting promoted, raising withing the company. Sure my sales helped, but also helped how "friendly" and intimate I had become with the District Manager. He couldn't wait to promote. I cupped the balls and began massaging them as my index finger circled the anus. My other hand began stroking the cock. Its hips pushed insistently toward my mouth. I blew on it. It swelled in my hand. I felt it pulsing. I licked its tip. It jumped. I had to push against the hips that thrust toward my face. The fingers playing with my pussy plunged into to me. My resistance was broken.I opened my mouth and guided the cock toward my mouth. As soon as my tongue touched the bottom of the cock head, it began pistoning into my mouth pinning my head to the wall behind me. His balls banged against my chin and his trimmed pubic hair tickled my nose. In and out, he fucked my face vigorously, forcing his cock down my throat. His cock began to swell. It was so hot; it felt like it would burn my tongue. He was getting close and so was I. The fingers working my pussy knew exactly how to administer increasing pleasure. I was ready to cum. But the cock fucking my mouth needed a little something.
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The cut of his clothes would have made him pass for an elegant man, if those clothes had not been torn to shreds; still they did not show signs of wear, and the fine cloth, beneath the careful hands of the prisoner, soon recovered its gloss in the parts which were still perfect, for the wearer tried his best to make it assume the appearance of a new coat. He bestowed the same attention upon the cambric front of a shirt, which had considerably changed in color since his entrance into the prison, and he polished his varnished boots with the corner of a handkerchief embroidered with initials surmounted by a coronet. Some of the inmates of the "Lions' Den" were watching the operations of the prisoner's toilet with considerable interest. "See, the prince is pluming himself," said one of the thieves. "He's a fine looking fellow," said another; "if he had only a comb and hair-grease, he'd take the shine off the gentlemen in white kids." His coat looks almost new, and his boots shine like a.

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