("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._
`6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`)
(_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-'
_..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,'
(((' (((-((('' ((((
K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
_________________________________________
WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE CLOSE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
_________________________________________
Scroll down to view text
--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2004. Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial
"free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites.
Thank you for your consideration.
--------------------------------------------------------
Another Prize for Bratten
by El Ciego (address withheld)
***
Wealthy Atlanta businessman Paul Bratten is a man who
has everything, including a beautiful black prostitute
who is about to give him the birthday gift of a
lifetime. (M/Ff-teen, intr, inc, rom, bd, prost)
***
"You may look, you may memorize her sweet young face
and naked body, but you may not and will not attempt to
touch her. Furthermore, you may not speak to her.
Violate either rule and the game is over." The woman
indicated the girl seated comfortably on a damask sofa
in the corner of the large boudoir.
The girl sat in shadow, her hands folded passively in
her lap. Despite the gloom, Bratten could see that she
was very young, very lithe and languid.
The woman who spoke to him was herself lovely, a fit
thirtyish brunette. Her breasts were long symmetrical
teardrops, large and pendulous against a body that was
other wise slender and athletic. The woman’s hair hung
in long ringlets over her shoulders.
"She looks exactly as I did at her age," the woman
continued, moving now to seat herself on the lavish bed
where Bratten lay. He was naked, his nerves beginning
to blaze with the sensations that were filling his
groin. The woman next to him wore a corset of peach
satin, its color complimenting her cocoa-colored skin.
The corset was adorned with white garters; these held
suspended a pair of white thigh- high stockings. She
wore no shoes, and her elegantly-curved, petite feet
were showcased by the filmy silk. "Are you
comfortable?"
Bratten could only nod, his eyes darting between the
lovely brown vision next to him and the silhouette
across the room.
The woman chuckled, "Relax, baby. You’ll see Tonisha in
due time.
I want you to get your money’s worth, you being a rich
white dude and all..."
She had known from their first contact that Bratten
wanted this fantasy. He was cultured, Southern,
moneyed. Maybe his great-grandfather had owned, and
used her great-grandmother in a similar way. Slavery
was never very far from the minds of blacks, nor from
the minds of the Southern "gentlemen" she met in her
line of work. For the thousandth time since she started
this business, the lyrics of "Brown Sugar" by the
Stones intermingled with the chorus from "Lady
Marmalade" played through her head. Black courtesan,
rich white boy. Brown sugar, how cum you taste so good?
He was alright for white, neither athletic nor soggy,
with a large cock and a decent face. He was clean, the
barest whiff of expensive cologne blending with the
scent of his skin. His nails were elegantly manicured.
He treated her with affection, and a respect (it seemed
to her) bordering on awe. This was her fourteenth
meeting with Bratten in as many weeks. He was now a
generous regular. Pola looked forward to their evenings
together. Tonight she knew, would be something else
again.
The room was sumptuously decorated and furnished in
antebellum style. This could have been the master suite
in a plantation manse, or the "royal suite" in a turn-
of-the-century bordello in a New Orleans of a hundred
years ago. The bed, a huge four-poster filled nearly
half the bedchamber. Soft lamplight from a half-dozen
oil lamps washed over the rose and granite wallpaper
and the teakwood floor. She suddenly, and clearly knew
what Bratten had in mind.
"Mister Bratten, I knows dat this is yo’ birthday," she
smiled, affecting a deep Old South slave accent and
demeanor. "Ah’m jest a po’ ol’ whore, and Ah ain’t got
nuthin’ to gives you, ‘cept what’s over in da corner."
Bratten grinned in spite of himself. Pola was the best,
he mused, gazing into her sultry brown eyes.
"Master Bratten, I begs you one thing. She only
fo’teen, just a baby-girl. Please be gentle."
Bratten looked again to the corner. "Let me see her,"
he commanded. Pola took two of the small oil lamps and
positioned them to softly illuminate the woman-child in
the corner.
Bratten gasped. She was Pola, perhaps sixteen years
younger. The mother’s ringlets were those worn by the
daughter, the young girl’s breasts a more compact
version of her mother’s teardrop-shaped tits. Like
Pola, Tonisha had long, shapely legs that seemed to go
on forever; the daughter more coltish and slender than
those of Pola.
She sat passively, her eyes downcast toward the floor,
her arms criss-crossed over her tummy. She looked shyly
at the man on the bed, reading his eyes for a moment
before finally smiling at her mother. "He’s beautiful,
Momma! Just like you promised!" "Honey," she smiled at
the girl. "You gone have to show Mr. Bratten that you
ready to be his little ho’ tonight, that you like sex,
you know..."She smiled at Bratten and immediately went
down on her hands and knees, taking his thick cock
between her full, dark lips.
Immediately the young Tonisha spread her legs and,
timidly at first began to stroke her flowering
womanhood. Even in the dim light of the oil lamps,
Bratten could see that her little cunny was clean of
hair, a narrow black strip indicating the path to
paradise. The girl’s left hand rose to her lips, and
she began to mimic her mother’s motions on Bratten’s
penis. She gazed fascinated as her mother licked and
suckled this white man’s cock, maintaining eye contact
with her young daughter, smiling encouragement as the
daughter imitated her fellatio.
Bratten gazed in wonder at the girl in the chair. Okay,
this is fantasy. She’s not really Pola’s daughter, not
really a hot fourteen year-old virgin. This is all a
very expensive trick, nothing more. Still, the girl’s
resemblance to the older prostitute was uncanny
She paused for a moment to instruct both her client and
the girl. "Baby, watch how I suck dis cock. You lick
that finger like it’s Master Bratten’s big cock." The
girl nodded, but then spoke, "Mama, my finger ain’t
nothin’ like Master Bratten’s big cock. Ain’t we got
nothin’ look more like a cock?" Pola laughed, and left
the bed, reaching for the black gym-bag that held her
equipment. The Adidas logo was incongruous in the
antebellum atmosphere of the suite, and Bratten nearly
complained. He would have, until Pola pulled a thick
dildo from the bag.
The toy was very realistic, and it matched the colors
and contours of Bratten’s cock almost perfectly. Pola
handed the rubber dong to Tonisha and returned to the
bed.
Pola enjoyed the taste of Bratten’s dick in her mouth.
She savored the rigidity, the thickness, the heat. It
was far too big for her daughter’s little pussy, which
is one reason she had stipulated that Bratten look, not
touch. She never required Bratten to wear a condom for
blowjobs; he was a trusted regular and besides, she
hated the taste of latex. She began to softly lick the
tip of Bratten’s cock, the young girl following suit.
Bratten moaned aloud as he felt Pola’s mouth working
its magic on him, more aroused as the daughter mimicked
the mother with the sex toy. Pola hummed and moaned
against his cock, the daughter began to sing in key
with her. Bratten again looked at the girl across the
room. Damn! It had to be a fake, a set-up for his
benefit. Pola was if nothing else, an accomplished
courtesan and a fair actress. Still...
His thoughts were interrupted as pola bit gently on the
soft underside of his shaft. Immediately, the young
girl imitated the older woman, and Bratten saw with
amazement that the younger girl had the same small gap
between her front teeth as did Pola. My god, Bratten
thought, they are really mother and daughter. He
couldn’t stop the rush of his orgasm.
Pola cried, "Squeeze them balls, baby!" and Tonisha did
as she was told, showering her young face with the
white, creamy lotion filling the dildo, as Bratten
exploded into Pola’s sweet African face. Bratten cried
aloud, rushing through orgasm, the sight of semen
covering both mother and daughter’s faces almost too
sweet to bear. Pola used the tip of his throbbing
manhood to smear the cream around her face, and Tonisha
did the same, grinning at Bratten and smearing lotion
over chin, cheeks and forehead.
Pola laughed. "Dat sho’ nuff was a wonderful start,
Master Bratten. I think we gone have some fun tonight!"
The naked teen rose from her perch on the sofa, pausing
only long enough to wipe the lotion from her face,
smiling wide-eyed at the older woman and her monied
client. "Mama, did I suck that dick good? Mr. Bratten,
sir... did I do it like Mama?" Bratten laughed. The
girl’s voice was quite similar to that of the older
woman. "You did fahn, honey-chile," Pola crooned.
Remembering her rules, Bratten only nodded. "You know,
baby-girl, a man can suck dat pussy as good as you can
suck cock. Lie down on dis bed here and spread your
pretty legs." The young teen bounced happily onto the
bed, spreading her long, lithe legs. Again Bratten
gasped. Her little pussy was pink and pouting, moist
with youthful arousal. He began to lower his face into
the young girl’s lap when Pola restrained him with a
hand.
He remembered her first rule and reluctantly withdrew
from the teen. Pola laughed and lay next to her
daughter, opening her stocking-clad legs. Bratten
needed no prompting. Keeping his eyes on the young
girl’s crotch, bratten began to tongue Pola’s sopping
sex.
Pola arched her back and gave a lusty moan, as Bratten
went to work. She was delicious to him, strong and
musky, salty and hot. As he worked tongue and lips over
her sex, he watched fascinated as the young girl began
to again stroke her budding clitoris.
Pola too was feeling the intense arousal, made more
intense by the knowledge that all three were feeling
it. She glanced over and watched the young teen, her
eyes closed in concentration as she strummed her
throbbing clitty.
Bratten licked and sucked hungrily at the pussy of the
black prostitute, while at the same time marveling at
the arousal of Tonisha. He wanted so badly to taste
her, but Pola had clearly stated the rules of the game.
He could not touch her. For a moment the young teenager
met his gaze, then opened her mouth to moan her climax.
Pola was overcome by a rush of sexual thrill, hearing
the younger woman’s moans. Bratten himself nearly
exploded, so sweet were the mingled cries and whispers
of mother and daughter.
Was Tonisha really Pola’s daughter? Was this a special,
carefully-prepared fantasy for Pola’s best client? The
similarities were numerous, but Bratten couldn’t be
sure.
In fact, the only thing of which Bratten was certain
was that he didn’t want to be sure. If Tonisha was in
truth Pola’s 14 year-old daughter, the legal
ramifications could be dramatic. If he learned for
certain that Tonisha was simply a young-looking,
willing accomplice, then his fantasy would be
shattered.
Pola again moaned loudly, as another orgasm overtook
her.
She turned to the younger woman and began to kiss her
mouth passionately. Her chocolate-crème complexion was
suffused with a deep rosy blush as Tonisha returned the
kiss hungrily. Through her kisses, Tonisha moaned
"Mama-a-," and the two women erupted in simultaneous
climax.
Pola lay in soft exhaustion, her left arm twining
around the naked body of the younger woman, both bathed
in a sheen of sweet perspiration. Tonisha pressed her
face to the top of Pola’s left breast, murmuring
softly, gasping.
Bratten was suddenly aware that his mouth was very dry.
He rose from the immense Victorian bed, his gaze fixed
on the two black women. He wandered to the bar and
opened a bottle of D’Vroges champagne, filling two
crystal flutes. He looked at Pola questioningly. "For
the girl?" Pola shook her head. "Uh-uh. No way my
fo’teen year ol’ baby is gonna drink anything stronger
than Coca-Cola."
Bratten grinned, pausing to take a frosty bottle of
cola from the minibar. He carried the drinks to the big
bed, handing both to Pola. He would not inadvertently
end the game by accidentally touching Tonisha. Pola
took the beverages, handing the soda to the teen.
"Thank you, Mr. Bratten," Tonisha shyly whispered.
Bratten caught himself, refraining from the semi-
automatic "you’re welcome" that nearly rose to his
lips. Pola and Tonisha both grinned at him wickedly,
the shared gap between teeth separating even, white
teeth. Bratten grinned as he walked to the bar and
retrieved his own glass.
"What’s next, Mama?" Tonisha looked from Pola to
Bratten. "Ah think you need to show Master Bratten what
a nice little backside you have." Tonisha promptly
handed her drink to Pola and got to her hands and
knees, her lithe young ass to Bratten.
"Open yo’ legs a little mo’, baby. Let Mastah Bratten
see yo’ little honey-dripper." Tonisha giggled and
opened her knees wider on the satin bedspread. Bratten
could now see her little brown rosebud of an asshole
and the open labia of her teenage cunny. Bratten
stroked his swollen cock, staring into the teen’s back
entryways. Tonisha wiggled her bottom in the air,
thrusting it toward Bratten lasciviously.
"Mama, I want Mastah Bratten to fuck me!" Tonisha
moaned. Pola quietly set the drinks on the night-table
and swiftly smacked the teen across her buttocks. "You
don’t talk trashy around my best customer, you hear?"
Another blow, Tonisha’s cry of pain, the imprint of red
raspberry palm on chocolate skin.
"Mastah Bratten been the only thing kep’ me alive since
the Emancipation, all they carpetbaggers wit’ they
fitty cents blowjobs don’ make me half of what Mastah
Bratten do me. Shit chile, I’m his girl. You talk
polite aroun’ him!" Another smack, tonisha wailing.
"Mama! I’m sorry Mama!" Please, no mo’! I’m sorry
Mama!" Tonisha fell forward on the bed, her buttocks
and thighs reddened by Pola’s punishments. She quietly
wept into the pillow. "I thought you said you was gonna
let Mastah Bratten be the first fo’ me, Mama," she
sobbed. "I was just tryin’ to show him that I was horny
and hot, like you said. I’m sorry Mama, but he’s so
beautiful. I want him.
Pola looked for a long moment at Bratten, her mouth set
in concentration, but with a glint of humor in her
eyes. Or was it avarice that Bratten saw?
Pola climbed from the bed and walked to where Bratten
had seated himself to watch the spanking. She noted
with amusement that her wealthy client was rock-hard
and flushed. "Time out from the fantasy, Mr. Bratten.
We need to sip a little champagne and talk a little
business. "She Whispered, smiling as she gripped his
shaft in an elegant brown hand and seating herself next
to him on the sofa.
"You want to taste my little girl, don’t you Mr.
Bratten? No doubt she wants you to. She’s been giggling
and fantasizing about tonight for days. She and I
masturbated together and talked about it. Now, she
ain’t got her cherry; she was raped by a 12 year-old
neighborhood bully three years ago. But she’s never had
a gentleman, never been pleasured. You’ll be the first
man to make her cum. Would you like to eat her little
pussy, maybe even fuck my little girl’s little brown
ass?"
Bratten was speechless.
"Oh, and don’t think this is strictly a birthday
present. I expect that you’ll pay me my regular fee,
which you will also match for Toni. Plus, you pay
another ten. Call it Toni’s college fund." Bratten
needed no consideration. This beautiful, mature woman
was offering herself at a younger age, offering herself
in an innocent, sweet package. Her own flesh and blood,
sold to bratten as her own flesh and blood had always
been.
Bratten Croaked, "Whatever you want. Your five, her
five, hell...another fifty!" Pola rewarded him with a
throaty laugh. "Twenty will do. Besides, I think you’ll
be a repeat customer." She chuckled, "But Toni and I
have some fun and games for you first. Ready for the
Mother-Daughter Banquet?" Tonisha had rolled onto her
back, her lithe teenage legs spread wide, now inserting
a finger deeply into her moist sex. She smiled lazily
at Bratten, momentarily pouting her lips into a kiss.
Bratten lay beside her on the bed. "Rules still apply
until I say!" warned Pola. "No talkie, no touchy until
I give the go-ahead. Clear?" Bratten replied
affirmatively as Tonisha rose from the bed and joined
Pola.
The older woman reached into the anachronistic Adidas
gym bag and found four leather cuffs with long leashes
attached. Each leash was then securely tied to the four
posts of the bed. "Lay down, Mister Bratten," she
commanded quietly, her voice devoid of its former deep
Southern accent, the diction crisp and precise.
Bratten lay on the bed, almost grateful for the coming
restraint. He could not cause the game to end, as any
touch would not be his fault. Soon the wealthy white
businessman was spread-eagle on the big bed, his arms
and legs held taut by the four leads. Pola turned to
Tonisha. "Wash his face, baby." Tonisha giggled and
moved to the bed. "Now, you keep your tongue in your
mouth, Mr. Bratten. If Toni tells me that you licked or
nibbled her, that’s an intentional touch. Game over.
Dig?"
Bratten held his lips tightly closed as the young teen
straddled his face, facing Pola. His nose pressed
against her tight little rectum, her labia were firmly
planted against his lips and chin. With long,
deliberate strokes Tonisha began to move her ass and
pussy up and down the bound man’s face.
"Let him smell your sweetness real good, honey-chile,"
Pola cooed, again adopting the plantation slave accent.
The fantasy had begun again. Again, Bratten was in a
Reconstruction-era bordello in the deep South, about to
buy a nigger-woman’s fourteen year-old daughter. "Yeah,
let him sniff you out real good. Leave a little
somethin’ fo’ Mr. Bratten to taste on his lips. Give
him a little honey."
Tonisha moved rhythmically against Brattens tightly-
closed mouth and nose, rising to allow him breath, then
returning to move against him anew. Tonisha played with
her young sex as she rose away from him, causing her
little pussy to gush its sweet nectar onto his lips.
Bratten wanted to tongue her, to taste and savor her
youthful heat. But he wouldn’t let this night end.
The twenty grand was almost inconsequential; he wanted
this young woman badly, wanted both mother and
daughter. Again he wondered. Was Tonisha the fourteen
year-old daughter of the older escort? He wanted to
believe it, somehow needed to believe. Pola went to the
bed and lowered herself onto Bratten’s thick member,
facing the younger woman and embracing her. "Don’t you
open your mouth, Mr. Bratten. She ain’t ready fo’
nothin’ too much quite yet."
Bratten understood. Even with Pola’s deliciously-
trained cunt muscles milking him, even with a young
teen’s pussy and butt rubbing his face, he dared not
cry out. He wanted to scream his pleasure, needed to do
so, but he fought every impulse as both women rode him.
He imagined that Pola was passionately kissing the
younger woman; once, when Tonisha rose from his face,
he could have sworn that Pola was suckling the younger
woman’s breasts. He was close to climax, and he knew
it. Pola seemed to sense it, and both women quickly
rose from Bratten and moved off the bed.
"Mama, he’s so hard!" Tonisha exclaimed, running a long
fingernail up the back of Bratten’s member. He allowed
his mouth to open again, a long moan escaping his lips.
He became aware of the young girl’s scent then, licking
his lips, tasting her second-hand. Tonisha grinned at
Pola, "Mama, I think he likes my taste." Pola agreed
with her daughter. "Sho’ ‘nuff, baby. White men always
be crazy for the taste of young black pussy. He an
addict now."
The older woman turned to face the younger. "Let’s suck
this man’s big dick. You like that, honey?" Tonisha
wasted no time replying, but knelt at the foot of the
bed between Bratten’s splayed legs. She was soon joined
by Pola, who smiled saying, "Baby, you just watch your
Mama. I been sucking dick since I was yo’ age. You
learn real good."
Pola again moved her mouth to engulf the head of
Bratten’s cock. She pointed to the white man’s scrotum,
and Tonisha moved in to tongue it. Bratten nearly
screamed with the intense delight. Both women were
working now on his cock and balls, the mother expert
and almost mechanical, the daughter tentative but
enthusiastic. "Do this feel good, Mistah Bratten?" the
young girl asked, again running her tongue around
Bratten’s ball-sack. "Oh yes baby," he replied without
thinking, then realized his mistake. Pola grinned
"Oops. Looks like we done for tonight." "No!" exclaimed
Bratten. "Please, Pola...no..."
Tonisha looked disappointed. "Aw Mama, it was my fault.
Maybe we should give Mistah bratten another little
chance?" Pola seemed to consider a moment before
replying. "Well, I guess it’s okay. Mr. Bratten is my
best customer. We gone let that one slide."
Bratten was relieved. In his bound condition, he felt
more slave than master. These two black goddesses had
turned the tables on him, but he was enjoying it. The
two women returned to sucking and fondling Bratten’s
equipment. This time it was the fourteen year-old
suckling his cock. Her little mouth barely fit around
its girth, her eyes gazed into Bratten’s and she worked
feverishly on his shaft and head.
Pola positioned herself to lick and kiss Bratten’s
asshole, her tongue making tiny forays into the
opening. Bratten moaned again, electricity coursing
through his entire body. "Yeah, Mistah Bratten, you
jest go ‘haid and enjoy this. Tonisha, honey...take it
slow. We don’ want Mistah bratten to cum jest yet..."
With that Pola worked a slippery finger into Bratten’s
ass, her daughter settling into a slow, steady rhythm.
Bratten couldn’t contain his climax, and shouted a
warning a scant moment before erupting all over the
teenager’s pretty young face! "Aaaaar-gh-h!" Bratten
cried, jet after jet of hot white cream covering
Tonisha’s pretty black face. Pola laughed, "Well baby-
girl, looks like we gone need clean Mistah Bratten up a
bit." With that, mother and daughter started licking
Bratten clean.
She poised above Bratten’s face, waiting for her
mother’s permission. "Can he lick me, Mama?" Polla
seemed to consider the request for a moment, then said,
"Sho’ honey, you can let Master Bratten taste you now."
The young girl smiled and sighed, lowering herself just
over Bratten’s waiting mouth. "lick my baby-girl’s
pussy!" Polla commanded. He needed no second
invitation.
Bratten gently ran the tip of his tongue along the
young woman’s seam, savoring her scent and the sweet,
slightly-salty flavors of her virgin cunny. She fairly
gushed with liquid enthusiasm, and Bratten soon found
himself drinking the juices of the young black girl, as
he tenderly took her budding clitoris between his lips.
Tonisha squealed, locking her lithe thighs tightly
around Bratten’s cheeks. She cried aloud as the first
onrush of climax overtook her. "Oh, mama...dis man got
me so hot!" Polla watched fascinated as her best
customer tenderly gave her fourteen year-old daughter
her first experience receiving oral sex from a man.
Tonisha rocked back and forth on Bratten, pinching and
stroking her tender brown nipples, until she came with
a violent shudder, crying out Bratten’s name as she
fell forward, her face coming to rest on his groin. Her
mouth, agape with climax quickly found his hardening
meat, and she began to suck him for everything she was
worth.
Bratten became aware that his hands and feet were still
securely tied to the four posts of the big antique bed.
He wanted so desperately to run his hands all over her
body, but he could do nothing more than feverishly work
his tongue around the young girl’s pussy. With small,
economical thrusts, he insinuated his tongue into her
tender recesses, probing and pumping for her G-spot,
which he thought he could reach.
She was so small, so light and feminine on his face,
grinding her young snatch into him as she swallowed him
whole. When Bratten came close to orgasm, Polla quickly
stepped to the side of the bed and grasped Bratten’s
cock. Placing a tight thumb and forefinger around the
base of his cock-head, Polla warned, "Don’t rush this
baby. Slow down, enjoy the ride."
With that the older woman discreetly rolled a fresh
condom onto Bratten’s turgid pole, making sure to
squeeze excess air from its receptacle tip.
As if on cue, the young girl moved herself over his
cock and began to gently lower herself onto him. "Mama
tol’ me to do it this way, so’s Ah can control how deep
you gone go," she panted, easing the tip of his cock
between her youthful labia.
Polla moved next to the young teenager and began again
to passionately kiss her mouth, as Tonisha pushed her
virgin sex harder against Bratten’s manhood. He could
have sworn that he felt her hymen give way, her passion
distracting her from the momentary pain. She gave a
small cry of pain and surprise as Bratten’s cock EASED
ITS WAY INTO HER TIGHT WOMANHOOD AND THEN audibly
sighed, as the staff found its path into her.
Bratten moaned as he felt his cock sliding into the
tight, hot space. The sensation was fantastic! He
allowed the young girl to establish a soft, steady
rhythm and then began to move his hips in concert with
hers. He had a small measure of freedom to move,
despite the fact that he was bound to the bed. "Feel
good, baby?" Polla inquired of the younger girl. "Oh
yeah, Mama," Tonisha panted, "real good..." Now it was
Bratten’s turn to speak. "Polla, untie me. I want to
touch her, hold her. Please."
Polla laughed as she freed Bratten’s hands and feet.
Quickly, he gently enfolded the girl in his arms,
drawing her to him for a kiss. Tonisha smiled as she
leaned toward him, then closed her eyes, joining her
mouth with his in a torrid kiss. She moaned softly and
began to pump her hips harder against his, her climax
overtaking her in a few brief minutes.
As Bratten had already ejaculated twice during the
session, he was able to maintain control over his own
orgasm. When Tonisha had stopped shuddering and gasping
her way through her climax, Bratten rolled her off him
and commanded her to get into the doggie-style
position. Tonisha laughed happily and assumed the
position.
Bratten entered her very gently, not wanting to injure
the girl’s inexperienced pussy. Tonisha was more
enthusiastic than he expected however, and soon she was
slamming her hips against his, animal noises coming
from her mouth.
Again and again Bratten pounded into her, his hands
grasping her young hips. Tonisha was in another world,
babbling, moaning, laughing and crying her joy, cumming
repeatedly, violently as Bratten kept up a steady
rhythm.
Polla climbed onto the bed and watched the pair, now
inserting the dildo that Tonisha had earlier fellated
into her sopping sex. She matched the rhythm and depth
of Bratten’s stroking, and soon she was cumming in
tandem and synchronization with Tonisha.
"mama!" screamed Tonisha, "I want dis man’s cock in my
ass, right now!" Polla panted her consent, urging
Bratten to be gentle. Bratten withdrew his cock from
the young girl’s hot, gripping pussy. It was covered
with lubrication, and he comfortably eased the head of
his member against her pouting anus. "Shove it in, you
white bastard!" screamed Tonisha, and pushed herself
violently against him. With the sensation of a soft
popping, Bratten was inside her fourteen year-old ass!
Tonisha screamed, "That’s it, Mastah Bratten! That’s
it!!" and began to buck violently against him.
Polla watched fascinated as this rich, big white man
took the younger woman’s virginity a second time. Her
own orgasm began to overtake her, and again she sought
the younger woman’s mouth, probing tongue-to-tongue.
Tonisha again moaned, climaxing again.
Bratten was close to cumming, his balls and cock aflame
with the sensations of his lust. Suddenly, he felt
Polla’s tongue licking and probing at his own asshole,
and he began a long, protracted orgasm, crying both
women’s names. Tonisha herself began to cum at the same
moment, "Fuck! Fuck! Oh-h-h shit! You honky
muthafuckah, I’m cummin’!" Polla herself began to
climax, screaming against Bratten’s ass.
The three of them showered in the master bath, taking
care to thoroughly and gently cleanse each other. They
lingered under the soft, hot spray from the twin shower
heads, laughing softly, caressing, kissing.
Tonisha glowed with her experience and the hot water as
she wrapped herself in a luxurious bath sheet and
followed Polla and Bratten back into the boudoir. "That
was wonderful!" she giggled, taking her mother’s hand
and squeezing it gently. The older woman smiled,
handing Tonisha a glass of champagne. "You’ve earned
it," she smiled. Tonisha again giggled, Sipping the
superb vintage.
Bratten, now dressed in a black silk bathrobe, walked
over to the in-room safe, keyed the combination and
produced a large wad of hundred-dollar bills. He
carefully but rapidly peeled two hundred of the notes,
recounted it, and then handed the money to Polla. The
elder prostitute kissed him firmly on the mouth,
reaching beneath his robe to grasp his well-used cock.
Bratten grinned, "and worth every penny." "Yeah, and
you get a bonus, Mr. Bratten," Polla grinned
mischievously, placing the cash in her Adidas bag and
wandering over to a darkened corner of the room. "Bet
the video is gonna be killer," she laughed. Resuming
the plantation slave accent, she continued, "Now, you
gots ta take care of this real good, Mastah Bratten.
Ain’t nobody need see you cavorting with a fourteen
year-old baby-girl." She handed the tape to Bratten.
The trio continued to sip champagne and make small-talk
for another hour, intertwined on the big four-poster.
Before he realized what was happening, both women had
risen from the bed and dressed in street clothes. "Just
one question," Bratten asked as Polla reached for the
ornate brass doorknob. "Is she really your fourteen
year-old daughter?" Polla said nothing, but smiled as
she and the younger woman left the room.
***
A week later, Bratten paced the floor of his opulent
Atlanta office, the snifter of Remy-Martin forgotten on
his desk. Guilt, fear, wonder, the sweet longing all
filled Bratten, and made it impossible for him to
concentrate.
The video tape was safely secreted in Bratten’s safe,
the location of which was known only to Bratten and his
secretary of twenty years, Miss Dawes. She had never
bothered to ask Bratten for the combination, and
Bratten knew that the tape would be reasonably secure.
Still, if Bratten was caught on video anally fucking a
fourteen year-old, he could look forward to a very long
sentence served in a very short, violent time. Child
molesters were not well regarded in prison, Bratten
knew. Alright, he decided, one viewing of the tape for
old time’s sake, and then it’s into the compactor for
this piece of evidence.
Bratten locked the door to his executive suite after
sending Miss Dawes home. It was after six o’clock, and
the office was empty; the third-shift cleaning crew
would not arrive for another five hours. Plenty of
time.
Bratten pushed the videotape into the VCR and settled
in his leather chair, the remote control in one hand,
the snifter of fine brandy in the other. He turned the
television on in time for the local news, and decided
to watch awhile before viewing the tape.
The news quickly shifted from tragedies in the Middle
East to local crime news, and soon it was time for the
fluff news. Every local station did this, bratten knew.
He hated the "un-newsworthy" fluff; he was about to
switch over to the video when two familiar female faces
gazed from the television.
"In Lawrenceville this afternoon," beamed the perky
blonde anchorwoman, "two women were arrested on charges
of fraud, prostitution, child prostitution and
extortion after Georgia BCA officers pulled a sting
operation.
The two women, Polla Johnson, age 32 and Tonisha
Lefevre, age 18 tried to convince a police decoy that
they were mother and daughter. Johnson, the older of
the pair, allegedly offered to sell her minor child for
prostitution. A complaint filed with the Cobb County
Sheriff’s office yesterday..."
Bratten turned off the television and leaned back in
his chair, smiling. It had been a fantasy, and a good
one at that. He sipped his brandy, walked over to the
VCR and removed the tape.
Safely stored again in the safe, the tape wouldn’t be
used for awhile. Maybe never. He’d hang onto it though,
because you just never could tell when you’d want to
watch a memory made by consenting adults.
Bratten grinned again, locked his office and headed
toward the freeway, his doorway, and a peaceful night’s
sleep.
END
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 30