#ushshitt

“April” wasn't your real name, but it was when you started working at the club that your coworkers gave it to you. Even though your birthday was in October, you quickly got used to the nickname. It was nice.

The first week you started, Alamo was more than happy to see the profits you began to generate, the natural way you captivated the men around you, tempting them like a snake, taking their money by the handful with every sway of your hips on stage.

So much so, that Bishop himself swore you could take money from him too if he had you like that for just one night.

And so it was.

After a long night of work, at 4:37 AM, Bishop was your driver that night, dropping you off at your apartment, offering to let you in at the door, making sure you got home safe and sound, even though he knew that wasn't his only intention.

Fifteen minutes later, you were sitting on his lap, kissing him passionately, panting softly against his lips. His shirt lay next to the jacket you'd put on for cover. You were still in your club attire, as if your workday wasn't over yet, moving your hips in slow, torturous circles on his lap. You felt the hardness of his erection brush against the folds of your delicate lace thong, feeling it moisten with just that touch.

Bishop had made you nervous from the first time you spoke, but as the days passed, he realized that you were like that for no reason. You were always on high alert, and he understood; it was your job. But right now, he wanted nothing more than to keep kissing you and guiding your movements on his erection.

“How much you're gonna cost me?”

A whisper escaped Bishop's lips between kisses, his hands gripping your buttocks, squeezing them and pulling you closer, lifting your hips so you felt him completely, making you sigh and gently arch your back.

“$150 for an hour...”

“... Just one hour?”

You pulled back slightly at his words, your nose brushing against his, his gaze a soft plea. The idea that he wanted you for more than an hour was unexpected, and obviously, money wasn't an issue for Bishop.

You moved forward, your lips meeting his again, your hands gripping his jaw, holding him close, kissing him with a hunger you never imagined you had for a man.

“$500 and I'm yours for as long as you want.”

You sighed against his lips, kneeling on the mattress, slowly starting to pull down your thong, your eyes never leaving Bishop.

But before you could remove it completely, Bishop grabbed your hips, turning you over on the bed, positioning himself on top of you. His hands moved down to yours, preventing you from taking the thong off completely.

“Keep it on.”

He whispered against your lips, his hand sliding down. His fingers found your pussy, still covered by your clothes, feeling how wet you were. He sighed against your lips, but didn't kiss you, studying your every expression, moan, and sigh.

You moaned a whispered curse as you felt Bishop slide your thong to the side, leaving your pussy completely exposed. His fingers found their way to your folds, caressing them, moistening his fingers, using your fluids as a lubricant to begin stroking your clit. At the same time, his free hand slid down to his aching erection, freeing it from his pants.

Your moans soon followed. His thumb stroked with the perfect pressure to make your legs tremble, gently pressing your thighs against his hand. He leaned down to your thighs, starting to kiss them, first the left, leaving kisses and hickeys that you knew would take at least an hour to cover with makeup.

Then, he moved to your right thigh, taking his hand away from your clit to cup it, lifting it so you rested it on his shoulder. He left kisses there too, but these kisses trailed down to your cunt, kissing your labia, his tongue darting out to collect the fluids escaping your entrance, licking, then sliding his tongue in to explore you.

His free hand caressed the aching head of his cock, grunting against your wet pussy, his tongue flicking out from your entrance to caress your clit. And when he did that, oh, your world shrank to how talented his tongue was, making you arch your back and reach down into his hair, holding it there, not wanting that pleasurable sensation to end so soon.

You moaned and lifted your hips to take more of him, raising your left thigh to his shoulder, now leaving him no escape, feeling his free hand grip your thigh and squeeze it before sliding down to your ass and slapping it, making you tremble and gasp his name in a cry of surprise. Then, both his hands moved to your buttocks, abandoning his needy, aching cock, squeezing your cheeks and pressing your pussy to his mouth. Your moans were tortured, almost like you were crying with pleasure, moaning his name aloud, loving the way his tongue licked and his lips sucked your clit.

Bishop responded with a soft laugh, but without the corners of his lips lifting. This man was strange.

The sex was incredible; you couldn't remember the last time someone had made you come so many times.

But even things that begin, must end.

You woke up in bed, out of your dancer outfit, feeling your hair bothering your face. You brushed it away, beginning to regain consciousness after such a long sleep.

Reaching out, you felt the side of the bed was still warm, and opening your eyes, you saw Bishop sitting on the edge of it, putting on his shoes and getting up to pick up his shirt and coat. He put them on, his gaze shifting to yours.

“Did you sleep well?”

"Yeah. And you?"

“Me too.” You two talked as if nothing had happened; it was more cordial than a conversation, really, but who could blame you? You both been like that for quite a while.

“See you tonight.”

“Yeah, goodbye.”

And with that, Bishop left your apartment, closing the door behind him, leaving you alone, still with the warmth of his body and his scent on your sheets, with the memories of his bites, kisses, and caresses all over you.

When you turned over in bed, you saw five $100 bills Bishop had left behind. You had completely forgotten about them.

Everything was back to normal; no one knew what you had, even as you felt him leave your bed, the words “I love you” threatened to escape your lips.

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When he finished urinating, his hand moved down his belly to his sensitive cock, giving a few soft caresses. If he hurried, he would cum instantly…

His hand began to move, back and forth, squeezing his fingers as he reached the head of his cock, releasing a moan he’d been keeping in the back of his throat for a long time. The precum was already showing and staining his fingers, he cursed under his breath, lifting his shirt in case the cum preferred to drip on him. A few more caresses, thinking about your exposed legs, when you would accidentally open them and let him see under your skirt, your lips moving when you spoke to your teacher. Nanami let all of that out in a jet of cum, falling onto the toilet lid, cursing under his breath and panting, as if all the oxygen in the world was running out.

He wiped the mess off his hand and the toilet lid, stepping out of the stall to wash his hands, now seeing the open stall door that was closed. He stared at the cubicle from the reflection in the mirror, and then he noticed how it opened, and you came out of the cubicle, with those cute jeans that hug your hips and part of your thighs…

“Hey, what are you doing here? This is the men’s restroom.”

You didn’t say a word as you approached Nanami. He was definitely taller, but it wasn’t a disadvantage for you.

Your hand moved to his crotch, caressing his cock hidden by his pants. You sighed, noticing its size and thickness. Nanami trembled at your touch, pulling your hand away.

“Come on... Don’t do this... It’s not right, we can’t...”

“We can’t” was a rather peculiar choice of words. It wasn’t “I don’t want to,” which you assumed meant he desired you as much as you desired him. His pleas were useless to you. You pressed your body against Nanami’s, the neckline of your tank top offering a spectacular view of your breasts, pressed against your teacher’s heaving chest.

“Nanami, I don’t care... I want you... I want you in my mouth...”

Your words were enough to make Nanami let out a moan. Swallowing hard, she saw you pulling down the straps of your shirt. Shit. You weren’t wearing a bra.

You knelt in front of Nanami. He kept insisting, holding your hands to stop you from unzipping his pants. He begged you to stop, his voice hoarse and those gasps that escaped him as he watched your breasts move and press together when you moved your arms.

“God, stop it. Why are you doing this?” You’re an excellent student, there’s no need to do this… Please… Someone might hear…”

Nanami’s cheeks were so red and her eyes were shining with fear. You looked at him, pressing your cheek against the bulge in his crotch. You knew he couldn’t resist you, you knew he watched you in class, that he looked at your legs under the table, that he leaned closer than usual to give you a more detailed explanation when you didn’t understand the topic, that he didn’t look at anyone else with those eyes but you.

“No one will hear us, no one will know, it’ll be something only we know.”

Nanami was torn by an internal debate. He was a responsible adult; he wouldn't do this to one of his prized students in a million years. But another part of him wanted to pull down his pants and put his penis in your mouth, feel your tongue caress the base and collect every trace of semen that came out, showing it to you with drops of saliva and his fluids dripping onto your breasts.

Nanami moved his hands away from yours, placing them at his sides. He looked at you; you seemed surprised, but a smile formed on your lips. You slowly lowered the zipper of his pants. You could already see his cock hard from his sexual thoughts about you. Your hand moved to the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down.

Nanami’s cock was just as you had imagined it, with a beautiful color on the head, his pubic area shaved, not a single hair, only the blond line that rose towards his navel—the only thing you had always imagined he had. The tip of his penis was already wet with pre-ejaculate. Completely clean. Just like in all those porn videos you watched, you almost suspected Nanami had a secret life as an adult film actor.

“Just… Touch it… Touch it a little.”

You sighed, rested your chin on one of Nanami’s thighs, and stroked the tip of his cock, slowly moving your hand up and down. Nanami trembled at the sensation. He wasn’t someone who masturbated daily, but in such a lonely life where the lack of sex affected him, he couldn’t help but touch himself.

“Do it slowly… Move your wrist and gently squeeze your fingers…”

You followed Nanami’s instructions, your fingers tightening at the base of his cock. He arched his back, letting out a gasp, closing his eyes. You looked at his expression, full of excitement. If this was how he reacted to your hand, you didn’t want to imagine what it would be like with your mouth.

You reached the base of his cock, gently squeezing his balls. He let out a groan louder than before, instantly covering his mouth with his hand, embarrassed that his student could hear him moan like that, or that anyone else in the school could.

You smiled at Nanami’s reaction, tapping his balls again with the heel of your hand as you masturbated him. You gasped, stopping your caress, and placed your hands on his thighs. Sensing your hands leaving, Nanami looked at you. You were bringing your mouth closer to his cock; its size was surprisingly large, something he'd never noticed before, seeing how half your face was hidden by it from his perspective.

“No. No. Wait… Don’t use your—”

He couldn’t finish speaking as your lips pressed against the base of his cock. Nanami let out a moan, along with whispered insults. Cursing the moment he wasn’t so subtle when he stared at your breasts or followed you away from his class. He cursed himself for all of it and for how good your mouth was at sucking his cock.

You moved your head slowly, back and forth, not quite taking it all in because of its size. Nanami was dying to pull your hair and use your mouth like a sex toy. The thought made you taste the precum on your tongue; you knew he was having those thoughts.

You pulled his cock out of your mouth, a thin line of saliva connecting your lips to the head of his cock. You smiled at him, biting your lip. Nanami couldn’t go on like this anymore, with your stupid games and the way you looked at him and smiled.

He leaned against the sink; the height of his cock was now the same as your breasts. Nanami lowered his hands and cupped your breasts, squeezing them together. He heard you gasp as his large, rough hands pressed against your nipples, pinching and rotating them with his fingers. You felt wet, your cunt beginning to dampen your underwear. And Nanami was no exception; his cock dripped onto your breasts, kneading them with his hands, desperate yet so gently at the same time. You watched him, with no intention of stopping him. That’s when his cock aligned itself between your breasts, groaning deeply and beginning to thrust slowly, using your soft, lovely breasts for his pleasure, just as he did at home with his pillows.

“This is what you wanted, right? There you go, baby.”

His fingers moved to your nipples as he squeezed them, forcing you closer. You took it as a signal, sticking out your tongue and licking the head of his cock each time it approached your lips, gasping as your tongue caressed his sensitive glans, relishing the taste and scent of Nanami.

It wasn’t long before Nanami buried his cock between your breasts, reaching your mouth. He moved his hips in slow circles as he cum in your mouth, panting and biting his lip, pinching your nipples with his thumbs and forefingers, squeezing them for a second longer before releasing them and taking hold of the back of your head so his cock slid fully into your mouth. He stroked your hair, feeling your throat tighten sweetly around the tip of his cock, savoring the cum and your teacher’s sweet moans.

“Fuck... Can you taste that?... Can you taste my piss, baby?”

You looked at him for a moment before pulling his cock from your mouth with a soft pop, staring up at him from the floor with those large eyes that begged for his undivided attention. You were lucky Nanami was a generous man, because otherwise, he would have left you alone in that bathroom, your lust unsatisfied.

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So, yes, Bishop was Alamo in essence, but he liked to keep a low profile, and also to surprise people. It wasn't easy to go unnoticed, though. If someone was paying very, very close attention, he was always caught looking at something suspicious, even if it was just out of the corner of his eye. He was always caught, but he wasn't the first to look away.

Despite his leadership, Bishop hated the idea of killing or causing harm. He only did it when the situation was out of control, when he had no other choice. He wasn't a religious man, but he prayed and asked God for forgiveness for the sins he committed, even if he knew he wouldn't receive it.

And the club? Well, he let Alamo make the decisions there, which girl he wanted to sleep with after work and which he didn't, but Bishop stayed close to some of them, asking them to look out for each other, to support each other, and not to fight.

But when new girls arrived, he evaluated them, examined their faces, how their lips looked, their eyes, how their teeth looked when they smiled, how they walked, how their nails were, the size of their breasts and their asses. Everything. He made a long mental list and advised Alamo on which ones should stay and which ones shouldn't.

It was exhausting being someone like him. Exhausting having to organize everything, getting home in the wee hours of the morning and barely being able to sleep, because he had to wake up half an hour later to continue with that damn job.

But at least he could relieve his stress with his girlfriend.

His beautiful and sexy girlfriend.

You knelt before him as he sank onto the sofa with a low sigh, letting his body relax and close his eyes for at least a few seconds.

You knew what time he'd arrive, what mood he'd be in, and how to calm him down. And of course, you had to look beautiful for your boyfriend.

You wore one of his shirts, completely unbuttoned, revealing your lacy underwear, the fabric barely covering your breasts. Your hair was loose, though you usually wore it up; he'd get hard just watching it fall over your face, covering one eye.

His hand moved down to your hair, caressing it, then up to your cheek. You smiled and turned your head to place a kiss on his palm, kisses that traveled up to his wrist.

“Did you miss me, doll?”

He whispered as your cheek rested against his thigh, your eyes shining and filled with a longing you couldn't satisfy on your own.

You and Bishop had sex, but it was rare, and when you did, the bed would break or the headboard would bang against the wall, leaving marks. It was lucky you didn't have neighbors to hear, because it would be exhausting to hear you screaming your boyfriend's name until you were practically crying with pleasure, or the sound of the spanking echoing through the walls and reaching the front door. Even when Bishop was usually quiet, his grunts would drown out your screams.

But yes, you hadn't had sex lately, and he was under a lot of stress.

“I missed you so much.”

Bishop seemed to suppress a smile when you spoke to him like that, seeing your flushed cheeks and your eyes pleading for more of his caresses and words. Those loving nicknames he used for you made you incredibly wet.

“Yeah, baby?”

His hands cupped your cheeks, pulling your face to his, kissing you slowly, but with a hunger that left no doubt he desired you desperately at that very moment, that he could take you and make love to you for as long as he wanted. But you also had your needs and wanted to soothe your boyfriend's anxiety and worries.

“A lot…”

And no matter how much he tried to hold back, that voice of yours made it impossible for him to resist.

For the next 10 minutes, your lips were surrounded by his thick, long cock, hitting the back of your throat, with the obscene sounds of it, your gagging and moans, and of course, his grunts, which were essential to the whole scene.

Bishop discarded his coat, unbuttoning his perfectly pressed shirt, his torso bare, beads of pearly sweat glistening on his dark skin.

He grasped your hair, smoothing it, brushing away the strands that fell across your face, using that grip to guide your movements, taking it deeper and deeper, in sync with the movements of his hips, pressing your nose against his pelvis, the pubic hair he'd shaved a few weeks ago tickling your nose.

The gagging and scratches on his thighs weren't unusual; in fact, Bishop really enjoyed it when your nails left scratches on his thighs. He knew how much it excited you to be used this way, begging for mercy with the gagging and scratches. Even when your eyes looked at him, filled with unshed tears, he would tilt his head back and mutter curses under his breath, biting his lower lip.

You loved feeling his body tremble. You knew that was when he was close to coming. You loved it when he did, because he would curse and moan in a way that left your cunt soaking wet, so much so that afterward he would tease you for getting you so wet just from giving him a blowjob, but you barely cared.

“I’m gonna cum soon, doll…”

He said between breaths, looking back at you, still lifting your hips so you could take him completely, moving your head up and down, listening to his breathing become heavier, more desperate, more urgent, more…

You felt him tense up, plunging his cock fully into your mouth, hitting your throat, releasing his seed, going straight to your stomach, taking it all, like a good girl.

Bishop gasped, growling softly, letting go of your hair, his hands resting at his sides on the sofa, his eyes closed. You recovered quickly, lifting your head and releasing his semi-flaccid cock from your mouth with a moan, cleaning your lips with your tongue, completely wet and lubricated by your saliva and your boyfriend’s fluids combined.

“You did great, doll… Now come up here and give me a goodnight kiss.”

You smiled at him with those swollen lips, red cheeks, and teary eyes—that silly grin you wore when he flattered you and gave you another order.

You immediately stood up, sitting on top of him, finding his lips, letting him taste himself in your mouth, moaning and biting your lower lip, moving his hips upward, feeling how wet your underwear was with his cock.

“You got wet just from sucking me off, baby?”

And of course, his teasing came, sooner or later, it always did.

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—I don't want you to fuck me today.

Choso looked at you and nodded, he was so respectful of you whether you wanted something or not that he listened to you like a puppy. He settled down on the bed, looking at you with a smile, while caressing your face.

—It's okay. I love you, good night.

He was going to lay back down until you moved your hand to his chin, he raised his head instinctively and saw your beautiful face close to his. You gave him a kiss, sticking your tongue in his mouth exploring the inside of his mouth, almost instantly he began to pante on your lips, still not touching you, but you were touching him. You separated from his lips, looking at how he looked, he was a mess of panting and his face was red as could be.

—I said I don't want you to fuck me. I didn't say I don't want to fuck you. 

Choso opened his eyes in surprise, looking at you with confusion on his face, you gave him a smile, to kiss him again slowly, feeling his hand move up your arms, and your hand going down to the hem of his sleeveless shirt.

—Let-Let me cum... Please.

Choso panted and moaned desperately, with you in front of him, stroking his cock and playing with his balls. You had used lubricant, but it wasn't necessary due to the amount of precum that was emanating from the head of his cock, squeezing it around your hand slowly but with the perfect fit so that your boyfriend shuddered with each caress.

You watched him clutch at the sheets of the bed, his hips stuttering and his face streaked with tears and drool dripping as he stuck his tongue out in pleasure. He bit his lip, writhing with you on top of him, bucking up when he couldn’t resist anymore and cum in your hand, letting out those beautiful moans that your neighbors would complain about the next morning.

Choso trembled, curling his toes and lying exhausted on the bed, panting exhaustedly and with his torso stained with semen.

—I never said I let you cum. What a shame.

At no point did you let go of his cock, when you went back to stroking it again he moaned and sobbed, covering his mouth and rolling his eyes as you overstimulated him, it was incredible how sensitive he was with just your hands. It would be a long night until you gave him permission to cum, or on the contrary, to leave him dry.

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So, yeah, you met Rue under strange and disgusting circumstances, as a mule, swallowing pellets of fentanyl, with an absurdly high risk of dying.

Because, just imagine it, a single bag of fentanyl, bursting inside you, all your organs starting to rot. It was better to shit yourself until you crossed the border, disgusting, but less embarrassing than looking like a pregnant woman with a stomach full of fentanyl.

But despite everything, Rue was always very kind, she was funny, you talked about stupid things, she talked about her ex-girlfriend, which made you feel a little resentment towards her, but Rue spoke of her as if she were an angel fallen from heaven, as a savior for her, which definitely made you feel sorry for her, seeing how her eyes lit up just at the mention of her name, or hearing that story over and over again about how her ex dumped her at the train station.

You were always there for her, doing drug deliveries, trips, everything. You were always together, because Rue was Rue. She needed supervision one way or another, she needed that support, to talk to a girl her own age. There was Faye, sure, but she was too busy flirting with that damn Nazi Wayne.

And Rue wouldn't say it out loud, but she'd developed a slight attraction to you. I mean, she was crazy about feminine, strong-willed girls, but above all, she loved boobs, and she'd seen them more than once. You were both women, and you'd never judge her for being a lesbian, so you didn't have a problem with her seeing you half-naked.

She remembered every mole, freckle, and mark on your torso, even the size of your breasts, the left one being slightly larger than the right, and she was dying to grab them and leave marks. But you weren't attracted to girls, what a shame.

Despite Rue's lustful desires, you never actually had that conversation, assuming Rue saw you as a friend, just as you saw her—a bond of friendship that left no room for romantic feelings.

One night, Wayne sent you to the outskirts of California, to the mansion of a certain Alamo Brown. He warned you not to screw things up, which made you sigh when Rue told you to come along. Just thinking about the name made you imagine a gangster, covered in rings and with prostitutes dancing for him.

“Don't be nervous, okay? It's just a matter of getting there and leaving.”

Rue was driving, with you in the passenger seat. Her hand moved to your thigh, giving it a gentle pat to ease the tension that was coursing through your body. You shrugged, the fanny pack full of drugs clutched in your hands, staring at the nearly deserted road, listening to the audiobook of the Bible that Rue had suddenly become obsessed with. You rolled your eyes as you smiled softly at her words.

“Yeah, I know, but Laurie never mentioned this guy before… I can’t help feeling a little nervous.”

Rue glanced at you and gently squeezed your thigh before moving her hand to the gearshift. The mansion that was coming into view caught her eye, and she sighed, getting closer and closer to the drop-off location.

Upon arriving, you both noticed the silhouette of a man standing in the parking lot. You muttered under your breath, staring at the man standing like a statue, waiting for them as if he'd been there for hours, making you incredibly nervous.

“You go out.”

You handed her the fanny pack, placing it on her lap. Rue looked at you, slightly nervous, cursing herself, glancing back as the garage door closed, trapping them both inside.

“Okay, let’s do this. Stay here.”

She got out of the car, fanny pack in hand, looking at the man standing in front of her. She handed it to him, and he opened it, looking at the contents. He glanced back at Rue, then at you, making you shrug and smile nervously.

But what seemed like a quick and easy exchange turned into a stomach-churning mess when Rue spoke to him, walking into the mansion without even looking at you. You swore and put a hand to your face.

“This weak bladder…”

You sighed, rubbing your eyes with one hand, looking back at the man in front of you, your gaze locked for what felt like an eternity, feeling sweat begin to form on your back, nerves and anxiety rising through your body.

As minutes, almost hours, passed, you saw that Rue wasn't coming back. You cursed under your breath, leaning your head back on the seat, putting your feet up and closing your eyes, trying not to think so much about time, about how long Rue was taking, about how nervous this whole situation was making you, how Laurie never mentioned Alamo…

You opened your eyes when the window softly rattled, looking out to see the same man with the afro standing in front of the car. You bit your lip before rolling down the window, leaning out and giving him a nervous smile.

“Get out of the car.”

You blinked repeatedly, glancing to the side, searching for Rue. When you didn't see her, you looked back at him.

“Where's Rue?”

“Don't make me repeat myself.”

You swallowed hard before opening the car door and getting out, closing it behind you. Instantly, the man grabbed your arm and made you groan, dragging you inside the mansion, up the stairs, almost pulling you through the hallways, until you reached Alamo's office.

Rue was there. She turned to look at you, biting her lower lip, then back at Alamo. They had made a deal: for taking one of his girls with that supposed fentanyl, Alamo would see if God trusted Rue, and if so, he would give her the chance to work at the strip club with him. Including you.

★

Rue went pale as the bullet struck the apple of her head. You couldn't see, even if you wanted to, standing next to Alamo, who grimaced, followed by Rue's nervous, almost psychedelic laughter. In your mind, you thought it would be better to be shot in the head than to keep carrying fentanyl pellets in your stomach.

But God had faith in you, accepted you, and led you down the same street as Alamo. Unfortunately for you, you had no intention of working at the club, but Alamo definitely had other plans for you.

“I don't think you need a boob job, but maybe a lip injection would do you good.”

And judging by the gold rosary you were wearing, Alamo decided to christen you Mary.

Stupid. Just plain stupid.

“Don't worry, the girls are going to teach you how to pole dance. It'll be easy for a malnourished girl like you.”

★

So… Yeah, right now, you'd be a dancer at the club, with Rue working as your assistant, cleaning, making sure the girls were happy and comfortable—easy.

But not for you.

You'd gotten your lips injected, and you felt like Faye at that moment—all that was missing was some fucking Nazi falling for you.

Luckily, there weren't any Nazis in sight.

You started to connect more with the girls at the club. Angel was surprisingly sweet when you arrived, teaching you everything you needed to know. But it wasn't the same with Magick. She gave you anxiety every time you heard her speak, though despite the disagreements they might have, you had faith they'd get along better.

And Rue? Well, she'd been living the dream life, almost. Breasts everywhere, surgically enhanced butts, girls flocking to her whenever they needed help or drugs. On the other hand, you could swear you saw chemistry between her and Angel; the way they looked at each other was mesmerizing to outsiders, though sometimes Rue seemed to be mesmerized by looking at you.

Rue had even told you how one night, after finishing her shift, she locked herself in Angel's car, moaning and clutching his hair in such desperation. She'd even shown you a small bite mark Angel had left on her thigh, and you laughed when Rue, in her own words, claimed she'd never had a pussy as delicious as Angel's in her life.

“You're disgusting.”

You laughed. You were both in the bathroom. Rue was helping you put on your lingerie. It seemed like a dream for her to see you half-naked every day, a blessing for her, assuming God was on the side of lesbians, because Rue couldn't stop biting her lip when you came out of the bathroom behind her, looking you up and down, cursing under her breath, unable to believe she had such a sexy girl nearby.

And she wasn't the only one who thought that.

Bishop had also become close to you, not because you wanted to, but because Alamo had sent you both on some errands. You weren't sleeping well at night, nor during the day, and you were surprised at how Bishop could keep up with Alamo's orders, how he did everything perfectly, even if he made faces while driving or gripped the steering wheel too tightly. He maintained his composure perfectly.

You were quite the chatterbox, even though you knew Bishop was tired of listening to you. You'd keep recounting all the overwhelming experiences you'd had with Laurie, what it was like living with an addicted dad, how you met Rue—all those things you had to tell during a car ride that lasted, at most, an hour, overwhelming your companion's peaceful mind.

“I mean… I'm over 20. When I was 15, I imagined myself as a wife with kids and a nice house… Maybe I'm not too far from that, but I think it'll take me years to meet a man who wants to be with me.”

Bishop didn't even look at you at that moment; he was just focused on the road, letting out a sigh.

“I agree.”

You frowned slightly, turning your head to look at him, letting out a soft laugh, and putting your feet up on the seat, knowing how much Bishop hated it when you put your feet up on the seat, even if you'd cleaned your shoes—unlike Rue's worn-out Converse.

Your relationship with Bishop was… peculiar. Even at the club, he kept a close eye on you. Assuming you were new, he must have been making sure you were doing your job properly, or that you weren't too foolish to ruin some service Alamo forced you to provide for clients. But even after months of working there, those glances continued, so much so that you were the first to look away, feeling that tension every time you were together.

“You never hooked up with any of the girls at the club? It's strange knowing that Kidd and G sleep with more than one dancer.”

Bishop pretended not to care, but he definitely felt uncomfortable hearing you talk about his colleagues having sex with the club's girls. He knew it, but he hadn't given it much thought. Even if Alamo slept with the girls more than once—in the bar of his mansion, in the office, in practically every corner—hearing it from someone else felt odd.

“I don't have time for that.”

You glanced at him and suppressed a smile, reaching for the car radio, turning on the music, and turning up the volume. “Ain’t No Love In The Heart Of The City” was playing. You leaned your head back in the seat when you heard Bishop’s thumb tapping on the steering wheel. Even though his face was still serious, he loved listening to music while driving. It was as if you’d read his mind.

“I like this song.”

You turned to face him, smiling. He glanced at you and suppressed a smile, hoping his seriousness would stay put.

“Who sings it?”

“Bobby ‘Blue’ Bland.”

Bishop's response was immediate, as if he'd been waiting for you to ask, making you laugh. You'd never seen Bishop so excited to talk about something like this before, even though his face still looked serious and expressionless, maintaining that serenity and air of disinterest.

“I've never heard of him.”

“You will.”

His free hand moved to the gearshift, slightly accelerating. They weren't really in a hurry, but you had to be at the club in an hour, so for Bishop, being on time meant 10 minutes early.

“So... you don't like any of the girls at the club?”

“I never said that.”

“So you do like someone.”

“And you?”

“Rue's the lesbian, not me.”

Bishop stifled a laugh, glancing to the side. You laughed in response, biting your lower lip and shaking your head between soft chuckles.

“So, what do you like?”

You thought for a moment. You didn't really have a specific type, but you'd be lying if you didn't say that no one at the club attracted you physically, even Kidd, though he was the last person on your mind. Then you said…

“What if I say I like you?”

Bishop didn't answer right away. He considered the answer for a moment, then gently turned his head to look at you. His eyes darted up and down, his lips pressed together, and he looked straight ahead again, letting out a sigh.

“I'd be flattered.”

And the last thing you knew, Bishop pulled over to the side of the road. “A quickie,” he said. “Just the tip,” he said…

The car shook, both of you in the back seat, missionary position, your hands on the fogged-up window. It was June, with the heavy California heat; the car was almost unbearable. But with Bishop completely inside you, your walls tightening around him, deliberately around his dick, so swollen with anticipation, his hips moving so desperately against yours, panting and moaning against your neck.

“I’m close…”

Your nails tugged at his unbuttoned shirt, feeling his hands grip your waist tightly, his hand sliding down to your hip, squeezing your skin so hard it made you shudder. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling Bishop all the way in, rubbing his hips against yours, so close to orgasm that his eyes rolled back.

But before he finished, he pulled his dick out of you, almost clumsily climbing on top of you. The space in a Dodge Charger was limited, especially because of the model Bishop had. Even so, his hips pressed against your face, masturbating in your face. Bishop was mesmerized by your lips, fuller than when he first met you, your tongue licking his balls with moans, gripping his hips to keep him close, feeling his hand move to your needy, tearful cunt, caressing your clit, making your legs tremble so much you could barely think.

The first spurts of cum escaped from his dick, staining your face and the car window. He groaned softly, throwing your head back, moving his hand from his dick to your hair, forcing you to keep licking his balls, holding back his orgasm.

Your pussy responded to his fingers, cumming on them, lifting your hips and squeezing your thighs tightly to contain your orgasm, so loud that you moaned so loudly you swore the passing cars could hear you.

When he finished, Bishop settled into the seat next to you, panting, placing your legs on his lap, caressing them to calm the tremors and agitations of your body. You were panting and sighing as if you had run a marathon, gently opening your eyes, wiping the cum from your forehead and bringing it to your lips, looking at Bishop with flushed cheeks.

“We’ll be late.”

Even with those words, Bishop didn't bother to get dressed or adjust himself, nor did he stop stroking your legs.

“Yeah... I'll stay here, sit up front.”

You settled gently into the seat, sitting down and putting on your clothes. At that moment, Bishop realized how much he would miss seeing your titties. Although he saw them every night, he didn't know when the next time he would suck on them would be.

★

“So, you hooked up in his car.”

Rue said, sitting on the sink in the women's restroom, while you were in one of the stalls, flushing and leaving, standing next to her, washing your hands, and glancing at you with a smirk.

You had told her, not that it was specifically Bishop, but that you had an encounter with someone. She assumed it was a client who was going to pay you extra or a temporary boyfriend.

“Yeah, it was… It was pretty good.”

Rue nodded at your words, looking to the side, ignoring the fact that she was getting a little jealous, even though days before she herself had slept with Angel, telling you all about it in detail.

When she turned to look at you, she saw that your thong was a little messy, so she got up from the sink and moved her hands to your hips to straighten the straps. You didn't say anything, because that was Rue's job, to make sure the girls looked good.

“Did he eat your pussy?”

You splashed your hands to get rid of the excess water, glancing at Rue in the mirror's reflection, frowning slightly. You turned your head to look at her, noticing that her hands were still on your hips.

“Why do you want to know?”

You laughed, turning around and leaning against the sink, facing Rue, looking at her with a raised eyebrow and a small smile on your face.

“It was just a quickie.”

You said, turning back around to look at yourself in the mirror, examining your face, picking up the lipstick you'd left there. You had your own dressing room with the other girls, sure, but you always made time to be alone with Rue. This job had created a bit of distance between you, leaving you barely able to talk.

“And did you enjoy it?”

Rue's hands returned to your hips, resting her chin on your shoulder, her thumbs caressing your skin, making you shiver slightly, still watching her in the mirror's reflection.

“I think he enjoyed me.”

“I would have loved to be there.”

“Watching us? Like a voyeur?”

“No… I would have liked to have you.”

Your laughter faded slightly, lowering both hands and placing them against the sink, looking down, watching her thumbs gently squeeze your hip, making you sigh.

“But I've never been with a girl.”

“I can be the first.”

You sighed as Rue began kissing your shoulders, her fingers playing with the straps of your thong, gently pulling it down, waiting for you to stop her, but instead, you parted your legs so Rue could remove it completely. Rue smiled and pulled your thong all the way down, parting your left buttock with one hand, while her fingers moved around your wet slit, moaning against your ear, suddenly inserting two fingers into your cunt without any warning, making you moan, placing your hands on the mirror, leaning forward, closing your eyes as you moaned.

“You’re so wet…”

Rue crouched behind you, her mouth moving softly with kisses down your lower back, reaching your ass, her tongue tracing the tight ring, still sliding her fingers in and out of you, making you tremble. You pressed your cheek against the mirror, almost sitting on the sink, covering your mouth with one hand, hoping no one would come in now.

“R-Rue… Hurry.”

You didn’t know why you didn’t stop her; you just felt her tongue slide down your ass, to your pussy, licking the entrance. Both hands were on your ass, squeezing and playing with it, gently pulling away, standing up, one hand behind you, sliding her fingers back in, while the other gripped your hair, pulling you closer. She pressed her chest against your back, thrusting her fingers in and out of your pussy quickly. It was impossible to hide your sharp moans anymore, escaping with every movement of her fingers as they touched that specific spot inside you.

“I-I’m gonna cum…”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Yeah…”

Rue left her fingers deep inside you, moving them and being squeezed by your walls, commanding them to stay there, deep inside, until your womb felt it needed that release. You came on Rue’s fingers the same way you had with Bishop’s, panting, your hands still on the mirror, watching yourself as you moaned and seeing Rue’s face almost sweaty and flushed, moving her fingers gently to delay your orgasm as long as possible.

★

You both left the bathroom, Rue behind you. You went back to your dressing room as you watched Rue walk away toward the bar where Bishop was, catching his attention, following her with his eyes, which made Rue stop beside him, leaning on the table next to him.

“Alamo was looking for you.”

Rue grimaced, swallowing hard and running a hand over her lips, glancing to the side as she watched you approach one of your regulars, chatting with him with that natural flirtatiousness of yours, smiling, the lip gloss giving your lips that juicy touch, and that smile of yours so sweet and lustful at the same time.

“I’ve been… busy.”

Bishop met your gaze, then looked at Rue, who was smiling at you, and that’s when Bishop understood. He wasn’t the only one. But perhaps, he had been the first.

“Where’s Alamo?”

“Your breath reeks of pussy. Get yourself a drink.”

Bishop placed two twenty-dollar bills on the table, walking away, leaving Rue alone, frowning, raising her hand to her mouth, exhaling her breath and smelling it, letting out a soft sigh, turning to order a drink from the bartender, handing him the bills Bishop had given her.

She should be more discreet next time.

.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ⋆.

He decided to go to your house. He hadn’t been able to see you earlier because he’d been busy, and he mentally berated himself for it, but he had a free moment, and without hesitation, he took his car to come see you.

He had his own key to your front door. Opening it, he found your home: dark, unlit, with no sign that you'd been there. He opened the curtains, dimly illuminating the room, and hung his coat on the rack by the door.

Walking in, he reached your bedroom and found you under the covers, completely covered. There wasn’t a sign of movement from you, so he assumed you were asleep.

He raised the blinds on your window, letting in the midday sun, and looked at you again, seeing you turn over in bed, your back to him. Around the bed, he saw clothes strewn about, dirty mixed with clean ones, all scattered on the floor, frowning slightly at the state you were in.

Without a word, he moved around the room, picking up the clothes and placing them at the edge of your bed. It didn’t matter if you didn’t want him to do this; he would do it anyway, and in fact, it surprised him, because you were very tidy, especially with your own room.

After gathering all the clothes, he set them aside to take them to the wash, approaching and sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at you, reaching out to stroke your hair, moving it away from your shoulder, leaving your neck bare for him.

“Did you eat today?”

Bishop waited patiently for your reply, and you didn’t answer. He leaned over you, noticing your half-open, swollen eyes and the soft trail of tears on your cheeks. He gently pressed his lips together, caressing your shoulder softly, closing the distance to place a kiss on the top of your head.

“I’m going to put the laundry in, then I’ll help you shower, and we’ll get something to eat, okay? There’s still time for breakfast. Do you want waffles?”

Even so, you didn’t answer. You just closed your eyes and turned your head toward the pillows, hiding from him.

Bishop gave your shoulder one last squeeze, then stood up to gather all the laundry, taking it to the room with your washer and dryer. He separated the colored clothes from the whites, leaving the rest in the laundry basket.

All that time, before you distanced yourself, Bishop had noticed strange behavior in you; You seemed distracted, tired, and you’d become colder in every way. He wasn’t the type to show physical affection; you were that kind of person in the relationship. But even when he noticed your distance, he tried to be more affectionate: holding your hand, stroking your hair, kissing you. And yet, he still felt that distance between you.

He would never doubt you, never think you were cheating. If that were the case, he wouldn’t be with you in the first place. He wouldn’t waste his time with someone who wasn’t as interested in him as he was in them. Even so, he felt anguish seeing you increasingly tired and with less appetite.

And he also felt guilty. Guilty that your time together had become scarcer because of both of your jobs, mostly his. You didn’t work together; he didn’t want to see you fall into his chaotic world, something he knew you wouldn’t be able to handle. You had completely different jobs, but even so, he felt you complemented each other perfectly, to the point that he’d already planned to propose.

While the laundry was doing, he went to the bathroom, turned on the shower, and filled the tub with hot water. Sitting on the edge, he saw you appear in front of the door. It didn’t matter if you looked tired, hadn’t showered, or were depressed; he always looked at you with eyes full of longing and affection, so much so that he was surprised by how deeply you had captivated him.

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

He instantly stood up from the edge of the tub and walked toward you. His hands immediately fell on your shoulders, giving you a comforting squeeze, then moved up to your cheek, gently caressing it. His eyes were fixed on you, but yours weren't on him. You looked down, ashamed and sad, still with that distance between you that he couldn’t quite bridge.

“Let me help you, darling.”

His hands grasped yours, guiding you toward the bathtub. He made you raise your arms to remove your shirt, letting it fall to the floor, then lowered his hands to your hips, removing your pants and underwear.

His eyes traveled from your face to your naked body. He had seen you naked countless times before, but your body looked different in that moment.

He took both your hands, leading you into the tub, rolling up his shirt sleeves as he watched you sit, drawing your knees up and resting your head on them. Bishop crouched beside the tub, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your back, guiding you to bend down so he could wet and wash your hair.

As Bishop bathed you, he heard your nose sniffing. He guessed you had a runny nose from crying so much, perhaps even from crying before he arrived.

★

After you finished showering, he took your hands to help you up and out of the bath, your feet touching the cold tile. He wrapped a clean towel around your shoulders, cupped your face in his hands, and lifted your head so you would look at him.

“Shall we have breakfast? Or would you like lunch?”

Bishop stroked your cheeks with his thumbs, patiently waiting for your answer. Soon, he heard you let out a soft sob, closing your eyes and lowering your head slightly.

“I want to stay.”

Bishop narrowed his eyes. He understood that you weren’t in the mood to go to public places, that you preferred to stay home where you felt safe, and if that’s what you wanted, so be it. He nodded immediately, bending down slightly so you would look at him, giving you a small smile, and running his hands over your forehead to wipe away the water droplets that trickled from your hair.

“I’ll get you some clothes and dry your hair.”

★

Bishop’s fingers ran through your hair as he dried it. You were sitting in front of your bedroom mirror, while he stood behind you. The sheets were removed from your bed; you were dressed in clean, comfortable clothes. He had ordered food for both of you, and even though you hadn’t asked if you wanted waffles for breakfast or pasta for lunch, he had ordered both.

The hairdryer was turned off once your hair was completely dry. He combed it and applied the conditioner you used to care for your hair. You had been neglecting your hair lately; you didn’t even have the energy or desire to do something as simple as that, but Bishop was more than happy to do it, always leaving a kiss on your shoulder.

“We’re finished.”

He stroked your hair and reached out to hold your hand, looking at it for a moment, noticing how the cuticles on your fingers were torn off, so much so that red marks and dried blood were visible at the corners of your nails.

“Look, I know I’m not a perfect boyfriend, I know I’m distant with you, I don’t show love the way you want…”

His eyes returned to yours.

“But I’ll never put work or my responsibilities before you. You’re my top priority.”

His grip on your hand tightened as he knelt beside you, placing his hands on your thighs, caressing your skin in soft, comforting circles. His gaze was tired and relaxed, yet still attentive to what was happening, especially when it came to you, his precious partner.

“Now let’s go to the living. Lunch will be here soon, okay?”

He looked into your eyes, with that longing and pleading feeling that you believe his words, that you trust his promises and comfort. Bishop had an unyielding temper, but when it came to you, he was so gentle he swore he’d melt when your warm hands touched his icy ones, releasing lovestruck sighs that no one else could elicit.

“Okay.”

You smiled at him, leaning in to kiss him on the lips, your lips melting into his. Bishop had forgotten the last time he’d kissed you so intimately and tenderly, his hand moving up so his fingers caressed your jaw, parting with just the touch of your noses, your breaths mingling. And it was there, where the pain and depression still lingered, but you forgot them with a single act of love from your boyfriend, so sweet it could banish the sadness, and you’d never cry from pain or loneliness again in your life, because he would always be there.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀｡ ˚ ︶︶ꔫ︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶ꔫ︶︶‌ ｡˚

It was a shame he couldn't change your attitude, and your playing dumb was pushing him to the limit.

He knew you wouldn't change, so he would discipline you.

“B… Please… I said I won’t do it again…”

Right now, your hands were tied to the headboard with one of his ties, your legs spread and trembling, Bishop standing between them, fully clothed, watching the vibrator he’d bought you for your discipline fully inserted into your pussy. He was forcing you to wear your panties so the vibrator wouldn’t slip out, his hand pressing on your stomach, making you cry and try to close your legs, only to be stopped by Bishop’s hand gripping the inside of your knee, almost bending you, the vibrator at full power, stretching your inner walls. Your eyes were rolled back, your lips swollen and smeared with lipstick, being pushed to the limit until you couldn’t take any more, or perhaps, until your boyfriend got bored, which would be difficult.

“I don’t believe you.”

Bishop's fingers pressed against your lower belly, feeling that gentle pressure, the kind you feel when you hold back your pee, making you cry and writhe between sobs.

He loved how you cried between moans, loved overstimulating you and making you dizzy, leaving you drunk with pleasure, playing with your body as if it were a stress reliever, slapping your tits, your nipples so sensitive they felt like they were burning, with so much pain that it excited you, made you want to break free from the grip that held you captive, and suck your boyfriend's cock, wishing he would stop making you suffer with such pleasure and forget the way you looked at other men in his presence.

Your hips trembled and you squeezed so tightly around the vibrator, it was painful to a certain extent, wanting to break free from all that pleasure, but without Bishop's permission, it was useless. It was useless to deny your subtle infidelity. Even though you never slept with, kissed, or exchanged photos with other men, that desire was there. And if Bishop didn't bring it out this way, if you didn't remember the times Bishop made you cum around his cock while his hand encircled your neck and he whispered in your ear, he would force you to remember until you fainted and begged for mercy.

“I can’t… I can’t anymore, I’m sorry…”

You arched your back, cumming for the third time that night, the vibrator sliding out of you, but Bishop was faster, thrusting it back in, squeezing it until it was deep inside you again, making you scream and sob, scratching at his tie and spitting out insults and apologies, oblivious to your words, because all you could think about in that moment was how Bishop was taking advantage of the situation, how he was suppressing smiles and giving you light pats on the ass, squeezing your belly again and refusing to stop.

An endless cycle, which would lead you to never even look at another man again, having you right where Bishop wanted you, where Bishop knew you belonged to him, and him alone.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀｡ ˚ ︶︶ꔫ︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶ꔫ︶︶‌ ｡˚