1. West Coast Games - Part Two: The Free Fall


    Date: 8/11/2015, Categories: Fiction, Author: LushStories, Rating: 90, Source: sexstories.com

    priority. He’s trying to book me for things that really aren’t my style.” “Maybe you have to work your way up to that. I mean, get in with the right people, show you’re dedicated, that you’ll be there on time and work with the clients.” “I’m not going to be a sell out,” she insisted. “There’s far too many of those types already.” Her modeling jobs were scant and the casting calls she went on became more and more of a rarity. She was certainly pretty and charming enough to compete on that circuit but she was undisciplined, preferring the beach and surfing to returning calls from her agency and following up on job opportunities. Roxy would happily wake up at 5 a.m. for dawn patrol at the beach but she’d roll over and push the snooze alarm for an early morning appointment. She was usually still naked and tangled in the sheets by the time I’d showered, put on my suit and was heading to the office. Money was an obvious issue, but she was clever about maximizing her opportunities. She would borrow my credit card to get groceries on the weekends and then slip in a little binge shopping, which she then blamed on me if I got angry with her. She was bored. What was she supposed to do in between playing my ‘maid’ and ‘sex slave’? In reality she wasn’t any of those things. I didn’t want to remind her of the charges for house cleaning I’d found cleverly billed under a different name. She would just turn things around and claim I didn’t trust her, trying to bait me into another argument. ...
    When I did yell back, she’d use those moments of guilt as a deflection to pilfer bills from my wallet without having to be accountable for it. In a way, she was a fool to think I hadn’t noticed that. And in more important ways, I was an even bigger fool for not addressing it. Roxy knew the way to appease me and keep me under her spell. She would push me down on the bed, milking my cock with that exquisite pussy. My hands would slide into her hair as she leaned over me, letting me watch the rise and fall of her breasts as she bounced her thighs against my hips. “You wanna fuck me, don’t you? Punish me for being such a bad girl, Leo. Fuck knows, I deserve it.” She’d goad me, looking to provoke a reaction. It was almost like if she worked me up into anger and when I finally let it out, it would be a kind of fair penance in return. I would have been resistant to such self-destructive motives if there wasn't this little hitch that kept me intrigued. I began to realize that it wasn’t just that she wanted to pacify me or make things right between us after an argument or confrontation - she genuinely got off on it. There was something that came alive in her when she’d push me past my breaking point and the passion got really rough. It wasn't punishment anymore. It had started to become our natural way of communicating. She would draw my hands around her own neck, squeezing my knuckles until I held them there. She would ride and pump my cock like a piston, until screams were in her ...
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