Gimme a Tequila

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Paulina was having a party with the people she met on the beach. She didn’t care how much damage she did to the assets of house, or the new Mercedes, or the murals hanging on the wall, or any of the other possessions they may have once shared. Those things were now like her heart, her mouth, her liver or her sweet, rounded ass, or the smooth, well-trimmed pussy he loved watching, licking or fucking: up for grabs. What mattered at that moment was that she needed another goddamn drink, and swigged from the bottle of Sauza with a vengeance. A promise of a sexual treat tempted the bartender from the Hilton into coming down and with the cash she gave him, opening up, icing down and mixing everything her guest asked for. Julio’s eyes and senses blurred and horny with the thought of creating a pleasure zone of lust and passion with the sexy woman asking for all he could give her.

In the corners, more people were moving, grinding, or fucking, legs high, toes pointed, and gasp of lust and pleasure rolled about on each other. Now the room of dancing, lost, drunken people getting off on each other was rising to a zenith of total pleasure and exhaustion. But the smiles they have will be immeasurable.

And yet all she could think about was the man not there.

For Paulina, another drink in her hot, slick throat and for him, the absent him, another different woman, one he shouldn’t have or touch.


She began his day with the promise of lust to come, sitting on a settee, high heels adorning her small, delicate feet. A serape they’d gotten on a trip to Cancun and her tight, ass-gripping boy shorts that let her firm, round cheeks peek out of the back of them were his morning wake-up before heading for work in Miami. Paulina’s honey-brown and blonde hair waved over her twinkling, wanton gaze as she leaning back on the edge of the cushion, smiling with her Chanel lipstick touched by the overhead lights and the shimmer exasperated by the morning light slipping through the drapes and into the room. She loved morning for the delight of either being mouth-fucked or ridden orally and fingered, used and enjoyed, his personal kept fucktoy. Paulina knew what he’d like, her on the settee, her hair in his fingers, his zipper open and a cock hard and wet with her saliva, hot pink lips wrapped around like a kiss of life, making his manliness harder, thicker, fatter, the balls moving with her stroking, loving tongue. Within a few seconds of lust and wonder, he’d begin fucking her mouth in earnest, groaning and rolling his hips, his cock slipping along her throat and his balls slapping her chin. Then her cheeks were deflating and rising, hollow and eyes glimmering as she felt his excitement ravishing her mouth and pumping his hips like mad, growling aching to feel his release hitting her throat.


That wasn’t this moment as the speakers moved with the song by Daddy Yankee pulsing through the group, making the wild people wearing bikini bottoms and heels, soft tans, and warm, smooth young sleek bodies. She may have met them on the beach, but she only chose the nicest-looking people or the really wild extroverts to invite… for now. If nothing else she’d fuck all the good-looking men before her conceit collapsed with a bottle of rum in her stomach and cruising through her mind and body, letting her fuck anything in that need for revenge.


One day he’s going to miss having her boy-shorts around one thigh, wadded up and his fingers stroking the downy, manicured pussy lips, smooth away from the blonde-brown landing strip, a half-inch shy of being completely bald. Paulina loved his cock bracing against his tension, her mouth his pit of passion as she lay on her back, rolling and grinding as his fingers slipped over her clit, stroking it in circles, her head bobbing like mad. She ached to be used like that, or like her previous memory, just because her want was to taste, to savor, to drink his passion in a gulping reflex of her throat, having him fucking her mouth just because he could and she wanted it done to and for her.

After today all that may soon be gone from his touch.

Soon her boy-shorts would be wadded up on the floor, sticky with her juices. Her halter-top would be lost, soaking in tequila and wet kisses from anyone aching to touch their hostess. Paulina knew her heels would be up in the air, wrapped around someone’s neck, shoulders or back. The house would be a wreck and there could be no turning back from being turned out or used by anyone or everyone. All she had she was willing to give after the spectacle today.

Earlier today, Paulina wore a micro-mini skirt that clung to her asscheeks; heels higher than usual, very stripper-esque, no bra (or thong for that matter) on her 34-C’s and a blazer that draped her all-over tan. She knew the staff always saw the entrance, their eyes staring too hard sometimes; some of the security guards staring wishing Paulina could be their fucktoy. Avoiding the şişli escort bayan boredom of their eyes she would easily bypass them in her almost-indecent outfit by taking a side stairwell. It would open on his floor, using just a hidden key and saving her the staring eyes. She could make him happy, fucking him on his desk, setting aside his paperwork, soundproof as she might have moaned in total bliss, riding his cock and wiggling like a bitch in heat, letting him cum in or on her if he so pleased.

Or at least that was the plan.

When the door moved softly with the hydraulic lever, Paulina knew it would be a surprise, but not what she expected. Instead, there was his young, cute secretary on her knees, her business suit open, her tremendous, ripe, double-D breast wrapped over his cock, her stomach rubbing his balls, full and hairy. Her eyeglasses slipped down onto the end of her nose and she was licking and sucking the tip of his cock, making his head loll back in total ecstasy, making him moan as he leaned into the seat. He was groaning as his knees held her arms up, her hair in his fingers, his growls lustier than she could have imagined for the working girl on her knees with the over-sized tits slapping his dick like mad. Unexpectedly, Paulina’s nipples began tingling under the satin lining of the blazer and her well-wetted and trimmed pink pussy drooling juices like mad out of her.

‘No wonder he slipped out before touching me’ she thought.

Trembling, lifting the camera phone, Paulina smiled a tear on her eye and snapped a picture of the secretary sucking his cock, licking his hairy, rounded balls, banging her mouth with his pumping hips using her like a well-oiled, juicy fuck machine with teeth. She knew seeing his face and driving her own tongue deeper under his cock would be all she could have hoped for, and in such an indecent outfit, was now a waste of time and effort.

Down the stairwell she was lost in the oblivion of pleasure of watching that cock she loved being sucked by another lesser woman, a per-hour slut that needed a raise or promotion, letting the boss fuck her tits and mouth. Paulina stopped on the private stairwell, leaning on the rail, bending at the waist seeing him in her minds’ eye, fucking that young secretary’s mouth deeper and faster. For days like this she obviously never wore a thong, so she slipped her fingers under the hemline and began strumming her clit to the beat of her heart and the hallucinations of recalling her lover tit-fucking his sluttish secretary. The aural hallucination let Paulina imagine hearing the cry of pleasure as he came on her body and face, his stick semen shooting like a cannon out of the tip of his cock, arcing onto her blushing hot cheeks and licking, hungry lips. The secretary was going to work hard for the raise, and Paulina felt her own fingers touching and stroking her clitty like mad, moaning at the overwhelming shame and pleasure of her voyeuristic inclination. His quickie turned into her pleasure, as she knelt down, fingering her pussy with one hand and rubbing her clit furiously with the other as the pounding caress of her impending orgasm swam over her body like a dolphin on the waves. A few more seconds in the private stairwell and she could feel her fingers drenched, soaked with the splash of juices as she imagined the secretary sucking and licking his cock clean. Then his smile would touch her eyes, making her feel as if she’d conquered the world by making her boss cum like a trapped man losing his pride and senses. Had there been another camera with her in the stairwell, she would have told her lover what she thought of him and his typing whore. Sadly, all Paulina could do was dust off her knees, shake her long beautiful mane of chestnut brown hair, lick her fingers clean, roll the micro-mini back over her asscheeks and smooth pussy, and winced in heartbreak. Wiping the tears from her eyes with the same fingers she had just licked clean to pleasure herself, Paulina began checking her appearance, closed angling bosom-baring blazer and descended the stairwell.

Then she remembered the camera-phone and the image trapped on it.

Standing, dusting her knees once more, she smiled, rolled the hem back down over her perfect apple-ass and moved clicking down the stairs and out to the street, no matter how noticeable her slightly disheveled and tussled hair may look to the passing eye. Deep down inside, what mattered is that she came, and was going to cum multiple times tonight. And tomorrow, and the day after that.

So Paulina knew she had to have a party.

And the party had to be today. No, she’d wait for her revenge… until tonight.

Within minutes she had her heels took her across the street, clicking over the marble floor of the Hilton hotel, walking past the incredulous stares. The tourist and the locals all seemed to love her long legs and sultry heels, her micro-mini hidden under the hem escort istanbul of the tailored double-breasted blazer, and her attitude. She glared at the leering eyes from behind her Gucci sunglasses, seeing that she wasn’t she wasn’t just his whore, but his cheating made her just any whore. And if that were the case, she would be one; the best money could not buy. Some men leered and smiled as if she could be rented for a lapdance or just because she was attired in a revealing outfit. The flash of her smile and a wave of her head, and she showed them she was too good for them.

Way too good to be bought with mere money; her currency was mutual lust, desire and total abandonment. At the moment she felt bankrupt, but knew deep inside the smooth lips and jiggling breast with tingling nipples and wetted lips under her micro-mini, that this feeling wouldn’t last long.

She needed to be filled. Repeatedly.

The bartender was a clean-cut named Julio, dark skin with black hair and steely eyes, smiling with a gleam as his broad shoulders leaned over the surface: “What can I get you today miss?”

“Dos Equis” she replied, “and a shot of Sauza.”

“Lime and salt?”

“No”, she said. “If that were necessary I’d ask for a margarita.”

Julio chuckled, grabbing and tossing the bottle top behind him, letting it clatter on the floor, ringing as he placed it and a frosted mug next to her. A swing of his broad arms and shot of tequila hit the bottom of the small glass. “Anything else pretty lady?”

Paulina sighed, smiling devilishly, leaned over the counter, pressing her arms close to her bosom, creating a cleft of cleavage and breathed softly: “How’d you like a blowjob for tending bar at my place for a few hours tonight?”

“Sure. I clock out in a couple of hours.”

A fast scribble and her leaning over the bar kept the patrons peeking at the micro-mini’s hemline rising; her asscheeks and closely shaved mound would have been peering back at them. “Here’s the address and $500 dollars. Be there by 7pm or I’ll come back here and give you something you won’t like as much…”

A kiss on the cheek, a wink, and she sauntered out of the bar with a belly full of booze instead of man-juices and she continued strolling to the Mercedes in the valet parking out of the business office where he worked. A fast stride and motion and she was moving back to her ocean side mansion and sat at her computer, downloading the camera phone image from her account to a picture program. Opening the file with a chance to add text, she smiled seeing her lover stilled as he tit-fucked the secretary. She watched the secretary smile as she licked his cocktip and relished how her boss was smiling and aching to cum. Delight would be etched on his face and in his thick cock jutting from between her double-D breast.


His e-mail sounded on his computer downtown. He was smiling and watching as the attachment opened, showing him the infidelity he had committed earlier with his secretary. Atop the picture was a caption that said all he knew he had lost her for the moment:

Don’t come home tonight. Call me Sunday and maybe we can start over on Monday. Spend this weekend fucking your whore secretary and see if it was worth losing me. — P

This meant shopping. A new suit for Friday and some casual clothes for the weekend; he’d tell his associates he needed a place at the Mariott Hotel for the time being since he didn’t want to drive out of the city for meeting his ‘clients’. He was still thinking about the cock sucking secretary and those amazingly tremendous breasts. Maybe getting rid of her would be worth the loss of a few items in the mansion…


The party was underway by 7:00 p.m. as the sun peaked and rolled back, moving and keeping the humidity but taking a few degrees with it. She smiled; dancing and wiggling like mad in a boy-cut bikini bottom, her ankle-strap heels and her halter-top already wet with salt water and rum, beer or tequila. The gourmet take-out trays were dug into, food and music filling the house as the pretty people she found crept into the hallways and along the rooms, over the furniture and like a coat of paint, settling in everywhere. She smiled bundling her hair over the center of her head, swapping swigs of tequila with Julio, pouring a limitless amount of booze on his chest and kissing him with a lime in her mouth, then letting him suck the salt off her finger and down his throat. Julio just kept smiling and swinging his hips to the beat of the music: Thalia, Daddy Yankee, Juanes, Pilar Montenegro, and anything with a great beat to shake your body to, wiggle, or make-out as the songs played was playing.

She was the good hostess, smiling and caressing people like mad, touching bellies, cupping asscheeks in her hands, manicured nails stroking the thighs and feeling the smooth spine and skin, kissing everyone, male and female alike, deeply with lots of tongue escort taksim and groping. She never knew another woman’s touch previously. But now she hungered for it. A manly chest crushing her breast, smooth or hairy, or a woman pressing her full bosom to hers, cupping her cheeks in manicured nails, caressing her in the lusty touch of Sappho; she wanted it all. She was drowning in affections, people seeking mutual satisfaction, wanting her, needing her, aching to touch, kiss, grope, feel, or finger their hostess. A few brave people caressed her, grinding against her body as she giggled or gave body shots, or slipped booze from her mouth into theirs’, tongues dipping over each other and music helping the people lose more of their inhibitions as well as more clothing. She smiled, walking around, holding a camera, filming or taking pictures between swigs and shots, kisses and hugs, pats on the ass, and someone still trying to fondle a camel-toe between her thighs. That guy – Or was it a girl? – kept getting pushed away for the moment. She couldn’t cum again after her pleasure on the stairwell, moaning and whimpering on her fingers. She needed more to feed the new voyeuristic delight of watching others fucking and riding like mad. And she was much to busy being a good hostess.

For the moment anyway…

Her camera slipped between circles of beautiful, sexy women groping a very handsome African-American muscleman licking pussy like it would be his last meal. They kept reaching under his brushing hand, groping the elephant truck of a cock between his legs, the head almost on the floor as he continued eating out a naked pale blonde heiress that somehow entered the party. She was naked and loving his delights in her wet smooth cunt, the downy hairs his path to her perfect pink lips. Other women were kissing his back, his ears, stroking the dickmeat, fondling the full, round balls and pushing a wetted tongue up his ass. She zoomed in on several fingers gripping and playing with their own clitties and fingering their own pussies like mad, fingers riding and grinding like mad as they continued watching the black and white couple expressing their lust for each other on the couch in front of them.

Then Paulina moved to find two frat boys riding a hot young woman, pumping a cock into her wet shaved pussy, bending the dickmeat as it slammed mercilessly inside her sweet hot cunt. The other was riding her face, fucking up and down into her mouth, watching her losing her mind and willing the cock deeper down her throat as his pal continued banging away. All three people were being cheered like mad as the room shouted and the many spectators jacked off or fingered themselves before finding someone to help them achieve their own orgasms.

Now as the booze flowed and she gave them access to the mansion, she saw topless women having their nipples licked and sucked, the two men being jacked off by her rapid hands. In a bedroom, one young redheaded slut with a no tan lines or a bikini was doing shots of Absolut before sucking man after man off, five or more in a circle around her, using her, and wearing her bikini on their shoulders. Her body glowed of her not wearing a bikini very often, the bronze color interrupted occasionally by the sticky remains of the previous splash of jism she took on her face or her thick fat nipples and firm round breast. Her breast jiggled, thick hard nipples tipping the firm rounded breast and men reaching down as her cheeks hollowed and breathed on cock after cock. Their cock size and personal color a non-issue for she had the ability to make a hole in the back of her head appear so she could suck them deeper, down to the root. Her tongue kept licking the underside, touching their balls and feeling their veins in the corner of her mouth bouncing, aching to shoot their wad on her face and leave her that much stickier. She smiled every time someone jacked off or had her cheeks ballooning when the load was too much for her hungry mouth, through it wasn’t very often and she was glad the men loved this talent. Again, in the corners, more people were moving, grinding, or fucking, legs high, toes pointed, and gasp of lust and pleasure rolled about on each other. Now the room of dancing, lost, drunken people getting off on each other was rising to a zenith of total pleasure and exhaustion. But the smiles they will have will be immeasurable.

As hostess, filming the delirious debauchery, she kept losing herself in the total bliss of seeing her guest happy. She filmed and sought out every frame on her digital camera and on the 8mm DVD camera. This would be something to remember.


It was now night time, and she was tired. There were countless cartridges of filmed action between every area of physical interaction possible. Anything and anyone willing to be opened, licked, penetrated and enjoyed repeatedly was captured on Super 8mm, filmed for her personal delight and memory. It must have been about 4:10 a.m. when she realized that the party was done and people had left, fled or escaped from her den of debauchery. There was a scattering of men’s shorts and women’s panties were slipping out of the seat cushions, from between the liquor bottles or under the deli trays now lifeless and crumb-latent.

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