Webcams and Sexstories

Read Real Personal and fictional Sex Adventures and Get Webcam Shows

Skip to: Content | Sidebar | Footer

Recent Posts
Recent Comments
    Personals Adultfriendfinder Videos

    Join Hot Webcam Girls and Couples

    Hookup Tonight with Hot Girls, Guys and Couples Free Click here

    Another Prize for Bratten

    26 January, 2018 (13:14) | Interracial Sex Stories | By: Webcams and Sexstories

    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

    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

    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

    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

    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

    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

    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

    Pola again moaned loudly, as another orgasm overtook

    She turned to the younger woman and began to kiss her
    mouth passionately. Her chocolate-cr�me 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

    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

    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

    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

    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.

    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

    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

    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
    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

    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

    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

    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

    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

    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


    Write a comment