Elle: Lust and Lies

Elle: Lust and Lies Elle: Lust and Lies

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


Lust...lies...and beautiful sex.....................


Lust...lies...and beautiful sex.....................


Submitted: March 18, 2015

A A A | A A A


Submitted: March 18, 2015



I can’t tell him. No, I cannot do that. I ought supposed not to be doing this. But I have no other choice. As I look straight and deeply into his eyes, I reassure and bolster myself up that I have no other choice than to pull off this. Yes! This is the only way out; I need that money real bad and seriously. I mean it—so, I have to go on with this whether I like it or not.


“You have not told me anything about yourself, or have you? I mean if you by this time had, then I probably was not hearing or paying any attention to you,” Doug says this to me, calm and mild faced. Damn it! What exactly do I have to tell him as regards myself? The whole truth? Or mere and sheer and downright lies? Of course, the truth certainly has to do but it must be carefully chosen and weighed up and uncomplicated too.


As I smile fleetingly and brusquely, Doug blankly and expressionlessly glances right at me, serious and tight-lipped. I state out, “My story is a sad and painful one to some degree and extent. But yes, there are some good and sweet things involved in it. Otherwise it will be all a hopeless and horrid case, don’t you agree so yourself, mister?”


Doug rolls him eyes in a twinkling flash and asks me, “Tell me those gloomy things first.” The tone of his voice is demanding and authoritative. Is he masochistic or solely acting this way because of the stacks of money that he has shelled out to me? What exactly? I only wonder……………


“The saddest thing is that I didn’t want to do this thing…prostitution I mean. I found myself in this snare abruptly and unwillingly—” he interrupts and butts in at me:


“A snare? Why do you call it a snare? Explain clearly on that one please.”


“Let’s just say that it is my late mother that got me involved and started in this whole thing. Yes; it was by coercion and violent threats what’s more. If I was not going to become just like her, I was going to be helplessly and pitiably left all on my own, vulnerable to every other bad misfortune and defenseless.”


“She must have been an evil and highly wicked woman then. I mean; I can’t imagine any mother forcing her daughter to be doing this kind of business, much less when she herself is deeply engaged and rooted in it. And you said that she was a prostitute herself, right?”


“Yes. I’d rather prefer to have you call I myself by that name—‘prostitute’—than to attribute and hand it over to her. Say something else like Lady of The Night. It is much better and tolerable. You hear me, Doug?”


“Sure, Elle!”


“It was not my mother’s choice that she become a streetwalker of a whore herself. All she made known to me was that it was my very own father who had lured her into doing these things. She assured and assuaged me that he was a very wicked and sinister man. Not herself.”


“And how did he lure her into this…kind of venture?”


“I don’t exactly know. She did not relate anything pertaining that to me.”


“Fine; I will stop here since you seem like relating your life legend and history to me happens to hurt and torment you so very much. Anyway, that is not why I had you come here with me in the first place. But for a starter, just to see how good and excellent you are at…sex…I will undo my zip so you can suck and lick up my dick.”


“Right here, you mean?” Even my eyes are astound and opened wide and gawping and staring about in shock.


“Yes; right here, this moment even,” he declares and states out to me. I assign him an obliging nod and then bend and arch myself down towards his slacks. He quickly undoes and loosens open his zip and fly, and having accomplished this, I lean myself down towards his thighs all the more steadily and quickly and readily. Once he has pulled and withdrawn out his penis, toying and caressing it about with his hand, and with I myself sniffing and smelling it gleefully and merrily, I go on to take and swallow it in my mouth in its whole entirety and fullness. People are swarmed and dancing and jiving all bout us. No one cares to notice. Maybe the barman himself who is right close and near to us. But as the music is too loud and noisy, I hear him sing and mime something to himself—composedly and calmly sort of.


“Yes, girl; just like that; yes, that is how it is supposed to be done,” Doug bleats and moans out to me, all happy and glad and cheerful and content. “Good girl, Elle. Go on with it; go on with it, baby.”


I do like he tells me to. As I bend and stoop and bow myself downwards and steadily towards him, he bleats and whines and mumbles something out to himself all the louder and happier and satisfied. I stir and budge and whisk the head of his penis to the edges and corners and ends of my mouth. He is very much pleased and delighted. He taps and swats my back with his hand and grins down at me gleefully and blissfully when I stare up at him immediately, assuring and convincing me that I am just in the right track. I am really encouraged and this I proceed on with the sucking and lapping on of his dick.


Then he releases the powerful and strong streams and oozes straight into my mouth. They bash and thump my tongue and smear it, proceeding to drip and trickle down. Submissively and obediently, I swallow and slurp it all down my dry and parched throat, which gets wet and dripping damp and moistened right this very instant. The feeling is pleasant…and heavenly too! Wouldn’t you do the same if you were in my shoes? I dunno!


At this note in time, Doug stops me from sucking his dick any further. He is quite pleased and content and gratified with my performance and undertaking itself. How do I surely know this? It is simple and basic straight forward. I discover and unravel this in the manner and style that he groans and bleats out. Like one who has just returned back to his senses after a revel and pleasure in sweeter-most adventures and undertakings. Whatever………


As I lift and heave myself up, I wipe and scour away from my face that semen and jissom of his that is trickling and flowing down steadily and painstakingly cautious. I look around. The barman has got his gaze and eyes fixed and stationed right at us. He does not look away. I feel embarrassed and guilt-stricken, but then there is nothing to be really shy and flinching about here, or is there? I don’t certainly think so. Damn him for it!


Doug pays him the bill and faces me as I close and seal up his zip and fly for him. He announces to me, “We have to get going, Elle baby. Right away that is.”


“No problem,” I say back calmly and composedly.


Doug’s car is lavish and expensive and extravagant. It is a Ford Lightning Alba that has got only capacity to accommodate three people—two in the very front and the other last one behind us. The seat that is behind is the one extensively extravagant and luxurious. How come? It is noticeably elevated than the front ones, and its design and shaping and fashion is tremendously first-rate and majestic-like and trendy and eye-catching. I love it simply for what it is and this is just it and nothing more.


Once we are streaking and jetting on the empty road, Doug puts some music on and starts to sing on the lyrics and verses of the particular song. He has got such a wonderful voice; tenor-like, slightly bass, and a little bit soprano-noted. Wow! I wonder why he is not doing solo or banding up with the others. I only wonder….I only conjecture and think things up……only…………


We finally and at long last make it to his house. It is lonesome and surrounded by high, towering trees by the forest side—all quiet and soundless and well-mannered. Well, I know you might be wondering if it is appropriate to query whether a house can be well-mannered or not. The truth is that it definitely and surely can be. Of course!


Doug steadily parks and then we get inside the house. My, my! It is lavish and attractive-looking and fanciable and neat and impeccable in taste and class and appearance inside here. Surely! I cannot stop looking and marveling about every corner that I possibly and easily can get my eyes to wander to. After we have entered, there walks and parades toward us a woman;  undeniably giant weighted or flab, and nice-looking, with blazing flame red hair, and white olive skinned. She is impeccable and fantastic looking in her dark brown skirt suit. Doug then introduces her to me, “This is Lana, the housekeeper here; Lana, please meet this woman, Elle.”









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