A Sugar Daddy’s Secret Read online

  I couldn’t take my mind off that mysterious patron I had met the other night at the exposition. The way he peered into my eyes nearly made me faint. I felt his hands roving up and down my body. I wanted to paint him, every muscle bulging in his powerful body. He could crush all my previous boyfriends. What had I been missing up to this point? What was I thinking? I looked around my apartment at the stacks of art books, the empty paint cans scattered everywhere, brushes, easels lying on the floor. I looked out my window onto the street below. How would I ever grow if I stayed in this city? I couldn’t even afford to pay the rent. And now I had no one to help me. I knew this wouldn’t be the last time I found myself in such a difficult situation.

  What if that mysterious man became my patron? What if he made me an offer that I couldn’t refuse? He could possibly be the man I had dreamed of: a man to whisk me away and help support me as an artist. But maybe I was falling back into the same trap. I felt my body aching for him. I wanted him inside my swelling cunt.

  ***

  That night I stayed on the couch sipping red wine, eating potato chips and flipping through the channels.

  “Bang, bang.!”

  A powerful fist banged on the front door.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s me, James.”

  Why the fuck was he coming back? Even though I was drunk, I knew that I shouldn’t have let him in, but I did anyway. He slammed me up against the wall, then got down on his knees and thrust his head between my legs. His tongue was hungrier and more passionate that in had ever been. He was usually such a lazy pussy licker—the kind of guy who did just enough to merit a blowjob. But this was different. He tongue fucked my clit, slurped up my juices. He jammed two fingers in and out of my swelling pussy. He took the two fingers out and sucked on them. I threw my head back and closed my eyes. He thrust the two fingers into my asshole. I gasped. He worked the fingers deep inside me. We fucked passionately for the next three hours, then passed out in each other’s arms.

  I woke up the next morning with only my panties on. My mouth was dry from all the alcohol and cigarettes from the night before. My body ached from the intense fucking James had given me. I rolled over, reached out for his lean muscular torso. The other side of the bed was empty. I looked at my phone: three messages. I tapped the screen. They were from James. I froze. My heart sunk. I couldn’t believe what I was reading. He was really leaving. He had just come back for one last fuck, and a good fuck it was. After three years, three years of making promises and plans for the future. He couldn’t even wait until the morning to tell me to my face. What an asshole.

  I got into the shower and let the warm water stream down my body. As the water came down, I began crying, then sobbing uncontrollably as I remembered everything that I thought we would build together. How could he leave me like this? It was all over. Everything I was afraid of was coming true.

  As the water streamed down on my body, I began to relax and fantasize. I imagined Thomas, wrapping his hands around my neck, squeezing me, pressing his hard dick into my back, smacking it against my ass. Twice my size, he could crush me if he wished. I imagined him pulling me by the hair, kissing my neck, then cupping my breasts, sucking on the hard nipples as my fingers rove up and down his chiseled body. Every one of his muscles glistened with water. I felt my pussy tingling, aching, opening, hungry for his strong cock. It was the most muscular cock that I had ever seen—so strong and thick with huge veins running through it. He could impale with it, leave my pussy aching for days. But he was so gentle with it, a skillful lover, powerful and graceful lover. With the water still streaming over us, I got down on my knees and begin working his cock two vigorous hands. When wrapped around his anaconda cock, my hands looked like those of little girl. I marveled at the dimensions of his beautiful dick. It continued to grow. With one hand I worked his cock while the other clasped his balls. I took one of them, then both of his balls into my mouth. I looked up at him and smiled. I jerked on his cock forcefully while at the same time shoving two fingers up his ass. He’s would be comfortable enough with his masculinity to let me do that; he actually encourages it. James was never like that. Even though he was a good fuck, he was really uptight with doing anything that didn’t seem normal. I had always hated that but I put up with it because I loved him. But this was something different. Thomas made me feel that I could express all my desires with him, no holds barred. He leaned his head back, closed his eyes and groaned. He shot hot loads of come onto my face and began to jerk him even more wildly, pulling and pulling and pulling until every last drop had been extracted. I felt cum and water running down my face. He leaned over me, stared deeply into my eyes, then kissed me. I wrapped my arms around him and held him tightly. I was determined to never let him go. He would be mine, all mine. That’s what I hoped.

  Chapter 3

  Over the next few weeks, I spent several days with Thomas. I felt myself falling under his spell. He told me that he understood why I didn’t want to do the nude photo shoot, which several other up-and-coming female painters had decided to do. He told me that I had made the right decision by not compromising.

  “But I still have to make money somehow,” I said. He smirked. Maybe he has a plan, I thought, an idea of how I can raise some money. But I didn’t want to ask him, didn’t want him to think that all of the time we were spending together, the late night walks through Central Park, the talks about where we could travel, and even talk about moving into together was all about the money. It wasn’t. I felt safe and secure around him—this powerful hulk of a man who would always be able to protect me, unlike James, or any of my previous boyfriends in the city, who I never felt quite safe with. He put his hand on top of mine, his big muscular hand. There was no ring on it. He had gotten divorced two years ago he said. He and his wife had grown apart. They had two kids together. Every two weeks he went up to Westchester to pick the kids up and bring them back down to the city. We he had been dating for the last three weeks, but he had yet to ask me to meet his kids. I didn’t really worry about it, but maybe I should have. What did worry me was that we couldn’t see each other as much as I wanted. He was always busy and frequently canceled dates.

  I chalked it up to the fact that he was extremely driven and ambitious. He was desperate to make his name in the art world. While I admired his drive, it did bother me that he seemed so into his work that at times he forgot about me. I was also worried about him working with other young artists. I wasn’t the first pretty, young girl that he had taken under his wing. From what I had heard around town, and I swear I wasn’t going around digging up info on him, but from what I had heard he had carried on a brief but torrid love affair with the artist who had been killed a few weeks ago in her West Village apartment. There were even whispers, mostly by people who were jealous of his success, that he may have been involved. I knew that could not have been true. Not my Thomas, there was no way that he could be involved in something like that.

  Thomas came out of the shower, sauntered across the room. He knew my eyes were on him. He let the towel drop to the floor. His large cock dangled between his legs. I got off the bed, got down on my knees and grabbed the thick slab of meat. It was fucking huge. I swirled my tongue around the head, jerked it with two hands. His god-like body rippled with muscles. I took one hand off his cock and started fingering my wet pussy.

  I loved the taste of his mouth. It was different from what I was used to: the burnt out cigarette smoking, beer drinking mouths of the hipster man-children I often dated. And his full lips were unlike anything I had ever experienced. I was used to skinny lips, but his were so succulent, so full of life and passion. They were the lips of a man capable of kissing a woman to orgasm, and I’m not even talking about kissing my pussy lips. His lips on my mouth and his tongue jabbing in and out of my mouth and swirling around my tongue would make my pussy drip with excitement. The first time I took him inside, guided his huge cock into the hungry, wet pussy I felt as if his massive girth would kill
me. It felt like I was being impaled on his rod. He had been so gentle though, rubbing its huge head against my clit, then slowly sliding that huge anaconda cock into my slick cunt.

  Oh that first time! I grasped and screamed and kicked and cried for more and dug my nails into his back and begged for him to fuck me and fuck harder and harder. He squeezed both of my small pale butt cheeks in his muscular hands and hammered into pussy, kissing me, staring into my eyes, fucking me deeper than any man had ever gone. Before that night, I would not have thought that I was capable of taking so much cock. I would not have known that so much cum could shoot out of one man’s dick. His load, thick and creamy, was like that of three, four, maybe five guys. His body would shake just before he was about to bust his massive nut and I would be ravenous as it splashed on my face and lips and eyes and hair. I would lick it clean as it softened between my fingers, sneaking a glance up at his face. His eyes were usually closed at this point, head lolled back and he would grunt and sigh, until that beautiful cock had been drained of its seed, and flopped like a big piece of kielbasa between his legs.

  His thick pulpy lips would swallow my cunt lips, while his machine like tongue whipped and stroked my pussy into a frenzy. I felt my juices overflowing and flooding his mouth. He wouldn’t stop there. No, his mouth was ravenous, his desire for me unlimited. I had never experienced the pleasure of a man so enamored with me, so driven by lust that he would feast on my asshole, licking it, slurping, driving his tongue deep into it, until I felt myself on he verge of coming, all of my nerve endings on edge, body shaking uncontrollably from the ecstasy and my hips flying up and the air and his powerful, forceful hands holding in place while his tongue buried deeper and deeper into my ass. It was so primal, so animalistic, so much different than anything I had ever experienced.

  I felt my whole entire body quivering with desire, quaking, melting under his touch. So firm, so powerful. I felt moistness, dampness, a wetness in my panties. I squirmed. I blushed, my breathing got heavier. He told me that he admired me and that I was just the type of artist he was looking for. He didn’t want me to ever have to prostitute myself in order to promote my art. He wouldn’t allow me to do that to myself. He said he had a plan. A plan that would allow me to make money, become famous and travel the world.

  “What is it?” I asked completely intrigued, hungry for change, hungry for fame and fortune and naïve enough to believe that this mysterious man could bring both to me.

  I pulled my hands away from his, crossed my arms across my chest. I had to resist. I had to. I couldn’t allow another man to put me under his spell. I had to figure my life out on my own. But still how I could turn down his offer, how could I refuse his guidance, his love, his money. How? He was offering to whisk me around the globe to all the world’s art capitals: Rome, Paris, Barcelona, Berlin. There was no way I could possibly turn down such an opportunity. And he was offering me something even more precious than the bright lights; he was offering me his love and compassion and support. I felt the walls within me breaking down, felt his spirit, his energy, his strength invading my body, destroying any last resistances.

  He was offering to take me out of the city, away from the smog and high rents and petty art world squabbles.

  His eyes were so dark and penetrating. They were the eyes of man accustomed to seducing women, who knew how to melt a woman’s defenses with the heat of his passion. I wondered how many more women he had seduced before me. I knew then and there that I would not let him go, he would be mine for as long as I could possibly keep him, nothing would stand between our love.

  The perfect man. My perfect boyfriend. But maybe I should have known that something was wrong, should have suspected that it all sounded too good to be true.

  Chapter 4

  It had been a week since I’d seen him, a week of wandering the streets in a daze, yearning for his touch, unable to paint, unable to think about anything except him, his touch, his taste, his smell. I pictured him lifting me in the air, pressing me against the wall, pumping me with his huge cock. One day during that week while walking through the Lower East Side I passed a playground, a playground with a basketball court one that I had probably passed hundred of times without giving it a second glance. But this time instead of walking past, I pressed myself up against the metal fence surrounding the park and watched. Sweaty men in their twenties and thirties ran up and down court, wrestled for the ball, pushed, grunted, jumped. Their muscles glistened with summer sweat.

  I imagined these men returning to my apartment, stripping off their clothes, stepping into the shower one after the other, their bodies fatigued, muscles sore, cocks dangling between their legs. I smiled, licked my lips. I noticed a few of them staring at me. “What’s that girl doing over there,” I imagined them saying. I placed one hand over my pussy. Wet. I began rubbing my clit through the thin fabric of my summer dress. Within in a few minutes my panties were completely soaked. I licked my lips again, closed my eyes, parted my lips, lolled my head back. When I opened my eyes I noticed several men staring at me lustily. I teased them for another ten minutes or so, and then quickly moved on as if nothing had happened. I would have to go looking for Thomas at his office. I couldn’t wait any longer to see him. I needed him inside of me, or else I was liable to fuck the next stranger who even remotely resembled him.

  ***

  I felt my whole body calling out for him. I wanted to surprise him at his office; I had never been there before. I wondered if he had any young, hot women working for him. But when I turned the corner of Lexington and James Street, I was the one who got the surprise. There he was about to hop into a cab, when two men in long coats called out to him. He waved for the cab to go on then he looked at the men. Both of them pulled out what had to be badges and flashed them in his face.

  Oh shit, I thought, what had I gotten myself into. Who was this man? Why in the world would the police be questioning him? Then my mind shot back to that day in the gallery, when Simon said that I should watch out for Thomas. But for what? I was too far away to hear what they were saying, but Thomas seemed flustered and scared. I had never seen him like that. He was always so calm and in control. What the hell was going on? I wanted to scream. I wanted to run into his arms and hold him. I wanted to tell those men that there must have been some mistake. There was no way he could have done anything wrong. No, it wasn’t possible. He was too perfect. One of the cops opened the back door of an unmarked car. He motioned for Thomas to get in. Thomas hesitated, looked around. I ducked my head to make sure he didn’t see me. He finally got in and the car zoomed off.

  ***

  That night at dinner he seemed really withdrawn. He kept looking around the restaurant, like he expected someone to barge in at any moment, maybe those two cops, and take him away. I had never seen him like this before. But I didn’t want to ask what was wrong. I didn’t want to tell him that I had seen him earlier that day. I wanted him to tell me. I was sure there was logical explanation for what happened. But instead of him mentioning it, we just made small talk. After I got tired of watching him fidget, avert his eyes, and hide his hands under the table, I finally asked what was wrong.

  “Nothing, babe. Hard day at work.”

  “Anything interesting?”

  “No, not really. But I was trying to get things in order for our trip.” There’s just a lot of” his eyes darted in one direction then the other. He seemed like he was about to get up. He took the napkin from his lap, wiped his mouth and stood halfway up before he scanned the room quickly and sat back down.

  “What is it? Please tell me. I can’t stand to see you like this.”

  “Like I said. It’s nothing, babe. Let’s just finish our meal.”

  “I saw you today. Outside your office.”

  He glared at me. I had never seen that anger in his eyes.

  “What did you say?”

  “I wanted to surprise you at your office today. I saw you talking to those two men. They were detectives, weren’t they
?”

  “Who the fuck do you think you are? You spoiled fucking brat. This is how you repay me for what I’ve done.”

  “I wasn’t following you, I swear. I missed you. I hadn’t seen you in three days.”

  “Three days? Three days? Are you serious? Do you think I’m just sitting around in my own fantasy land like you and all your artist friends?”

  “Please, don’t be mad at me.”

  “How do you think that I can afford to take you to these restaurants? How do you think that I can afford to fly you to Spain and put you up in a villa for nine months so you can do you work?”

  I felt terrible. This is not how I envisioned this happening. I wanted him to know that I would be there for him if he needed me. The last thing I wanted was to upset him. I could see people in the restaurant turning in our direction and whispering under their breath.

  We needed to get out of there before something bad happened. Unfortunately, Thomas was in no mood to calm down.

  “So you’re following me around during the day. I wonder how else you’re keeping tabs on me. I bet you love gossiping with your girlfriends about how well I take care of you.”

  Now he was clearly trying to embarrass me. He had raised his voice, so everyone in the vicinity could hear exactly what he was saying. I felt my face flush red. I don’t know what stopped me from getting up and running out of the restaurant, but for some reason all I could do was sit there and take his abuse.