Him

She points at the man in the couch, who stays silent. "We both enjoyed very much your little performance. Of course, we may have overtipped a bit. We like to see you surprised, don't we?", they giggle. "While I do not so much like to meet with the dancer, Joseph here is more... active, when it comes to you. The way things are, isn't it?". As he gently puts a hand on your shoulder, you feel both degraded and excited, confidant and expectative at the same time. You yearn to know what they will do to you, aware that they don't see more than a distraction in you. His fingers toy mindlessly with your braids. "Oh, don't bother yourself for me," she continues, "I am used to sticking around anyway...".

As she finishes her sentence, with barely a gesture, he makes you stand up. You were kneeling next to his couch, at his left, and standing up, your hips are roughly at the same level as his face. He keeps petting you, his heavy hand sliding down your back with appreciation, enjoying the ideal curve of your hips, the round bouncy ass they gave you, perfected by the garter's tension. Your perpetual blush is not only for pretends anymore, as his fingers gently explore your body, slowly. Your sensitivity is **** and you feel every minuscule movement he does, exploring your butt, sliding down, between your buttcheeks, following your thong all the way between your legs, caressing you subtly catching, letting go as you whimper powerlessly, then grabbing your thigh, enjoying its smoothness and then that of the other. You are getting increasingly turned on by this stranger's touch on your body, and begin working as he lets go of you.

Bouncing your hips right and left, you start strutting around in front of him, lowering yourself to reveal your butt more and emphasising your curves with your finger. You don't need to look in a mirror to know what you look like: a fragile, blushing, freckled redhead who just looks like he craves for something to slide between his lips. Something warm, and hard, and long, that he would gag on, and ask for some more, and more... but not yet. You turn around as you arrive just in front of him, turning your back at him again, showing your ass, then your legs, sitting on his lap and teasing him. Behind you, you feel the appreciative gaze of the woman as you let him grab your ass and shake you at the music's rythm. You turn around and, tracing eights with your hips, come back sitting right on his lap. You can feel how hard he is, how excited. He still does not say much but his hands are all over your belly, your chest, your legs. He orders you to pull down his pants, which you do, excited as rarely before. His cock jumps out of his underwear bruskly, a thick, veiny, and throbbing piece of flesh, exciting and warm. He is excited. You too.

He gets you back on his lap. He wants it and you would die for it. You can't really remember when you put the bottle of body oil in his hands, or when you got it, but there it is, and you already feel something slick finding its way on your back, on your butt, and between your buttcheek. It is quickly followed by something else, something that drives you crazy. A hard mass, on your ass, rubbing your thong, following the rythm of his hips, which he started to move. You start rubbing and grinding with your hips, up and down, around, and up again... he is not silent anymore, and he knows quite a lot of words to make a small ginger excited Pleasureboy all tickly inside. Words you have never been called before. He becomes more demanding, more possessive, grabbing your hair and twirling his hand in it, as if to hold you with a lead. He makes you go faster, moaning and groaning, and slapping your ass as you whimper and moan.

Later, you are back to kneeling. They did not give you an occasion to wipe the cum off your ass, it is not that urgent. You were left panting after he came all over you, terribly turned on but very proud of yourself, because he was happy with you. These nanomods sure fucked you up but there is more to it than that. There is also more to it later, when you give him the first blowjob, and then the second, before they let you go. You leave the room with a contact card slid in your thong, enough cash to feed a small family for a month, and the sirupy, satisfying taste of his semen all over your mouth. Mrs Amma is proud of how well you did tonight.