At some point, I felt his cock begin to swell, and knowing what would follow, I moaned even more passionately and thrust even more vigorously, bringing the orgasm closer: my master moaned as if lifting a huge weight, and then I first began to feel the long familiar pleasant throbbing of a man’s cock deep in me, and then the equally familiar spreading warmth inside, a clear proof that I am a very good tavern wench.
At such moments I always had mixed feelings: on the one hand, pride at having given someone such great pleasure, on the other, shame at being used as a thing to satisfy lust, and, finally, fear of being knocked up, few of the men worried about what would happen afterward, believing that a whore’s problems after she got the money were her problems, and Arvin even said that he would even be glad if I gave birth to a bastard of him.
We lay there exhausted for a while, catching our breath, and then we started kissing. We washed up a little using the water from the barrel, and then the master continued his fun: now he was lying on the bed, his cock like a stake, and I knew without further ado what was required of me: I sat on top of him and began to move, slowly and leisurely at first, leaning back a little, as Arvin liked. He’d always told me that I was especially good in this position, and told me a couple of secrets that I was using now to give him more pleasure.
The cowgirl position was much more tiring, but the master helped me by lifting my body with his strong arms, after which I impaled myself on his cock with my weight and so many times. When I did this, I made wavy movements with my belly like an oriental dancer, and also breathed specially, inhaling and exhaling deeply, further emphasizing the advantages of my figure, and the sounds of my moans became even more languid. Master scooped up oil from a pot on the nightstand and then smeared it on my body, which became slippery and started glittering in the dim candlelight.
His hands slid over my belly, my waist, and my breasts. He squeezed my breasts hard, so hard that my knuckles turned white, but I felt no pain because they slipped out of his hands. When I began to tire, the master’s cock swelled again, and I, encouraged by this, began to move on it more vigorously, bringing the man to another orgasm, and then I impaled myself as deep as I could on his cock, feeling every pulsation of his cock while it was plotting new portions of semen into me.
After that, I lay down next to him and we talked about everything and nothing for a while. He kissed me periodically on the lips, then on the neck, then down to my breasts. I realized that it was nighttime, and all the customers had gone home, only Brenner was left in the tavern as a watchman, though he was probably napping. I would have liked to sleep too, but as I felt Master Arvin’s cock coming to life, I realized that my work for the day wasn’t done.
-Charlene, I want to try a pose I learned while traveling through the South. – he replied.
I suspected what the gentleman would want and after a brief description I was fully convinced that I was right: I was required to get on all fours, spread my legs wide, arch my back downwards, and my ass upwards. I had never practiced it myself before, but I had heard about it. It was not as tiring as being on top, but many women considered it vulgar and degrading: in the South, it was what masters used when they raped their slaves, thus equating them to animals. On the other hand, it provided the deepest penetration and allowed caresses not available in the other positions common here. I agreed, obediently doing everything the client told me to do, and got on all fours, spreading my legs wide and waiting for his cock.