Chapter 5 - Monica

“Two thousand euros a day,” Ignacio said with typical Spanish pride. “Each.”

“Is that before or after your cut, Iggy?” Monica wondered sleepily from behind her sunglasses – the only thing she wore aside from cocoa-butter.

“Before,” he admitted around a sip of champagne. “But that still leaves you with fifteen hundred and it’s three days guaranteed, perhaps a week.”

“Mmmph...” I pulled my mouth off his ruddy penis with wet gasp. “What’s the guy’s name again?”

“Ennio Attolini,” he said, bringing his glass towards me and I lowered my open mouth to his balls.

We were sunbathing on the large balcony of Iggy’s suite at the Monaco Hilton and the man had been our pimp for nearly six months already. He liked to call himself our business agent and even had business cards with real gold lettering to announce himself as such. Ignacio did very well by us and Monica and I did alright by him, and we shared a certain fondness for each other, I thought, that went beyond mere business.

I’d turned sixteen only a week before and I barely recognized myself. I had breasts now, real ones courtesy of a doctor Iggy knew in Geneva. Swiss surgeons are the best in the world, he’d assured me, and I believed him. The doctor had worked some magic, not only on my chest, but my waist and hips as well, even my vocal chords as he’d shortened them and given me the sweet, lilting voice of a teenage girl ... forever. There was no going back now and I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about that, but what choice did I have?

I loved Monica like a sister and I couldn’t ever say no to her.

We looked like sisters too. I had a 32C-20-32 body, bronzed under the Mediterranean sun. My hair was thick and naturally dark, falling around my face in silky waves. I still had my smokey eyes, smoldering with lust at the moment, and everything about me screamed sex. What God in His infinite wisdom had started in my DNA, Monica, Iggy, and modern medicine had finished. I was made for sex and a great many men wanted me for only that. They would have been shocked to discover my sperm filled balls, however, and thick seven inches of eager cock hiding between my thighs.

Monica looked even better than she had when I’d first met her almost a year before. She was twenty-two, as it turned out, and perhaps the most beautiful man in the world, in my opinion at least, and I wasn’t alone. Lots of guys, straight ones, stumbled all over themselves when they saw her coming. Of course, Monica liked to say it was because they were looking at me and I guess maybe the two of us together were dangerous, who knows? Iggy thought so anyway, but he wasn’t exactly known for his modesty either.

Anyway, Monica lay on her tummy just then, stretching her long, golden body beneath the hot sun with her legs spread wide enough that I could see her scrumptious ballsack and semi-hard cock pressed down and pointing towards her feet. She had a wonderful mane of curling auburn hair and startling green eyes to punctuate her beauty. Monica was flawless, to my mind, and the perfect, idealized perversion of womanhood.

Ignacio, on the other hand, was a man entirely - tall, dark, and handsome. Except for his taste in women, of course. He much preferred boys over men and the more feminine the better, which is why he had such a fondness for me. Iggy had an infatuation, I knew, and spoiled me like his own daughter at times. He had all the charm of an old world courtier in the company of wealth and the Spaniard was a born salesman. He lived in Paris, drove a Ferrari, and sold everything from English castles to French vineyards.

Now he sold us and we were all making a great deal of money doing it.

“Hmmm...” Ignacio sighed, pouring champagne over his stiff cock so that it spilled off his scrotum and into my mouth.

I giggled, swallowing quickly and lapping at his balls. He shifted in his chair, leaning back and moving his ass to the edge of the silk cushion so that I could dip my head even lower. I spread his firm cheeks and licked the man’s asshole. Iggy had a fetish for getting rimmed and I didn’t mind doing it for him. He kept himself clean enough, but even after a long day I enjoyed the sweaty flavor and pungent musk of a real man. I tickled his anus and stiffened my tongue, getting just the tip past his tight sphincter and we both moaned with pleasure.

While I did that, I felt blindly for his prick and began to jerk him off slowly. Most often, Monica would suck the Spaniard off while I ate his ass, or sometimes straddle his thighs and fuck him. Today she seemed to be sleeping, however, and I could understand that. We’d had a late night entertaining a Turkish shipping magnate and his teenage son. The boy had just turned twelve-years-old and I’d taken his virginity under his father’s approving eyes, meaning the child had fucked me in the ass. I had no interest in being anything but a bottom bitch, so when the time had come to return the favor, Monica had accepted the honor. She’d slipped her sexy cock into his boy cunt with one long push while I’d entertained the father with my mouth.

That had been then, and this was now. I pushed everything else out of my mind and concentrated on making Ignacio feel good. He practically sat on my face with my mouth, chin, and nose buried between the cheeks of his ass. Both of my arms were wrapped around his hairy thighs and I pushed and pulled at his cock for ten minutes before I heard and felt him cumming for me. I sat up quickly as his cock pulsed beneath my fingers, letting him spray hot cum across my heaving breasts and down to my tummy while I licked my lips and watched his face contort with the effort. Some of it even landed near my own straining cock, pointed like an arrow at his heart.

Yeah, Iggy loved me and after he’d spent his lust on my nubile body, he pulled me upward so he could prove it with deep, soul stirring kiss. Some people think Frenchmen know how to kiss, but that’s only because they’ve never had a Spaniard. Jesus! Ignacio could melt iron with his passionate mouth and I only wished he was really gay because I bet he’d have made an awesome cocksucker. But, unfortunately, he claimed to be straight and no matter what I might do for him, Iggy wouldn’t even give me a handjob.

So much for love.

“Oh.” I leaned against the railing, watching as six teenagers piled out of a limousine. “This is going to be fun.”

They were girls, giggling excitedly and already dressed in tiny bikinis, fuck me heels, and cheap jewelry. They were all young and very attractive, but I wasn’t exactly thrilled. The yacht was nice enough, but not as big as a lot of others tied up to the docks or riding at anchor in Monaco’s exclusive harbor.

“Hmmm...” Monica shrugged. “It could be worse.”

“It could be better too,” I snorted. “I guess this Attolini guy isn’t into boys.”

“Too bad for us, huh?” She winked at me and I adjusted the cups of my bikini as I stood up straight.

“I’m keeping this bikini,” I decided, rather enjoying the sensation of fine, tight fishnet against my skin.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” Monica agreed, watching me with a smile.

We’d found the identical outfits waiting on the bed in our cabin. Black thong bikinis fashioned from a fine nylon mesh and the texture felt wonderful, keeping my nipples stiff and obvious through the sheer material. I hadn’t bothered trying to hide my balls, but left them hanging loose with the pouch stuffed full of straining cock. My dick was so hard it almost hurt, but it did look nice like that.

Monica wore hers much the same way, but with the thong splitting her balls. Her hairless scrotum was drawn tight that way, giving her balls some nice cleavage as one of her testicles fell to the left and the other to the right. Her penis was stiff as well, standing erect against her tummy with the head near her belly button and three inches of tanned cockshaft completely exposed; the sheer thong covered the rest, but there was little left to the imagination.

“I should have brought my homework,” I sighed and below us the girls were climbing the short ladder to board the yacht.

“You forgot it on purpose. Remember?”

“Yeah, but now I wish I hadn’t,” I said. “This is going to be boring, I can tell.”

“We’ll see.” She shrugged. “We’re getting paid the same anyway and besides ... you can always fuck me, Candy.”

“Heh!” I rolled my eyes. “You make it sound like I’m a nymphomaniac or something.”

“You mean you’re not?”

“Be nice!” I giggled and being a sixteen-year-old boy with all my hormones going full throttle, we both knew that’s exactly what I was.

All I wanted to do was have sex all the time and I really wished those giggling sluts had turned out to be boys instead of girls. I had no idea if they were prostitutes or what, but it seemed likely and they weren’t speaking English, or French which I’d been attending classes to learn. Iggy had enrolled me in some sort of part-time finishing school for young women of modest means who didn’t want to embarrass themselves in polite society. It wasn’t a real finishing school, but at least I knew how to tango, tell one fork from another, and talk without swearing ... If I wanted to.

“It is a nice boat though,” I had to admit as we pushed ourselves off the rail and walked along the deck.

“Pretty nice,” Monica agreed. “Did you take a pill?”

“I don’t get seasick,” I reminded her.

“Not a seasick pill,” she said with a grin.

“I popped two Viagra and some ecstasy before we left the hotel.” I reached down to squeeze my cock. “I’m so horny I could fuck Paris Hilton right now.”

“God!”

“Well,” I giggled. “In the ass anyway.”

“You’ve never fucked anyone,” Monica said. “Have you?”

“That’s my point!” I laughed, bumping her hip with mind. “Did you take any?”

“Oh yeah!” She laughed too. “Let’s find that bar, get something to drink.”

“That’ll help.” I rolled my eyes. “This is gonna be a weird trip, I can feel it.”

“That’s just the ecstasy,” Monica teased me and she could have been right.

The 110’ sailing yacht had real sails, but Attolini wasn’t a sailor, so his crew kept the canvas furled and used the powerful motors to drive the boat around the Mediterranean Sea. There were six cabins plus the master suite, a galley and kitchen, one full bath and two half-baths, and a plush lounge which was spacious enough for a full bar and an orgy pit, for lack of a better term. A sunken, circular area piled with soft pillows and big enough for a dozen people to relax comfortably ... or uncomfortably, as the case may be.

“Ow! Owwwmmph ... Umph!” a girl who looked about thirteen to me grunted into the spermy cunt of her twin sister and they were from Prague, or so I’d heard.

They didn’t speak a whole lot of English, but they loved to fuck, and an old guy named Lido had his cock buried in her ass. He’d just finished soaking the other girl’s pussy with semen and he must have been saving his ball juice up for this little adventure. Lido’s belly shook like Jell-O, his whole body really, because he looked soft all over while he squatted over the girl’s round butt and hammered his prick into her bowels. I had no idea what her name was, or her sister’s, but they were adorable and locked together mouth-to-cunt with their wrists and ankles bound around each other.

Attolini liked those sorts of games. Another girl, a blonde Russian named Natalie, had been bound face down over a deck chair outside. She’d angered the man for some reason, none of us knew why, so he’d had her tied up as a gift to his crew for the day. It only took eight men to run the boat and they didn’t say much, except Maurie, the French chef. He liked to talk and especially tease the girls. The rest of the crew pretty much stayed invisible though, at least when they weren’t fucking Natalie.

I wondered how much she was getting paid.

The other three girls were dancing naked in front of the large, flat-screen television mounted to one of the walls. A Black Eyed Peas concert played loudly through the stereo and they laughed drunkenly, grinding their teenage bodies against each other and the two men dancing with them. They were Attolini’s other two guests, both older like Lido, and naked as well. They weren’t terribly attractive physically, but money can turn even the ugliest man into Prince Charming and the girls were all over them.

Monica and I were all over Attolini himself and he wasn’t so bad for a guy pushing sixty. He kept himself in shape anyway and I found his pale body surprisingly firm, and he did have a wonderfully large cock and generous balls, always my Achilles heel. He had thick black hair tarnished silver at the temples, dark Sicilian eyes, and a swarthy complexion. Attolini also liked “girly boys” as he called us and it had been a welcome surprise to understand the girls were for his friends while Monica and I were solely for his pleasure.

At that moment we were lounging in the pit, watching the obscene performance of the Prague twins, with Attolini naked between Monica and me. He held us with his arms, hugging us close while he alternated his attentions between us. While the man tongue fucked Monica’s mouth, I bent my lips to his chest and nursed on Attolini’s small, hard nipples. He had a mat of soft grey hair and I enjoyed the way it felt on my cheeks. Likewise his pubic hair and I moved my fingers around the base of his cock while Monica held the shaft in her fist and pumped him slowly.

We still wore our sheer, black bikinis as the man liked to see us dressed that way, but our cocks were completely exposed and I pushed mine against his hip and thigh. We were two days out of Monaco, bound for Palermo where Attolini had a villa, a nice one as he’d described it. We’d stay there for a few days and then sail back, paying us 15,000 euros each for the week long pleasure of our company. That sounded like a good deal to me and Iggy had already collected ten grand in advance, so we knew Attolini was good for it, but I really needed pleasure of a different sort just then.

“I want to fuck,” I whispered with a sexy pout, moving my left leg over the man’s thighs so I could straddle him.

“Hmmm...” he sighed, catching his breath after kissing Monica for several minutes. “Put me inside her.”

“Let me get her wet first,” Monica breathed, sliding her body along his and stretching out over and between several plump pillows.

I pressed my tits against Attolini’s chest, wrapping my arms around his neck as I knelt around his hips. He let me kiss him, slipping my eager tongue into his mouth still moist with Monica’s saliva. She’d let go of his penis so that she could spread my ass cheeks and tongue my tight little hole. We’d fucked the night before, but not that morning yet and I’d washed myself thoroughly in anticipation. Attolini had a thin, but very long cock, and I loved the way it stretched me deep inside. He could fuck a long time too, much longer than most men half his age and maybe that was why; he had a lot more patience than most men I’d known.