C|Suite is a men's magazine founded by Frank Cervi. It combines urban/office life-style articles with soft-core pornographic pictorials. In recent years, C-Suite introduced the 'letters' column in which readers send in borderline ridiculous sexcapades, resulting often in explicit and unnecessary detail.
I WAS TWENTY-ONE YEARS OLD, straight out of college.
One night, whilst hanging with a few friends, my inner 'Karen' was complaining about how expensive it was to build a professional wardrobe. I had just started an office job and was desperate to fill the void in my closet; my professional wardrobe section was non-existent.
One of my friends worked at Nordstroms and said he might be able to help me out by using his employee discount on some items.
He negotiated that I could buy him a beer sometime and we could discuss it.
Later that night we all headed out to drink at this hole-in-the-wall bar called Lugano's. A charming little space if you consider Italian-Americana to be your thing. It was getting towards the end of the night; we were all a bit drunk. I sort of pulled him aside, we went up to the bar so I could buy him that beer; I asked about the discount.
He explained to me he could get some items I needed for 20% off. Enthralled, I screamed that'd be awesome; we hugged for what seemed acceptable for two drunkards of the opposite sex in a dive bar. He said he'd be happy to curry the favor, if I "made it worth his while" as he did the blowjob hand gesture in a joking [not joking] kind of way.
I laughed it off.
Mind you, he and I had hooked up a few times before. We had been friends during college. A few drunken times when neither of us hooked-up with someone else, we went home with each other; we had decent but not super memorable sex. It was either that or masturbating all night like I would normally do if the picking was slim.
We agreed to meet at his place a couple days later; I'd pick out some stuff for him to get me, naturally discuss payment in proceeding this.
On the day in question, I brought over a 12 pack of the beer he liked; he was a Narrangansett, wannabe hipster. We sat on his sofa and picked out some clothing online that was available at the store he worked in. I picked out a couple skirts, some dress pants, a blazer and a few blouses. It added up to over $500, so his discount was getting me $100+.
He started joking about how I'd earn the discount. I teased that he was so desperate that he needed to pay for sex. He teased I was so desperate I was going to use sex in order to get clothing.
This went on for a bit.
We had both thrown down a few beers. Neither of us had eaten and it was getting late (the shopping took longer than expected).
I was buzzed.
I hadn't had sex in a while, touched, so I was a little horny. My vagina felt like an over-pumped inflatable. Pent-up; desperate for an orgasm.
I decided to go for it.
In my mind it was just another friends-with-benefits moments, not a selling-my body-for-sex-moment (right??).
We went to his room. I blew him while he fingered me.
As I left he said, "Pleasure doing business with you." My soul felt more drained than the tingles in my pussy.
The next day he sent a Venmo request for the clothes.
He had rounded down on the price (a tip I guess).
A few days later he texted to say he had the clothes.
I went over to his place to pick them up.
As I was collecting them, he said he had something to show me. He pulled up a picture of some Louboutins. He said they were slightly damaged (a small scuff) so they were extra discounted. They regularly went for $550 and he could get them for $250.
I of course gave enthusiastic consent and screamed, "Hell, yes!!"
He asked what was I going to do for them.
I asked what he had meant by that.
He said he'd get me the discount if I fucked him and let him finish inside of my pussy. This wasn't a joking sort of thing. It also wasn't going to be a friends-with benefits type fuck in my mind at that point.
It was an explicit quid pro quo. I mean, this was no fast finger-blast or a quick suck-off. This was my pussy about to get smashed and dashed.
I looked at him in shock.
Then I looked at the shoes.
I made my decision.
We went to his room. I sucked him hard. A few moments later I found myself bent over his desk getting jack-rabbited from behind like how I remember in high-school. I finished him off doing reverse cowgirl; my pussy dripped and leaked cum like an old Chevrolet that had been sitting in a lot for weeks.
Afterwards, he joked maybe next time he could give me a "pearl necklace" in exchange for a pearl necklace.
Over the next few months, I got my necklace, another pair of shoes, and some more work clothes. It peaked when I did anal in exchange for a Coach bag (not discounted, the entire price).
That's when I knew I had a problem.
We cut if off when he got a girlfriend. I am writing this now because they are getting married in two weeks. I am invited to the wedding and I am strongly considering wearing the shoes to the reception. Maybe even retro-fit my necklace with some new 'pearls'.
God, I need to stop this.
Yours truly horny,