Choose Your Own Bareback Adventure

[Wombat]

I thought this might be fun (or it might be a terrible idea).  You're perhaps familiar with "choose your own adventure" books in which you're given some story to read and then asked what you want to do next.  I'm proposing to write a story directed by BZ members, and if any of you are interested we'll see how it develops.

 

On a practical note, it takes a while to write this stuff so don't expect daily updates, but I will try to keep them regular.  In terms of making decisions, if there's no clear consensus amongst the members I'll go with whatever floats my own boat the most!  Finally, this will predominantly be a mostly-straight story with possibly the odd bi moment - apologies, but I can't write convincingly about stuff I'm not into myself.

 

All feedback welcome!

 

 

CHAPTER ONE

 

You liked your Uncle Ron. He wasn’t welcome at too many get-togethers, being the disreputable rogue of the family, but he had a great line in filthy jokes and filthier anecdotes that you enjoyed on the rare occasions that you had the opportunity. So you were sorry when he died. But you were pleasantly surprised to discover that you were a minor beneficiary of his will – sure, five thousand pounds won’t pay off the mortgage, but then you hadn’t been expecting anything at all.

 

“To my favourite nephew, in the hope and expectation that you will think long and hard and use it unwisely!”

 

Well, fuck, you don’t have to be told twice. Long and hard, indeed.

 

So that’s why you’re currently in a taxi to your hotel, with £5,000 in cash in your suitcase. You’ve been chatting to the driver, who seems friendly enough, and explain that you’ve come to enjoy the city night-life for a few days.

 

“What sort of thing are you planning to do?  Clubbing, casinos, restaurants?  If you let me know what you’re into I might be able to point you in the right direction.” Hmm. He seems to have a twinkle in his eye, and he doesn’t look particularly conservative. What the hell.

 

“I was actually thinking about something more…umm…personal.”

 

The twinkle is joined by a wide grin. “I thought you might be!  I don’t like to ask outright; some people are a bit straitlaced about that sort of thing.  Let me show you a few places that you might find interesting.”

 

He slows as he drives past a row of tastefully-lit Edwardian buildings, pointing out a discreet flight of steps descending into a basement lounge. “That’s the Hummingbird Club.  Far too steep for a taxi-driver’s wallet, but I’m told that if you want to spend a couple of hundred quid on getting some very nice tits shoved in your face – maybe more on offer, if you’re really feeling flush - this is the place to go.”

 

Just a few streets later and the scene is entirely different: warehouses on one side of the road and pawnbrokers, dive bars and betting shops on the other. Not that you notice much about them, with your attention firmly focused on the small clusters of ladies dotting the street.  Ladies wearing smiles and little else.

 

Perhaps ‘ladies’ isn’t the right term, you think hopefully.  Your driver’s grin grows wider.  “King’s Row is safe enough if you keep your eyes open for the cops, and even then a bit of generosity on your part will probably smooth things over.”  Perhaps bribing the police isn’t the best use of Uncle Ron’s cash, but a wave from a cute young blonde with a slim waist and perky tits makes you think that he’d probably consider it worth the risk. 

 

A couple of minutes later sees you driving past another strip club, but this a world away from the Hummingbird.  Here you see neon bars and cheap restaurants, hear the thud of dance music punching through the lazy summer's evening air.  “The Pink Pearl is, let’s say, catering to the lower end of the market,” says your driver, “and if you can’t get your rocks off in here for under a hundred quid then you’re really not trying.  No ‘hands off’ policy here.  Though the girls are cheap and cheerful, not that that’s necessarily a bad thing,” he finishes with a wink.

 

And now you’ve arrived outside your hotel – a rather swankier place than you’re used to, but you figured you’d treat yourself in more ways than one.  You tip the driver for his trouble and a few minutes later you’re lying back on a king-sized bed, deciding how to spend your first evening.

 

You have £5,000 left.  Do you:

 

1. Visit the Hummingbird Club and start your adventure in style
2. Take a stroll down King’s Row
3. Slum it with the dirty girls in the Pink Pearl
4. Whip out your laptop and see who’s ticked the “Available Now” box

Edited August 16, 2016 by Wombat

[Zorro]

Pink Pearl every time

[Wombat]

CHAPTER 2

 

You’re sorely tempted to take a closer look at that blonde girl back on King’s Row, but the night is young and you decide to take some time to see what else is on offer.  The Hummingbird?  Sounds interesting, but you don’t want to blow half your cash on the first night.  Check the usual hooker sites?  Nah, you can do that any time back home.

 

Your mind drifts back to your driver’s comment about the Pink Pearl…if you can’t get your rocks off in here, you’re really not trying.  Yeah, that sounds good.  That sounds pretty fucking perfect.  You hop into the shower, and then get dressed in fresh clothes before heading into the night.

 

You can’t tell much about the Pearl from the outside.  The obligatory neon pink sign, which might possibly depict a pole-dancing woman if you squint a bit, set above a narrow set of concrete stairs plunging down towards an open door.  Music pours up towards you as you descend the steps towards a giant of a man dressed in a bad suit.  You pay the entrance fee - £10, but you only have twenties so you tell him to keep the change.  The giant smiles and nods appreciatively.  “Thanks mate!  Here’s a tip in return: Jade’s in tonight, and you won’t want to miss her.”

 

You thank him and walk inside, starting a tab and picking up a bottle of beer for a fiver as you pass the bar.  As expected, the Pink Pearl is a dive, sleazy through and through – no bad thing; sleaze has a precious place in your heart.  The carpet clings to your feet as you move towards a two-seater sofa towards the back of the room, avoiding the tables arrayed around the front of the stage.  You’re not here for the dancing, after all.

 

You sit back, take a drink from your bottle, and look around you.

 

On the stage is a brunette dressed in a black thong and nothing else, grinding around a pole while Paradise City pumps out from hidden speakers.  From this distance, in this low light, she might be twenty-five; so you mentally add ten years to that.  Still, she’s kept it together: decent round arse, nice big nipples and a reasonably attractive face – overall, maybe a six out of ten.  Eight if she’s as slutty as she looks from here.

 

In front of her, just before the stage, are clusters of tables.  It’s a pretty busy night and most of the seats are taken: some by men loudly encouraging her to “Show us the rest!”, some attempting to talk to each other over the noise, and some simply staring at her.

 

Around the walls to your left and right are couches like yours, mostly occupied by single men, though a few have a girl sitting next to them – staff, you assume, rather than wives and girlfriends.  One of them is straddling her companion’s lap as he tweaks her nipples as though trying to get a better radio signal, while on another sofa a woman is talking to her client while fondling his cock through his trousers.

 

After a couple of minutes, you notice a girl with a purple pixie cut heading towards the couch to your left.  The man sitting there shakes his head and, to your delight, she walks towards you with a cute little dimpled smile.

 

“Hi!  I’m Honey!” she chirps.  “Want to buy me a beer?  You can put it on your tab, and I’ll come and drink it with you.”  You agree that this sounds like an excellent idea. She slips away for a moment, allowing you to enjoy the sight of her tight arse as she walks towards the bar, returning with two bottles of beer.  She puts one in front of you and holds onto the other, then nestles in next to you with her hand on your thigh.  Your cock twitches; you hope she noticed but she doesn’t say anything about it.  Not yet.

 

As you make small talk, you size her up.  She’s small – maybe five-two – with small, perky breasts, huge brown eyes, a snub nose and a pixie face to match the haircut.  Those lovely little tits are covered – barely – by a sequined purple bikini top, and you resist the urge – barely – to rip it off.  Her hand rubs your thigh, inching closer to your swiftly-hardening cock, and it only seems polite to put your arm around her.  She squirms closer towards you.

 

She finally looks down at your crotch and giggles. “You seem to be having a bit of a trouser problem. How would you like a little lap-dance to make it worse?  Twenty quid for five minutes?  I’ll make it the best five minutes of your life!”  You doubt that very much, but still, she’s a good seven out of ten and Uncle Ron would be very disappointed if you didn’t take her up on her offer.

 

Honey beams at you as you agree to a lap-dance and smoothly pivots to straddle your lap, her bikini bottom firmly planted on your crotch and her sequined top inches from your face.  “No touching below the waist!” she scolds you with a playful frown, before shrugging off her bra and slipping a beautiful little pink nipple into your mouth.  You lick and suck and twirl your tongue hungrily around it as she wriggles delightfully on your cock, which is now throbbing painfully in your pants.  Despite her instruction to stay above the waist, you can’t resist the urge to slide your hand down her hip to grope her buttock, and she gently slaps your hand away.

 

“I told you: not below the waist!”  She grins at you and puts her mouth to your ear. “Not in here, anyway,” she murmurs.  “If you want to pay another twenty for a private booth, we can do a lot more in there.  You’ll get the booth for fifteen minutes, but the cost after that will depend on what you want to do with me.”  She giggles again, and reaches down with one hand to grasp your straining cock.

 

“I have to warn you, though – I’m not cheap!  If you’re low on cash you might be better with Tiffany over there,” nodding towards the stage, “’cos she won’t cost you much more than a bag of chips and the bus fare home.  Slow night for her tonight, and she’ll be coming off-stage in a minute.”

 

You regain enough of your senses to remember the bouncer’s suggestion.  “How about Jade?” you ask.  “She was recommended to me on the way in.”

 

Honey pouts at you.  “Yes, fine, she’s beautiful and I’m sure you’d have a good time with her, if you’re into Oriental girls” she grudgingly concedes, “but she’s with another customer right now, and I’m right here!”  She pushes those lovely little rosebud tits back into your face and continues to rub your cock.  You need to put a stop to this, or the only place you’ll be unloading is inside your own pants.

 

You have £4,945 left.  Do you:

 

1. Accompany Honey to a private booth
2. Go for the bargain-basement option and wait for Tiffany to finish her routine
3. Wait for Jade to become available
4. Politely decline Honey’s offer and see who else is available
5. Finish your beer and leave the Pink Pearl in search of other pleasures

Edited August 18, 2016 by Wombat

[Zorro]

Tiffany 

[Wombat]

You know, despite all the work I put into Honey I had a feeling that Tiffany would be making an appearance!  This forum definitely has a penchant for desperate slappers. I suspect that it will turn out to be a decent choice, though you may have to wait a couple of days to find out how it goes.

[dirtykentbastard]

Yeah tiff sounds like she could be a good dirty fuck

[Wombat]

CHAPTER 3

 

You manage to get Honey’s tits out of your mouth for a few moments. “I’m really sorry, you’re absolutely hot as hell, but I’ve not got much more cash with me,” you lie.  “Maybe I can come back in a day or two and pick up where we left off, but for now I think I’d better see Tiffany instead.”

 

Honey sits bolt upright, a look of surprise on her face. You guess that she doesn’t get turned down very often, if ever.  Her hand swiftly moves away from your cock – just in time, truth be told – and she manages to plaster an unconvincing smile across her face.

 

“No problem at all!  It would be great to see you again in a few days, if you bring some more money with you.”  The last part isn’t so much spoken as growled, and you have a feeling that you’d better not turn her down twice.  The music changes then, as Tiffany finishes her dance, and Honey slips off your lap and heads towards the stage.  You take this opportunity to ogle her backside again, but you notice that there is significantly less wiggling of the hips this time.

 

Tiffany’s body language screams ‘dejection’. None of her onlookers have propositioned her, and the notes thrown onto the stage are few and of low value.  Honey was right in at least one thing: this has not been a good night for Tiffany.  She trudges towards the stage door as the next dancer (a fascinatingly fat woman of at least fifty, who receives massive applause from the crowd) enters the stage.  Honey intercepts her before she reaches the door and says something to her, pointing in your direction, before storming back towards the bar.

 

Tiffany stops in her tracks, stares briefly at you, and then sashays towards you.  As she gets nearer you revise your earlier estimate of her age – forty, minimum – and also notice that at some point in her routine, while you were distracted by Honey’s charms, she had discarded her thong.  She has full, heavy breasts, a small but not unattractive belly, and a Brazilian patch sitting nicely atop a fleshy cunt with low-hanging labia.  As she saunters up to you, you can see thick layers of make-up which fail to disguise the crows’ feet at the corners of her eyes – tired eyes, yes, but with a spark that suggests that her night may not be completely fruitless after all.

 

Your hand is lying palm-down upon the arm of the sofa.  Rather than take the spare seat, she sits on the arm – on the back of your hand – and your cock jerks as you feel her moist warmth on your skin.  “I’m Tiffany,” she says, “and I don’t go in for all this bullshit about no touching below the waist”.  She grins at you and lifts her hips slightly to enable you to rotate your wrist, then sinks back down onto your upturned hand.  She sighs as you slide a couple of fingers inside her cunt.

 

“So, I hear that my shift might not be a complete washout.  I guess Honey’s already told you that it’s twenty for fifteen minutes in a private booth.”  She expertly snakes her arm down your chest, under your belt, under your pants, to gently cup your balls.  Your dick lurches to attention, and she chuckles so dirtily that you have to exercise all your willpower to avoid coming on the spot.  “On top of that, my standard prices are: ten to come on my tits, twenty for a blowjob, and forty for a fuck.”

 

Tiffany takes her hand away from your balls and gently tugs the head of your cock.  “So, what do you think?  How’s that private booth sounding?”  You mumble something to the effect that it’s sounding very appealing indeed, thank you.  She extracts herself from your prying fingers, unzips your fly and fishes out your drooling cock, using it to pull you to your feet.  Still gripping you firmly, she uses your hard-on as a leash to lead you to a darkened alcove a few steps away, drawing a curtain behind you.  Inside you find a low couch, a small table bearing wipes and condoms, and little else aside from that most wonderful asset: privacy.  You are now away from prying eyes, and you intend to make the most of it.

 

You take a seat on the couch, your straining cock bursting out of your fly and pointing at the ceiling.  Instead of sitting next to you, Tiffany stands directly in front of you, her feet spaced well apart and her crotch level with your eyes.  She puts both hands behind your head and, none too gently, thrusts your face against her slippery twat.  By design or coincidence your nose is planted firmly against her clit, and you lick and slurp at those superb cunt-lips like a man possessed – no finesse at all, but by this point your smaller brain is only concerned with getting your tongue as far inside her as it can go.  She sighs again, and lets you feast undistracted for a couple of minutes.

 

“So, what’s it to be?”, she finally asks.  “My arse is off-limits tonight, but if you become a repeat customer I might reconsider.  Anything else is up for negotiation, though, if you’re after something extra?”  Your eager reply ends up a series of incoherent grunts as you try to answer without taking your tongue out of her slit.  With great reluctance you move your head back a couple of inches, replacing it with three fingers in her cunt and a thumb working on her clit.

 

“Sorry, shouldn’t try to speak with my mouth full,” you say, slowly rocking your fingers in and out.  “What I was trying to say was: would you possibly consider providing any of your services without a condom?”  Well, you think to yourself, what I was actually trying to say was “I want to cream your cunt,” but on reflection this is probably a more gentlemanly way of putting it.

 

She lowers herself further onto your thrusting fingers and ponders for a moment.  “Not normally, no, but it’s been a slow night.”  You suspect that while the second part of that statement is true, the first is utter bullshit; not that you give a tenth of a fuck.  She makes a show of considering it further, and then relents.  “OK, though it’ll cost you double.  But if you want to bareback me you can’t come inside me, and if you want a blowjob it’ll be another twenty to swallow.”

 

You have £4,925 left.  Do you:

 

1. Ask for a handjob and come on her tits (£10)
2. Ask for a blowjob and let her spit (£40)
3. Ask her to swallow your load (£60)
4. Ask for a bareback fuck, and pull out before you come (£80)
5. Ask for a bareback fuck, and shoot inside her cunt anyway (£80, plus possible consequences)
6. Make your excuses and leave the booth

[bigheavyballs]

Personally it'd be a 6 as she isn't my type so I wouldn't have chosen her in the first place. For the purposes of the story it has to be 5.

[quart]

5.

[Zorro]

5

[Wombat]

This has been delayed a bit due to various annoying circumstances - subsequent updates may be irregular too, but I will do my best.

 

CHAPTER 4

 

It takes you, oh, about a millionth of a second to make that decision.  “I’d really like to fuck you without the condom,” you say truthfully, “and I promise I won’t come inside you,” you continue, in what may well be the most blatant lie since Adam promised Eve that he wouldn’t come in her mouth.

 

She eyes you sceptically and you can practically see the financial calculus being played out in her head – Bullshit, but fuck it, he’ll hardly be the first and I need that money.  She slowly nods her head and squirms slightly as your thumb industriously traces circles around her clit.  “Let me lube you up first,” she says, regretfully extricating herself from your fingers and then kneeling in front of you.  You take the opportunity to lick your fingers clean, savouring her pungent juices as she takes your cock into her mouth.

 

It’s not so much a blowjob as a bath.  She drools and slurps and slobbers over your dick – pleasant enough, but it’s not going to tip you over the edge.  You suspect that this may be deliberate; she seems to be the sort of woman that knows how to administer a good blowjob, and how to avoid pulling the trigger too early. You may be a lying fucker but there is professional pride at stake for her, and you will get the service that you’ve paid for.  She soon concludes that you’re suitably oiled up and lets your cock slip out of her mouth to resume its gaze upon the ceiling.

 

“So, how would you like to do this?” she asks.  Well, this is child’s play for you; lesson 101 in the pervert’s guide to bareback punting. Woman on top, spunk inside her for the big jets, tell her you’re about to come, and then it’s her fault for not getting off quickly enough.  Perhaps the last feeble splashes will end up on your own crotch, but the large majority of your load will be exactly where it belongs.

 

“I’m kind of new to this,” you claim, in what may be the most breath-taking lie in a record-breaking night for outrageous deceit.  “Would you mind going on top?”

 

Tiffany almost smiles, despite herself – her lips twitch and the corners of her eyes crease further, though she mostly succeeds in looking stern.  She has clearly taken lesson 101 more than a few times herself, and she is entirely familiar with how this scenario plays out.  Probably more familiar that you are, in fact.  “Of course not!” she exclaims, “and you can suck my nipples while you c-“  She falters for a moment.

 

While what?  While you come inside me?  Well, yes, that’s exactly what you plan to do, but you suspect that she didn’t mean to actually say it.

 

“I mean, while your cock fucks me,” she finishes lamely. Uh-huh. Yeah, sure.  She slides forward, kneeling with her legs on either side of you, your hard-on twitching on her cunt-lips.  “Remember, don’t come inside me!”  She glares at you, giving you a sudden, terrifying flashback to the headmistress of your primary school.  You obediently promise to honour the terms of your agreement, convincing no-one, and she slowly lowers her cunt onto your bare cock.

 

It’s quite extraordinary.  Tiffany’s clearly had at least one kid, probably more, but her muscle control is spectacular – she’s gently bouncing up and down on your dick in the usual time-honoured fashion, sure, but there’s more going on here.  She’s flexing the walls of her cunt around you as she bounces, effectively milking your cock as a farmer milks a cow.  Is she actually trying to make you shoot inside her?  It hardly matters, since you fully intend to do so regardless, but the notion is an appealing one nonetheless.

 

Despite your rising excitement, you vaguely remember that there’s something else you’re supposed to be doing – oh, yes, that’s right; she wants me to suck her tits while I come in her.  It’s hardly a chore: they’re barely two inches from your face, and you lean forward to take her left nipple into your mouth.  You suck hungrily upon it and she groans as you flick your tongue from side to side.  You reach down and position your index finger so that her clit brushes against it as she pistons upon and down, her tempo growing with each passing minute.

 

It doesn’t take long before you feel the familiar warning signs as the point of no return rapidly approaches.  Tiffany herself is flushed beyond the point at which you might still reasonably think she’s faking it: both nipples are bullet-hard (and excitingly large), and she’s becoming increasing well lubricated as she pistons up and down, faster and faster with each movement.  The inevitable crescendo approaches and you switch you mouth to her right nipple and suck hard upon it while pressing your finger firmly into her crotch.  The sap rises; your balls tighten; and you hover briefly on that plane of ecstasy before unleashing an absolute torrent of spunk deep inside her gripping cunt.

 

The first spurt is adequate; the second is impressive and the third is shocking in its sheer volume – you briefly wonder whether it’s possible to become dehydrated through coming too hard, before deciding that you really couldn’t care less.  As you begin to relax, your subconscious raises the red alert and you hastily bellow “I’m about to come!”

 

At this point you both know that you’re fooling no-one, but she swiftly lifts herself off your cock and the remaining, feeble spurts trickle slowly down your dick, pooling pleasantly in your pubes.

 

Tiffany drags herself back from whatever world she was briefly occupying, and smiles dreamily at you.  “That was very nice,” she says, standing upright, as a steady trickle of spunk oozes out of her and spatters on the floor below.  She shamelessly sticks two fingers back inside her sloppy cunt, waggling them around for a moment before removing them.  They glisten in even this low light – there’s no mistaking what has happened here.

 

“It seems as though you’ve come inside me, even though you said that you wouldn’t,” she says with a smile. “So I think you have two choices.  Option one: you pay me double.  Option two: I tell Sledge about this.  You’ve already met Sledge; he’s the big guy on the door.  He’s pretty fond of me.”

 

Ooops.  Well, it’s hardly going to seriously drain your punting fund, and you don’t fancy explaining yourself to Sledge, despite the tip you gave him earlier.  She reaches forward and slides her slimy fingers across your lips, and you take them into your mouth to lick your juice off them.  “So, what’s it going to be?”

 

Still sucking on her fingers, you fish out your wallet and take out eight twenties.  You pause for a moment and move your mouth away from her fingers.  “If I round it up to two hundred, can I have your phone number?”

 

She laughs out loud at this.  “Cheeky fucker!  You do like to push your luck, don’t you?  Okay, you can have my number, but next time you want to bareback me just try asking nicely.”  You leave the booth with a smile on your face and a spring in your step, your wallet two hundred quid lighter and Tiffany’s number stored safely on your phone.

 

You have £4,725 left.  Do you:

 

1. Wander over to King’s Row while your balls recharge
2. Go and see how much money you can blow at the Hummingbird
3. Stay in the Pink Pearl and see who’s on next
4. Go back to your hotel and fire up the laptop

[bigheavyballs]

I want the cute young blonde on kings row. Option 1.

[Zorro]

3

[Docebrown]

Option 3

[gglifefuck]

option 1