The Gigolo Juggler Blog

The Gigolo Juggler

Man Dive

Clarice did a stage dive off the head of the bed, naked. She was standing over Marco, as he lay spread eagle on the satin sheets fondling himself while gazing up at her open-mouthed. She landed by his side and giggled, pushing her silky hair from her face.

“Thirds?!” she asked and demanded simultaneously.

He laughed and threw the sheet over her head. Clarice had a thrill of fear, the air stifling underneath. Then he kissed her eyes, mouth, and neck through the sheet. Tasting her smell, reeking of sweet wood in the crevices. Lust replaced fear as he left wet spots on the sheet. He focused on each breast, nibbling and teasing. Her breath grew husky. Marco moved down with his tongue over her belly. Once he reached the place between her thighs, the sheet there was already wet. He lifted it and went down on her voraciously, watching labia swell and clitoris stiffen once again.

Unable to take it for much longer, she rolled him off, and climbed on his caramel-colored chest, slid easily up in reverse cowgirl. Her thighs counted the squares on his belly as she passed. His firm nipples informed her she wasnearing the target, and she dropped back so her labia could touch his lips again, and she could swallow his cock. As she closed her eyes and reciprocated, shivers went up her body from her soaked crotch. To Marco, the place between herthighs tasted like strawberries, his tongue licking and probing.

Clarice almost forgot what she was doing, almost. In her mind, she saw Marco laying on white sand; the water caressing his body like a billboard ad. She could smell the salt, his residual, her residual, and their scent, as he grew in her mouth. A spark in her clitoris made her arch her back, her lips falling away from his glans. They groaned together.

“Now lover, take me now,” she begged.

Placing his muscular hands on her firm bottom, he pushed her down to his hips, then lifted her up onto his stalk,then eased her down again. The pleasure of penetration, exquisite. His hardness drove the air out of her lungs, and she squeezed him. Then Clarice romped and rode him fast, full gallop, absorbing his testosterone, his power, with each thrust, until she finished.

He had cum before, but not this time, and she dismounted, leaving him frustrated. He groaned again as shestood up and headed for the bathroom.

“Aren’t you going to finish me?” he asked.

“Enough’s enough, now get dressed and get out. Ciao Bello!”

He did this little homosexual moan, staring at his throbbing cock. She looked back over her shoulder once more,to enjoy the length and girth of him, then closed the bathroom door. She heard the hotel room door slam a few minuteslater as she tested the bath water.

Chapter Two:

Taking Sugar from a Daddy

Clarice dropped fully formed on the great capitals of the world. In her twenties, she was the belle of the ball, the head of the harem, the juice for the justices. In Dubai, she shook the sheikhs, in Las Vegas, she kegeled the casinoowners, in Paris, she parley-vous-ed the prime minister, and in Hong Kong she hung out the Huns to dry. Leaving them either drained or desperate. Clarice collected sugar daddies, like some kids collect baseball cards.

Playing her part, she could be whatever they wanted. Transforming herself into the perfect lover, be it concubine, shy schoolgirl, or dominatrix. In this way, she amassed a fortune by the time she retired at twenty-eight. She bought hotels instead of stocks and hired managers she could twist or mount at will. Passive income allowed her more activedelights.

As an orphan, Clarice learned how to charm anyone and everyone. She developed the skill as a survivalmechanism, but was not a sociopath. She refined it as a teenager, beginning her seductions while other girls played withdolls. Deprived of love, she designed her own.

Fabricated it into the fine art of reward and profit. She learned never to ask for money or favors, but gave others theopportunity to reward her, ending up receiving far more than she expected.

Accompanied by her blossoming good looks, she bore with pride an irresistible and targeted technique inflirtation. Practicing it once more, she smiled into the mirror. Wearing a tight black dress that revealed more than hid her assets. Her blond hair, shoulder length, perfect for wigs, weaves, and extensions, now fell naturally. Her green eyes and height perfect for all her men.

Buttocks deliciously round and enticing, perfectly balanced by full breasts. She twisted and turned seductively todraw the wealthy towards her. Fixing her eyes and desire on a sugar daddy of her choosing, they melted under her wiles. The most steadfast and resilient man or woman could not help but to submit to their base desires with Clarice. She only improved with time and travel. Maturity gave her a strength that her lovers folded beneath, begging to submit.

Carrying over twenty passports, most legal, and most taken by force of will from the burning desire of her sugar daddies, she was free to cross borders whenever she chose. She would not brook abuse, but could dish it outmasterfully. She trained with all the best masters of the sexual arts, seeking their knowledge. All reimbursed throughtheir ultimate satiation.

An example, bored Japanese housewives paid her to be tied-up and suspended on stage in Tokyo’s red-light district.Clarice was one of the few women that could perform this service and drew sizeable crowds.

A quick learner, she soon exceeded the techniques of her masters. Clarice trained her body through discipline to control and pleasure her lovers, transporting them to new levels of carnal satisfaction. She always left them hungry for more. They often spent their love lives seeking sensations and climaxes she delivered, but could never experienceagain without her.

That life was behind her now. She could receive pleasure or give pleasure as she chose, no longer a servant of love. Some folks shopped in grocery stores. Clarice shopped in the rarefied world of gigolos. She chose them over prostitutes, or even those that sought meaningful relationships. The architecture of love was a religious construct.Genuine passion was a complex system of manipulation exchanged between individuals. Sex a dance of pleasure and pleasuring.

Chapter Three:

Getting a Brazilian, or Two

Clarice, in her early thirties, was heading toward her sexual peak. She understood gigolos, picked them not just for their appearance but for their reputations. She knew what drove them. Understood their goals. As a queen in their domain, they were like her former sugar daddies, willing playmates when indulged but also disposable when not needed. One time she made a mistake with them, but only just once.

At the opening of her newest hotel in São Paulo, Brazil, attended by celebrities, local politicians, and the glamgentry, Clarice spotted two of her recent conquests mingling. Their eyes kept glancing at her even though they were busy trying to engage with other wealthy dowagers. Unfortunately, the bees they were attracting were overweight andunintelligent.

Not that Evandro and Romulo had a problem with that, but they themselves found Clarice rare and irresistible.

The boys were unaware of each other, almost lost in the crowd of masculine and feminine beauty. If you knewgigolos, you could pick them out from the other gorgeous men the way they moved and flirted. Clarice subtly passed a room key to Evandro as she brushed against him, while talking with an influence peddler between faux sips of champagne.

Later, she entered the Mayor’s circle, making sure they had refilled his glass, while his acolytes received fresh canapes. Romulo slid up beside her and casually threw his arm over her shoulder. Clarice shrugged it off, and gave him a warning look, while continuing to engage in cheerful conversation. To get him to back off, she slipped himanother of her room keys, placing it in the hand he used to pat her bottom.

Joyfully, he headed upstairs. Romulo entered the honeymoon suite and dropped his clothes, positioning himself in front of the door, and worked on his erection. He wanted to be ready when she arrived. He heard the bump and grind music that circulated in the background while the bathtub filled.

Knowing the rooms were intelligent, Romulo figured she might have ordered it up for them, and ignored the rushof water. Evandro was just settling into the tub, after pre-oiling his magnificent body. If he had the length, Romulo had the girth. Being large, it took time for Evandro to come to full erection. So he worked the shaft with a practiced technique below the bubbles. He squeezed the glans purple to make it swell and burn. He knew Clarice would appreciate the convenience and the size of his manhood. The first time she saw it, her pupils told him all he needed to know.