Goldfinger leaned back on his bed, smoking a cigar. Twice a week, one of the guards brought him a new package containing supplies for the week. His Cuban cigars, a stash of cash and cigarettes, a new burner phone baked into a fruitcake and a stash of sweets.
He extracted his phone, his first call was to the London escort agency.
“Alrigh’ Clive? How’s tricks?”
“Good John. How are you?”
“I’m good. Is Rhiannon available today?”
“For you mate? Always.”
“Great. Send her for a conjugal.”
Rhiannon wasn’t his wife but the guards didn’t ask too many questions if they were sufficiently compensated. Goldfinger was a lifer, he had plenty of time to make friends with all the guards.
They took him to the conjugal room and he waited anxiously for the elite London escort to arrive. Rhiannon was expensive but worth every penny. He could hardly remember another woman who made him feel so…relaxed.
“So, how do you want to fuck?” Goldfinger ran his fingers down the valley between Rhiannon’s breasts. The thin layer of fabric between her skin and his fingers left little to the imagination. He took a hold of a breast as he questioned her; and the irony was not lost on her.
“I like to suck you untdddddil you can’t breathe and then put on a strap on and really go to town…” Rhiannon ghosted her lips over Goldfinger’s, “…make you come on my dick alone.”
Goldfinger felt every word escape her lips. He let out a throaty laugh and slammed her up against the wall, pinning her there by her neck. He tore her shirt off, and claimed her breast with his mouth, his teeth capturing her nipple.
“Cor.” Rhiannon moaned as he laughed, “Is that all you got?”
“Don’t touch yourself,” she said and then she was inside of him.
She started slow in her thrusting, Goldfinger yelping out in pleasure. As if she could read his mind, Rhiannon picked up the pace. He only got louder when she found his prostate.
Rhiannon reached around and grabbed hold of Goldfinger’s cock, pumping and trying to thrust at the same time.
“Fuck, fuck,” Goldfinger groans before coming harder than ever. Rhiannon took off the strap-on and climbed onto his face.
“Eat it bitch,” she commanded, and Goldfinger ate her out. Afterward, as she prepared to leave he begged, “don’t tell…”