Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
But we figured out Fjall’s true identity because rumors circulate, traveling across oceans and continents to America. My mom always read trashy gossip magazines, and even subscribed to Hola!, Voici, Paris Match, and Chi despite the international mailing fees. Eventually, she figured out that her hook-up was Fjall of Lysenia after seeing his pic in a couple of rags, and even picked up on the fact that the Lysenian royal men are rumored to have double cocks. Her infant son was proof of that.
But Carly is an odd duck. For one, my mom named me “Carl” after herself, and not many people do that. But my mother has never been bound by tradition, and has never cared about what people think of her either. As a result, she raised me on her own and stayed mum about my parentage, smiling vaguely whenever anyone asked. Even more, she cautioned me to keep my anatomy hidden. If anyone found out, it would be the beginning of endless unwanted publicity, and we’re simple people. We don’t need that in our lives.
As a result, I always hid my double cocks. It was tough during gym class, but I managed to tuck the lower cock between my legs so that I had a normal-sized bulge. Tight jock straps helped, even if I didn’t enjoy the pressure, and loose basketball shorts were key to my wardrobe. Even more, I’m careful about whom I sleep with. I only ever use escorts, and I pay the women well to keep their lips sealed. Is it sad that I’ve never had a real girlfriend? Maybe, but I’m not willing to risk it.
I sigh, looking down at my double cocks. They’re huge, and semi-erect after tonight’s adventures. The top one is about nine inches, with a vein throbbing along the left side. The bottom one is about ten inches, thick and purple, like an anaconda with a smooth, helmet-shaped head. They both connect to one ball sack, and they both ejaculate wildly when I come. Even better, I can sometimes control the ejaculations. I can ejaculate with only the top, or only the bottom rod. Or I can shoot a double load from one cock if I want, filling a woman up until she’s literally overflowing.
But still, I need to be careful. Sure, the gorgeous Chloe Mackie is lush, beautiful, irresistible, and utterly tempting. I’d love to get a piece of her curvy body, and to taste the nectar between her thighs. I’d love to toy with those big breasts, watching as they wobble and bounce while I tweak a hard nipple. My cocks would brush against her holes, and I can see her blue eyes widening with anticipation already because she’d want it. As a generous woman, she’d be all about the double shaft, screaming and squealing on my rods as she comes.
But that’s where the problem lies: I only use working girls, and despite being generous with her body, Chloe Mackie’s out of the question. She doesn’t deserve to be dragged into the kind of sordid life that I live … even if she’s already halfway gone to hell.
2
Carl
Grunting, I pull my truck to a stop outside a fancy apartment complex. There are no dusty roads or ramshackle structures here. Instead, the Buena Vista Apartments in St. George is a six-story tower with huge windows, a manicured lawn, and covered parking where residents keep their luxury vehicles. As I make my way to the lobby, I see a red Beamer and a blue Mercedes. Perfect. The ladies are home.
The concierge nods when he sees me.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Jonsson. Go right up.”
“Thanks,” I reply. “Good to see you, Jacob.”
The man nods, and I make my way over to an elevator bank on the left that whisks me to the sixth floor. Then, I make my way to where Mary and Madeline Engels live. The door opens after the first ring of the bell.
“Hi Carl,” Madeline smiles sweetly. “How are you?”
I step in and kiss her cheek before striding over to kiss her mother’s cheek as well.
“I’m good,” I say. “How are you?”
Mary laughs, her bosom shaking.
“We’re good. Even better now that you’re here.”
I look at both women appreciatively because when I said I use working girls, I didn’t mean streetwalkers, masseuses, or brothel employees. Instead, Madeline and Mary Engels are a mother-daughter pair who occasionally entertain men. You’d never know it, looking at them. Both are brunette with luscious figures, but they don’t wear sexy clothes. Instead, Mary’s clad in a blouse and skirt perfect for the office, whereas Madeline’s dressed in slacks and a collared silk top. Hell, maybe they did just get back from work. I don’t know.
After all, the women lead normal lives. Mary’s a bank teller over at Citi, and Madeline’s a secretary at some big corporation. Both of them work regular 9-to-5’s and moonlight as working girls, entertaining men as they see fit. I asked why they do it, and both shrugged.