The Mafia's Curvy Woman

By: Sam Crescent

Marco had featured in every single dream, and she wanted his touch more than anything else.

He reached out, and she tried so hard to hold her gasp as he stroked her cheek.

“You’re here for one reason and one reason alone, to please me.”

His words made her pussy wet. She wasn’t embarrassed, humiliated, or upset. Why would she be? Marco was the man she had wanted.

“You’re to be my Pet, Petal.”


She wasn’t running away screaming, and Marco considered that a plus. It never ended well if they were always screaming. He often found it really fucking annoying, not that he’d propositioned a woman like this before.

He fucked and left. That was his thing.

“What do I do then?”

“You wait for me.”

“I wait for you?” she asked.

“This is your new home. You can do whatever you want. Have what you want.” He pulled a credit card out of his wallet. “This is yours.”

“I don’t want your money.”

“You’ll get it all the same.”

“So I’m going to be a whore.”


“But by the very definition, I will be. You want to fuck me, and you’re going to pay me for the pleasure.”

He knew what he wanted to do with her dirty mouth and it was have those lips wrapped around his cock.

“A whore takes whatever client who wants her. I won’t be sharing you. You’ll belong to me. You won’t be a whore. In a way, you’ll be my wife.”

“Your wife?”

“Yes. Without the need for a ring or any of that other bullshit people seem to like.”

She stared down at the card. “This makes me a little uncomfortable.”

“But knowing I want to have sex with you doesn’t?”


He stared at her, even more intrigued. Glancing down, he admired her curves in the tight jeans and revealing top she wore. It was a camisole top with thin straps but molded to her body.

One of the straps was falling down her shoulder, and every couple of seconds, she moved it back up into place.

He wanted to peel her clothes off.

Why not have a look at the goods?


“Right now?”


She still held the credit card, and he stood back as she looked back at the windows.

“We’re far enough up, no one can see us. You’re safe.” He would have to set some ground rules with her. There was no way he’d let anyone look at her or even glance at her. She belonged to him and only him.

He wasn’t very good at sharing. Never had been.

She put the credit card on the nearest table, and then, working with her jeans first, she unsnapped the button.

He watched her as she swung her hips from side to side as she wriggled out of the jeans, kicking them off.

The torture was prolonged as she picked them up, folding them. He didn’t need to know if she was neat or not. What he needed was for her to just get naked.

Next, she lifted up her camisole shirt, doing exactly the same as with the jeans, folding it neatly.

She stood before him in a pair of white ankle socks, an off-grey bra, and the same colored panties.

Ugly underwear aside, Marco didn’t have a problem with her. She was fucking stunning.

“I said strip. I didn’t say you could stop.”

Her cheeks were red, but she didn’t voice a complaint or ask him to stop.

He watched her, completely entranced.

She flicked the catch of her bra first, and she had beautiful, tight, red nipples. They were made for his mouth. She pulled her panties off, and then with her hands once again clasped in front of her, pressing those tits together, she kept her head bowed.

Like the perfect little submissive.

He’d called her pet, but he was no Dominant. He liked to fuck and use a little bondage, but he wasn’t a master.

He grabbed her arms and moved her into the center of the room so he could get a good look at her.

Some men wouldn’t want her, as she was on the larger side, but he had a thing for her curves. He wanted to get his hands all over her, to have her spread out for him, at his mercy, begging for his touch.

He wouldn’t have cared if she was a virgin or not, but knowing no one else had touched her, well, that was one of the best fucking dreams in the world.

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