Gay Sugar Daddy

Gay Sugar Daddy

By:  hotTraunasaurus  Completed
Language: English
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"I'm gay." My eyes grow so big as I stop breathing, but two seconds later I'm bursting with laughter. "Okay funny," I finally tone down my laugh as I bring myself to look at him again. But he is still staring at me like he had been when he told me that joke. "Wait," uhh, "Really?" He nods, "Really." "You like... guys?" "I fuck guys." Oh wow, you really can't have it all can you. When he checks all the boxes, suddenly there's this big box he doesn't. The most important box, the top on the list. "You're gay or bi?" Because there's a big difference between those two. "I'm gay." "You never fuck a woman?" "I've never fucked a woman." "Then why the hell would you want me to be your sugar baby? To watch you fuck another man's butthole?" He smirks despite my little mockery. "Oh now it's funny?" "It is," he is still smirking, "But no. It's the opposite of what I wanna do." I bring my arms across my chest as I reply in my all-business tone, "Enlighten me." *** 22 year old Estelle is one of the best sugar babies the agency has ever had. She has the whole package, no dick ever gone soft seeing how perfect she is, both her body and personality. But can she sway Owen into the heterosexual group? After being in that homo-pool all this while?

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89 chapters
Prologue
"Emulsion doesn't exist in the formation," I try to control my voice as I maintain the eye contact, "It's actually formed when the hydrocarbon enters the wellbore, into the casing, which we'll have this pressure difference that will mix the oil and water like crazy, creating the emulsions." I definitely feel some sort of accomplishment to be able to finish my explanation as I pant, finally allowing my body to feel the exhaustion from moving too fast while answering his question that perhaps, will be in the paper I'm gonna take tomorrow. "Tell me about emulsifying agent." He smiles as he watches me ride him at my own pace, slow and steady but still giving both of us plenty of pleasure. "Uhmm," I release my hand from his shoulders then sit up, "When water is in the oil, they're surrounded by this tough film. That tough urgh," I choke on my words when he suddenly moves his erection from below, charging in at fast speed. "Go on," he smirks as he keeps thr
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1
As usual, after I finish my finals, I'd spend six weeks with my bestfriends somewhere we've decided to go months before. It's actually one of the things that keep me in the business, to aim for lotsa money so I can enjoy my vacation like a heiress instead of who I really am. Three weeks in Italy, another three in Greece, then the three of us bid goodbye until next year because we're gonna go for our internship at three different locations. Well, I thought I'd stay with Kimmie in London but at the very last minute the company I'm really interested with suddenly called and offered a place so hereeee I am, New York! Instead of starting my internship in September, I took the initiative in offering myself for an earlier enrolment. They're absolutely delighted to receive me in August instead of a month after. While me, on the other hand, is beyond thrilled to have a reason not to go back home prior internship. I'd rather spend a month at the most ex
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2
I don't think I'm the only girl who wants a man who has money, is nice, good looking, and loyal. I mean, that should be the bare minimum for the criteria of a husband. Example one: my sister. She is the first in our family who got married. Just like me, she's pretty, funny, and everything you want as a girlfriend and wife. But she chose to marry that boy she met at church. Urgh, they might have the most beautiful pair of kids but they sure live not up to my standard. I mean, I've been in that middle class family for eighteen years. I'd be stupid to want to stay that way when I have every means to change my life. So I really don't understand why someone like my sister would marry my brother in law. Like I get it, he tall he's handsome he's like a freaking model but he's a technician! And now they're living in the same neighbourhood as my parents. Urgh. Poor life decision. God is sure merciful when He gives me another example with my brother, th
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3
So far I've known he's very easy to get along with, has a sense of humor, and definitely gives me this cool-guy vibes. "I don't think I should waste your time," I begin my little speech about not taking the position that's being offered when he suddenly cuts me off, "You're gorgeous, you're hilarious, if anything it's definitely not wasting my time. I'm honoured you'd spend your time with me this long in fact." I grin at his seems-to-be-sincere compliment, and decide to scratch my itch before going further with my no, "You're good looking, and funny, obviously have tons of money, so why would you need a sugar baby? I seriously don't get it." He smiles as he sips his drink, "Perhaps you should say yes to know the reason, hmm?" "You know I'm gonna say no since the beginning?" "Miss Collins did tell me about your rejection." I know how things go in Cupcake. He'd be presented with a few profiles, he'd select one, then he'd have a meeting with her.
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4
As usual, once I steer clear of the client, I take out my phone and type his name for a G****e search to know more about who's I'm gonna be dealing with for the next three months. Or one day. Depending on the top secret requiring-NDA-signed reason. Though yeah, I'm very curious to know his dating history, what he owns or to be specific, how did he gain his wealth. Most importantly, what juicy gossips I can gather from the internet; the ones their PR team decided to be known to the world. 'Owen Harris is an English former professional footballer-' I choke on my saliva reading that last word. Footballer? Professional footballer? Okay. Explains the muscles. 'Born, height, spouse, number, children', okay boring. Because the only part that's filled is the born, number, and height. But good, he's not cheating then. No wife, no kids. Nothing against my principles. Because there's no way I'm gonna be with a cheating douchebag, not even for a m
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5
"Here's your room," he opens the door on our left as I can't help but to ask, "And whose door is this?" when I see another one on the opposite of my new bedroom door. "That would be mine, there's only two rooms on this floor so here, come in," and he pushes the door to reveal my new chamber for the next three months. My jaw totally drops seeing how huge the space is. It's like having a separate apartment. A mini living area with a cream colored couch, a super duper large bed at the end of the room, with a door that I believe is the ensuite bathroom. Don't tell me he also has a walk in closet for me? Cause that would be sick! I've always wanted one, and pretend that I indeed have it every time I stay at those luxurious suites with my sugar daddies, even for a short few-days vacation. But to have one here, on a long stay, dedicated specially for me, "Oh wow." "Do you like it?" He asks as he stands in front of the shelves in the walk-in c
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6
Setting the temperature of the oven after sliding the tray with the giant chicken on it, I admire his back in awe. Mhmmm yummy. "Do you know how to cook?" He asks once he turns around, now standing in front of the kitchen counter, facing me. Only this giant marble thing is separating the two of us. "Not a pro but yeah, a bit." I'm from a middle class family, of course I know how to feed myself. It's not like we're blessed with a helper. But to answer with a confident yes doesn't seem like an option if we were to compare our skill level. The pots and pans picture? The pose in his chef outfit while holding a knife? Well turns out he sells them and is the ambassador of his own brand. That definitely killed my laugh yesterday when I read about that fact. That company alone must have worth millions. Besides having his own business producing all sorts of cookware, he also has five restaurants all over the world. But surprisingly, none in England. Weird, bec
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7
"So we'll bond these two weeks at full speed," I summarise the lengthy discussion we've had while cooking and over dinner just now, "Then perhaps take a snail pace when I start my internship, and go at a comfortable speed once I've adjusted to my new life." He agrees as he tops up my Rose, "Sounds like a perfect plan." Treating me with good food and prepares my choice of champagne beforehand, he really is trying his best to keep me here for his mission of sexual exploration. Honestly, he's so easy going I don't think it will be a bumpy ride. We've spent hours talking and being in each other's space but I haven't even once find myself to have any negative feelings towards him. "So on the full speed part, besides getting to know each other, should we start having sex too?" I ask in the most nonchalant tone I can muster when deep down I'm wondering if I'm stepping on the boundary. I mean, this is only our first day. No, tomorrow is our first day.
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8
It's crazy how we just met last Saturday, then become roomies the next day, and by Monday we're officially sugar baby and sugar daddy. Six days with him, and today is exactly one week since we first met, but I think I've known him for years already. Tonight, as agreed, I'm gonna go to his room for the first time ever; we agreed to share the bed once the weekend is here. Knocking on his door, I wait patiently in my champagne satin negligee, with my hair and make up done. But he doesn't respond to my knocks, making me confused if I should try again in a few minutes or just barge in uninvited. After all, we did agree, didn't we? So I've actually got an invitation. I walk back to my room because I can't bring myself to go against my own principle; I don't do stuffs without consent. So I play with my phone as I hang out at the balcony. Realising twenty minutes has passed, I force myself to go back to his room. I check my hair and make up, m
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9
Every morning once I open my eyes I'd immediately go out to my balcony to watch him pick the vegetables and herbs for our first meal of the day. So sexy yet adorable, he'd squat in his sweatpants, shirtless of course, as he talks to his plants. "Awwww my baby has grown!" to the tomatoes. "Come to papa!" to his first victim when he visits the garden. "I'm sorry I have to eat you today," that apologetic voice towards the unlucky veggies that's gonna fill our tummy. Sometimes I fantasise it's me he's talking to. Hopeless, I know. Anyway, this morning when I open my eyes, instead of rushing to the balcony I realise I'm still lying on the bed at his terrace. The transparent roof is hidden again as I take a breath of the fresh air. It's amazing how he can get a place like this when twenty minutes away from here, it's already the busy city that's too polluted compared to this neighbourhood. I'm lying alone on the bed eventhough I thin
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