I Say Ass You Say Arse: Brighton by Kumquatqueen

I Say Ass You Say Arse: Brighton by Kumquatqueen..,

Tags: anal sex, rimming, anal cleaning, friends with benefits, science, enema, British, pretend prostitution, role-play, Pink Orchid 2022

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This is the third story in the I Say Ass sequence: tales of scientists and transatlantic anal sex. It’s what science calls ‘international collaboration’.

For readers from the Pink Orchid list, I’d recommend going to the first story (I Say Ass, You Say Arse), which probably fits the brief better and introduces the characters in more detail.

If you’ve come via the Anal category, then I hope this story will interest you whether you’ve read previous episodes with Emily and Bradley, or not. This one has less science and more filth!

Rachel previously starred in my story ‘Gas Station Guy’, another story fitting the Pink Orchid brief.

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I Say Ass: You Say Arse: Brighton

A text message: ‘Can you make it over here, to come to the ICI conference?’

Bradley cursed, viciously. In his desperate rush to complete his PhD thesis, he’d missed the deadline to apply to the Cell Interactions conference in England.

No results submitted to the conference organizers: no chance of his travel being funded by his university. Not that he had much funding left anyway — he’d looked at hotel costs and already decided it probably wasn’t feasible to make the trip across the Atlantic.

‘I didn’t send anything in, I’m afraid.’

He got another succinct message from his English friend Emily. ‘Apply anyway. They won’t have organised all the abstracts for printing yet. Here’s the email.’

‘You think?’ Bradley edited his doctorate abstract down to the required 150 words, as he awaited her answer.

‘Trust me. I know some of the organisers. Richie’s on the panel, for example. It would be lovely to see you again.’

In Emily-speak, that was code for “I want you to come back to England so you can fuck me again, as well as spend five days talking about science and meeting everyone we ought to know. And my fuck-buddy Rich will help get you here, because he’s weird but likes making me happy.

‘OK, I’ve sent them the email.’ ‘Oh, auto-reply… Says it will be considered, but may not make it into the printed catalog if there’s not space.’

‘That’ll do. Everyone reads the up-to-date one online now, anyway. Book your flight.’

Bradley did like how she got bossy, sometimes. He checked his funds. $200 remaining of his travel grant was not going to get him across the Atlantic, let alone from the airport to Brighton, nor cover anywhere to stay.

He phoned her the next morning, which was mid-afternoon for her. “I don’t see how I can do it. The flight alone would be pushing it. And Brighton hotels cost a fortune!”

“Oh, don’t be so defeatist!” Emily spoke crossly, not giving up a visit from her friend-with-benefits so readily. “For starters, you can stay in my room. I’ll probably end up in Richie’s room one or two nights, if you want, ahem, privacy. He’s got a suite, the jammy sod.”

“Really? Huh. That might work. Thank you so much!”

“The British Airways sale is about to start. Get yourself a cheap ticket to Gatwick, then it’s only half an hour by train to Brighton. Then, you know how to spot other people to share a taxi — though actually it’s only a short walk down to the sea and the Grand…”

The idea of staying in the actual conference hotel, the famous Regency-era Grand Hotel on the seafront, with his beautiful sexy friend who kept encouraging him to fuck her up the ass whenever they were on the same continent, was not something Brad was going to let slip by him.

But three days later he had to force down his embarrassment and phone Emily again, to break it to her. “I’m too broke! The flights are $400, I’ll need a couple more hundreds for train and food and all…”

“Brad, Brad, Bradley! Shut up. Let me cover this! You get the plane ticket before the prices go up, I can send you some money for your credit card bill. We’ll all look after you. Verity and Dev and Marion all say hi.”

“You’d give me a place to stay and pay for me while I’m there? I mean, thank you, but really?”

He felt guilty.

“Assuming things go like previous times I’ve met you, I’ll be thanking you soon enough! So.” He could hear the smile on his tall elegant friend. “Are you happy to be a kept man for a few days?”

“Seriously? You want to cover me, so I can stay with you?”

“Sure! Paying for a good-looking sexy guy to come to my hotel room? Sounds like a good use of my salary to me.” She laughed. “It could be misinterpreted, couldn’t it? What do you call a guy who’s paid to come to your bedroom and you shag them?”

“Your gigolo?”

“My sweet American rent-boy? You could pass as a blond jock, right? You’ve got those stocky shoulders, that all-American clean cut look! But secretly, Bradley the scientist, is in fact, Brad the hooker…”

“Hey, I could play that. Role-play.” He made his voice go deep, husky and slow. “What can I do for you, ma’am?”

He heard Emily inhale. “You know what I need. How to make me satisfied…”

Brad tried to sound subservient to an older female client. “I aim to please, ma’am. Work to satisfy your desires? Oral sex and anal satisfaction are all included as part of my service.”

She was actually one year younger than him, albeit a few years older in career terms thanks to the shorter English degree programs, but with her stable income he could pretend the earnings gap was significant.

It was an undeniable fact that Emily loved being fucked in the ass. It was also a confirmed fact that Bradley loved doing it.

“Good, good. Just what I ordered! Would it be good or bad if I told you, you make a really cute whore? You sound so convincing, swearing you’ll enjoy fucking me up the arse when I pay you.”

Bradley gasped, surprised. He’d never thought in such terms about himself. He was a regular guy. Respectable. Even went to church, sometimes. Not a guy who put out for money.

But the way Emily said dirty words in her sexy English accent — it always made him want to do anything she wanted. Even though it was always stuff he actually wanted to, anyway.

Like fucking her adorable rounded ass.

“I… I’ll be your whore.”

She got his hesitation. “Only in the bedroom, sweetie! Proper professional by day, filthy whore by night, you and me both, sweetheart. Though maybe I’ll have to whisper some filthy ideas into your ear, in the bar, as I give you money to go buy us both drinks…”

Bradley laughed in relief. “You know, I think I can cope with that. Okay, now I have a patron, I’ll go back to searching for cheap flights. Wish me luck.”

“Having a patron is just a nicer way of saying you do sex for money, isn’t it? Whatever. Off you go, cute boy. Let me know when you’ve booked it.”

Bradley tapped away, cursing airlines’ habits of disguising 10-hour layovers as ‘direct’ flights, feeling a mixture of guilt and arousal at being beholden to Emily.

Finally he confirmed a red-eye flight from Newark, arriving at 7.30 am, which he hoped would be okay for the conference starting at lunchtime.

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