2 comments/ 19646 views/ 4 favorites Fifty-Fifty By: Abelard7 olo olo olo olo olo olo olo olo olo olo I enjoyed my 'business trips'. Why the quotes? Until I saw it on paper, I have never thought of them as business trips, they are certainly trips, I was many miles from home, and I suppose people would describe me as a business man. My in-built modesty, my introversion, leads me to step away from the limelight. Being a 'grey man' has served me well in some respects. I am Mr Average, nobody notices me. I was like it at school, never the bad boy, never the teacher's pet. I was not good at sport, or anything else come to that. I was just one of the many who make up the rest. It was almost inevitable that I would become an accountant, I was not bad with numbers. Once in employment, I became known as reliable, trustworthy. Not a leader, but dependable. Nobody feared that I was a threat to their promotion. And because of that, I was promoted faster than most. Trustworthy you see? Just what's needed in the finance business. So I was first choice to do what I was here for. My company has several branches, and they each hold sessions where small companies in need of financial backing, turn up to pitch for my company's support. A bit like 'Dragon's Den' but without the celebrity millionaires. It had been a bad day, far too many Power Point presentations and not enough passion. It was over now, thank goodness. Although this was the part of my trips that I liked least. The empty evenings. What to do after dinner. There was the bar of course, not my idea of a good evening. I would have one drink, take my time over it and 'people watch' for an hour. Then it was TV or a good book until bedtime. During my people watch, I would try to categorise people, guess what they were here for. From my table in the restaurant I watched as the bar girls took their positions on the high stools. Not difficult to guess what they were here for! I had been approached on a few occasions, but had not bitten. My pleasure in that department would come tomorrow. I had a plan. I was married, sort of. But it was a sham. With the benefit of hindsight, it was always destined to fail, and had been failing almost from the start. She had stumbled on me almost by accident, she had just emerged from a particularly bruising, literally and psychologically relationship with someone my opposite; extrovert, flashy, one of the lads. But he had a dark side. He had brutalised her. I must have appeared to her to be acceptable and non-threatening. Mr Nice-guy. Boring but safe. I was smitten, it was lust at first sight on my part. I divorced my wife and married her, but once the sex became routine, we both realised that there was little else. We stayed together because it was easier that splitting up - all the nausea of finding somewhere to live etc. We both had well-paid jobs, which could soak up our energies, so we lived together, but separately. We slept in the same bed, we even still had sex, but not the steamy kind that had united us in the first place. I have never had trouble getting an erection, it could even be a problem at times. I would lie in bed, tenting the bedclothes with my boner. Sometimes I would go to the bathroom and masturbate, she would have been disgusted if I stayed in bed and did it lying next to her. Sometimes, if I felt brave, I would place a hand on her hip, (She always lay in bed with her back to me.) if she did not shrug it off, I would lift the skirt of her nightdress, check that she was wet enough to accommodate me, and slip into her from behind, like spoons. She would not respond, a blow-up doll would have been more receptive. I would come quickly and she would then get out of bed and go to the bathroom where she would wash away my soil. I always felt ashamed afterwards, it was little more than wanking by proxy. So I had started using the services of prostitutes. Not street girls, not bar girls, but massage parlour girls. The first time was almost accidental. Another guest at the hotel I was staying in, left an evening newspaper lying on a seat next to me. It was from a nearby town. I idly picked it up and began to read. It carried half a page of adverts for brothels, or massage parlours. The town was only a small diversion from my route home, I was curious. The place was over a wine shop. That's rather an exaggeration of what it was – a cheap booze shop. The entrance to the parlour was at the rear, but being on a corner, it was possible to park in a pub car-park opposite and to a watch the comings and goings. The paper had given the opening hours as 12 -12. At about a quarter to noon, a woman arrived and opened up, quickly followed by two younger women, then a third just before twelve. The first punter arrived at about ten past. It was now or never, if I left it much longer, the girls would be well-used by the time I got there, and I did not fancy that. I crossed the road at speed, head down, and rang the bell. I was buzzed in and climbed the narrow stairs to the reception area. The two available girls paraded for me, they wore white overalls which they both removed to display lingerie-clad bodies. They did slow pirouettes so that I could clearly see what was on offer. I made my choice, paid up-front and was shown to a room. The room was not bad, clean, quite large and with a king-sized bed. The colour scheme was red. In one corner was a shower cubicle, in another was a large TV showing porn. The walls and ceiling were mirrored. I took a perfunctory shower and lay on the bed naked. Very soon, my cock was almost at full strength. The door opened and 'my' girl, Jade, walked in. "Pleased to see me?" She quipped, nodding at my stiffy. She told me to lie on my front and began to stroke my back and shoulders in what I assumed was the massage part. She ended up fondling my balls between my parted thighs. There was a brief pause, then she asked me to turn over. During the pause, she had removed the white overall she had been wearing and was naked apart from her shoes and hold-up stockings. She was quite stunning, she surely could have been a model? The orgy scene on-screen was reaching its climax, the cum-shots. Numerous porn-stud cocks spouted copious amounts of semen onto porn-queen tits and faces. In front of me was a lovely twenty-something woman, naked for my pleasure. My own cock swelled a little bit more. She got onto the bed alongside me, I moved over to make space, instinctively extending an arm, she settled comfortably under my wing, ran her fingernails gently down my body and encircled my straining organ with her cool fingers. "What kind of things do you like?" She breathed into my ear. "What's on offer," I replied, "it's my first time." "Anything that you've ever fantasised about," she breathed, "I'll tell you if it's not on the menu." I took a deep breath. I have always wanted to speak to a woman in the earthiest terms, to 'talk dirty', but had never dared to. This time I was paying, and I imagined that this young woman was pretty much un-shockable. "I would like you to suck my cock first, then I would like to fuck you, in several positions. I would like to finish by coming on your tits." There. I had said it. And it felt good. She raised herself and kissed me lightly on the lips. "That's what I would like too." She lied glibly. But I forgave her as she kissed her way down my body to engulf my tip with her brightly painted mouth. It was all I could do to prevent spilling my load down her throat there and then, but I managed. She sucked expertly, bringing me to the brink of climax several times, but each time sensing my impending orgasm and bringing me down again by removing her mouth from my tip, running her tongue down my shaft and sucking my balls. It stopped me from erupting, but certainly maintained my interest. After I don't-know-how-many times, and just when I thought that I would have to push her away, she sucked me in again, but this time with a condom between her lips. She completed the task with her fingers, straddled me, and impaled herself on my throbbing stalk. "My, you are a big boy, she husked, "it's stretching my cunt." I think that my cock swelled a bit more, this girl caught on quickly, echoing my 'dirty talk'. I had never heard a woman refer to her cunt like that. My wife uses the word as an oath, perhaps referring to a colleague as; "That fucking cunt." But she had never used that kind of language in a bedroom context. I rarely swear, certainly not using what I consider to be sex-words, and I had never had the balls to use the words in bed, so to hear this from Jade's lipsticked lips, was a bonus. "I bet you say that to all the boys." I teased. "Perhaps," she replied, "but in your case, it's true. Now shut up and fuck me with it." How could I refuse? I thrust powerfully up into her, holding her hips to keep her in position, focussing on her fine tits swinging in time to my pumping. Again I came close to losing it. I stopped and asked her to get on all-fours so that I could fuck her from behind. Now I could reach under and enjoy the feel of her tits squirming in my hands. All too soon I had to stop again. I needed to come soon or risk bursting a testicle or two. This time I had her in the missionary position. I supported my weight on straight arms and fucked her by swinging my hips into her. Jade brought her hands up to her chest and cupped a tit in each, lifting them and squeezing them together. Fixing me with her blue-green eyes, she sad clearly; "They are ready for your spunk." That was my undoing. I pulled out of her and straddled her chest, tearing off the rubber on the way. It took only a few jerks to trigger what was always going to be a memorable ejaculation. Several powerful spurts covered her offered tits, her throat and the lower half of her face with thick, grey-white cum. Jade waited until I had squeezed out the last few drops before raising her head to survey her generously lacquered tits. "Nice one," she said, "now lick it off." Then she laughed and reached for tissues to clean up my gift. I had thought that she was serious when she ordered me to lap up my own juice. I said nothing, but I would have gladly done so if it could have worked as fuel for a second coming, I did not want the encounter to end. But it had ended, she was already putting her working clothes back on. She asked if I wanted to shower again, I declined, but asked her what days she worked. I wanted an encore. There was a rota, she told me, but it was not reliable, girls failed to turn up for all manner of reasons and standbys were often summoned at short notice. She suggested that I telephoned first to check. During the drive home, I could not get Jade out of my mind. I was in love. Again. Back home I was the same, reliving the encounter over and over. Was what she had said true? Was I a 'big boy'? In the past I had held a ruler against my erection, who hasn't, but although I had an idea of what I had, how did it compare? What was average? Google came to my aid, not only did I discover what the average was, but how to measure myself 'scientifically'. Jade was right, I should not have doubted her, she must have had many to compare, I am twenty percent bigger that the UK average, both in length and girth. (I'll leave you to reach for your calculators.) In absolute terms it is not that much, it does not make me porn-stud material. But as an ego-boost, it's wonderful. There is part of me that is not 'Mr Average'! The weekend passed agonisingly slowly, my wife did not feel my hand on her hip in bed, I was ashamed of my 'infidelity', but that did not stop me from wanting more. On the following Monday, I telephoned the parlour to ask when Jade was scheduled to work. The next day I called in sick, something that I had never done without good reason, but I really was sick - love-sick. I made the long drive to 'Pleasuretown' and presented myself once again at the parlour door. 'Come into my parlour said the spider...' Jade was there, but was 'busy'. I would have to wait. I felt insanely jealous at the thought of another man fucking her, just a few feet above my head. I imagined that I could hear the springs creaking as he nailed her to the bed with a cock muck larger than mine. Fortunately, and incongruously, a TV in the reception area was showing cricket, a test-match between England and the Aussies. We lost two wickets while I was waiting. Jade emerged at last, she recognised me. "Hello James," she said, not my real name of course, my name is Robert, but I don't suppose Jade was hers, "back already?" Naked and on the bed with my paramour, I soon forgave her infidelity. Soon those lips would be around my cock. "Same again?" She asked. I had not thought about it. "No," I replied, "something different." "Why don't you massage me, and see what it leads to?" The idea of running my hands all over her firm young body was irresistible. What it lead to was pretty much as before, but as I banged my (Bigger than average!) length into her cunt from behind, she looked back over her shoulder and said: "If you promise to be careful, you can stick it up my bum if you'd like." The offer almost made me come, but somehow I managed to catch it, Whether her words were calculated to make me lose it, I will never know. Anal! I had never done it! I had raised the subject with my first wife, to be promptly slapped down, and had not dared to try again. Another offer from Jade that I could not refuse. She showed me how, how to use masses of lube and to go slowly. She was incredibly tight, and the sensation for me was blissful. It did not last long, as soon I was able to make full-length thrusts, Jade turned to me again and said; "Fuck it. Fuck my arse." I came instantly. So I became a regular, not just with Jade but in parlours wherever I went. I even found one close to my place of work that I could visit at lunchtime. I came close to overdosing. On one business trip I managed four trips in three days; once on the way to my destination, twice in the evenings after I had done my thing at the branch office and again on the way home. Evenings had a different feel to daytimes, somehow slightly seedy and sinister. I eventually regulated it to no more than once a week. So that was my plan for tomorrow as I finished my meal and headed for my one drink at the bar. (()) (()) (()) (()) (()) (()) (()) I did not plan it. It was a happy accident, sexual serendipity. Even if I was devious enough to plan it, I could not have had time. At about four PM on a Tuesday, my boss walked into my office. Without knocking, but he is the boss. His arrival was indication enough of the urgency, normally I would be summoned to his presence. "Amy," he began, using his 'I need a favour' voice, "there is a problem at The Branch." He always called it 'The Branch', we only have one branch office, but he has ambitions for others, then it would be 'The Xxx Branch. "their computers are down, it seems to be software, can you go there now?" "What now tonight?" "Yes, now, now." My mind raced, there was really no reason not to, my husband was away on one of his numerous business trips, I had no idea where, we don't speak much, and would not be back until Thursday. All I had planned for tonight was a microwave meal for one, TV and an early night. And software was my thing, I had written the programme that seemed to have failed. I had little choice but to go and sort it. "Take the train, I will get Jane to book you into an hotel for when you are finished." I had to go home first, I needed a change of clothes at least, but by seven I was speeding north, scanning a copy of the software on my laptop to see if there was anything obvious. The damned thing had been working fine since it was commissioned, six months ago. I was met at the station by the branch manager and driven to The Branch. We were met there by the hardware engineer from the company we outsource to. It was he who had spent all day trying to find the fault. It took me four hours, reading code line by line, before I found it – a virus. The mainframe was not supposed to be linked to the web, just to the head office mainframe, so where the bug had originated was a mystery – a worrying one. I fell into my hotel bed at about two A.M. Exhausted, intending to sleep in, I had hung a 'Do not disturb' sign on my door, but the general busy buzz of the hotel woke me anyway. I rang room service for breakfast to be sent up, then called my boss. He already knew that the problem had been solved, the branch manager had stayed at The Branch all night running the system. "I'll get the first train back then," I offered. "No. Stay there, you might need to be on hand if the problem recurs, we've booked two nights anyway, have the day off, you've earned it. Pamper yourself, have a facial or a manicure or a massage, whatever the hotel has to offer, put it on the bill." He was right, I had earned some R & R. The hotel was part of a newly opened complex in the city centre. There were new shops to be explored. I could walk to them easily from the hotel. Even the train station was within the complex. I explored the shops. Pamper yourself my boss had said, I had booked a massage for two P.M. and a visit to the hotel hairdresser afterwards. My nails are fine and the idea that I might need a facial was just a touch insulting. But some new undies would qualify as pampering though. And of course, new shoes. I also treated myself to a new dress, though where I would get to wear it was still unknown, me and husband don't go out together any longer, except to company functions. To the outside world we are still a couple, at home it is the cold war. After a light lunch, I headed to the 'Leisure suite' for my massage. If anything, this is where my business trip began to turn into a sexual adventure. My masseuse was female of course, young, east European, very attractive. She wore a white overall, but with the zip pulled a long way down. There was no evidence of a bra. I wondered if she did men as well as women. She was good at her job, but she did allow her hands to linger more than I thought strictly necessary, and did she really need to brush my nipples? Or to let her fingers trail the length of my outer vaginal lips? When she declared herself finished, she asked if I needed anything else. Was it my imagination, or was I being offered sexual services? I declined, I had never entertained a lesbian thought, but at the hairdresser's and in the lounge bar where I had tea afterwards, my mind began to roam. Suppose that I had said, yes, what's on offer? Masturbation probably, what would it be like to be brought off by a woman? She would certainly know how. Or perhaps oral, again, who better than another woman to know just how to do it? To my surprise, I found that I was becoming aroused at the thought, safely hidden under my loose jumper and sensible bra, my nipples had erected. I have always believed that my nipples and clitoris are in some way hard wired together, if my nipples get hard, so does my clitoris, and vice versa. I was also seeping gently into the gusset of my sensible knickers. Snap out of it girl, I told myself, you are not lez. But I was aroused. To divert myself, I began to consider the men in the lounge as possible sex partners. There were only a few. I dismissed my young, charming waiter first. He was, I thought, probably gay. The bartender was female, don't even think about it. The others taking tea, were mainly couples. I ignored female halves and considered their males. Too fat, too old, that one was a possible, but something of a last resort. Others began drifting in, work over for the day. A group of six, five young men and an older woman. Then two young men, talking animatedly and a bit too loudly, about their day. Two! Now there was a thought. They were young enough to have the stamina, even if the first one failed to satisfy me I could call immediately on the second. But would a young man, or even two, have the experience that I, a seasoned sex-pot, required? I would have to teach them, show them what a mature woman expected. And there lay the problem, how does a woman tell a man what she wants? I had never had too, I usually got what pleased me, eventually. But sometimes there had been occasions when I should have said; Fifty-Fifty "Don't do that, do it this way." How do tell a young man where your clitoris really is? And in what terms? 'Fondle my mammarys.' Might excite a Roman soldier, or perhaps a student of Latin, but not the youth of today. 'Kiss my vagina.' Was worse, it sounded like a girl band at the Edinburgh fringe. No, I would have to learn a new language, the language of sex. I knew the words of course, some of them are regularly used as swear-words, I do so myself I'm ashamed to say. Try them in the proper context I told myself. "Suck my tits." Wow, that would do it. It did it for me, an electric shock went from nipple to clit, to other nipple and back again. "Lick my cunt." I felt my knees go weak. I had never said the words to a lover, three husbands and goodness knows how many lovers, and I had never used the word. It was perfect. And had the backing of long usage: 'Cunt. noun. Origin believed to be Old Norse.' I let my mind run through the words that I would use, assuming that I could 'pull' in the first place; "Fuck me with your big, hard..." Hard what? Lots of options for that part. 'Dick?' A bit coy. 'Cock?' better, but plumbing connotations: Stop-cock, bib-cock, ball-cock. Cock and balls perhaps, but I wanted something more specific. 'Prick?' Yes, perfect, another English classic. Prick then. With cock as an alternate. "Fuck me with your big, hard prick, fill my cunt with your spunk." 'Spunk' sounded deliciously dirty, very English, and again, historical and accurate: 'Spunk. Noun. Origin unknown, but dating back to the early sixteenth century. I was getting carried away, my tea had gone cold, but my, cunt, was hot. I went up to my room on slightly wobbly legs, to practice my words and to prepare myself for a seduction. I had no doubts that I could score, all a woman has to do is be alone and look reasonably presentable, the men do the rest. In the safety of my room, I stripped naked and looked at myself in the full-length mirror. Not bad for a thirty-six-year-old. Good, firm breasts. Tits, sorry. I exercised, so no flab, not too many wrinkles. I leaned forward and lifted my tits, squeezing them together, nipples pointing back at me like light artillery. I spoke out loud to myself; "What you need girl, is a good fucking." The words seemed to echo back from all around the room. I had a moment of irrational panic. Suppose the room was bugged? Did the management have secret cameras in every room? I knew what I must do, I had seen it in many spy films. Go to the bathroom, turn on the shower. The noise would cover any conversation. And besides, a good shower was the next thing on my list. I stepped into the shower, adjusted the shower head so that it did not spray onto my newly coifed hair, even though I had donned the complimentary shower-cap, and turned the water on fully. The hot water was like needles on my bare flesh. I began to speak my lines; "Yes, I would love to suck your prick, but first kiss my tits and lick my cunt until I come, then put your massive prick into my cunt and fuck it until your spunk shoots." Oh my! What next? "Come in my mouth, let me taste your spunk." "Come on my tits and I will lick it off." "Fuck me in the arse." Okay, the last one was pushing it a bit. I was no stranger to anal, I had got to like it, but it had been a long time, and with a stranger? Perhaps, depends on the stranger. We would see. I spent too long in the shower, got a bit wrinkly, but very clean. I dried myself and proceeded to stage two, the anointing with perfumed potions, smooth away those wrinkles. My hands on my naked flesh re-kindled my desires, I thought again of the masseuse. The body lotion would make good lubrication, just a little stroke? No. Save it for whoever is lucky enough to 'pull' me. Make-up was next. I don't wear much at work, but if going out I usually applied more. What I had in mind was a step further than 'going out' - full war paint, signal the engine room – 'Seduction mode.' More eye-shadow, more mascara. And redder lipstick. I stood in front of the full length mirror again. Was that me? I leaned forward and blew myself a kiss, "Well," I said to my reflection, "I would fuck you." So what if the room was bugged? I hoped to be using my new language, my lingua-franker, out loud, on a man about to fuck me, the buggers would hear it then anyway! Now though, I had to cover up all my good work. With my purchases from today. First came the suspender belt, a confection of lace and straps. Then the stockings, seams checked, suspender tabs lovingly connected to the deep lace welts. Mmm, it felt good. Shoes, black, very high heels, single strap around the ankle. 'Fuck me' shoes.' Anything around a woman's ankle seems sexy, an ankle chain is an invitation, shoe-straps just tease. Again I checked the mirror. Quite stunning. My neatly trimmed bush framed by all the straps. It would be a shame to hide the effect with knickers, but my cunt was dripping already, no knickers would mean dripping... Dripping what? Spunk? Doesn't seem to work for female juice. Girl-spunk? Not bad, but a feminisation of a male product. What then? Cunt-juice. Perfect! No knickers would mean dripping cunt-juice onto my new shoes. The knickers were little more than a triangle of lace with numerous straps, two each side, one side ending in a flat metal ring and the other in a connecting hook. And one strap which ran beneath, between the buttocks to connect to the ring with another hook. Quick-release knickers! They certainly did not detract from the overall effect, they were not designed to keep draughts out! The matching bra, again lace and straps, completed the outfit. And unlike the sensible bra from earlier in the day, did nothing to conceal my organ-stop nipples. I pulled on the dress, checked everything one last time in the mirror, and began my quest. My entry would rival Cleopatra's into Rome. There were two routes to the restaurant, one almost direct from the lift exit, and one through the lounge bar. I deliberately used the scenic route, intending to display myself to my potential targets drinking at the bar. Not a single head turned as I made my stately progress towards the restaurant. But my 'probably gay' waiter from tea-time saw me and moved towards me, beaming. "Table for one Madam?" he gushed I had probably over-tipped this afternoon, but it ensured his attention now, but less of the madam please, femmes fatale are surely 'Miss'? He placed me in a corner, they always do this with an unaccompanied woman, but tonight it suited my purpose, I had a good view of much of the restaurant and a direct line of sight to the by now, busy bar. A good reconnaissance spot. I ate a light meal, with just one glass of wine. I did not want my senses dulled by either food or alcohol. But I could find no suitable bed-mates among the early diners. The waiter asked if I would like coffee. "Could I take it in the bar?" "Of course Madam." "Is there a table for one in there?" "I can make it so Madam." Very Star Trek, but still I was 'madam'. He returned and escorted me to my 'single table'. All he had done was to remove a chair from a table for two, but it was enough, sharing a table would have inhibited my target selection. On an impulse, I asked him to make my coffee an Irish one. Perhaps a little Dutch, or more correctly, Irish courage, was needed after all. There were plenty of men in the bar, but mainly in twos and threes, no singletons. There was the group of six from this afternoon, five men and a girl, now obviously tipsy. She need not be lonely tonight, I thought. Five to choose from. Why choose? She could have them all! I had a mental picture of five naked young men, throbbing pricks in hand, waiting their turn. Perhaps when they had all fucked her, she could have them in twos? But there were five, not divisible by two. Why not three at a time? There was another, perfectly usable hole round the back. The last time my own 'perfectly usable hole round the back', had been used, was in this very hotel. Six months ago. I was here to commission the computers at 'The Branch'. I had stayed here for three nights, two of them I had my boss for company, (Strictly business.) but he had gone back and the third night I was alone. I made the innocent mistake of sitting on one of the high stools at the bar for an after-dinner drink. Apparently this is where 'available' women sit. I was picked up. He was charming, good looking and ten years my junior. I was lonely and flattered that he should want me. We went to my room. It had been my best sex for a long time, he fucked me all ways, coming first in my... cunt, remember your new language girl, then in my mouth and finally up my arse. I came several times. He left me sleeping soundly, satisfied to say the least. The experience had been marred when I woke up alone, naked and cold and with the lights still on, to find £200 on the bedside table. He had assumed that I was a whore! I was very angry, I have no hang-ups about women earning a living in this way, the oldest profession and all that, but why assume that? He could have had me for free. I was even more peeved that he had thought I was only worth £200! I put the £200, four fifties, in the charity collecting tin at reception. Somebody more deserving could benefit from my wages of sin. I had never had anal sex with my current husband, when I first met him I had been unable to, our relationship blossomed without it, he never suggested it, I could live without. I have described my husband as current. That's because he is not the first. In fact he is the third, my 'him' number three. Sounds awful, married three times and all failures. My first husband should really be struck from the record, it was he who took my virginity. And got me pregnant at the same time. We rang the bell at first attempt. Both of our parents were livid, we were forced into marriage and were much too young, the whole thing was a monumental mistake. He disappeared without trace before the baby was born, the baby was taken away for adoption immediately, the marriage was annulled and I was back to being single. Strike one husband. I resumed my interrupted education and found a place at university. It was there that I discovered sex for pleasure, my fucking was for fun. I worked hard and I played hard. I got my degree and found a good , well paid job. And continued my hedonistic life-style. I was different from the others in that I was not looking for a husband, I had done that, been there. Despite that, or perhaps because of it, along came 'him' number two. He was good looking, amusing, very good to be with and fantastic in bed, it was he who introduced me to anal and I loved it. Everybody liked him, I considered myself lucky that he chose me to marry. But I was chosen not as a soul-mate, but as a meal ticket. I earned double his income, he needed mine to fund his hobby, which was fucking any female who would have him. Without my rose-coloured glasses, it was obvious. I dumped him. Strike two. I went back to playing the field, if anything I was wilder and more easily available than before. I had several long-term relationships, i.e. more than a few days, hundreds of one-nighters and a great many 'quickies' in club toilets, back alleys and even in taxis. This came to an abrupt end with the last of my long-termers. I was attracted to bad boys, jack-the-lads. My last was the worst. Again, spectacular in bed, but when I became pregnant he turned nasty. He accused me of getting pregnant just to trap him, how could I be sure it was his child, I fucked with everybody. (Not true, when I was with a man I was monogamous, it had to be his.) He turned violent, beat me badly and raped me anally, brutally. Without lubrication he hurt me badly. Not sure what to do, I called a girlfriend who took me to hospital where I lost the child. I was still recovering from the assault when I met 'him' number three. He was different. I found him boring to begin with, and he was already married. He insisted on 'courting' me in a very old fashioned way. He was quiet, gentle and kind. Very funny in a subtle, intellectual way. There was no sex, he seemed content just to be with me and I was off sex, at the time it suited me. When our affair became physical, it was very gentle, he seemed more interested in my pleasure than his own. But he gave me multiple orgasms with his clever tongue, equally clever fingers, and for the first time ever considering my track record, he could make me come when we fucked, just with his lovely cock. When he offered to leave his wife for me, I jumped at the chance. And now even that apparently special relationship was on the brink of finished. I was dreading it, but I would tell him tomorrow. As if to rubber stamp my decision, I was planning to fuck the brains out of the first man I deemed suitable. But I was not going to pull sitting in a corner un-noticed. I needed to sit at the bar, on a high stool. I had watched as three other women, young and attractive and probably professionals, had sat there and had been quickly taken. Now it was my turn. olo olo olo olo olo olo olo olo olo olo By the time I entered the bar area, she was sitting on a high stool at one end of the bar. There was something about her that suggested that she was not the usual bar trade, but seamed stockings hinted otherwise. Surely they were stockings? I know that it is possible to buy seamed tights, but what is the point? Seams indicate the pathway to paradise, why wear them if the gate to paradise is closed? There was a man standing next to her, but even before I took my seat at the opposite end of the bar, she had dismissed him. Several others tried, with the same result. Some of the seats between us were occupied, so I only managed an occasional glance at her profile. Why was I even looking? If she was a pro, I was not interested. If she was not, she would not be interested in me, she had turned away several already. Eventually it was just her and me at the bar and I got a full, side-on view. I smiled inwardly, the chances of me managing to get between her perfumed thighs was somewhat less than nil. But I would buy her a drink anyway, just to indicate my presence. The barman conveyed my offer, she turned to me and smiled, then gave her order to the barman. There was little in the way of small-talk, she downed the drink in one, shuddered slightly and suddenly we were in the lift on the way to my room. In the privacy of the room, she placed her arms around my neck and we kissed. A proper kiss. A cock stiffening kiss. She pushed against my erection, I found the tab of her zip and pulled it down. She turned so that I could release the awkward catch at the top of the zip, lifting her hair to make it easy for me. I popped the catch and placed a kiss on the prominent bone at the base of her neck. She turned and stepped away from me, allowing the dress to pool at her feet. Her underwear was eye-popping, there was nothing to it but froth. And yes, they were stockings! She flipped the dress away with the toe of her shoe and reached behind to remove the bra allowing her lovely tits to spring free. The nipples were stiff, ready for my lips. I took her in my arms again, leaned down showering her tits with kisses, sucking at those perky nipples. She went for my belt, undoing it and my zip, then pushed everything down in a tangle. She knelt at my feet, wrapped her cool hand around my straining cock and sucked the tip between her luscious lips. She sucked with enthusiasm and great skill, in next to no time I was primed and ready to fire. Reluctantly I pulled her away, I was desperate to fuck her. While I untangled and removed my clothes, she removed the wisp of lace that substituted for knickers, and spread herself on the bed, legs akimbo. "Lick my cunt," she said simply. I was exactly what I had in mind, to hear her ask for it was more than I had dared to expect. I buried my face in her sweet centre, lapping like a kitten at cream. She placed her hands gently on my head, did she think that I would try to escape? I hooked my arms under her thighs, raising them to give me access to her treasures. I used the fingers of both hands to spread her cunt-lips wide so that I could push my tongue deep into the warm wet cave of her cunt, then withdrew so that I could suck the stiff bud of her clit. She made little growling sounds as I feasted on her sweet flesh. I lapped around her gape, down to her perineum and tongued the firm flesh there, then I rimmed her delicious arse before plunging my stiffened tongue deep inside, strumming her oily clit with the fingers of one hand and pushing two fingers of the other as far as I could get them into her gaping cunt. She screamed and came, forcing my head against her crutch and bucking against it. As her spasms subsided and her grip on my head released, I pulled away and crawled up between her damp thighs to position myself for entry. She scrabbled to grasp my cock with both hands and guided it to her sopping entrance. I entered with a single thrust, causing her to cry out again. I started to pull away, thinking that I was hurting her but she prevented me, saying; "No, don't take it out, just fuck me." I fucked her alright, nothing less than an earthquake could have stopped me from pounding into her as though it was my last fuck. All too quickly I was ready to come, to blast her insides with my hot tribute. She seemed to sense my closeness and had other ideas. "Come on my tits," she begged. I was in an agony of indecision, I was so close to pumping my load into her grasping cunt, but I do so love to see my spunk gleaming on a woman's tits. I withdrew, scrambled astride her body and laid my cock along her breastbone, then lifted and wrapped her fine tits around it like a sheath. I managed only a few thrusts, if I came here my cum would shoot onto her throat, not her tits. I leaned back slightly and took myself in hand. She cupped a tit in each hand, raising them, squeezing then together, offering them as a target. A few vigorous jerks and I exploded onto her, hosing her with a massive load, coating not just her offered tits, but firing past them to streak the side of her face, even managing to shoot onto the headboard. An Olympic standard ejaculation! I felt proud of myself, but also a little sad, the warm sadness of knowing that I was spent. It was over. Or was it? I had moved back slightly, so that I could enjoy the sight of her spunk sprayed body. Still astride her, I was kneeling so that my weight was not on her. She pushed herself up slightly so that her shoulders were supported by the pillows and raised her head. Her tongue snaked out and she licked my cum from each raised tit in turn, curling her pink tongue lasciviously around each spunky nipple. What she could not reach, she massaged into the flesh of her tits. The vision of Jade doing the same flashed across my mind, this time I would not be denied. I bent down and licked my own semen from each perfect tit until it was clean. The act had a decidedly beneficial effect on my cock, which rose up ready for more. I was not convinced that there could be any left, I had never shot such a volume, surely my balls would be empty. But my cock was hard and ready to go, I might not be able to come, but I could fuck! She asked if I would like to be sucked again. That would help! She had me lie flat on my back and positioned herself between my thighs as I had between hers. First she licked my cock all over, removing every trace of our combined sex-juices, not forgetting my balls. Then she sucked me into her mouth again for another mind-blowing session of mouth to cock resuscitation. She sucked, she licked, she nibbled and I growled with pleasure as she had when I was doing her. She hooked her hands under my thighs as I had hers and used one hand to wank my shaft as she lifted my balls up with the other to allow her to lick my perineum, she rimmed my arse and finally pushed her stiffened tongue up my arse-hole, fucking me with it. I had never experienced such excruciating pleasure. Fifty-Fifty She did not return to my cock, I probably would have shot my bolt if she had. Instead, she climbed astride my recumbent body, much as I had hers when I wanked off onto her tits. I thought, hoped, that she would impale herself on my cock and ride me to completion that way, but she had other ideas. She moved herself up until her dripping sex was directly over my face, and lowered herself down onto my mouth. I just love this. It left my hands free to roam all over my tormentor's body as I tunnelled into first her cunt, and then her arsehole, and then back again with my tongue. She held onto the cum-spattered bed-head for support as I reamed as deeply as I could into her twin pleasure portals. My cock was thrashing the air, questing for cunt. I relinquished my hold on her left tit and instead wrapped that hand around my straining shaft so that I could have that pleasure as well as that of her apparently fucking my tongue. She came powerfully and noisily, bearing down on my face so hard that I was unable to breath, mouth and nose enclosed by wet, spasming cunt-flesh. To drown in cunt, there must be worse ways for a man to go? But she reprieved me by sliding down my body and guiding my near-to-bursting cock into the sodden chasm that her cunt had become. As I thrust powerfully up into her, she leaned forward to kiss and lick her own juices from my face. I had thought perhaps that I would not be able to come for a second time, now I felt that nothing could stop me. She tried. By offering me a choice. She put her sweet lips close to my ear and whispered; "Do you want to come in my cunt or in my mouth?" I answered with action , not words. I was too far gone to stop. I blasted my second coming high into her hungry depths. She rolled off and laid on her back. I watched her lovely firm tits rise and fall as she regained control of her breathing. Now I was spent, now it was surely over? I knew that I could still ejaculate several times in a day, but not in such quick succession. She had her own room to go back to, and probably had to work tomorrow. But I did not want it to end. I sat up and asked if she would like a drink, she chose water. I padded naked and rather unsteadily, to the multi-purpose furniture unit that occupied almost all of one wall. I opened a bottle and filled two glasses, taking a large mouthful from one before turning back to her. She had moved to the centre of the bed and was propped up on pillows. Her legs were spread wide and she was playing with herself, using my spunk as lubrication. I stood at the end of the bed watching the slim fingers of one hand probe into the wet maw of her gaping cunt as she strummed the stiff pink bead of her clit with the other. She quickly brought herself to another small but intense orgasm, as much for my pleasure as for hers. My gulp of water seemed to have refreshed that which I had considered un-refreshable – my cock was as hard as a nail, and pointing at the ceiling. I had never seen anything quite so desirable, she was wide open, her eyes were smoky with lust, but at the same time shone. Her full lips seemed to be parted for the sole reason of sucking cock, her fine tits were swollen and stiff-nippled, her body had a sheen of sweat and spunk combined. And her cunt, oh her cunt, gaping, swollen lipped and with spunk seeping from it. My spunk! The vision of lust spoke; "How would you feel about fucking a very sloppy cunt?" I had been holding a glass in each hand, transfixed. I placed them carefully on the bedside table and without touching her, positioned myself between her parted thighs for re-entry, supporting myself on my knees and outstretched arms. What I had in mind was that the first part of me to touch her, would be the tip of my cock as it parted those juicy pink lips. She seemed to catch the idea by some kind of intimate telepathy. She made no attempt to touch me either, just stared down at where our two bodies would meld. I carefully lodged my swollen knob between the oily lips and sank ball-deep in one steady thrust. I swear that I could hear the squelch as my cock, which seemed to have grown to double its normal size, displaced the sex-cocktail that we had previously produced. It was not possible just to stay like that, we had to fuck. I pounded her so fiercely that she gasped at every violent upthrust. I pulled out and flipped her onto all-fours, plunging back into her and continuing out most vigorous fuck of the lot. She turned her head to speak and I slowed my movements to listen; "Put it in my arse," she demanded. She reached for her bag on the bedside table, and produced a small tube of lubricant. She had obviously come prepared for this. I took the tube and spread the clear jelly over the pink-brown pucker of her anus, working it deep into her with my fingers. I held my already slippery cock between my fingers as I reluctantly withdrew from the hole that had given me so much pleasure and directed it to the other, tighter, taboo place. She was very tight there, it was sweet agony for both of us as I gently gained depth, pushing slowly, stopping so that she could accommodate my bulk. At last it was fully engaged. I held it there, savouring the vice like grip on my shaft, but she seemed to want punishing; "Fuck me," she demanded, "as hard and as fast as you can." I obliged, knowing that this would definitely be my last hurrah. Her screams became one continuous howl as I pumped mercilessly into her tight passage, my own roar adding to the noise as I flooded her with reserves that I did not know I had. The arms that had taken the weight of the onslaught, both pairs, collapsed at the same time and we fell flat on the bed with me still on her back, gasping and giggling at the pure joy of it. I rolled off her, fighting for breath. She lay quiet beside me for a few minutes, then, as I began to get my breathing back under control, rose from the bed and went into the bathroom, shutting the door. (()) (()) (()) (()) (()) (()) (()) I was not alone for long. I did not even have time to order a drink before my first suitor was alongside me, offering to buy one for me. He was all salesman, radiating confidence. Too pushy, I thought. Nor did I like his aftershave, or whatever he was wearing. I recognised the scent, it was one of those that is advertised as a guaranteed knicker-remover. It is not, it just makes me sneeze. Accepting the risk that he might be my only option, I politely declined. And so it was with the next one - too young. And the next - too old, the next too fat, etc. I realised that I was bottling it, any of them would have done, all I wanted was a prick. My feet of clay were also cold. Then there were none. The bar-tender appeared before me. "The gentleman at the end of the bar would like to buy you a drink," he said. I looked along the bar at him. Last chance? He was certainly not what I was expecting, he was about forty, average height, average build, dark hair greying slightly, suited, but no tie. And certainly not pushy, he had used a go-between. Perfect really, but... Why not, I told myself, I smiled at him and gave the barman my order; Irish whiskey. I had enjoyed it in coffee, what did it taste like as a stand-alone? The drink and its buyer arrived at the same time, he was carrying his own drink, which appeared to be just red wine, nothing hard. I picked up my whiskey and turned to face him, asking; "What are we drinking to?" "Strangers in the night?" he offered, referring to the Sinatra standard. Clever, I thought. Reply in kind. "Scooby-dooby doo." And we drank. The whiskey burned my mouth. It's very different without the coffee, the sweetness and the cream. I shuddered. But as it went down I could appreciate the warming effect. An acquired taste? To hide my grimace, I said; "Your room or mine?" He turned it back on me, replying; "Ladies choice." I chose mine, he could have the wet patch. We neither spoke nor touched in the lift, or on the short walk to his room. My heart was beating wildly, would I be able to appear as the new me? The Ms Hyde to my previous Doctor Jeykell? He swiped his card-key in the door lock and a little green light illuminated. Green light! The room was identical to mine, the lights had been left on low and there was music playing softly. I walked to the bed and placed my handbag on the bedside table, then turned to him. He had removed his jacket and was hanging it on a hanger! Probably as nervous as I was. We walked the few steps towards each other and met at the end of the bed, I put my arms around his neck and he took me in his, holding me close as we kissed. A deep kiss, on my part at least – a declaration of intent – anything goes. I felt his prick rise up against me and I pushed myself against it, intensifying the kiss. His hands slid gently down my back until he was cupping a buttock in each hand, pulling me against the now solid column of flesh trapped in his pants. He moved his hands to my neck of my dress and slid the zip smoothly down, but fumbled with the catch. I turned away and lifted my hair so that he could find the fastening. He unhooked me, then kissed the base of my neck, on that prominent little bone. I shuddered in anticipation of what was to follow. I stepped away and turned to him, letting my dress fall to the floor. It caught on the toe of one shoe, I kicked it away and it landed on a chair. I allowed him a good view of my new 'man-trap' undies, then released the bra and tossed that too, onto the chair. He placed his hands gently on my shoulders, bent his head and kissed each nipple in turn, then took each into his mouth, rolling it between his lips while teasing it with his tongue. I undid his belt and unzipped his flies, pushing his pants down to free his big hard prick. He was now standing with his back to the end of the bed, so close that the tangle of his clothes stopped against it. I gave him a little push and he fell back on the bed with his legs over the edge. Together, we managed to pull the clothing free, including his shoes and socks, in one untidy bundle. But his prick was now free, and standing proud. I wrapped my fingers around it and pulled back the sheath of foreskin, revealing the swollen tip, its one eye leaking a tear of joy. I removed the tear with a feather light touch of my tongue, then opened my mouth wide and took in as much as I could of his sturdy length. He gave a little whimper of pleasure. I slid most of it out, held the shaft in one hand and began to lick and suck the knob like the lollipop that it was. I wanted the lollipop's juice, I wanted to suck him until he exploded into my mouth, to drink every drop of his delicious spunk. He stopped me. He gently took my head in his hands and pulled me off his prick. "Not yet," he said, "I want to fuck you." I stood, groped behind to undo the quick-release knickers and sent them to join the rest on the chair. I got onto the bed and spread my legs wide, raising my knees slightly. I gave him my reply; "Lick my cunt first, then you can fuck me." He smiled and slowly removed his shirt, the only garment he had left, making me wait for his tongue. When he placed his mouth on me it was like an electric shock, not only had it been far too long since I had enjoyed this most intimate of contacts, I had worked myself up to the point where I could not survive without it. And oh, he was good. He seemed to sense how great was my need, and that he could have finished me in seconds, but he made it last, just teasing my clit then moving his tongue away to lick another part of my gaping sex. He licked, he kissed, he sucked, until every nerve was tingling, crying out for release. He started to use his fingers, rolling the oily lips together while gently caressing my stiff love-button with a fingertip and gently probing my arse with his tongue. This tipped me over the edge and I came powerfully and noisily, my fingers clawing at the sheet beneath me. Now I wanted his prick, while I was still on the orgasmic high, "Fuck me now," I demanded. He was already on his way to do just that, moving between my widespread thighs. I seized his prick with the fingers of both hands and crammed him into my hole, crying out as his sturdy member pushed deep inside. He supported his weight on his arms and fucked me by swinging his hips. I came again, or was it the same come extended? This was exceptional sex. He must have been as desperate for release as I had been, but controlled himself with unusual skill. I wanted to feel the rush of his cum inside me, but more often than not, I cannot feel the spurts, a man's thrusts mask the actual moment of ejaculation. And I do like to feel the spurts, if not in me then on me. "Come on my tits," I demanded. He stopped his thrusts, he was deep inside me, and seemed to be confused, perhaps torn between releasing his stream into the place designed for it, and seeing his seed coating my heaving tits. I know from porn that men like to see spunk-coated tits on a woman and imagining that it is theirs doing the coating. With a little groan, he decided. He pulled out, crawled up my body and pressed his sticky shaft against my sternum, lifting my tits to wrap around it, making a surrogate cunt. It was nice, but not what I had in mind. "Not like that," I instructed, "wank yourself off and spray it on my tits." He obeyed, all the time making strangled, gurgling noises, quickly jerking his cunt-slicked shaft until he came with a roar, directing the copious stream at my nipples. I did not want it to be over. There was a risk that he was a one-shot wonder. Unlike women, men need time to recover, and if their interest is not maintained, it is all too easy for them to roll over and go to sleep. I had a plan, pre-determined. I lifted each cum-coated tit in turn, and sucked the spunk from each nipple, gathering the salty sauce with my tongue where it could be reached and massaging the rest into my still swollen globes. He watched fascinated at this lewd act, and it seemed to be working, his prick had lost its rigidity, but was still tumescent. We both new that with a little work, it could be made to rise again. What he did next, however, was completely unexpected. He leaned down and cleaned his own cum from my tits with his tongue. Down lower, I could feel him stiffen against me. Mission accomplished. I asked him if he would like me to suck it, until it was ready to fire again. He nodded enthusiastically. I positioned him on his back on the bed and went between his thighs as he had when sucking me. The chances of an uncontrolled explosion were now considerably diminished and I was able to suck, lick, kiss and nibble at his cock and balls until my jaw ached. I was ready to have him inside me again, but first I had one more trick that I thought would blow his mind – I rimmed his arse-hole with my tongue and pushed it up the hole as he had mine. At first he flinched, then relaxed and allowed me to provide this most intimate of services. Victorian hang-up perhaps, a man will rim a woman's arse as a prelude to fucking her up it, but will react as he had, if it is done to him, as though he is admitting to homosexual tendencies. The anus is an erogenous zone in men as well as women, why not just enjoy it? I crawled up his body, trailing my tits along it, until my mouth was over his. I kissed him, my mouth fresh from his prick and arsehole. That would give him something to think about. As much as I wanted to feel his solidity stretching my cunt, I decided to queen him. I lowered my sopping gash onto his mouth and ground myself against him before lifting off slightly to allow space for him to use his tongue. He did not disappoint, his tongue was everywhere and his hands roamed my body, caressing every part that he could reach. I realised that one hand had left the tit it had been fondling, I turned to look in the mirror alongside the bed and was delighted to find that he was wanking himself with the absent hand. I came yet again. He had to use both hands to keep me in position for his questing tongue to finish its task. I slid down his body to where his prick was waiting for me. He held it upright as I impaled myself on it, bearing down to take it all. He began to thrust, fucking me with violent thrusts, causing my tits to bounce almost painfully. Suddenly, he stopped. He must have been on the point of climax but wanted to delay it. He failed. As we paused motionless, his spunk won the battle for freedom and to my delight flooded into me instead. I felt every gush. As I recovered, I looked down at him. He was breathing very heavily, as, to be fair, was I. My weight on him probably did not help, I rolled off, disengaging his now limp, wet member, and lay alongside him. We panted together, holding hands, very close. When his breathing became normal, he asked if I would like a drink, "Just water," I replied. He rose from the bed and went to the drinks unit where he opened a bottle of water and poured it into two glasses. I was still flat on the bed, glowing from the comprehensive fucking that I had just received. My legs were apart and I could feel his semen inside me. Almost without thinking, I reached down and paddled a finger in the cocktail of juices bubbling within. My clit was still hard, it sent little shocks of pleasure pulsing through me. I used the fingers of one hand to spread my juicy sex-lips, continuing my paddle with the other. He turned with a glass in each hand and did a double-take when he saw me playing with myself. Would it be enough to arouse him for a third round? I began to masturbate properly, I could hear the slurping noises as I worked my fingers deep inside while maintaining stimulus of my clitoris. Each stroke pushed me up the slope towards my summit. I closed my eyes and went for it. When it came, very quickly, the intensity surprised me. A self-induced come is always good, previously it had been a solitary pleasure, being watched seemed to multiply the enjoyment. I howled as the bolts of pleasure racked me. My busy fingers seemed to have unearthed a latent exhibitionist. I opened my eyes to find him staring in fascination, still with a glass in each hand, but now with a promising erection jutting from his groin. I spread my legs as far as they would go and used both hands to stretch my cunt wide. "Do you like it sloppy?" I asked. He responded with a sort of gurgle, put down the glasses and positioned himself in the welcoming bowl of my body and thighs. His prick seemed to find its own way, no guidance required, and he sank full depth into my welcoming cunt. He fucked me as though it would be his last time, each violent thrust causing me to cry out. He growled that he was about to come. "Do me from behind," I begged him. He pulled out of me with a grunt of reluctance and I rolled onto my front, pushing my arse up for re-entry, which he achieved in a single wild stab. Then he was away again, making up for time spent outside my clasping hole. His gasps became harsher as he pumped himself towards his orgasm, but I was not finished with him yet. I turned my head to him and said; "Stick it up my bum, fill my arse with your spunk." I reached for the tube of lubricant that I always carry in my handbag, not for the purpose of buggery, but as I have explained, I like to be very wet when I masturbate. He maintained a steady stroke into my cunt while he smeared the lube around and inside the other hole, his final destination. I told him to change lanes, he pulled out of one hole and guided his tip to the other, the knob popped in with surprising ease. "Fuck it," I demanded, "fuck me in the arse." He drove in without mercy and I cried out in pleasure and pain as his big prick forced the tender flesh open. It hurt like hell, but took me to heaven as he pounded like a machine into the tight, under-used channel of my anus. It was over very quickly, he came, roaring like a bull. My arms, that been supporting the weight of two of us, gave way and we collapsed onto the bed. His prick slipped out and I could feel his come welling back out of my ravaged hole.