6 comments/ 56458 views/ 13 favorites Sensuale By: Bella_Seni "I'd feel like a whore." "No you wouldn't!" Stacy replied, her anguish becoming more evident with each new excuse I offered. A little piece of me wanted to admit being intrigued by her proposal, but the rest of me—the majority—was hesitant. The idea of joining Sensuale, an extremely exclusive club whose members comprised the richest segment of this very rich community, was contrary to my conservative nature. But she had confirmed every rumor I ever heard about Sensuale: that the members joined in order to have discreet, non-binding relationships; that the club had no single address—rather, members volunteered to hold 'meetings' in their luxurious homes; that the guys were rich, handsome, and horny; and, the babes were, well, babes. "You know I like older guys," I reminded my best friend. "I know that," she said, as if I was telling her that her name was Stacy. "You'll have, oh, maybe fifty to choose from at every meeting." I assumed the number was an exaggeration, but the inference was good enough for me. Still, I found it hard to simply say 'OK'. My insecurity was winning out. "Tell me again how it works. Becoming a member, I mean." Stacy settled back on the couch as if preparing to tell a long story. "Well, I took the pictures you gave me and officially put your name up for membership. I think the moment they saw the one of you in nothing but those panties, leaning back on your elbows and your breasts sticking out—you know, the one you use on your Literotica profile—fuck, you were in." I nodded and smiled. "They said 'Yes' even after seeing my face?" "Stop it, Jen. You're beautiful and you know it. Anyway, now that you made the first cut, they allowed me to invite you as a guest to one of the meetings. If they like you, you're voted in as a member. You already know you can afford the dues, so there's no reason not to join," Stacy said. "What are the meetings like?" I asked. "They are so cool," Stacy said, leaning forward again. "They're parties, of course. Like I said before, the guys are CEO's and company presidents. Most of them are married. They simply can't walk into a bar somewhere and start picking up chicks. They have to be cautious. Sensuale was formed to give them an opportunity to meet people." Stacy went on. "It grew pretty fast and now a lot of the wives are coming along, looking for their own indulgences in good-looking guys. You'll find every age group from mid-twenties to sixty. You want older guys? We've got older guys." I reminded Stacy I wasn't looking for a grandfather, just a more mature guy. "Jennifer, you'll be tripping over them just inside the door. The place is crawling with gorgeous guys." Her enthusiasm was addictive, but the conservative me was coming out again. "I'm a little scared of the, uh, the sexual nature of it all." "Listen," Stacy began, obviously intent on convincing me. "The members come because they lead stressful lives and this is a way to relieve the tension. They are beautiful people who simply want to be around other beautiful people for some fun. Should you expect to see some breasts during the night? Yes. Should you expect to see a cock or two? Yes. Can you watch people having sex if you want? Almost every meeting." My pulse quickened, despite my efforts to control it. "What do you wear when you go?" Stacy had to know I was leaning towards going when I started asking questions like that. "Most of the women wear stuff they'd never wear in public. I mean, at a company event or whatever it is they do socially. They wear the sexiest thing they own. It's really fun to be able to do that without feeling uncomfortable. If you don't think you own anything that works, we'll buy you something." She looked at me. "C'mon, Jen. Please say you'll do it." It wasn't like I was making a life-altering decision or anything, but I still wavered before finally saying, "OK." Stacy flew across the couch and gave me the best hug I'd had in years. ### We did, of course, have to go shopping for something 'appropriate'. I'd shopped for something I felt very feminine in before, but never did I go in with the objective of finding something so revealing that it might as well not be there. But in less than an hour I was trying on a dress that draped over my shoulders, was open in the front practically to my navel, and stopped well above the knees. "Oh my God, Jennifer. That's perfect!" Stacy shrieked when I walked out of the dressing room. I gave her ten seconds to look, then hurried back in before anybody else saw me. I knew I'd buy it when I realized my panties were damp after one last look in the mirror. With that taken care of, it was just a matter of waiting for the night of my 'introduction' to the members of Sensuale. Being a January meeting, with no major social events in town to conflict with it, Stacy warned me that it might be packed. In addition, it was being held at the mansion of one of the city's most influential CEO's. The place would be swarming with important, horny people. While not important, I met the other qualification. Stacy was both. A twenty eight year old advertising guru, Stacy shared my age if nothing else. She was brilliant, blonde and busty. She was introduced to Sensuale by an executive she worked with on a project, and was accepted unanimously. In keeping with the premise of the club, she spoke little of her relationships with the other members. But allusions to some of her exploits were enough to tell me she enjoyed going...immensely. Meetings were twice a month. Rarely did people go to all of them, so who you would see was always a guessing game, she told me. Occasionally, the meetings had themes—Hawaiian; beach; Halloween; and, the ever-popular 'informal' nights when dressing down was encouraged. There was no theme the night I was to attend, but Stacy guaranteed me that would not limit my opportunities to have fun. I was a nervous wreck the entire day of my first visit to Sensuale, and my hands trembled as I slid into my dress. I was going to blow it, I just knew it. Stacy picked me up and we drove towards the party. I was wishing my confidence matched Stacy's excitement. Plus, she looked incredible in her sheer blouse and tight, little skirt. Her bare breasts tried to burst out of the seriously unbuttoned blouse. I was doomed. Stacy punched a code into the security system at the front of the gated community. The gates swung open and we drove a short way before beginning to see many, many expensive cars parked in the street. "Wow. This is going to be great!" Stacy exclaimed while finding a spot. "I'm so excited." "I'm so nervous." "Oh, c'mon. You'll love this once we get inside," she tried to assure me. The house hardly fit the definition of a mansion. It was something more...something bigger and more opulent than anything I'd ever seen. From the outside, except for the abundance of cars, you couldn't tell anything was going on. I suspected I'd find out the truth very soon. Stacy rang the doorbell. We only had to wait a second before the door opened and we were let in by a fifty-something man with graying hair and mustache. "Good evening, miss. Welcome," he said. "Thank you, Peter. This is my guest Jennifer." She motioned to me and Peter took my hand gently. "Welcome. We are very glad to meet you. Please make yourself at home." "Thank you. I will." Stacy led me down a long hallway, saying along the way, "He's the greeter wherever we go. It allows the host to mingle. Peter knows us better than anybody. He has to." The noise in the house increased as we approached the first room off the hallway. It was an old-fashioned library and sitting room, right out of an English mystery novel. Stacy waved and said 'Hi' to a couple occupants, then led me farther on. She turned into an even larger, more modern looking room. A dozen or so people mingled in groups of two or three. I followed her as heads turned to watch us. As much as I was there to look at the guys, it was the women who got my attention. I saw more skin in that one room than I typically do after an entire day at the beach. Stacy and I suddenly seemed overdressed. Clearly, I didn't need to worry any longer about the opening in my dress, or how many buttons Stacy had opened. At least she had SOME buttons closed. Cleavage was obviously promoted and either your dress had to barely cover your ass or your designer jeans had to barely conceal your clit. It took several introductions by Stacy to some of her friends before I got my attention back on the males in the crowd. And they certainly did get my attention. Every single guy I met was gorgeous, courteous and fit. I'm not into bodybuilders. I just want a guy who's proportioned correctly...even before seeing inside his boxers. Who knew so many good-looking guys even lived in this city, let alone came to things like this? After a half hour of introductions and two more rooms, Stacy suggested we look for the food. We quickly found it and filled up plates with easy to handle finger food. She led me back into the main living room and we sat on a couch that barely would have fit inside my place. We had only chatted for a minute or two when a man approached us. I nearly choked on my smoked salmon when I looked up. If I could have described to Stacy the exact size, shape, hair style, eyes, nose and lips of the perfect man, this was him. He looked at Stacy and said, "Well. Hello again, Stacy. It's great to see you." Out of the corner of my eye I saw Stacy turn to see who was talking to her. "Jim! Hi! I was hoping you'd be here." She hastily put her plate down and grabbed my arm. "This is Jen. She's a guest tonight. I really wanted her to meet you." I certainly hoped so. If Stacy had not introduced me to this guy she would have never again been called my best friend. "Hello, Jen. I'm Jim." I took his hand, but never took my eyes off his face. "Hi." "We were all excited to finally meet you after Stacy brought your name up for membership. I hope you're having fun," he said. His comment reminded me of the fact most everybody at the party had already seen more of me than I would have preferred, via the pictures Stacy showed them. But if this guy wanted me to have fun, I could live with that. "Absolutely," I replied. "Everybody's been so nice to me." "I think you'll find that's pretty much the way we are. You're going to stay around for a while, aren't you?" he asked. I nodded, but Stacy spoke first. "You better believe it. Jennifer hasn't really gotten a taste of the real party, yet. It's early." Jim smiled. "I know. Make sure she stays." They looked at each other knowingly. I just smiled and continued imagining him naked. "I will. We'll be moving around in a little bit," Stacy said. "Good. See you then. Nice meeting you, Jen." "You too, Jim," I managed to say, watching him turn and walk away. Even his butt was perfect. When he was out of range, Stacy said, "Isn't he cute? He owns one of the biggest trucking firms in the state." "How old do you think he is?" I said, finishing my food. "Hmmm. I'd say early fifties." I nodded. "I think you're right." Stacy was grinning widely, suspecting I had found somebody who met most of my requirements. What I didn't realize was that she knew things about Jim that I couldn't see. "So, I take it from what he said that things will liven up a little?" I said. "Oh, yeah. We didn't buy you that dress to impress ME." With that, she stood up and told me to follow her. I expected things to heat up quickly. "We need to find where the action is," Stacy said over her shoulder to me. "We've never had a meeting in this house before so we might have to do some exploring." The first room we entered only had more beautiful people mingling, so Stacy kept moving. As soon as we left that one and came into the hallway, we both heard a cheer and looked at each other. It seemed to come from an open doorway leading into the basement. "Down here," Stacy said, leading the way once more. As we walked down, the noise level increased. To our right was an expansive, dimly lit room. As soon as my eyes adjusted, I could see that it was a multi-media room of some type with two rows of theater-style seats in front of a gigantic screen. A bar lined one wall with stools in front of it. People were everywhere. "This is more like it," Stacy said with a broad smile. Then, I paid attention to the screen. It showed a couple fucking on a four-poster bed, the woman on top. As the camera zoomed in, her magnificent breasts bounced in rhythm with her riding of the man's cock. "Oh, cool. That's Amber Jacobs. She's the wife of one of the original members," Stacy informed me in a hushed voice. "I'll try to see who she's doing." I could see Stacy squinting at the screen intently. I just watched in amazement. "Damn! That's Tony. Figures." I didn't ask her to explain. But I did ask, "Is this a video?" "Hell, no," Stacy said. "It's a live feed. Most of these houses have closed circuit TV. Isn't it neat?" I nodded, certainly not disagreeing with her so far. I looked around the crowd. That's when I noticed, for the first time, that some of the women were topless, some were down to just their panties, and some of the men were down to boxers. Several couples were in various stages of groping, although I didn't see any actual sex taking place. That was on the screen only. Tony's hands were now firmly placed on Amber's tits while she played with her clit. Her moans could be heard clearly and it was obvious she was close to cumming. We all watched for another minute or so before finally witnessing Amber's orgasm. She leaned forward, tilted her head back, and cried out as she climaxed. Yelps of encouragement came from the crowd, both in the theater we were in and from the bedroom Amber and Tony were in. Then we listened to Tony cum, his condom-covered cock driving into the woman's cunt with renewed force. I couldn't take my eyes off it. My heart pounded and I didn't know what to look at when Amber began to climb off Tony. I almost felt guilty, as if I had watched something I wasn't supposed to see. Then the screen flickered and a new bedroom came into view. This time, a man and a woman—both dressed—were standing facing each other. They both appeared to be in their early to mid-forties. The audience was silent for a second, and then the volume rose as they began to identify the people and talk among themselves. "Want to stay?" Stacy asked. "Yeah." My eyes were glued to the screen again. "Want to sit?" I shook my head. "No. This is fine." The man was unbuttoning the woman's blouse. The woman stood motionless. When he had it open, his hands moved inside and began caressing her firm breasts. They didn't appear to be nearly as large as Amber's, but still big enough to exceed the size of his hands. Just as he took off her blouse and I was totally immersed in the scene, two hands slid around my waist from behind. I flinched as the hands almost came together on my stomach and then moved higher. "I'm glad you stayed," a man's voice spoke softly into my ear. His fingers touched the opening in the front of my dress, just below my breasts. "Hello, Jim." "Hello, Jennifer." On the screen, the woman had removed the man's shirt and he was leaning in to lick her breasts. Jim slid the fingers of one hand inside my dress and made contact with my left breast. Just as the man we were watching began seriously sucking on the woman's tit, Jim put his palm on my nipple and kneaded my breast gently. I thought my pussy would explode. I didn't think it was probably a good thing if I came from the simple touch of a man's hand on my breast while watching a couple I didn't know have sex. The members probably expected better of me. So I concentrated on enjoying Jim's touch...but not too much. "You have a splendid body," he said softly. His hand was working magic, allowing my nipple to harden while at the same time teasing it just enough to arouse me. "Thanks," I murmured, my throat dry from excitement. We watched the couple continue to undress each other, the woman confidently letting the man's pants fall to the floor while he did the same with her skirt. Jim moved his other hand over my right breast and worked on that nipple the same way he had with the other. Now, holding me closer with both hands, I could sense his hardening cock pressing against my ass. Should I touch him? Do I remain submissive or show some assertiveness? Stacy was watching both us and the screen at the same time, unable to answer my questions for me. Certainly she knew what to do. Darn. I decided to stay submissive, unsure how much longer I could go without grabbing the cock behind me. As the couple in the bedroom kissed passionately and fondled each other, Jim pulled my dress apart until the straps were sliding down my arms. 'Oh, fuck!', I thought to myself. He's taking it off, right here in this room with all these people around. I wished it was pitch black instead of dimly lit as I felt the dress slide away from my breasts. What I hadn't noticed between watching the screen and having Jim behind me was that very few people in the room were fully clothed. Stacy might have been an exception, but I saw here chatting with a guy and moving off toward a corner of the room. Maybe she was next. My dress collected at my waist and hung there, only because Jim was pushing his cock against me heard enough to prevent the dress from completely falling off. Then his hands returned their attention to my tits. "Are you OK?" Jim asked me. I appreciated his concern, but really wanted to say, 'Hell, yes. Now fuck me.' Instead, I said, "I'm very fine. Don't stop, please." With that, he pulled back and let my dress fall to the floor. I should have been expecting it, but panicked all the same at the realization I was one small piece of clothing away from being naked in public. And God, was I horny. That was my excuse, anyway, for reaching back and placing my hand on Jim's crotch. The couple on the screen were naked, climbing into a nearby bed. The man's cock was sticking out like a pole and I wanted one of my own. My fingers slid up and down the outline of Jim's cock as he pulled on my nipples. "Does it make you horny—watching other people have sex?" I could hardly talk. I nodded. "Yes." "Then you'll enjoy Sensuale," Jim said. "I already do." His hand slid inside my tiny panties. He purposely avoided my pussy and clit, eventually sliding his hand around to my ass. I could feel the back of his hand on the back of mine, which was tightly gripping his cock through his pants. He squeezed my cheek; I rubbed his cock. I no longer had to watch the screen to get turned on. In the seats ahead of us, a woman was sitting on a man's lap, facing him, with her top off. Against the wall to our left, a woman was dangerously close to taking an erect man into her mouth. Meanwhile, I was sure somebody in the room had to be watching Jim once again put his hand between my legs. He didn't even attempt to avoid my pussy this time. His fingers probed my wet hole and rubbed my throbbing clit. I stifled a moan, much better than the woman on the bed, who was getting drilled by the huge cock I saw earlier. I tried not to watch, knowing any more stimulation would put me over the edge. I leaned back onto Jim's shoulder. "You're going to make me cum soon." "Do you want to find a room?" "As long as there's no camera," I said. "We'll find one. C'mon. Put your dress over there behind the bar," he said, pointing. "People know not to touch stuff laying around so the owner can find it later." I was grateful for the system in place, but very self-conscious as I began to move about in nothing but panties. After putting the dress in its place, Jim and I began to walk out. Just as we approached the steps, I looked back and saw Stacy in the process of pulling down the pants of her fine looking companion. Sensuale Jim and I walked up the stairs. I yelled at him when he pinched my ass. At least it got a laugh out of him. Once in the hallway, he said, "Turn right. Then up the steps." Fortunately, we passed only one other person while heading upstairs. He smiled. I smiled, and kept walking. I stopped at the top of the stairs and waited for Jim to lead. He looked in both directions, then said, "This way." The door to the first room was closed and Jim said, "Nice thing about this place—there's about ten bedrooms. If this wing is full, we'll keep looking." As much as I wanted a little privacy with my new friend, the thought of seeing the rest of the mansion fascinated me, too. What I didn't know at that moment was that total privacy was kind of contrary to the general principles of Sensuale. Even the bedrooms with open doors had somebody in them. Jim stopped at each one, gazed in, and then led me further down the hallway. Finally, after a quick inspection of a large bedroom and Jim's exchange of greetings with people he obviously knew, he took my hand and led me inside. There was nothing in my life that prepared me for what happened next, other than having experienced it before—which I had not. Another couple were in the room. The man wore boxers and an obvious erection underneath. He was probably fifty to fifty five years old. The woman with him was about ten years younger and wore only an unbuttoned shirt. She had a figure I would have killed for at eighteen. 'Where do these women come from?' I asked myself silently. They each greeted me with a friendly 'Hi', then returned to their job of stripping each other. Jim led me around to the other side of the bed. I saw him check out the corners of the ceiling, making sure my request of a camera-free room was met. "That's Bob and Erica. You're going to like this," he assured me. "As long as you're here," I said. "You're so sweet. Now take off my clothes, please." The directness of his appeal might have made me pause if it wasn't for the fact that that was exactly what I wanted to do. I had his shirt off in an instant, rubbing my hands over his masculine chest. Then I worked on his pants. He didn't disappoint me. By the time he was down to his boxers, the erection inside was more than evident. I gripped his cock for a second, then worked his boxers down his legs and tossed them aside. I thought about going directly to the inviting, hard shaft, but rose to face him instead. I think he was pleased, because he pulled me to him and gave me a long, fervent kiss. Our bodies rubbed together during the entire thing, causing me to almost shake with desire. "Let me see you naked," he said when we were done. I gladly stepped out of my panties, half watching Bob and Erica climb into bed at the same time. It was becoming more and more obvious what was about to happen. And, for some reason, it excited me. Jim hugged me again, his hands sliding from my ass up to my shoulders, and back down again. His cock pushed against my stomach, the hardness of it amazing me. "Let's have some fun," he said, guiding me onto the bed. Thank goodness for king size beds. I was now lying with three other naked people, none of whom I knew a few hours ago. One of them, Jim, I was ready to fuck. I was on my back, watching Jim put his knees just outside my legs. His cock swung menacingly close to my desperate pussy. But it would have to wait. He leaned forward and placed his mouth over one of my nipples. The next several minutes were consumed with him licking and sucking my tits. Occasionally, his cock touched me and I fought the urge to grip it. I would let him lead and see where it took us. I was gaining confidence in him by the minute. I was happy when he moved up and brought his cock close enough that I only had to slide down a few inches to position it over my mouth. I gladly began licking the shaft from every possible angle, wondering how such a thick cock was going to feel inside me. I took it in my mouth and sucked. The head seemed to weigh a ton when I let it rest on my tongue and a hint of sweet semen leaked from the tip. I could feel my pussy getting wetter and wetter. Jim pulled his cock out and slowly moved it into place by the entrance to my cunt. I caught a quick glimpse of Bob and Erica rolling next to us, their bodies intertwined as one. "You ready?" Jim asked. "Yes. Fuck me," I told him. He started out gently, but by the time I felt the huge head of his cock inside me I was pulling on his ass, lifting my pussy towards him so that he was forced to shove the entire cock into me in one swift movement. I moaned loudly at the tremendous feeling of being filled by his stiff cock. Then Jim began to fuck me. I wrapped my legs around his waist and hung on. His thrusts were coming quicker and harder, threatening to push my head against the headboard. But I was confident he wouldn't hurt me, and he constantly pulled me back into position as we fucked. Next to us, Erica was settling into place on her hands and knees with Bob behind her. I couldn't help but gawk at her perfect breasts as they hung down. We both smiled and then my attention returned to Jim. His hands, which had been under my ass, now moved up to my breasts. He compressed my tits under his strong hands, then played with my nipples until I thought I would scream with pleasure. Just when he got them to their largest, most sensitive state, Erica leaned over and replaced Jim's hands with her mouth. Any reservations I had about sharing the bed with another couple while fucking quickly went away. Erica attacked my tits with her tongue, lips and fingers. "Oh, God! Yes. Yes!" I said, beginning to lose control over my body. Erica bit my nipple. My body tensed up and waited for another. This time she bit harder, and rolled the nipple between her teeth before sucking on it with her lips. "Fuck! Harder, please. Harder!" Maybe Jim and Erica didn't know who I was talking to because they both increased the intensity of their attention to my body. Jim's cock drove into me wildly and Erica sucked on my tits while Bob fucked her. Finally, I couldn't hold back any longer. A series of unintelligible noises came from me as my orgasm began. My body shook with each wave of delight, my cunt gripping Jim's cock the best it could. Erica did her best to keep my tits occupied, but she, too, was getting close and just watched me as I came. I might have been off the bed more than on it. I was clinging to Jim and he had his arms back under me, pulling me closer to him. Either way, his throbbing cock was deep inside my cunt and that's what mattered most. When he sensed that my orgasm was over—or close to it—he reached over to the bedside table, opened a drawer, and pulled out a condom. I watched him put it on, then prepared for what promised to be a great conclusion to our session. His cock slid very easily back into place. I tried my best to clench down on him harder, but his size alone made it tight. Then he leaned down and sucked on my tits for a minute or two. "You're wonderful," he said to me before straightening out his body on top of me. I could feel him get closer. He groaned once or twice, shoved his cock all the way in, and started to cum. Jim forced his cock into me harder and deeper than at any time, pounding down onto my pussy with his body while cum shot out of his dick. He would never know that a second orgasm flowed through me while I waited for him to finish. He thrust into me one last time, then fell off to the side next to Bob and Erica, who were also finishing. That was when I noticed, for the first time, that a small group of people at the door were watching. Half the women were topless and one or two guys had their erections in plain sight. Nothing surprised me anymore. After we dressed and headed back out into the house, it took Jim and I several minutes to catch up with Stacy. "She's got my vote," Jim said with a smile. "Probably Bob and Erica's, too." Stacy looked at me to gauge my reaction. I grinned. "I knew she'd be a good addition," Stacy said. "Thanks for making her feel welcome, Jim." He nodded. "Now, I want her to meet somebody." Stacy took my hand and led me away while I looked back at Jim. I wondered how we would look on the big screen. Sensualist This is my first submission, (Revised to meet age requirements) and I do so only after much needed help from Paris Waterman, whom many of you know. With his encouragement I managed to keep my sanity and the story going. It is a long story, but can be read from almost any point. It will take Mr. Donald Clark through his senior year in High School and on to college. Perhaps we will go further, but that will be up to you, the readers. At any rate, I thank you and wish you much enjoyment, and by all means, please provide your comments. All Sexual activities occur between persons 18 and older. Chapter 1 The Early Years -- Miss Ginger's Luscious Globes -- Becoming a Voyeur -- Caught Jacking off -- Boorish Behavior -- Birthday Presents -- The Vertical Smile - More Lessons in Love In the beginning I was not known as 'The Sensualist,' I was, and in most quarters still remain, Donald Stevenson Clark. I was born to wealthy parents in the heart of Savannah, Georgia, with its charming period architecture, oak-lined streets and antebellum hospitality. Our home was located on Gwinnett Street, and sat across the street from one of the many small parks the city is famous for. My greedy bastard of a father, Jeremy Stevenson Clark, was an affluent banker, well acquainted with other nefarious bankers, realtors and developers, who was kind enough to pass on after acquiring several million dollars during and shortly after the Second World War. If you get the impression I didn't care for him, you're absolutely right. He was a miserable father. He flaunted his other women in front of my mother, sisters and I. I detested him for the way he demeaned my mother and yet here I am, detailing my own many dalliances with the fairer sex most likely because I have his genes raging relentlessly in my testes. And I should add that because of his actions, I have never entertained the thought of marrying anyone, although I have met and bedded quite a few promising women of whom I have little doubt would have made me happy as a loving wife. My mother, Hillary Margaret Bronson, was the daughter of a United States Senator from California. Her vivacity and wit made our home a place people wanted to visit. I think, and there are those who support me in this, my mother possessed most of the intellect in my parentage, with my father having all the financial skill; both of which I apparently inherited and consider great gifts in helping me wend my way through a decadent lifestyle. At any rate, there were three of us—-Maureen, the oldest--Ashley, the youngest, and myself. We were all partially home schooled as well as having matriculated at a nearby private school run by Jesuits. Mother had set her mind against sending us off to the local public schools because a friend's daughter failed to get into Harvard, thus the additional tutoring at home. Needless to say, my sister, Maureen did not gain admission to Harvard either, and had to settle for her second choice, Vassar College. My sisters and I were met each afternoon at approximately four PM, unless a particular school activity intervened. My eighteenth birthday was four days away when my mother's health began causing her problems that would eventually shorten her life. She would ultimately succumb to the cancer that riddled her body, and was gone a week before her forty-seventh birthday. I was twenty-one at the time. With the onset of mother's illness, a new tutor, a young woman, scarcely five or six years older than my sister Maureen, answered the ad mother had placed in several newspapers statewide. The young woman, named Ginger Robleski, was selected from a group of twelve applicants, and in two short weeks became one of the family. I can still recall Mother telling Miss Ginger, as she came to be called by my sisters and I, not to spare spanking any of us if we presented her with a problem in obeying her instruction, regardless of our age. Mother made a show of giving Miss Ginger, a sturdily made pointer with which she was to apply any needed discipline. Needless to say, we were sufficiently cowed, well, Ashley was; I never felt threatened by the pointer, for I was in love with Miss Ginger from the first. Not that any of it mattered, for we were all enchanted by her, and she proved to be an excellent tutor and prepared us all for our collegiate experiences. ________________________________________ Now, with Miss Ginger Robleski on the premises, things began to change. Perhaps I wasn't in love with her, per se, but I was certainly in awe of her physical attributes. Miss Ginger, while not a Miss America candidate, was possessed of as fine a figure as any young woman might wish for. That's polite English for telling you she had a great pair of tits and a fine ass. As for myself, I was nudging six feet, while impersonating a rail-thin scarecrow. My body was actually lean and sinewy from all the swimming I did on a regular basis. On making the college swim team I would fill out from working on weights and other vigorous exercises. During Miss Ginger's early weeks of tutoring us, I noticed my older sister practicing her femininity on me, trying out expressions and posturing that had not occurred prior to our tutor's arrival. Was it deliberate? Inasmuch as women practice every pose endlessly to see how they would appear in public, I think that, yes, it was deliberate. But my reaction provided Maureen with some means of gauging their effect on a member of the opposite sex. ________________________________________ Time passed swiftly, I was now eighteen and Ashley had her sweet turned sixteen party, and like most girls, began talking about boys constantly. However, mother had other ideas and forbid my timid sister from any dating at all. This stringent position caused poor Ashley to spend many hours languishing in front of her mirror crying and wailing that she would be an old maid for the rest of her life. I should add that this sequestering, having been applied to Maureen when she was sixteen and until she went off to college, probably caused her to become the campus slut she became when finally free of Mother's overly protective hand. I'll discuss this at length later on. At any rate, being raised with two sisters served to instruct me about the ways of women in general. I learned many things about them, such as their way of analyzing everything a person said in their presence, to their concerns, which to a non-observer would appear meaningless while the woman regarded them as important as life itself; if only for that moment. I was also able to see how they reacted under stressful moments, and more importantly, how they acted when they thought no man was around. All of the foregoing was but a prelude to my entry into manhood, of which, Miss Ginger would play a most meaningful role. But lest I get ahead of myself, I should return to her earliest days as our tutor. ________________________________________ I became enamored of Miss Ginger from the first. She wore a certain fragrance, a not overly expensive lavender that I trained myself to sniff out so as to know if she were nearby. And being bolder now that I was a senior and eighteen, I attempted to make bodily contact with her by placing myself on the other side of a the door and trying to go through it as she was entering the room. The first two times I became giddy after brushing against those magnificent breasts and almost forgot to apologize. I was blissfully unaware that Miss Ginger knew exactly what I was doing and chose to ignore it; but she was much more careful about going and coming from room to room after the second time. I was never the wiser until she confided it to me sometime later. After a week or so, I became frustrated at no longer having the opportunity to bump into those luscious globes of Miss Ginger's; I devised a simple, but feasible plan. I will digress for a moment to say that I never felt any compulsion to arrange similar collisions with either of my sisters, although the thought of incest being repugnant never entered my mind. In fact---well I won't go there for now. The plan was to drill a small hole in the wall of my bedroom, for on the other side resided none other than the gorgeous, Miss Ginger. I did the deed when everyone was outside enjoying a sunny afternoon. I snuck into Miss Ginger's room, swept up the plaster that had fallen on the floor and left after sniffing several of her under things, but not taking any for future use in helping my masturbatory dalliances. At eleven that evening, sweating like a pig, I camped out by my peep-sight, and watched as she undressed. She had her back to me as she took off her shoes, but turned slightly toward me as she rolled down her stockings, providing me with a long look at her lovely legs. My eyes widened as she removed her dress and stood before me in her bra and a half-slip. I recall it as if it was yesterday. I remember wiping my eyes after a bead of sweat rolled off my forehead and into it, obscuring my heavenly vision for a long moment. By the time my eyes cleared she was reaching behind her back and unclasping the fastenings of her bra and exposed a pair of high rounded, creamy globes, the likes of which I'd tried to imagine for years. I tried to stifle a sob of joy, but couldn't and nearly fell to the floor from my suddenly useless knees. That was all I dared to do that night, but from then on I remained glued to my peep-hole to watch as Miss Ginger removed her clothing each and every night. Oh, I saw her hairy pussy too, but she never played with it, at least not while I was watching. Looking back, I realize that my mother must have been aware of my manhood's arrival from the seemingly perpetual erection I displayed and from the remains of all those nocturnal and other emissions on my sheets. But nary was a word ever spoken about it. Mothers tend to keep such things to themselves. ________________________________________ Days passed, and to my smarmy, sex-addled mind it seemed that every other night Miss Ginger would present her body in a more provocative series of poses then she had the night before. Actually she was merely repeating her previous performance in that she was a very meticulous person, and seldom varied her personal actions. I woke up one morning, and as usual, all thoughts eventually turned to Miss Ginger's body and in short order I was imagining myself plowing into her hairy cunt. That, and the pleasurable feelings generated by my fingers on my stiff cock were enough to blot out everything else in my little universe. And so, with my eyes closed and my hand a blur as it jerked my cock, I sensed rather than heard the door to my bedroom open. My eyes few open. My hand leapt away from my cock as if it was molten steel and as the door closed. I heard a muffled, "Ooop's, sorry," and footsteps on the stairs. There was no mistaking it---that had been Miss Ginger's voice. In my mind, I crawled into the tiniest hole possible and slammed the hatch closed on it. Whatever shame I felt, my cock obviously didn't share it. I stared at it as it jerked inches from my shaking hand--- stiff as a crowbar, waiting for me like a contented cow to finish milking it off. I thought about my dilemma. How could I bring myself to look her in the eye at our tutoring session only minutes away? Would she mention it in front of my sister, Ashley? Or far worse, would she mention it to my mother? The more I thought about it the hornier I got, and it wasn't long before I was rubbing another one off, imagining Miss Ginger wanting to handle my big boy for me. That afternoon before our lesson, Miss Ginger joined Ashley and me at the pool. As usual, my almost perpetual erection surfaced and it was impossible to keep it hidden from Miss Ginger. However Miss Ginger had caught me whacking off and I had no idea how to handle this certain confrontation. But she said nothing out of the ordinary to me or to Ashley. However I did catch her showing more than a passing interest in my groin, and just like that I began to understand the power of the penis over women. I said women, not girls, with good reason, and will amplify my reasons shortly. It wouldn't be long before I decided to act upon my 'certain knowledge.' ________________________________________ With all sorts of possibilities racing through my mind, my subconscious was also at work and I realized that I had resumed whacking off again. I closed my eyes and waited for euphoria to overtake me. In my mind's eye, Miss Ginger was diddling herself and smiling at me whilst I watched her through the peephole. I exploded, sending perhaps the biggest load of sperm I'd ever discharged onto the sheets, my hand, and a corner of the blanket. A few minutes later, Miss Ginger and I found ourselves face to face across the dining room table we used for our lessons. I was quite nervous about this unavoidable confrontation. I had spent considerable time thinking of a way to avoid this meeting, but had come up empty. Fortunately for me, my sister, Ashley had some inane idea about a story she was writing and kept pestering Miss Ginger who apparently wasn't her usual self. Even I, as self-centered as a teenager can be saw this, but failed to realize its import just then, and so instead of using it to my advantage, I allowed my teenaged mind to wander off again, zeroing in on my lesson for the day, and then going off on various sexual tangents Needless to say it wasn't long before I had a hard-on evident to anyone who cared to look. I glanced nervously at my sister, Ashley, who was still engrossed in her stories plot, and therefore not looking at me or the bulge in my slacks. But it took me considerably longer to garner the courage to peek over at Miss Ginger. She was looking directly at me, or should I say, my erection. "Can't you sit still, Donald?" she said coolly, although I was hardly moving. And then to add to my confusion and embarrassment, she began to discuss Ashley's plot with her, seemingly dismissing me as one might an irritating child. I doubt that I had been fidgeting up to then, but mortified as I was by her comment, now I couldn't sit still. Moreover, I was thoroughly confused, Miss Ginger had burst into my room and caught me in mid-jack-off only that morning. Now she was treating me like a boy of five or six. Confusion notwithstanding, my erection remained intact, even seemed to continue to grow, threatening to burst the seams of my slacks and slay the two females in the room. Of course, that was my imagination running amuck. Still, it was a formidable erection, and was certainly becoming a problem of monumental proportions---at least so far as I was concerned. As best I recollect, two things happened in quick order. First, my sister left the room for some unknown (to me at least) reason. And second, Miss Ginger sighed and got my undivided attention before asking, and I quote: "Are you going to make it go down or not?" My brain functioned sufficiently to allow me to respond, "Whatever are you talking about. Yes, deny-deny-deny, was my single safe refuge. This interchange, as it were, provided the impetus for me to make the dammed thing subside in size, at least to the point where it was no longer a major talking point to everyone in the room. "I can't teach someone whose mind is so obviously elsewhere. Go on, get out of here. And Donald, do something about that, it's nauseating." And as soon as I got to my room, I did just that. ________________________________________ It was that night that I had my revenge on Miss Ginger. Well, not revenge exactly, but more of pro quid pro as it were. Peeking in on her as she was about to retire for the night, I could see the outline of her legs under the thin summer blanket, one straight out, the other bent at the knee so her thighs were wide apart and higher than her waist. Now this was something I hadn't seen in my other peeping sessions---she closed her eyes, but I knew she couldn't have fallen asleep so soon. More importantly, her hand stirred under the blanket. I knew where that hand was as the genitals, both male and female, are located in approximately the same anatomical area of the body, and further, having jerked off a thousand times under my own blanket. Miss Ginger was masturbating! Instant hard on! A split second later I surmised what had caused Miss Ginger to touch herself like this. It was me! Or more likely, it was my cock. My wonderful, steel-like, thick-veined throbbing prick! It occurred to me as I jerked off while watching my gorgeous tutor do likewise, that she had not stopped to take her evening bath. Naturally I had a colossally stupid idea; I grabbed my robe and a towel, quietly slipped out of my room and across the hall to the guest bath, to which Miss Ginger had exclusive use. My nerves grew frayed as I waited impatiently for the tub to fill, and when it was I climbed in and lay down. As quietly as I could I soaped my cock and balls, got them nice and slippery and began a slow stroke, satisfied that having just ejaculated in my room I could do this indefinitely, or at least until Miss Ginger made her greatly anticipated appearance. I tried to envision her reaction on finding me in her tub playing with my dick. I thought of her doing it---slipping her finger in and out...in and out---Oh, what a lovely picture that was! I was squeezing the base of my prick to keep from cumming when the bathroom door opened and Miss Ginger took two steps into the bathroom before freezing in mid-step and took in the tableau I'd laid out for her benefit. You know what they say about the best laid plans often going awry. Mine went down the drain the moment she gave me a disdainful look and said, "You have your own bathroom, I believe. Your mother gave me this one. Would you mind leaving it?" And before I could form a sensible reply, she added, "Must you constantly play with your doodle, Donald?" My doodle? I don't think I'd ever heard the term before, but I took her point and covered myself as best I could, climbed out of the tub, accepted the towel she had the good grace to extend to me and abashedly returned to my room. Twenty minutes later I heard her return to her own room, and now dried and semi-clothed, I went to my peephole. Miss Ginger had just entered the room; and after placing the wet towel on the hamper to dry, let her robe drop forming a puddle of blue on the floor, joined soon after by a pair of her black panties. I gasped in awed appreciation at this wonderful view of her hairy cunt. It was by far the best look I'd had of it thus far. But the best was yet to come. Instead of climbing into bed, Miss Ginger settled down in the arm chair and cradled a breast in her hand. Specifically, it was her right hand cupping her left breast, and then she began strumming her thumb over the nipple. The nipple wasted no time in spurting out about a half inch and then she did the same to the other. Then with both nipples thick and stiff, she leaned down and took the right teat into her mouth and gave suck! I can't tell you how much I wished that it were me nursing away on that teat! It took me less than four strokes of my cock before I shot a rope of jizm onto my bed, covering a good sized portion of the sheet. And as Miss Ginger switched nipples, my cock remained rampant and I continued deriving pleasure with each and every stroke. But she was not done. After nursing on her teats for several delightful minutes, she hooked a leg over the arm of the chair. I had this ghoulish thought that her cunt was an eye and was staring right at me through the peephole. I took several deep breaths and managed to compose myself, at least to the point where I resumed looking through the hole and was rewarded with fantastic view of her fleshy nether lips and somewhat shiny opening, just a slit, actually, but I knew what lay inside!