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The Diva

By: Tattletale



I worked at many different jobs to pay my way through college. I waited tables, pumped gas and delivered pizza. You could say that I had a very well-rounded education. In addition to my scholastic education, I learned a dozen different trades. I feel a little sorry for those who have their college educations paid for by their daddies. They don't know what they missed.

I took whatever part-time jobs I could fit into my class schedule. It wasn't all work and no play. The drudgery and boredom were frequently relieved by erotic adventures, like the time I delivered pizza to six swingers who invited me to join the party. I was introduced to a lot of new perversions that night. While working the late-night shift at a gas station, a man walked in and invited me to screw his pretty wife right in front of him. Fucking that little beauty while he cheered me on is one of my fondest memories. When I was waiting tables, I nailed a cute waitress while we were on our break. But all of my experiences pale by comparison to those I had while working for the diva.

One day while I was whacking off with a copy of Gigantic Jigglers, I saw this ad in the classified section:

"Help wanted. Virile young man 18-22. Generous pay."

I called the number that followed the ad and spoke to a man who introduced himself as Martin. He wouldn't give me any details about the job but said that he was certain that I would enjoy it. He gave me an address and told me to report promptly at noon the following day for an interview.

I took the subway into the city and made my way to an ostentatious apartment building on the Upper West Side. I finally got past the doorman and took the elevator to a luxury suite on the top floor. A distinguished-looking older gentleman with gray temples opened the door. He introduced himself as Martin, but did not offer a handshake.

He led me through the luxurious apartment to a kitchen, where two women were talking. Both were exceptionally attractive, but one of them immediately stood out. She was a stunning brunette clad in a stylish designer outfit that showcased her statuesque build. The other woman was dressed in a simple maid's costume.

"Madam, the young man who called is here for his interview," Martin said.

"Very well," she answered. "I'll have to see you ejaculate. If you aren't a strong comer, there's no point in either of us wasting our time. Take your penis out and do it right here. Just let it go on the floor. Maria will clean it up."

I couldn't believe my ears! A woman I hadn't even been introduced to had just demanded that I jack off in front of her.

"I'm not sure I understand," I said.

"It's very simple," she said with an impatient frown. "I want to see you jack off. I have to know if you're man enough for the job."

I love to masturbate and doing it in front of a woman was one of my favorite fantasies. As I slowly unzipped my fly, I expected that classy bitch to slap my face and tell me that I had misunderstood her, but she didn't, and my genitals were soon on display. Without even touching my cock, it swelled to its full eight inches. Maria, the maid, stared at it for a few seconds and then turned back to her chore of peeling potatoes.

The butler and the classy dame were both staring at my cock. After she ordered me to get on with it, I wrapped my hand around the shaft and began to jerk. The maid pretended to be preoccupied with her work, but she managed to sneak an occasional peek. After only a minute or two, I felt myself losing control. "Here it comes," I said. Then I shot one of the biggest loads of my life. The first shot arched six feet through the air and landed at the maid's feet. Many more shots followed. The orgasm was so intense that it felt like my ass-hole was turning inside out. I'm sure I wouldn't have come so good without the audience. The maid's eyes grew wider with each spurt. I suddenly felt very foolish standing there with my dripping dick in my hand.

"An excellent ejaculation," the woman said. "I don't believe I have ever seen one quite so copious. What do you think, Martin?"

"I agree, Madam. He outdid the others by a wide margin. I counted eleven spurts."

"More like twelve or thirteen, Martin. Very well. Fill him in on the details."

Then the snooty bitch turned and strutted out of the room without even thanking me. As Martin led me out of the kitchen, the pretty maid reached for a mop. The idea of her cleaning up after me started making me horny all over again. Martin led me to a luxurious livingroom and poured me a whiskey on the rocks.

"Miss Drake is a world-renowned diva, one of the finest, if not the finest, sopranos in opera. During her performances, her vocal cords are pushed to the limit. She is convinced that fresh semen is the perfect balm for her most precious asset. She requires three doses, one just before going on stage, another during the first intermission, and another during the second intermission. She also sometimes needs a dose after her performance. I supply one dose, Carlos, the chauffeur, supplies another, and you will supply the rest. The young man who was providing that service has joined the military, and Miss Drake is desperate for a replacement. You will be well paid. Two-hundred dollars to start."

I was dumbfounded. That broad was crazy to believe such nonsense. The last time I had shot a load into a woman's mouth, she had complained that it burnt on the way down. But I desperately needed that money to buy textbooks, and I liked the idea of getting paid for jacking off.

"It sounds kind of whacky to me," I said. "But I'll give it a try."

"There is one other thing," Martin said. "Miss Drake is convinced that semen that is rich in sperm works best. Tomorrow you will go to a clinic that I will direct you to and you will have a sperm count. At the same time, you will be tested for sexually-transmitted diseases. If you pass those tests, you will have the job."

The following day I went to the clinic, jacked off in a cup, and turned the specimen over to a nurse. She scurried off and returned a few minutes later to tell me that it was one of the highest sperm counts she had ever seen.

As soon as I finished at the clinic, I called Martin to give him the good news. He didn't seem to care one way or the other.

"Very well, then. Miss Drake is starring as Lucia in Donizetti's "Lucia di Lammermoor" at the Met on Saturday. Meet us at the backstage door promptly at seven. That will give you four days to build up a good supply of sperm. I build up my own supply by masturbating without release. I suggest that you do the same. Miss Drake is a generous tipper, and if you serve her well, you will be rewarded."

I was accustomed to jacking off at least twice a day, so the next four days were sheer agony. Saturday finally arrived and I boarded the train into the city. The idea of soon getting sexual relief had my cock straining against my pantleg.

I made my way to the Metropolitan Opera and asked directions to the backstage door. I stood in the shadows and watched the performers enter the theater. I was so close to the orgasmic edge that I was afraid I would shoot off in my pants if I moved around too much. During my four-day abstention, I had watched dozens of pornographic videos. That, combined with constant masturbation, had given me a set of sensitive blue-balls.

A limo pulled up and Martin emerged from the front to open the door for his mistress. She passed me by without even acknowledging my existence.

"I hope you will be in good form this evening, young man," Martin said. "Lucia is a demanding role, and Miss Drake will need every drop of semen that we can provide to soothe her vocal cords."

"Well, I haven't shot off since you told me about this and my nuts are on the verge of exploding," I answered.

I followed him through the crowd to Miss Drake's dressing room. He and I took seats in a corner out of the way, and were joined by Carlos, the chauffeur, a few minutes later. As Miss Drake's dresser and makeup girl worked on her, she blossomed into an even greater beauty. At one point, she was clad only in a skimpy bra and panties. I nearly creamed my jeans, but by looking away and thinking about my football team's embarrassing defeat that day, I managed to stave off a disaster.

Martin turned to me and whispered in my ear. "Act Three will put the greatest strain on Miss Drake's voice. Therefore, she will take your dose during the second intermission. I will give her the first dose and Carlos will provide the second dose during the first intermission."

That was terrible news because it meant that I would have to wait for more than an hour for relief. If my mind kept drifting onto sex, I would never make it. I tried to think of anything but sex.

As soon as the dresser and makeup girl left, Martin pulled his cock and balls out through his fly and began to stroke. In the state I was in, just watching a guy masturbate could have set me off, so I tried not to watch. But out of the corner of my eye, I could see that he had a cock that any man would be proud of. Only a few strokes were required to bring it to full hard.

What came next shocked me more than anything that had happened up to that point. Miss Drake snapped her fingers and her lackey immediately rushed forward to stuff his cock in her mouth. I could not believe my eyes. I had assumed that we would jack off in a cup and then she would drink it. I hadn't counted on getting a blow job. Even though I knew it was very risky to watch, I couldn't take my eyes off the erotic scene.

Either Miss Drake loved what she was doing, or she was giving it her best in order to coax out the biggest possible load. She twisted her beautiful head from side to side and varied the depths of the sucks. After about a minute, Martin's teeth chattered and his eyes rolled back as he shot his load. As men often do when they are at the peak of their ecstasy, he began thrusting into her mouth with short strokes. Martin finally went from attention to parade rest. His mistress pulled off slowly so as not to spill a single drop. When it was all over, the drained man casually stuffed his genitals back in his pants and returned to his seat.

As the opera began, lilting voices emerged from a speaker on the wall. Miss Drake's voice was absolutely perfect. Martin acted as translator, no doubt to increase his feeling of superiority over us.

"She has been absolutely perfect on every single note," Martin gloated. I wondered if he actually believed that his load coating her tonsils had anything to do with that. One look at his face and I knew he did. I turned away from the pompous butler and tried to strike up a friendship with Carlos. He seemed like a nice guy, and we soon hit it off. Talking about sports helped distract me from my sexual fantasies. He revealed that I was the only one being paid to unload in Miss Drake's mouth. He considered the blow jobs to be a fringe benefit.

Act One ended, and Miss Drake entered the room with a big smile on her face. As soon as her assistants were finished and left the room, Carlos pulled out his cock and balls and began to jack. He whispered that the purpose of the masturbation was to bring him close to the edge so Miss Drake wouldn't have to suck any longer than necessary.

She ordered him to her with a curt nod of her head. As he stuffed his cock in her mouth, I noticed that it was in the same league as mine. More forward than Martin had been, he immediately began pumping his cock in and out of her mouth. In less than a minute, he grunted as his load shot down her throat.

Miss Drake's performance during the second act was as flawless as it had been in the first. As it drew to a close, Martin gave me my final instructions.

"Try to ejaculate as soon as you are in her mouth. Do not try to hold it back. Stand at attention. You will cum harder if your body is rigid. There is no need to warn her before you come. Under no circumstances must you touch her."

I waited impatiently as Miss Drake's assistants performed their duties. As soon as they left, out came my cock and balls. It felt wonderful to finally have them out in the open.

"Stroke it," Martin ordered. "Prepare it."

"Believe me, it doesn't need it, Martin."

When Miss Drake snapped her fingers, I rushed forward and stuffed the head of my dick in her warm, wet mouth. I began shooting off immediately. I came so hard that she retched, but she quickly recovered and took it all as skillfully as a street-corner whore. Even though it had been the shortest blow job I had ever had, it was the strongest orgasm of my life.

Miss Drake carefully pulled off, swallowed hard several times, and then turned to the others and said with a sneer, "He gave me more than both of you combined." That was as close to a compliment as she had come.

Miss Drake was brilliant in Act Three. When the last note had been sung, cries of "BRAVA" echoed off the ceilings of the theater. The uproar went on for a long time. When Miss Drake finally entered the room, she was absolutely glowing.

"Ten curtain calls! TEN! I gave my best Lucia. Every note sung perfectly. It's something of a let-down because I will never again achieve such perfection."

"Nonsense, Madam," Martin said. "Your performance was stellar. I've never heard a finer Lucia. Now you must strive to perfect every role you play."

At that moment, Miss Drake actually seemed almost human. I even detected the glint of a tear in her eye. She put in an appearance at the cast party, then we were all in her limo heading for her apartment. I soon found out why she didn't send me on my way.


"I strained my voice a little during that last aria," she said. "I will need another load of your syrup."

As soon as I pulled my cock out, she began bobbing her head on it. I had had a few blow jobs from whores and a few sluts in high school, but they couldn't compare with what I was getting from that snooty bitch. She suddenly stopped and thought about something for a minute.

"I feel like celebrating my finest performance with something special. Get on your back and pull your pants down. Don't worry, you'll be paid extra for this."

As soon as I was in position, she hoisted her dress and lowered her pussy onto my cock. Martin turned and watched his mistress posting up and down on my cock. I thought I detected just a hint of jealousy in his expression.

"My God, I almost had an orgasm during my final aria. I'll be needing all three of you tonight."

I thought I detected a hint of a smile on Martin's stern face when he heard that. As soon as we were in Miss Drake's lavish apartment, she led Martin and I to her bedroom. Our clothes went flying. She flopped down on the bed and demanded that I mount her and fuck her. I had always wondered how I would perform if I had an opportunity to fuck a really beautiful woman. My fear that I wouldn't be able to get it up was totally unjustified. My cock was as hard as a hammer handle as it slid into her tight cunt.

Demonstrating strength that exceeded my own, the diva flipped me onto my back and rode me like a cowgirl. Within a few seconds, I felt Martin's balls drag across my own as he entered his mistress's other orifice. I felt his cock against my own through the thin membrane separating the twin tunnels. Carlos joined the party after he took care of the car. I looked up to see his long cock slide into her mouth.

The orgy that followed was just the antidote I needed for the horniness I had suffered for days. When I was finished with her pussy, I replaced Martin in her tight ass. It's hard to tell how many orgasms that bitch had. Each time, she burst into song.

At some point, the saucy maid joined in, but only in a lesbian capacity. Miss Drake warned me to keep my hands off of her, but I managed to get in a few feels. As the little beauty ate my jizz out of her mistress's pussy, her discrete winks tipped me off that she was interested in me. We began secretly dating and I eventually fucked her. But that is another story.

My employment by Miss Drake ended when she left for an extended world tour. No doubt many horny young European men had the pleasure of blowing a load in the warbler's mouth. By the time she left, I had coated her throat with more than a hundred soothing loads.

The Dive



Excited but still a little bit confused, Jack let her take his hand and lead him through the back corridors of the "Driver's Dive". He looked at his hand in hers, his pale skin against her rich, dark ebony. His eyes wandered up her arm to where her natural, soft locks were caressing her neck. She stopped in front of a closet door and turned to him. Her face was wide, her lips full and luscious, her nose flat and broad yet delicate, her eyes black diamonds; they lay quite wide apart, and with perhaps a hint of asian ancestry in their corners? There was no make-up on her face; any attempt to improve on that face, he knew, would have been futile. She smiled, radiant and warm.

He smiled back, a little annoyed with himself about how flustered he was. This wasn't him. Jack had an angular face with a well-defined jaw-line, steely blue eyes, dirty blond hair, and an easy smile; he worked out regularly and wasn't shy about showing off his shoulders and arms. In other words, he was used to the attention of girls, and had taken advantage of that many times before. But this was different. He had noticed her sitting across the main room of the dive, had noticed her beauty, but didn't think she would be interested. She had been sitting with another man, a tall, handsome fellow, his skin as dark as hers and his shoulders even broader than Jacks. She was spoken for, he had assumed; and even if she had been alone, Jack probably still wouldn't have made a move. There was just something about her presence, an air of confidence, that was a little intimidating, despite the warmth of her smile. His patented swagger probably wouldn't have impressed her. But then the man at her table had left -- after giving Jack a cheeky glance he still didn't quite know what to make of -- and she had come over to him, to his surprise. There had been no words, only her eyes and the gentle yet guiding touch of her hand.

She opened the closet door. The space behind was more of a small room than a closet. It contained some cleaning supplies but was spacious enough, and clean. They entered and closed the door behind them. They were facing each-other. "Get on your knees", she said, her voice soft and smoky. Jack obliged, hardening. She was wearing a unicoloured knee-length dress, beautiful in its simplicity. It wasn't particularly tight on her, but the fabric was soft and visibly expensive, caressing her breasts and ample curves as it fell along her body. On his knees now, his hands moved to lift the front of her skirt, revealing her panties. They were unadorned, made of black cotton, bulging to reveal the shape of her outer lips. He moved his face closer until his nose touched, taking in her rich scent. He pushed in his nose, gently kissing the cotton, his tongue stealing a taste. He felt her entering his head through his nose, taking hold of his mind, blurring his every thought. This was so good.

She had taken his head in her hands, and now she pulled him away a little, then turned around. Jack was facing the perfectly rounded, full hills that were her behind. He lifted the back of her skirt, then pulled down her panties, which dropped to the floor. He used his thumbs to pry apart her cheeks, slowly baring her cherry. Jack moved in, eager as a dog. He licked her sweet spot while her cheeks pressed against his, tasting her sweet musk, exploring the pucker of her sphincter in gently circling motions. When he felt her softening, he thrust out his tongue, pushing the tip into her anus. She opened, letting him in, and he heard her barely suppress a low moan. Jack wouldn't have been able to hide a cocky grin if he hadn't been face first up this ladies ass. She was enjoying it, he could tell. Perhaps this will lead to some anal action for him later, he thought happily, while he kept working her anus. Getting girls to do anal was always a bit of a chore, but this woman was clearly pretty freaky. Perhaps, if he kept this up, she'd let him do her from behind... the thought alone almost made him go in his pants. God, how he loved easy girls.

His dreaming was interrupted when she pulled away from him, turning again. Her dress was hiked up to her hips by now, and as she leant against a low shelf behind her, he saw her glorious womanhood between her slightly spread legs. Her outer lips couldn't contain the inner pair; overflowing, a generous bounty. Within, he could see a sliver of pink. And above, where her lips met, rose her clitoris. Fully erect and impressively, intimidatingly large, Jack had never been faced with anything like it. With a clearly distinguishable head and a shaft, it looked strikingly like a cock. He moved in, and he felt her warmth and moisture against his closed lips, heard heavy breathing from above. Then he opened, and she opened to him in return. She moaned softly as he brought out his tongue, moving it up and down, going deep, slurping her juices. He went below and then back up, tenderly sucking her clit -- "no, her cock", he thought, the notion coloured by confusing feelings - then back down again. He worked her steadily, she rode him gently. Her taste was strong and womanly, and it filled his mouth. Then, as he was going in for another deep slurp, he tasted something else.

Her hands had closed behind his ears, holding his face firmly against her crotch. He kept probing, and the new flavour got stronger. Then it dawned on him: he was tasting semen. This woman had been with another man just before. He remembered the tall, muscular man at her table, remembered his sly glance. As the realisation sank in, a flurry of confusing emotions exploded behind Jacks eyes. Disgust, shock, shame, embarrassment, humiliation... and excitement? Eagerness? His cock was pushing against his jeans harder than ever. Panicking, he tried to pull away.

She wouldn't let him, her grip firm against the back of his head. Jack couldn't see her face, but he knew she was smiling. This woman knew exactly what she was doing. And for the first time, Jack grasped the hard truth of the situation. This wasn't about him, this was about her. It seemed utterly ridiculous now that he ever thought he would get some anal later. Or vaginal, for that matter, or a blow-job. In fact, he knew that he wouldn't even get as far as opening his belt. If he got some enjoyment from servicing her, then so be it; if not, it wouldn't change a thing. This wasn't about him, or his cock, or his pleasure... it never had been. This was about this beautiful, magnificent, terrifying woman; a woman who knew what she wanted, a woman who deserved to get anything she wanted. With this realisation, Jack gave up all resistance. He dove in, eagerly lapping, licking, sucking, slurping her juices and those of her man -- or men? There was no way of knowing. Their come was slowly drizzling down her canal, onto his lips and into his mouth. He drank it all, his thirst insatiable. He felt her pulse hot and wet against his tongue. He circled, pushed and probed, flicked and tickled; he gave her everything he had, losing all sense of self in her strength. She rode him, and there was nothing gentle about it, she rode him hard.

He heard her gasp, then a moan, her voice dropping half an octave. She came all over his face. As she squirted, Jack opened his mouth wide, tried to drink it all in; perhaps in a failed attempt to keep his clothes unsoiled, perhaps because that's what he thought she expected... or perhaps because he wanted to savour every last drop of her.

She stood in front of him, her eyes closed, breathing. Gradually, her pulse slowed back to normal. She took a tissue from her clutch and cleaned between her legs. She straightened her dress. Still on his knees, his face dripping, his sodden shirt clinging to his body, Jack looked up at her. She looked put together, as if nothing had happened. Her face, her impossibly beautiful face... it smiled. "That was nice.", she said, rays of sunlight breaking through the smoke of her voice. Jack lowered his head, humbled yet proud. He had done well, he knew. She continued: "This place... I may come back here sometimes. Or not. But if I do, and if you happen to be here... well, I wouldn't mind doing this again." She reached into her clutch again and handed Jack a twenty dollar bill. Then she left the cabinet, closing the door behind her. Left alone, Jack looked at the bill, speechless, dumb. He had been bought, used and ditched like a cheap whore. He waited for his feelings of offence and outrage to emerge, or perhaps shame, humiliation. Yet when he looked inside, he only found serenity, and the feeling that he had finally found something he had unknowingly been longing for all his life.

She had left her panties on the floor. His cock was still hard, yearning for release against his jeans. He unbuttoned, closed his eyes, and slowly slid his right hand underneath the waistband. With his left he held her panties against his face, taking a deep breath. And he remembered what she had said: "I may come back here sometimes."

And this is the story of how Jack became a regular at the "Driver's Dive".