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Out of Peoria

By: RonRyder



Out of Peoria: A Story of Innocence lost.

Chapter I: California, here I come?

The first twenty two years of my life were so utterly conventional I am ashamed to own up to them. I grew up in a small town in the mid-west and partook of all the things one did when growing up in a small town in the mid-west. I lost my virginity at 18 --- to my future husband of course, my high-school sweet-heart, whom I married two years later when I was half way through college. Neither losing my virginity, nor the tepid sex-life that followed marriage made much of an impression on me. They were things girls did to catch, land and secure their man. It was not condoned to land a man by having sex before marriage, but it was accepted that this is what one did. Hypocrisy whichever way you twist and turn it. Likewise, the man who had ‘had his way with a girl’ was expected to play fair and marry her at the ‘appropriate time’, preferentially after he had a steady job and prospects consistent with supporting a family. Of course, he could disappear, and many did, but if they wanted to hang around and become ‘pillars’ of the local society, they had to play by the local rules.

It didn’t take me long, though, to come to wonder why I had bothered landing my man. Brad was in no way bad. In fact, in my town he was regarded as quite the catch. He had good looks, charm and by the time of our marriage was already a successful car salesman with a good income and even better prospects. There was talk of a new ‘Wunderkind’ at the franchise and even of taking him on as a partner. I was quite the object of envy amongst my peers and I blush to this day when I think of how much satisfaction this gave me. He was even a ‘nice guy’ and it all was not really his fault. 

I can’t put a date on my awakening, or even isolate a specific event that triggered it. I had graduated and begun work at a local firm of accountants. Brad was always very busy, and when he was home it was almost always because of a ball game. I served him beer --- he was after all the bread-winner, responsible for our lovely home and my extensive collection of clothes and jewelry. And when the game was over I lay beneath him as he grunted his way to orgasm. This was what a wife did. And when he then rolled off me and went to sleep, I dutifully turned and slipped also into sleep. I can’t even remember sighing, or feeling frustration or lying awake nursing the feeling I was missing out on something. In all outward respects, Brad was considerate, a model husband. He even mowed the lawn! It was just…..

… Well I really cannot say what it was that moved me suddenly to leave. It just happened. A moment of madness, or divine intervention, perhaps. But leave I did. I emptied out our joint account in one fell swoop, cash of course, took everything of value that I owned including the car Brad had proudly presented me with on my birthday, a BMW convertible, which I drove out of town westward, choosing a weekend when Brad was at a convention so I could get away as far as possible before anyone thought to look for me. I left Brad a note which said:

“I can’t take any more. Please do not follow me. It’s not you, it’s me. I’m not right for you. If you want to divorce me, go ahead. I won’t contest as long as you leave me alone.”

I left a note for my parents which said:

“I know you will never understand this and you will never, ever forgive me for it, even though I beg you to do so. But I am not apologetic. I am being stifled and I have to be able to breathe.”

No-one saw me leave. No one followed me, and to this day I do not know what Brad, my parents or anyone else did when they realized I was gone. I heard nothing. From my perspective, no one seemed to care. I had decided to leave their town, and therefore also their universe. This was all they knew. They did not want to know anything else. 

I headed south-west. And it did not take very long for me to discover that an attractive young female rarely was alone -- especially one driving an extremely expensive BMW convertible! The problem of Brad’s convertible I solved at a motel somewhere in Missouri. The guy was drop dead gorgeous, but when we got to it, his sexual technique so resembled Brad’s he could have been a twin! I lay beneath him and groaned inwardly. He drove a Chevy Blazer. Well, that’s what he had driven until he met me. In the morning he drove a BMW convertible. Well, I left him the keys and a note suggesting a straight swap, and I presumed he would not be stupid enough to pass up on such an opportunity! So thenceforth I drove the Chevy Blazer, with California plates. I had it my head that California was the place to be. Can’t think why!

Santa Monica was not exactly what I had in my mind’s eye, but it was certainly a lot closer to where I wanted to be than “Peoria”. I took a room in a cheap motel and, after a few days relaxing on the beach and roller-blading up and down the boardwalk, I started scouring the neighborhoods for somewhere more permanent to stay. It was on the third day that I came across the message, on a board in a local store:-

“Commune seeks fourth female. Reasonable rates. Must be broad-minded.” 

There was a number and a breezy female voice answered when I called. A couple of innocuous questions and answers back and forth and I had the address and was on my way. Jane met me at the door, dressed, as I discovered subsequently she almost always was, in a bath robe! She was nice, inviting and encouraging. The only question that could have raised an eyebrow was “Do you have experience of communal living?”. When I said “No!”, she just nodded and said that rather few people had, but I looked like the kind of person who would adapt rapidly. She showed me around a few large rooms, one of which was obviously a communal bedroom. Yes, Jane replied, when I asked, this was where everyone slept. It was a commune, after all. 

What was remarkable about that first encounter is not what I asked, but what I did not. It was obvious that there were men and women in the commune. So they all slept in the same room. Er….? But I did not ask. And as for ‘the rent’, ‘Oh, we just chip in a bit now and then for groceries and stuff’. I did not follow up by asking more detailed questions. It was one of those situations. You really didn’t know what you were getting into, but the only way to find out was to get into it! Anyway, I was in California to experience the new and exotic. And what better way to start than by joining a “commune”. Whatever this was it would surely be different from the stifling marriage I had just left behind me. And if I didn’t like it, I would leave and move on. That was California. If you did not like where you were at, you moved on. There was always something else around the corner.

The ‘commune’ occupied the ground floor of a two-story building. The apartment above had a separate entrance and as time evolved I noted there was a fair traffic on the stairs. I assumed initially that the apartment above was also a commune. This turned out to be only partially true --- but let me not get ahead of myself.

Our ‘commune’ consisted of 6 permanent members, 4 women and 2 men, complemented by ‘hangers on’, who came and went, spending an hour or occasionally a night, but then disappearing as suddenly as they had materialized. These people, I was given to understand, sometimes had difficulties with ‘the authorities’. Of the permanent members Jane, low thirties, was somewhat older than the other women and served as a kind of ‘house mother’. The other five were Alicia, Mandy, Alex, Bob and of course myself. Alicia and Mandy were around my age, low twenties, while Alex and Bob were older, late thirties or even forties, that age, at any rate, when men are ageless, neither young nor old. I was duly welcomed by each as they arrived back from wherever they had been and enjoyed my first communal meal on my very first evening. Bob brought the food from the local Mexican take-out and it was good. Especially preceded by a couple of Margaritas (Alicia’s speciality) and accompanied by a bottle or two of very reasonable Zinfandel. All the while blue-grass music calmed, and the candles strewn around the room that Jane had lit almost as a ritual gave off a pungent, exotic fragrance.

I drank enough that my fears of ‘the night’ were subdued to practically nothing. Nevertheless it was a shock when at some hidden signal we all headed for the bedroom and an even greater shock to realize a moment later that I was the only one with clothes on! It could not have come as a surprise that Jane’s bath robe was her only covering, but the others seemed to divest themselves of clothing with hardly any more effort than it took to slip a bathrobe off one’s shoulders. 

I could not help but turn my back as I undressed demurely and I confess to a definite inhibition when it came to bra and panties. The alcohol gave me courage however, and after some minutes, I turned, naked, prepared to deal with whatever fate was mine. I need not have bothered however because by the time I was ready the constellations were set in place. In one corner of the room, hidden by the dim light provided by wall niche candles someone had lit in advance, Bob and Mandy were entwined around each other, while closer to me in my corner of the room, Jane and Alicia were thoroughly preoccupied with Alex. Jane was stretched out on the large mattress kissing him and working her fingers through his hair, while Alexia was already fondling his cock and balls, and as my gaze focused on her, began to fellate him gently. 

And what was I supposed to do? I stood there, stark naked and ignored! A mixture of emotions welled through me. My natural inborn inhibitions demanded that I be shocked by this promiscuity. At the same time, a sense of thrill coursed through me. This was surely not Peoria. And however much clashed with the value system I had been taught and lived by up to that time, there was a reason why I was in California. and now was crunch time! 

Alicia helped me break my temporary paralysis. She looked up at me, grasping Alex’s stiffening cock in slender fingers and wanking him gently, and said “Well come on then. He’s got plenty for two.”

She went back to fellating him, but when I overcame my inhibitions and stretched out on Alex’s other side she released his cock and proffered it to me. “Nice cock,” she said sliding her fingers up and down its sides. “And all yours.” And so saying she left me to it and slid over to Bob and Mandy and eased her way into that action. I was left literally holding onto this cock, only the second one I had ever touched in my life! 

I was not experienced enough to know whether Alicia was right and Alex’s was, in fact, a particularly nice cock. It was, however, nicer than Dean’s. It was thicker for starters and it tapered towards the tip, whereas Dean’s was like a mushroom with a slender stem and a pronounced red, bulbous tip. I had had plenty of experience handling that cock. Dean loved to have his cock fondled and was quite inventive finding a nook or a cranny at school, or making out in the back of his car, or even on the porch of a warm night. We fucked hardly at all in those early days, I thought because of lack of opportunity, but we were rarely together without his cock coming out and me fondling it until it spewed semen all over my hand. It did not take much action for Brad to come, and once he our encounter would be over. 

I continued masturbating him throughout our married life and often felt he preferred this to fucking. Occasionally he would finger me, which I really liked, but more often in the early days, and hardly at all after our marriage. When I came later to rationalize it, I had adopted a view of sex whereby the object is to get the man off, as quickly as possible and quite regardless of any requirements, needs or wants I may have. Everything hinged on what I thought Brad wanted. Nothing else played a role at all.

So I began my new life putting into practice what I had learned. I knelt at Alex’s side and stroked and wanked his cock and fondled his balls. Gradually the cock stiffened and grew yet thicker and longer. And it soon became an entirely natural act for me to take the tip between my lips and gradually edge the cock into my mouth. 

Although it seemed natural at the time, this was nevertheless for me a departure. Brad has always wanted me to fellate him, but I had always refused, arguing without real reason that I just did not like it. How could you not like something you had never tried? This question was never asked nor answered. It just did not seem appealing to me at all.

How different with Alex. His cock cried out for oral attention, and far from not liking it, I discovered I liked it very much indeed. I liked the way it felt when I ran the tip of my tongue over the meatus at the tip. I liked the feeling of power when I grasped the root of the cock and lowered my mouth over it as far as it could go, then sucked, released, sucked and released until I felt the cock throb with anticipation. I loved running my tongue down the sides and licking the base. And I instinctively knew when to let go, to let the cock rest and turn my attention to Alex’s balls and ballbag.

The very idea of licking or sucking Dean’s balls would have been quite sickening to me, but with Alex it was completely different. Like the base of his cock, his balls were devoid of hair and felt wonderfully silky and smooth --- this was the first time I had realized that there were men who shaved ‘down there’. So I licked and sucked his balls between bouts of cock sucking, each time taking the cock a little deeper into my mouth, each time sucking a little harder. 

So absorbed was I in this activity, so relieved perhaps that I had taken the plunge and discovered to my astonishment that I was not only a natural fellatrist, but thoroughly enjoyed the act of fellatio, I was completely oblivious of what the other people in the room were doing. There was me, my hands, my mouth and a very responsive cock! I was in my element. 

It took Jane several attempts (so she later said) to get into my field of vision. Following a particularly vigorous bout of sucking which amounted essentially to fucking Alex's cock hard with my mouth, again, again and again, I ran out of steam and, rocking back on my haunches recognized that Jane had taken up position across from me where Alicia had been. “Hey, leave some for the rest of us,” she said, a twinkle in her eye!

And with that I regretfully relinquished my cock to her and let her take over, which she did by first licking around the base of the cock and sucking gently on Alex’s balls. “Let him cool off a bit,” she said to me, with that same twinkle in her eye. And it was only then that I realized how much stimulation Alex’s cock had received, and without the appearance of a single drop of semen. Dean would have blown his load six times! I realized how much I had to learn about sex and in that realization and the knowledge that I was in the right place, I was truly happy. For the first time in my life, I was alive, I was a woman and I was doing what nature had intended for me to do.

A few minutes later I was experiencing yet another new sensation. With Alex and Jane’s encouragement, I straddled his head and lowered myself to allow him to stimulate my vagina, labia and, heaven of all heaven’s, my clitoris, with his tongue and lips. This he did with great gentleness and the sensation coupled with the view of Jane’s head bobbing up and down over Alex’s cock transported me to a new dimension. Jane was obviously an accomplished fellatrix, varying her stimulation in degrees to maximum effect. Occasionally, she would push down on the iron hard cock, pause for breath, then push down further until the entire member was engulfed within her mouth. How she did this I had no idea. Like all Americans, I had heard of “Deep Throat” of course, but I had never connected this with a physical activity, so sheltered had my life been to that point in time. Now I found the sight of Alex’s long juicy cock engulfed in its entirety in Jane’s gullet to be visually extremely erotic. And the eroticism was multiplied by Alex’s reaction. His entire body shuddered and jolted in accompaniment to Jane’s ministrations. 

I thought he was coming, shooting his load deep into Jane’s throat, but his cock retained its stiffness following every release. She would rock back on her heels, take a few deep breaths and then renew her attack. Obviously she knew full well how to keep that cock simmering, but just short of the boil!

And Alex’s oral attentions to my vagina and clitoris followed closely the stimulation he was receiving from Jane. When she was licking playfully he would also lick gently at my labial lips, flicking his tongue occasionally so that it’s tip touched my clitoral hood. When he was being deep throated he would take my entire labial and clitoral area into his mouth and suck hard, his tongue searching for the clitoral tip. A novum for me, a very pleasurable one, but everything that was happening was novel. I was in a space I had not before occupied. I did not ask where this was leading. It was a very wonderful space and I was just happy and thankful to be in it.

Jane had just completed what seemed like a vicious attack on Alex’s cock, deep-throating him again and again. But if contest this was, the cock won, and Jane relaxed back on her haunches, panting and somewhat wide-eyed. She looked up at me.

“Want to go first?” was what she said. And with a sudden thrill, I realized she was inviting me to straddle Alex and ride his cock. This was another novum --- Brad was strictly missionary and not at all given to trying out a female superior position. In no time I was in position and Jane was there to guide the cock as I sank onto it, inch by inch, as my juices began seriously to flow, up to the hilt. What bliss!

Gingerly, I began to move to and fro with Alex’s cock deep within me. He filled me in a way Brad never had. This feeling was entirely new to me and this was not only because I was in the female superior position. Alex’s cock thickened substantially towards the base so the deeper I took him into me the more my outer ‘parts’ splayed out and were stimulated. 

Once impaled upon this cock, I felt a tremendous sense of freedom. I was in control. For the first time in my life, I was fucking a man rather than the reverse. I would decide according to my own sensation what action to take. I could sit up high and rock to and fro, or I could lean forward and drive the cock in and out of my vagina. To and fro, in and out, and any combination between. It was my choice, a wonderfully empowering feeling.

And one that was enhanced by the sight of Jane getting the treatment I had previously received. As I rode Alex’s cock, Jane rode his face, positioning herself according to the stimulation she wanted. Our eyes met and the communication was instant. I knew what she was feeling. She knew where I was at. Instinctively our hands reached out to stroke the other’s breasts and tweak the stiffening nipples. The sensation of sexual arousal welled up inside me, but it was within my control and I simply adjusted my movements so that the glow did not erupt, but spread slowly to encompass my entire body. Jane was obviously doing the same and with each involuntary cry, grunt or exhalation I felt a curious bond with her growing. We were both fucking Alex, but it was as though we were stimulating each other.

After a considerable time we swapped places, again a matter of instinctive communication. Neither of us appeared to have asked or answered, but the exchange just happened. And the sight of Jane slowly lowering herself on Alex’s raging hard cock almost brought me to a head! She threw back her head and pounded up and down on him grunting with every stroke. Following a particularly loud and violent grunt, switched to a gentle rocking motion, and I did too, raising myself so that Alex’s tongue tip flicked around my genitals, and then lowering myself and pressing my labia hard onto his mouth and practically fucking his face. Quite unconsciously I found that I had matched my pace to Jane’s. When she was vigorous so was I, when quiet, then I was quiet too.


Out of Peoria Ch. 02



Out of Peoria: A Story of Innocence lost.

Chapter 2: Plunging in! 

I spent some time in the bathroom, not only ridding myself of Alex’s juices (and my own) but also in thought. What was I into? Was this right for me? I thought much, but came up with no answers. And in the end all I could think of to do was to return to the bedroom. I think I expected everyone to be asleep, but far from it. The only commune member who appeared to be comatose was Alex, who lay cosily in an almost foetal position. The rest were at the other end of the room. Bob was laid out on his back with his rump overlapping the end of the bed, his legs spread wide and his feet on the ground. Alicia and Mandy were knelt between his legs and ministering to his cock, which, even larger I noted than Alex’s, stood proudly in the vertical. Some way to the side, Jane, her legs splayed wide was masturbating vigorously.

Bob was obviously very close to orgasm. He could barely keep his body still for a second or two. The slightest touch on his cock, whether a finger or a tongue tip, the semblance of a hand or mouth, would send him into convulsions. The girls were teasing him shamelessly (not that he was protesting, mind!). Mandy was particularly expert at this activity, I decided, watching the way she enclosed Bob’s cock in her mouth so that he knew, could see what she was doing, but yet was not touched by her. He had reached the point where she could stimulated him with her breath! And Alicia’s specialty, I noted, was her fingernails. She used these on Bob’s taught ball bag and on the base of his cock. Just the right amount of pressure, keeping him on the boil, but not boiling over.

I realized that Bob had been under ‘action’ as long as Alex had been, and in addition all the time I had spent in the bathroom. With this realization came another one, namely that Alex’s orgasm would not have occurred at the point in time it did if Mandy or Alicia had been the third party of the threesome. It was me, the novice, who had fucked him too vigorously. Still, I reflected, this was very much a new situation for me. Maybe the art of sex could be practiced at a higher level than I had done, but nevertheless, for a novice I had not done badly.

Mandy and Alicia continued to tease Bob’s cock for a long time. They would stroke, with finger tip or nail, flick their tongues around the tip, take the cock in their mouths judging perfectly what level of contact was required to keep Bob on the brink, or suck or bite on his ball bag. And he was loving it, you could tell! 

Jane was loving it too. Her fingers rubbed her mound of venus vigorously, stimulating the clitoral shaft, then entered her cunt, worked away for a while and returned, stimulating the clitoral tip. Her juices flowed copiously, her cunt lips glistening in the candlelight. She moaned in unison with Bob. And Alicia and Mandy too were working themselves with stray hands and fingers. 

My upbringing imbued me with a feeling of guilt whenever I touched myself ‘down there’. Of course, like most young girls I had overcome this feeling and I had regularly stimulated myself, though always with discretion and usually with the fear that I may be discovered and denounced as a deviant, who would go blind or stupid. I ask you, who in her right mind could believe you would go blind just by manipulating your genitals with your hand? Well, a surprising number I people, I would submit.

So Yes!, I had masturbated, but never had succeeded in bringing myself to orgasm, probably because I did not know what an orgasm was. Instilling a pleasant feeling and experiencing sexual arousal was enough. And it goes without saying, I had never stimulated myself with the vigor and purpose that Jane was now demonstrating. I believe firmly that she had come already four times while she and I were astride Alex. It seemed number five, or, who knew, maybe number six, was well on the way.

Suddenly, possibly at some hidden signal, Alicia withdrew and, setting herself down on the bed next to Bob, began herself to masturbate. That she was highly aroused was not to be denied! Mandy continued teasing Bob’s cock for a while longer, but, again as if on a sudden signal, she stopped and moved to one side. His huge cock stiff and throbbing, Bob hovered over Alicia and then thrust his cock deep into her. Alicia gasped and grasped onto Bob as his penis pounded in and out of her, full length, full vigor. Close by, it was Mandy’s turn to stimulate herself, which she did with great energy. Clearly, Bob was not going to last long, but long enough for Alicia to orgasm he did last. Her legs gripped his torso and she announced her orgasm with a stifled cry followed by a series of grunts.

Bob kept on pumping in and out of Alicia until she was almost still, but he was not yet done! Withdrawing carefully, and kissing Alicia passionately on the way, he moved across to Mandy, his cock dripping come, but still stiff. This he plunged into Mandy and the pair of them bucked and heaved until Mandy’s legs, like Alicia’s before them, closed around Bob’s back and in no uncertain way she announced her own orgasm. Notwithstanding, Bob kept on pumping and pumping until she lay still and he was totally drained. Then he collapsed off her onto the bed, his limp cock still moist and glistening. The three of them lay side by side with Bob in the middle, spreadeagled, comatose and seemingly utterly satiated.

This scene, of almost barbaric intensity had fascinated me utterly. I was highly aroused, yet I did nothing whatsoever to convert this arousal into sexual fulfillment. Unlike Jane, who had masturbated herself to what looked suspiciously like her fifth orgasm of the evening!

Once, at a ‘slumber party’ with a bunch of girls, I had experimented with self-stimulation. At that time too I had been aroused. One of the girls had produced a dildo from somewhere and proceeded to fuck her friend with it. This had excited me much more than anything Brad had done. Yet I remained passive. I stuck my hand down my pants like all of the girls, but whereas some of them were obviously seriously into masturbation, I was not. In fact, I did not seriously try to get myself off, presumably because of the guilt that my upbringing had associated with self-stimulation. No-one had ever spoken of it openly of course, but somehow the notion was inculcated that this was something “nice people” did not do. 

So what was I supposed to make of Jane, indisputably in my judgement a “nice person”, stimulating herself wildly to orgasm whilst watching Mandy, Alicia and Bob fuck themselves stupid? Suffice it to say that at that point I was mightily confused!

I became aware that Jane was heading for the door and beckoning me to follow. I did, of course. What else? Jane closed the bedroom door behind us and put her arm around my shoulder. I shuddered, I think with anticipation, though of what I could not say.

“They will probably sleep for a while”, Jane said softly. “Good time for us to have a little chat.”

We sat side by side on the couch. I became suddenly conscious that we were both buck naked and for a moment felt self-conscious. But Jane, seeming to sense this, said,

“My dear, you have a gorgeous body. You are truly a beautiful girl and I envy you!”

I had never thought of myself as such but as Jane began to run her hands across my body I started to look at it really for the first time. And I realized that it was a very nice body. Yes, I had been fortunate. I was not extreme in any respect, but my proportions were, well, as Jane said, perfect. Jane also had an extremely attractive body --- well so it seemed to me---- but for a different reason. She was taller than I was and less rounded. She had what I believe is called a ‘boyish’ figure. I found her personally to be very attractive. She was lithe, supple, sinuous and very sexy. But I also understood what she meant. Some people may have thought she was ‘skinny’. Whereas I --- and I say it because it suddenly came to me that night for the first time --- was perfectly proportioned. But just as the glow from this realization was spreading, Jane said,

“My dear, we must do something about your cunt”.

To say I was shocked would be an understatement, but Jane did not mince her words and she was quite serious.

“It’s all that hair, my dear” she said, with a sigh. “Let me get rid of it. You’ve no idea how marvelous it will make you feel!”

Well I was somewhat dubious about this, as you can imagine, but I had come this far and was into ‘exploring my horizons’. Already I had traveled a good distance. Why not a little further? Who knew, maybe Jane was right and it would make a difference?

So I sat back in the chair with my legs spread wide as Jane produced foam, razor and a bowl of water and proceeded by degrees to shave me ‘down there’. She was very methodical and deliberate, and slowly I found this to be arousing, ever more as the razor found less and less hair. 

Jane began where the hair was finest, close to my ass, and she worked slowly forward. As she began to shave the outer lips of my vagina I shivered, thinking ahead perhaps! And sure enough, I shivered even more when she parted my labial lips and shaved them very thoroughly. She used a lot of foam and she switched to a fresh razor often. At no time did I feel anything other than a sensation of arousal. The razor became an agent whose purpose was solely to stimulate me. 

Gradually, Jane worked up to where the hair was thickest.

“I can leave a little if you like,” she said. “Some girls like to leave a triangle or a stripe. Others prefer a full shave. It’s your choice.”

I asked for a full shave. I was secretly enjoying the feel of the razor and was actually thinking how I might keep the shaving going after the hair was gone. It sounds irrational, I know, but I found this act of Jane’s, shaving me, to be at once highly intimate and supremely erotic. I did not want it to stop.

And for a long while it did not! Jane shaved and re-shaved, stroked, oiled and re-oiled every part of my pubis. From my navel to my ass, not a millimeter was neglected. And when at the end Jane laid the razor aside and began to lick me, I protested not. Why should I? I was in the seventh heaven.

Jane’s tongue flicked around my labial lips, first the outer then the inner, concentrating on the outside of the inner labial walls and the top edges. Just as she had shaved me slowly and methodically, so she was now slow and methodical, until the urge to guide her further, to have her tongue separate my lips and move inside, became acute. Just as this urge became overwhelming, Jane did exactly what I yearned for. A little extra pressure parted my lips and allowed Jane’s tongue tip to open me out, millimeter by millimeter, penetrating ever deeper.

I had of course lost all sense of time, but it seemed that Jane explored my labia and vagina with her tongue for hours. And again, just as the urge to guide her higher, to where my clit was screaming out for attention, became acute, Jane did exactly what I yearned for. Her tongue flicked my clitoral tip briefly and then focussed on the clitoral shaft, sliding up one side, down the other, then a flick across the tip, in a circular motion until I was writhing in pleasure. By now my cunt was pumping out fluid, and Jane used a finger to stimulate lightly the inside walls while her tongue continued it’s exploration of my clitoral area.

The finger penetrated deeper and deeper into me and soon was joined by a second. The magic fingers moved slowly in and out, apart and together, stretching me, and then would emerge and stimulate the outer vaginal walls with a circular motion. Then back in again, a heavenly cycle, and all the while that tongue tip flicking around my clit.

I was so lost in the world of my own sexuality that Jane’s voice emerged as though out of a dream

“Let’s go join the others,” said the voice. 

I probably would not have paid any attention if it were not that the stimulation of my vulva had ceased. Slowly I came back to the real world and registered the smile on Jane’s face, almost coquettish, it seemed.

“But…!” I stammered. “We’ll wake them up!”

Jane sniggered, “I don’t think so,” she said.

And so it was. Hand in hand we entered the bedroom to find Alex and Alicia engaged in a “69”, and Mandy and Bob lying side by side joined at the lip and manipulating each other’s genitals.

With a ‘told you so’ look, Jane motioned me to the opposite side of the room and we piled up pillows on which I laid back, as though almost on a kind of elevated throne. My legs opened as if of their own accord, Jane took position and in no time flat I was back in the state of ecstasy I had been previously. Jane’s tongue explored my labial lips for a glorious while and then began to give serious stimulation to my clit.

In the living room I had my eyes shut, fantasizing perhaps, but here, in the bedroom across from two entwined couples, visual stimulation added to the Jane’s oral ministrations. Across to my right, Mandy and Bob lay side by side, kissing, His hand was lodged firmly between her legs, and hers was wrapped around the shaft of his cock, kneading, tugging, stroking according to the extent of its erection. As the cock stiffened, Mandy would work it hard until it reached maximum extent. Whereupon she would stroke gently with fingers and nails, up and down the shaft and down to his balls, which had condensed into a single large sphere. Mandy would work the ballbag until it loosened, revealing two balls rather than one, and when this was manifest she would return her attention to his cock, kneading and wanking it back to full attention. I assumed from her reaction that Bob was doing something reciprocal to Mandy, but his hand, buried in her groin was shielded from view and I could only imagine what those fingers were doing to her. Naturally, this heightened greatly my own state of sexual arousal as Jane’s tongue flicked about my vaginal lips and clitoris, back and forth, up and down. There was no time, this state of sublime ecstasy would go on forever!

To my left across the room, Alicia was working Alex’s cock. Her groin straddled his mouth and, though obscured from my vision, his tongue and lips were obviously working Alicia’s cunt at least as thoroughly as Jane’s were stimulating mine. Possibly with a difference, which Jane explained to me later. “When men lick you,” she said, “they want you to come as fast as possible. They feel they need to ‘get you off’. Women do not feel this need. It is almost the opposite. They want you to hold onto it for as long as you can!”

At the time, I did not understand this remark. I was not into speaking or listening, or analyzing how people reacted to whatever stimulus. For me the world consisted solely of a sexual glow, whose focal point was my groin, from where it spread across my stomach to my breasts, stiffening my nipples and coursing blood into my areola. The sight of Alicia fellating Alex only heightened my state of arousal. She took his cock deep into her mouth, and like Mandy, but orally, she tuned her ministrations to the extent of his erection. As he became very stiff, she reverted to licking tip and shaft, waiting for the tell tale sign, a slight onset of limpness, before returning to serious action.

This was sex as I had never experienced it before, indeed, had never imagined that it could be so experienced. 

After a while so long I could not even guess it in minutes, or even hours, Bob rolled on top of Mandy, who spread her legs wide apart only too willingly. His cock disappeared instantly inside her liquid cunt and they began a slow full-cock fuck, in perfect unison. Mandy’s pelvis adjusted exactly to the ins and outs of Bob’s cock. Bob would thrust deep within her, then withdraw millimeter for millimeter until his cock almost parted company with Mandy’s cunt, but never quite. At the height of withdrawal, Bob would tease Mandy’s cunt lips with the tip of his cock, entering her an inch or two before withdrawing, then after a series of mini strokes, plunging back into her so that her cunt was engulfed by the full length and breadth of him. Once established, this pattern was repeated again and again, though each time accompanied by a heightening of sexual pleasure, judging at least from the moans and cries of the protagonists.

On the other side, the “69” continued. Alex’s cock warmed to Alicia’s ministrations and she began even stronger measures of stimulation. She would take him as deep inside her mouth as she could and suck hard, You could sense the intensity of the suck by its effect. At the extreme, Alex’s entire body would jack-knife, pivoted at his groin, and he would moan and groan as though in agony. Finally, whether by accident our design, Alicia brought Alex to the boil. His cock, deep inside her mouth, pulsed visibly and his seminal fluid started to flow. Alicia received this with enthusiasm, and opened and closed her mouth releasing the fluid so that it flowed down Alex’s cock in streams that continued like a waterfall, though with gradually diminishing volume. A waterfall that slowly spent itself and petered out into nothing, as Alex’s cock, once proud and tall, shriveled into its protective hood. 

Alicia kept Alex’s cock inside her mouth, sucking gently, until it truly was entirely spent. Then she rocked back, sat on Alex’s face and began seriously to work herself backwards and forwards. Of course, like just about everything else I had experienced on this bizarre night, the notion of ‘face fucking’ was completely new to me. But that is the only way to describe what Alicia was doing with Alex. Whether you want to say she fucked his face, or his face fucked her is merely a matter of terminology. However, there is no doubt who was taking the initiative! Alicia’s groin ground into Alex’s face on each stroke, backwards and forwards. Her grunts grew in intensity and the motion of her cunt across Alex’s face increased in speed and force until she too hit the spot. For a long moment she remained motionless, her cunt forced down as hard as it could be over Alex’s mouth and nose. Her entire body quivered uncontrollably and it was many minutes before the tension in her sinewy body began to abate. Finally, she collapsed over Alex, her head between his legs, her cunt still inextricably attached to his mouth. Her body was comatose except for the occasional jerk, a result presumably of Alex’s continuous tonguing of her clit. It was a long time, a very long time before they were still.

And all the while this action had been going on, Bob kept sliding his long, stiff cock slowly in and out of Mandy’s cunt, while Jane continued to play her tongue and lips about my clit and clit hood. That I was in a region of sexual arousal the like of which I could not previously have imagined goes without saying. Yet, in spite of the frenetic activity to my left and the, if anything, even more erotic and apparently eternal ins and outs of Bob’s cock in Mandy’s cunt, with the accompanied muted and stentorial cries of arousal and pleasure, I had not come to orgasm. This seemed not to disturb Jane, who continued her ministrations tirelessly. But it began to worry me. What was wrong with me? Why could I not “get off” like the others obviously did? I was so close, felt so close, yet did not get “over the edge”, as it were.

Well eventually I did. I achieved my first orgasm, and a humdinger it was too! But not before Alicia had joined Jane, first licking my nipples, then reaching into a drawer and extracting a white cylindrical object, a ‘vibrator’, which she pressed on my pubis directly above my clit, while Jane continued to stimulate me with her tongue below. Mere seconds after the vibrations took effect, my body started to shake from top to bottom and my orgasm began to build. It exploded a few minutes later and I am not the slightest bit ashamed of the utterances that accompanied it. 




Out of Peoria Ch. 02



At that moment on that evening I cast aside the prejudices and bigotry that my previous life had instilled in me as regards ‘the pleasures of the flesh’ and reverted to the primeval, carnal female. I came like hell, as nature intended it should be so.

Many moments later, as I was coming down, I became aware that Mandy and Bob had swapped positions, but not activity. Mandy lay on top of Bob, hugging him, and moving her pelvis up and down so her cunt was at one end totally engulfing Bob’s cock and at the other end the tip of his cock almost escaped. The sexual grunts and cries were indistinguishable from previously, when Bob had been on top. It seemed to me they must have done this with each other before! As far as I am aware, they were still at it when I fell into a peaceful and wonderful slumber.



Out of Peoria Ch. 03



Out of Peoria: A Story of Innocence lost.

Chapter 3: Finding a man. 

A week in the commune taught me just about everything I wanted and needed to know about sex. I experimented with everything (except anal sex which had no appeal for me at all --- and I never have met a woman who would admit on close questioning that she really liked it) and was beginning to find it somewhat easier, though not at all easy, to come to orgasm. Strangely, what worked best for me was oral stimulation by a girl, especially if she used a vibrator on the shaft of my clit. I did not wonder too much about this. I enjoyed Alex and Bob very much, in particular riding them when their cocks were very stiff, in fact I enjoyed everything we did. Thinking back, I used that time in the commune to rid myself of all the prejudices and hang-ups of a very staid and sheltered upbringing. It was as if a dam within me had burst and all the frustration of the preceding years was flooding out. 

I asked Jane many questions and she answered all with transparency and honesty. In particular, I asked her about Bob and Alex. Were all men in California like this or were they exceptional? Jane laughed when I said this. No, all men in California were not like Bob and Alex. They were very much the exception. Very few combined extreme stamina with such sensitivity. Bob and Alex were the type of guys who needed and could handle as much sex as you could throw at them. And what really got them going was girls in a high state of arousal. They enjoyed their own orgasms of course, but they seemed to get as much pleasure in giving as in receiving. They got off on their partners getting off. They were not ‘machos’ in the negative sense, though they were in the positive sense.

I asked Jane how the commune chose its members, me included.

“Oh, you!” she said, ‘That’s simple. You’re gorgeous! The girls love your body. We all do. And you have a wonderful attitude and you just love sex as much as we do. What more do you need to know?” 

I let that sit for a while, not quite sure how to take the obvious compliment, and then inquired about Bob and Alex. I mean, whatever I may have felt about being called ‘gorgeous’ I had to admit there was some substance to it. I did have, I now realized as a subjective as well as an objective judgement, a ‘great body’. This, though, could not in any conceivably way have been said of Alex or Bob. Presentable, attractive Yes! Gorgeous, definitely not! How had they been found? What was the criterion whereby the commune chose its men-folk?

“Ah! Well, that is not so simple,” Jane said. After some prompting she said that in the first instance there were ten thousand guys who would swap places with Alex or Bob at the drop of the hat, so the problem was not to find someone but to filter out until the right guy was found. They did this via a series of tests that ensured that the right kind of guy got through. 

Well that only encouraged me to speculate what the tests might be, and when I brought this up with Jane her response was not quite what I expected it to be! I was having to get used to being surprised by Jane! It seemed that Bob and Mandy had decided to move out of the commune and set up on their own as a pair (surprise, surprise!) so we needed two new members.

“It’s not that common,” Jane said, “but it does happen. You can’t control when you fall in love. Mind you, I’m not sure it will last, but right now the hormones are in control and it’s not my business to advise either of them one way or the other.”

The upshot of all this was that I learned how the commune chose a new male member (no pun intended!) first hand, at Jane’s invitation, by participating directly! The first step was simple, a one-liner on a web-site catering to ‘swingers’ : “Commune seeks male partner. Must be presentable, must like and be likable to women, be very good at sex and have extreme stamina.” 

This last, as I discovered, was where the rubber hit the road. An advert like this attracted many thousands of responses. Every guy, it seems, imagines he is very good at sex and has “extreme stamina”. Jane showed me some of the e-mailed responses and it was indeed easy to filter out most of them just on the basis of what was written. Some even included pictures of their dicks! Talk about dick-heads! We finally got down to a long but manageable list of “possibles” that we thought were worthy of ‘auditions’. 

The first part of the audition was very simple. A number of prospects, usually fifteen or twenty were e-mailed, asked for cell phone numbers, and required to be ‘available’ in the Malibu area on the afternoon or evening of a certain day. Somewhat to my surprise, we received virtually 100% responses! Jane and I would drive over to a motel we had ear-marked just off Highway 101 and call the first candidate on his cell. He should drive his car to the parking lot of the motel, park close to the lobby, get out of his car and walk back to the parking lot entrance and wait for further instructions. We parked hidden from direct view, but able to see the entrance and take a look at the guy (and his car) before committing to step 2. 

If we could tell by looking that the guy was not appropriate, Jane simply called him and told him we were held up in traffic in LA and maybe we could meet another day, a day of course that never came. This way, we thought, the guy’s feelings would not be unduly hurt. He would not hang around waiting, he would just go. Once he was gone, Jane would call up the next candidate, and so on until we encountered a ‘possible’. 

Step 2 would then go into action. We would ease Jane’s BMW towards the parking lot entrance and the rear door would open. I never encountered a guy who, in such circumstances would not enter. I’m sure the guys took their own precautions, but we were in the driving seat, literally and figuratively. 

The rules were simple. Jane and I were both wearing low cut tops and tennis skirts. No underwear, of course! We introduced ourselves with the ubiquitous California “Hi Howaya!” and either Jane or I, whoever’s turn it was to drive, would negotiate the back roads and ease the car out into the traffic heading north on 101. Once on the road, whoever was in the back seat would begin to flirt with the guy and rapidly free up his cock and balls and begin stimulating them. The first test was underway, and everything depended on the reaction of the ‘prospect’. You’d be amazed how many guys would look around in embarrassment and actually try to cover themselves! That was of course, the kiss of death and Jane would take the next exit, and return to drop him off at his car. Again, we were always polite. A couple of nice smiles, a murmured “Perhaps not a good match etc.” and we were away. 

Another common reaction was for the guy to lie back in his seat, stick his hands behind his head and, with a huge grin on his face, enjoy being stroked by a pretty girl. If he did this we started to wank him in earnest increasing the pace faster and faster until he ejaculated. We would try, not always with complete success, to ensure he came all over himself and did not mess up the seat of the car. Strangely, I really enjoyed doing this notwithstanding that the guy was an absolute stranger. Possibly this harked back to my marriage with Brad. I was getting my own back for all the times he had fucked me without the slightest thought for my pleasure. Brad would not have lasted to the first exit!

Neither did most of guys who responded this way, but whether the first or second exit, it was a fast return to the motel and his car and a “Thanks, but no thanks” wave as the BMW drove off. Some of these guys were gorgeous but Jane was adamant. If they didn’t pass the test you couldn’t educate them. Their innate nature would always show through. Some just slunk away, insulted but accepting, but others were highly indignant “Hey, what is this!” kinda thing. Manly pride was hurt. They did not want to admit to abject failure at the stamina test. A couple showed signs of becoming physical, but the place was very public and Jane could put on a look that would at the very least instill some doubts in their minds. Not once did we have to reach for the armory of spray cans in the glove compartment.

Anyway, why would these guys complain at getting a free hand job in the back of a car by a pretty girl? And if it came to it, what cop would believe that two women would make a date with a guy merely to jerk him off in the back of a car, even in LA! 

When we had dropped off a guy we drove up the road and amused ourselves stroking or masturbating each other ---- even if the guy was a bust, a girl could get quite horny getting him off, especially if the semen had really flown! 

Eventually, we hit on the response we were looking for -- a clear but muted interest in having his cock stroked and petted while at the same time a reaching out to stroke our thighs slowly, gently making his way up to the hilt and sliding his fingers to do to us what we were doing to him. This was the signal for stage 3 to begin. This consisted of a stroking the guys cock until it was stiff followed by gentle and then more serious oral at a pace synchronous with the pace he took in fingering us. The better his fingering technique the more care our oral ministrations. Once we were seriously interested, we would lie back, open our legs and invite the guy to perform oral on us. If his technique was good this was allowed to continue until we felt ‘ready’, and climbed aboard his cock, driving it deep within us, and began to fuck him gently, using the motion of the car as an aide. 

You may wonder about all this going on a public freeway, and Yes! it certainly is not legal. However, the windows of the BMW were of tinted glass and you could do everything without being seen clearly by anyone. Drivers or passengers of cars in the nearby lanes, or behind may have wondered, but would they really suspect that the sweet innocent girl sitting on a guys lap in the back seat of a car actually had his cock deep into her cunt? The idea is too outrageous for most people to get their heads around. So people just drove on by. Try it yourself some day as an adventure. Just go down on your partner as he is driving and see if anyone notices that he is fingering your cunt with his free hand.

We would continue like this up to Santa Barbara, where we would turn off and swap positions. If I had been fucking the guy, I got in the drivers seat, donned my shades and drove back down the freeway, while Jane got herself licked and sucked until she was ready to continue the fuck. And so back down to our motel. If the guy had performed well, which meant that he had not only been able to keep it up this time, but that both of us were really having fun, he was invited to the room we had reserved in advance at the motel to get down to serious business. We used the same routine with all candidates who got this far (as I recall, out of several hundred on our shortlist only 5 made it to the motel room). We’d start off with a triangle. Jane would suck him while he licked me and I licked Jane. We’d swap around a few times so both of us had a good taste of his cock before mounting him. One of us would sit on his cock while the other fucked his face. Again, we swapped at intervals and upped the pace until he orgasmed. It was usually me who was on his cock at the time --- Jane said guys came in me more readily than in her because my cunt was tighter, which was certainly true. Jane had a lovely cunt with pronounced cunt lips, but it had seen a lot more use than mine! 

When he’d come we’d kiss the guy tenderly then all take a bathroom break before beginning again. This time we had the guy lie on the bed with his legs dangling over the edge and would together stimulate his cock and balls until he was erect again. Then Jane would sit on his head while I continued to suck his cock and massage the shaft with my fingers, fingertips and nails. It amazed me how varied guy’s cocks were in response to this treatment. Some recovered very quickly after orgasm and stayed hard, others recovered more slowly, and in stages, softening and hardening in sequence, often for a very long time. One poor guy did not recover at all! We had drained him of all hormones and energy at the first throw. Well admittedly, counting the car ride, he had kept it up for over three hours, so you could not say he had not made the grade. 

Of the five guys who made it as far as the hotel, two recovered no matter what we threw at them. Their cocks seemed to get stiffer with each orgasm and after a while remained like ramrods, impervious to even the most vigorous wanking. We wanked, sucked and fucked one guy for eight hours without making the slightest impression on his humungous cock. Both Jane and I found this highly thrilling and the idea of a more or less permanent erection in the commune’s sex room excited us immensely. However, sex does not consist solely of sitting on a guy’s dick, or getting rammed by it and in the end, we sadly eliminated the permanent erection and settled for a third guy, Ralph. Ralph’s cock did eventually fail him, but only after six hours of vigorous action, and he more than made up for this by possessing the most heavenly finger and tongue technique. Also, it’s all very well looking at a humungous cock, it’s another thing getting your jaws around it!

Ralph’s cock was not that large, just a nice size to work, to finger and to suck. Even when it was fully erect, you could get most of it in your mouth without choking. Ralph was also not bad looking, but you would not have picked him out from a crowd. He was in his forties, thickening somewhat at the midriff and his hair beginning to recede. But he proved a worthy replacement for Bob. His stamina was more than adequate and he was very sensitive to what we girls wanted.

A replacement for Mandy was also needed, and was found much in the way I was recruited. I asked Jane “How did you know we would be suitable? You did not try us out the way you made the guys try out?”

“Instinct,” Jane said, with a twinkle in her eye. “Besides, if you were not suitable you would soon have moved out of your own accord.”

And this I could well understand. Mandy’s replacement, Tina, turned out to be even younger than I. She had white translucent skin, long lean legs and small breasts. In fact, this was probably how Jane had looked when she was 19. She did not look it, but Tina was as close to a nymphomaniac as I could imagine anyone ever being. She was always available for sex at any time of day or night and she did not care whether with man or woman. She had the sweetest cunt of us all with a prominent clitoris and there was no single activity I loved more than to caress it with my tongue and lips, preferably while Jane or Alicia was doing the same to me. Tina and Ralph fitted in perfectly and the six of us spent several weeks in almost continuous sexual bliss.

There were times when I felt I should pinch myself to ensure that this was real. Was this person the same as the person who spent two stultifying years in a conventional mid-western marriage? Obviously, the answer was Yes!, but No as well! I was now thoroughly emancipated. I had taken part in sexual activities that a mere month ago I would not have dreamed of. I had enjoyed everything and entered into everything with gusto. This was my scene, and although I realized it could not go on for ever --- commune life was anything but expensive but still my savings would not last much longer ---- I was living for today and enjoying each to it’s maximum.

It had not taken me very long to realize that the commune was Jane’s commune, and that nothing happened within it that Jane did not approve of. And I remained cogniscent that the commune was the lower story of a two storied house and that ‘something interesting’ went on up there. I did not ask, but knew, of course, that one day all would be revealed. And so it was that after a few weeks of elysium in the new constellation, Jane said one day, 

“My dear, you are really a darling. It’s time you and I had a little talk!”

Curiously, such was the trust I had built up in Jane, this did not seem to me to be in the slightest ominous, and I was attentive as she continued,

“So far you have been living here with only a moderate contribution to the finances. I know that this was agreed between us, but now we have Tina who does not have any money at all, we do now need to discuss how things can continue.”

“Of course,” I said, wondering what was coming. I was aware that there must be costs to be covered and that someone was covering them. It was no great surprise that this was only a temporary state of affairs. As usual, what Jane was about to say next was very different from what I had expected. But then again, by now I was used to this.

“You know,” Jane said, “about the apartment above ours. What goes on there?”

“Er, well, I realize something goes on there, but I don’t know exactly what. To be perfectly honest, so much has happened to me since I arrived here I’ve been rather preoccupied with myself and my own feelings and reactions. I really haven’t given any thought to what goes on upstairs. Must seem very incurious, mustn’t I!”

“Not at all, dear,” Jane said reassuringly. “Very natural. So let us call a spade a spade. Down here we have a commune that, let’s face it, is run mainly for the pleasure of we women. The guys get their fun to, but we make sure they are the kind who pleasure us as we wish to be pleasured and when we wish to be pleasured.”

Jane paused, checking that I was registering what she was saying. I nodded, still wondering what was coming next.

“Well upstairs is somewhat, shall we say, well, the opposite way around! Upstairs the girls pleasure the guys.”

My eyes widened. “You mean….?” I said, leaving it unspoken.

“Quite,” said Jane. “Six girls live up there as part of the permanent staff, so to speak, and when we need more, well, we join in. And sometimes we take girls from the outside who I happen to know are reliable.”

“And that means.” I began slowly …..

“Only if you want to, my dear,” Jane said. “Actually it can be quite fun, not to mention lucrative! That’s the unfairness of it you see. When girls choose men to pleasure them, these men regard it as an honor to contribute to the ‘mortgage’. Of course, we don’t ask too much from Alex and Ralph, but they do get room and board. We don’t charge them for sex. When it comes to women pleasuring men, on the other hand, we do. And they are willing to pay. Quite well. In fact, the men that find their way upstairs have very deep pockets indeed. So……. Well, let me leave it for you to think over for an hour or two. If you’d like to give it a try we need an extra girl tomorrow night because Mandy of course is no longer available. I could ask Tina and I’m sure she would be very suitable, but you have made such strides in your development and you were so good helping me choose Ralph, I want you to have first right of refusal.”

And what could I say. Of course I tried to worm more details out of Jane, but she would say no more than “It’s impossible to explain. You’ll have to trust me, my dear. I’m quite sure you will do just fine and even have lots of fun. And in case you are wondering, each girl who participates tomorrow evening gets a minimum of $3000 straight cash over and above her contribution to the mortgage.”

At which point my acquiescence was purely a matter of form. I realized that whatever fine words Jane may have used, what she was referring to was a form of prostitution, something that in my former life would have caused a knee-jerk reaction of revulsion. However, having wanked, sucked and humped half a hundred guys up and down Highway 101, the situation looked considerably different. What was the difference, after all? And if the guys were prepared to, and could pay for services rendered, then why not take advantage. A girl had to live. A guy needed sex. The basis of a business. And when I thought about it, the really bad thing about prostitution was the compulsive, exploitive element and pimps. Apparently my ‘pimp’ would be Jane, a person I had come to trust absolutely and completely. There would be no compulsion, no exploitation as long as Jane was in charge, of that I was quite sure.




Out of Peoria Ch. 03



Still, you can be sure my heart was racing as, the following evening, I followed Jane and Alicia outside, around the house and ascended the stairs to the apartment above, to take my part in ‘whatever?’. 

“Just watch the other girls, dear, and follow what they do,” Jane had said. “Oh and by the way,” she added mischievously, “in case you come to wonder, all the girls upstairs are 100% lesbian. Sometimes they are, shall we say, a little playful with new girls. You mustn’t mind, and please don’t take it the wrong way. They are all very nice ladies. They just like to have fun like everyone else.”



Out Of Peoria Ch. 04



Out of Peoria: A Story of Innocence lost. 

Chapter 4: A kinky evening! 

The upstairs apartment turned out to have the same basic plan as downstairs, but the décor was distinctly different! Jane was obviously the master upstairs as well as downstairs and she ushered Alicia and me in like a mother hen. Alicia was very familiar with the layout and what lay before us, and she took me by the hand.

“Stay close to me,” she half-whispered. “Don’t be nervous. You’ll have fun.”

We passed through the main room, whose lay-out I will describe later, and entered what in our apartment was the ‘genuine sleeping room’, which turned out upstairs to be a ‘dressing room’. There were mirrors and dressing tables all around the walls and the girls were all there working in pairs on their preparations. Jane introduced me as the ‘newbie’ and I learned for the first time that my ‘trade name’ was “Destiny”. Fine with me, not that I had any choice. The girls paid scant attention. They were preoccupied with themselves.

Alicia directed me to our dressing table and, following her example, I discarded my dress, the single garment I had worn up the stairs, and stood stark naked. This drew the odd wolf-whistle from some of the girls, which came as a shock!, but Jane had warned me in advance. I did have a nice body, and, as Jane had told me, lesbians responded to attractive female bodies much in the same way as hetero males did. Not to be subdued, I responded by doing a little pirouette, showing myself off, as it were. This drew even more wolf-whistles, but Jane quickly put a stop to this, frowning at me as if to say “None of that! We need to concentrate on the business!”

Alicia knew the routine and was patient with me as we went through it. First we perfected each other’s shave. She did me, I did her. When we were done, Jane came round and checked that not the semblance of a hair nor even a hint that there ever had been one remained on pubis or vulva. I had always shaved my legs since High School and had found this a mildly arousing experience. One was, after all, doing it to be attractive to men. At that time of course it had never occurred to me to shave my cunt, and indeed I had never even uttered the word ‘cunt’, nor ‘pussy’, though one of two of the girls at school -- the precocious ones – referred regularly to their pussies, though in whispers. But, as I have already recounted, shaving my cunt was a truly erotic experience, and having my cunt shaven by another girl even more so. And being shaved in this ambience, with 12 girls plus Mistress Jane looking on, and with God only knew what sexual experiences to come, this got me really going!

Next we got ‘dressed’. Alicia had said to me “It’s PVC tonight”, but I understood only what this meant when the outfits were fetched from the closet. Following her lead, I struggled into my outfit, which was bright red plastic. The hard part was getting the plastic to slide up my legs and thighs, but Alicia showed me the technique and once you knew how, it was quite easy. The outfits covered our bodies, except for breasts, arms, backs down well below the waist and crotch! A thong ran up between the breasts and joined at the back via two shoulder straps. It may sound paradoxical but wearing an outfit with a gaping chasm at the crotch made me feel more naked than if I really were naked. Well, I suppose this was really the whole point of the outfit. If we were to appeal to men, the outfit had to enhance the appeal, not detract from it. The feeling was of ultimate exposure, as if your body consisted only of breasts and vulva. 

Alicia and I made final adjustments to each other’s dress, which included arranging the crotch cleavage symmetrically and stimulating slightly and adjusting the labial lips so they stood out to best advantage. Both of us had largish labial lips and well formed clit hoods and these stood out in the yawning gaps of our costumes. Jane came round again to approve. “Very nice,” was her comment!

The next step was makeup. Neither Alicia nor I wore makeup as a rule, but of course this evening was special and a certain amount of eyeliner, a dab of rouge, tastefully laid on lipstick and polish on fingernails and toenails was not to be avoided. Again we did each other. As Alicia stretched out her legs for me to do her toenails I could not help staring at the gap in her outfit and admiring the lines of her cunt. I was beginning to find that, whereas a nice erect cock was impressive, a glistening cunt was truly erotic! 

Next, shoes. No easy matter you would think, but there were literally dozens of pairs of high-heels in the shoe cupboard. Having slender feet of normal size I was fitted out after only the third try. The shoes were black strap-ons and left the feet and toes visible. Since I had long-boned and slender feet, I liked to show these off by going bare-foot, but I found that wearing this kind of shoe that revealed the feet almost better than no shoe at all made me feel sexy. 

Looking at myself in the mirror, bare breasted and with cunt fully exposed to the elements, in high heels and carrying just the right touch of make-up, I really looked the part of a tastefully appointed high-class ‘professional’. I was well and truly “Destiny” and you would never know by looking that this was a first for me. I gave a wry smile at the comparison with the pretty, but well buttoned-up person I had been for most of my life. Alicia was right so far. I was enjoying this. 

Jane had disappeared, but now she re-entered the dressing room and held up a hand for silence. It was almost time for the guests to arrive. All was ready. We should proceed through to the central room to prepare for their arrival. As we moved towards the door, one of the upstairs girls came close to me and whispered “I’m Lynda, You’re nice. Hang around after the game, have some fun. Think about it.” Lynda was a tall, lithesome blonde with a wicked smile. As she brushed by me I felt her hand slide between my legs from behind and brush my cunt lips. It was only the lightest of touches, but it excited me immensely. My eyes followed her and I found I was “thinking of it” already! 

We entered the main room which was lit by the flames of many candles set in niches around the walls. These gave off a fragrant musky essence. The room was heavily carpeted with a soft fluffy material and the walls were covered in a kind of damask velvet with pictures at intervals showing girls, couples and groups in various tasteful but erotic poses. Around the sides of the room ‘overstuffed chairs’ and couches were arranged. Each was well endowed with cushions and pillows. The bar was mirrored --- there were also many mirrors arranged at strategic angles around the walls --- and had the usual array of bottles together with a number of magnums of champagne, lying ready in their ice buckets. At the open end of the bar was a small gong and am hour glass shaped in the form of a stark naked Barbie doll. Six plain cane chairs were arranged like barstools. In the center of the room was a large plinth having height just somewhat less than a normal table. The plinth was covered with a soft, downy material. Occasional tables with marble tops were scattered around the room.

Paired off as we had been in the dressing room, we entered the room two by two and crossed first to the bar. Jane stood at the end of the bar by the gong and examined each girl critically. On her nod, we moved along the bar and each girl took an ice cube from an ice bucket placed on the counter of the bar. This, it became apparent was used to caress her partner’s nipples. “Makes ‘em stiff,” Alicia whispered to me as it came to our turn. She worked the ice cube to and fro across my nipple, switching from hand to hand and nipple to nipple. Instinctively I recoiled from the initial shock of the cold ice on my nipple, but Alicia just pressed harder and used a rotational motion until, as she predicted, my nipples began to stiffen. They also became numb so the pain subsided somewhat. I mirrored her motions on her own nipples and was gratified when they stiffened and reddened even more than my own. We kept this up until the ice cubes were fully melted and our nipples blood red and fully extended. Looking around I saw that many of the girls used more than one cube, and that some were pinching their partner’s nipples with their finger tips and nails. In particular, I noticed that Lynda had very prominent nipples which she allowed her partner to work very vigorously so that they stood out like thimbles against the white curve of her breasts. By now my nerves were jangling in anticipation, and not only because of the “Game”, whatever this was to be, but ‘afterwards’, whatever that was.

When we were all ready, Jane reminded us that our Guests were distinguished gentlemen. The rules of the “Game” had been explained to them, and one of these was to maintain insofar as possible an atmosphere of silence. Noise of any kind was to be avoided. There would be no conversation, the only person allowed to speak was herself, Jane. Guests who violated the rules would be expelled, girls who violated the rules would be fined. 

As Mistress of proceedings, Jane’s rule was absolute. Jane made quite clear that every girl in the room acquiesced by staring into her eyes and exacting a little nod. This was a Jane I had not seen! A Jane who, clearly, could be quite testy if she was crossed. Jane had slipped into her role as we must slip into ours. I was now “Destiny”, and I had to remember this and that Jane had given me this name, and for the time of the “Game” at least, I had tacitly agreed to give up free will and accept her absolute rule as my Mistress. It may seem amazing that I was prepared to do this, but in spite of our brief acquaintance, I had absolute trust in Jane. She would not involve me in anything she did not think I could handle.

Exactly on the stroke of eight, the doorbell rang and the first Guest was admitted. After a brief interval, Jane led the Guest into the room. He was middle aged, of average height and wore a face mask that revealed just eyes and mouth. The mask was tightly fitted leaving his mouth free, but allowing no possibility of recognition. His chest was bare other than its natural covering of slightly greying hair and he wore a skin tight pair of trousers in which an oval shaped orifice had been carefully tailored to allow his cock and balls to protrude freely. The orifice was equipped with an elastic seam and its edges closed tightly over the base of his cock and behind his balls, projecting them outwards. If it had not been for a certain air of distinction with which he carried himself, he could have cut a rather comic figure. Obviously, given the short time between the ring of the bell and the entrance of the Guest in the room, he had dressed in this fashion in advance, covering himself, presumably with a coat, or maybe not!, I suddenly thought. This was LA, after all!

Jane led Guest Nr. 1 by the arm across to the bar where he collected a glass of champagne and she introduced him to a pair of girls who latched on to him, one on each arm, and conveyed him across the room where they stood as a threesome. After toasting each other silently with a swallow of champagne the girls wasted no time in beginning to stroke his cock and balls and directing his free hand to their exposed clefts. 

The remaining five guests soon followed, all dressed in exactly the same fashion. As I was a newbie, Alicia and I were assigned to collect the final Guest, Nr 6, who turned out to be a large balding gentleman with a slight paunch. Jane led him across to us and introduced us -- “This is Amanda, and this is Destiny. They will be your initial escorts for the evening. It’s Destiny’s first time; so treat her gently. Imagine she is a virgin!” Jane said this with such a delicious twinkle in her eye it was all I could do to curtsey politely and refrain from breaking up! We led our Guest into the room on the far side of the central table and, following the established pattern, began to caress his body, brush our lips across his, and stroke and massage his cock and balls. He had a large cock but it was quite responsive and he began almost immediately to gain an erection. Alicia and I quickly established a pattern whereby we would alternate between working his cock and balls and encouraging him to finger our cunts. I followed her example carefully, using a light touch on the cock and running my nails up and down its shaft. Our Guest’s only sign of appreciation was eye contact, nothing was said, not a sound emerged from his lips. 

The company had formed a full oval surrounding the plinth, six trio’s, each with a stiff cock as its focal point. The guests sipped their champagne and Jane circled re-filling glasses, for all the world like a hostess at a cocktail party (no pun intended!). There was almost no sound, just the occasional chink of a glass as it was placed down on a table. All movements were as if in slow motion. The atmosphere was trance-like 

After what must have been about ten minutes a gong sounded, and, after briefly brushing mouths in a parting kiss with their Guest, each pair of girls moved around the circle to the next guest and continued where the previous pair had left of. This gave the Guest’s cocks only the briefest of respite from stimulation and I realized why we were using a light stroke. If, as now seemed clear, every girl got to work every cock, then the round would last a full hour. And, surely, this was only the first phase, and a preparatory one at that. The idea, I had now understood, was to stimulate the Guests, building up their desire incrementally. 

As the evening progressed I came to understand the rules of the particular “Game” of the evening. The goal was to keep the Guests erect and maintain their desire for as long as possible. It was ‘unmanly’ for a Guest to lose his erection or ejaculate and it was ‘unladylike’ for a girl to allow either to occur. She was supposed to be delicate and sensitive. It was her job to make her Guest of the moment feel as manly as possible and the longer a Guest could maintain his erection without coming, the more ‘manly’ he was. As I was to find out, the “Game” did not so much reward a guest for being manly, but punished him for the reverse. If a Guest lost his erection or ejaculated, both he and the girl currently stimulating him were consigned to the couches and overstuffed chairs lining the walls of the room and allowed back into the circle only when the Guest’s member had, to Jane’s satisfaction, retained the ‘state of grace’. The goal of the game was to spend as much time in ‘the circle’ as possible and this time governed both the fee exacted from the Guests and the remuneration of the girls. 

An additional rule rewarded the Guest who withstood the longest. He was declared “Grandmaster” of the round and his reward was to lie on his back on the plinth and be fucked in the female superior position by any girl of his choosing, with that girl’s partner straddling his face with her cunt. This for as long as he could hold back his orgasm. He was then allowed fifteen free minutes of stimulation by the two girls he had chosen in the ‘recovery time’ that was necessary for him to return to the circle. 

No one had told me of these rules, it was up to me to figure them out. Fortunately I had a brain as well as a body, at least a good enough one to make me wary and follow Alicia/Amanda’s lead. As I quickly realized, the girls displayed no solidarity at all, but quite deliberately worked their Guest’s cock harder and harder as time for a switch approached. The goal, of course, was to take the Guest so close to orgasm that the lightest touch from the next duo would take him over the top. Jane was well aware of this trick though and deliberately delayed sounding the gong if she thought one of the girls was going at it a bit too obviously! 

Our second Guest as we went around the circle, Guest Nr 1, had a smaller cock than Nr 6 and he was so firmly erect we instinctively concentrated on his balls and ball bag, teasing his cock to make sure it remained erect but not allowing it to really get up a head of steam. This Guest was however more proactive than the first. He had laid down his champagne glass and used both hands to stimulated Alicia’s cunt and mine. He was quite vigorous, inserting his index finger into our vaginas and sliding it forward to stroke our clits. 

As we made our way around the circle I realized that the Guests would signal us by the degree of stimulation they provided to us as to what level of stimulation they wanted for themselves. It was an unspoken signal. I checked this by increasing the pressure and speed with which I worked his cock with a Guest who was stimulating me hard, whereupon he greatly reduced the level of his stimulation and reverted to stroking the insides of my thighs. I got the message! The guests knew of course what the “Game” was about and they all wanted to be as ‘manly’ as possible. This was also a balancing act for the Guest. He must encourage the girls to stimulate him enough to maintain a healthy erection, but not so much that he would lose control and boil over. 

By the time we reached Guest Nr. 4, our fifth Guest, all six cocks were stiff like ramrods and the occasional inadvertent utterance from one of the guests indicated that some were becoming seriously aroused. I kept looking back at Guest Nr 1 because he seemed to me to be the most obvious candidate for an early orgasm. But No! He maintained control through the entire hour even though the degree of stimulation he received was significantly greater than for any of the other Guests. I suppose this made him feel ‘manly’. In fact, it was I, too interested in whether Guest Nr. 1 was going to hold out, who nearly caused an eruption with our last Guest, Nr. 5, Destiny indeed! I had not been paying attention to his state of arousal. Fortunately, Alicia’s practiced eye noticed in time and she quickly moved to take over from me at the critical time and lower the level of stimulation. So in spite of this close call, all our Guests survived phase one. They stood there at attention with their hands at their sides, six fully erect and throbbing cocks and more than one moist forehead. 

Jane surveyed the scene. “Quite nice!” she said. “I think we can call this the end of Phase 1. Gentlemen, please take your seats!” The ‘seat’ referred to the cane chair that Jane had during the last session of “Phase 1” set down just behind each of the Guests. “Ladies, refreshments please.” On cue we appeared with fresh bottles of champagne, replenished glasses and made sure that an occasional table was in easy reach of each guest. 

Phase II began with a ‘refreshing’ of our nipples. We repeated the procedure we had undergone before the Guests arrived, but this time with each pair of girls standing in front of their Guest du moment, in our case our original Guest Nr. 6. He seemed to enjoy the show! When the ice had melted and all 24 female nipples were fully at attention, the gong sounded for the beginning of Phase II proper. One girl from each pair knelt on a cushion placed strategically in front of her Guest and stimulated his cock orally and manually. The second girl placed one foot on the occasional table next to the cane chair so the Guest could more effectively stimulated her cunt and, if he wished, thrust his fingers into her vagina. Our Guest was in no danger of erupting, in fact he had wilted during the pause almost totally so my immediate concern was to get him erect again. I took his cock deep into my mouth sucked hard, released, withdrew in a cycle I knew and liked. It was effective and it was fun. Gradually his cock stiffened, whereupon I reduced the pressure and stimulated the cock using my lips and forefingers. Out of the corner of my eye I could see his hand working on Alicia. He had inserted two fingers into her vagina and was pumping vigorously, simulating her clit at the same time using his thumb. 




Out Of Peoria Ch. 04



The gong sounded, and Alicia and I changed roles, but now a difference. Alicia straddled the cane chair and lowered herself onto the cock I had just stiffened up. A perfect union! Alicia had motioned me to help ease our Guest’s cock into her and thereafter, kneeling still on my cushion I fondled our Guest’s balls and ball-bag as she rose and fell on him, her feet planted on the floor and her hands on the Guest’s shoulders. Alicia was obviously very practiced at this, and she really did not need assistance from me. But the problem for a girl in this position is that once her juices are flowing copiously, it is not easy to feel the tip of the cock. My job was to ensure that the cock did not accidentally slip out of Alicia’s cunt on the upstroke. 

Alicia managed her task with ease and with the customary brushed kisses, we moved on to the second Guest of our round. Nr 1, the macho who seemed to feel the need to be stimulated more than all the others. This time Alicia performed oral and I would have to do the fucking! Cogniscent of what Jane had told me as to why guys tended to come in me rather than in her (or in girls with more ‘usage’, shall we say), I encouraged our Guest as much as I could to stimulate me very thoroughly. However, I was not very successful perhaps because he thought this would make Alicia suck him harder than he wanted to be sucked. Here, I was thinking ahead and that dope of a Guest was not. So it was with a premonition that I embarked on my turn. At the gong I delayed as long as I dared and slid onto his cock as slowly as I could. Warily I began a slow up and down motion. A tension in the Guest’s body presaged trouble, and so it was. Short of remaining perfectly still for my entire five minutes, there was nothing I could do. I managed about ten strokes up and down, but on the eleventh downstroke came that familiar warm feeling of a guy shooting his load inside you. And if I am any judge, quite a load it was! 

Mind you, you would never have guessed this from our Guest’s demeanor. He hid his orgasm with aplomb and it occurred to me to just keep on going and hope that somehow the guy would keep it up enough for me to sit out my stint as it were and that no-one would notice. Alicia, who knew exactly what had happened, helped as much as she could, squeezing his balls and massaging the lower shaft of his cock on the upstroke. And I kept the upstroke very short so that a less than erect dick would not come out and squeezed as hard as I could with my cunt walls. 

But it was all to no avail. Our Guest had misjudged and his cock just collapsed on him. He, I and Alicia, were the first to leave the circle! We led our Guest to a far corner where he sat in an overstuffed chair with his legs apart and his limp cock dangling. We began to stroke him and work on his cock trying to re-establish his erection. In the meantime, his chair remained vacant and the circle consisted of 5 Guests rather than 6.

And so the “Game” continued. The gong sounded and one of each pair of girls mounted her Guest and sat on his cock fucking him as before while the other ‘helped’. The gong sounded again, and the two girls switched. On the next sounding of the gong, the pairs advanced to the next Guest. And so the clock wound on! In the meantime, Alicia and I worked on Guest Nr 1’s cock. Again, Alicia, having ‘been there’ many times, led the way and discouraged the vigorous stimulation I had instinctively thought would work best. I learned that the best way to revitalized a collapsed cock was via a very gentle approach, stepping up the pace slowly and incrementally. Forcing the pace just did not work. There was a natural order to these things. Once this was established we made steady progress and in an amazingly short time had his cock nicely erect. Since the circle was on vaginal stimulation only however, a complete erection was necessary so we continued to work him until we were satisfied that his cock was stiff enough to enter a cunt without collapsing. 

Our Guest was nicely erect and, on Jane’s nod, we re-joined the circle, as it happened just as the second of the Guests finally lost his control. This was Guest Nr. 3, a strapping younger gentleman with a fine body who had seemed always to be in complete control. His orgasm, too, came unannounced and without any obvious reaction, either from him or from the girl who had been straddling him, as it turned out Lynda! 

From that point on things turned practically into an avalanche. One after another the Guests shot their loads and the empty chairs proliferated. Soon only two chairs were occupied, and since Nr 1 had already come, we had our first “Grandmaster”. This turned out to be Guest Nr 6, our original! Balding, and paunchy he may have been, but he had nevertheless outlasted all the others, and was about to gain his reward.

To my great embarrassment (though why, I do not know, it should have been a compliment), when Jane asked him to chose his partner, he nodded at me! He lay prone on the plinth and, cautiously, I climbed up on top of him and guided his cock into my cunt. Alicia straddled his face and rubbed her pussy lips up and down over his willing tongue. As I learned later, the rules were that time spent by girls on the plinth was deducted from time penalties, so I could now redeem myself by keeping Nr 6 going as long as possible. 

Somewhat to my surprise, I found this particular “Game” to be extremely stimulating. There was something in me that responded to the ‘silence, no reaction’ rule. Perhaps it was my upbringing coming to the fore, perhaps the rather crude, loud manner my ex- had laid into me, grunting his way to orgasm while I lay there wishing I were somewhere else. It fascinated me that the Guests, though obviously highly aroused and stimulated, showed their involvement and enjoyment via eye contact alone. To me this was erotic and arousing, in sharp contrast to the animal-like grunts my ex- was prone to, which I had found vulgar and which turned me off. Highly aroused, I was by now very wet so the level of stimulation as my cunt slid up and down on cock Nr. 6 was lowered and I felt confident I could keep him going for as long as I wanted. 

While a “Grandmaster” was being serviced, the rules called for all other Guests to return to their chairs and for the girls to stimulate them orally, but now with a different incentive. A girl who brought her Guest to orgasm during Grandmaster servicing received bonus time and since the sight of Alicia and I performing on Nr. 6 cannot have been other than arousing, they had a field day! I was thoroughly enjoying myself, and switched between up and down, and rocking motions which kept my Guest’s cock very much alive, but did not boil him over. Also, his oral ministrations to Alicia’s cunt were a distraction. He focused on her rather than on himself. It was a pleasure and minor triumph to note that, whereas our Guest was still in control of himself, the other Guests, subject to massive and unrelenting oral stimulation, were struggling to hold off their second orgasms. I resolved to keep my guest erect until all of the others succumbed.

I almost made it! I probably could have made it, but I was so excited I began to approach orgasm myself. My body began to shake and I began to focus on myself and this was not lost on my Guest. Again, that familiar warmness as a man’s cum flooded up into me. He was spent. And though his cock remained erect for quite some time, having survived several hours of stimulation, eventually it petered out. He was done. But not before four of the five Guests who had been watching the action had come before him. By the time my Guest had succumbed, only one chair was still ‘operative’. In total, four Guests had celebrated their second orgasms before Nr 6 was done with his first. One thing about the male orgasm, it cannot be faked. No semen, no orgasm! As I looked around, semen was strewn all over the place. On the girls’ faces, in their hair, on their costumes, everywhere. 

At this point, Jane called a halt. Round 1 was over. All the guests had come once, and four had come twice. It was time for a pause in the action. Warm cloths appeared, champagne, newly chilled, was distributed, brief kisses were exchanged, organs were fondled, cocks that had appeared stone dead began again to come to life. It was time for Round 2.

Round 2 turned out to be a ‘train’. The floor was cleared and strewn with six lambswool mats. On each a girl lay prone, making a circle. The other six girls made up a second circle, kneeling in attendance. The Guests took their assigned places in the train so that each cock entered the mouth of one girl, whilst each tongue stimulated the cunt of the next girl in the train. Action followed the sounding of the gong. Six cocks were sucked, six vulvas orally explored. Timed by Jane, a further sounding of the gong moved the train along. Now the Guest’s cock entered the cunt he had been stimulating. Sucking gave way to fucking. And so the train continued on its way. 

The rules of the train were simple. A Guest whose cock was unresponsive to oral stimulation to the point it was not sufficiently erect to fuck was orally stimulated by the girl in attendance. Naturally, time was deducted each time this occurred. A Guest who still required such stimulation after one complete round of the train was eliminated and required to leave the party. A Guest who orgasmed was removed from the train and led to the far reaches of the room, where he enjoyed the ministrations of the corresponding ‘attendee’, who applied her best art to breathing new life into his cock. The train continued until all but one of the Guests had orgasmed (or been eliminated).

As an attendee, the train for me was a visual embodiment of unabashed sexual abandonment. Several of the Guests were obviously struggling, hardly surprising given that the orgy was by now well into its third hour. However, none was eliminated and after two rounds only one had succumbed. On the third round, two Guests ejaculated, and on the fourth two more. On round four, a new “Grandmaster” emerged, and it was no surprise to me that this was our old friend Nr 6! That man had stamina!!

This time though, he did not choose me, but instead a slight girl whose trade name was “Will ‘o the Wisp”, an appropriate name because she looked so fragile that a ‘wisp’ could blow her away. She had small breasts with prominent nipples and, as was immediately apparent, sexually she was anything other than fragile. She fucked Nr 6 on the plinth so ferociously that he came within minutes! Quite a sight it was and so are the mighty fallen! This time around, Nr 6 came before any of the other Guests in the circle, so the Round ended evenly, with all Guests in a position to be the next Grandmaster.

Onto Round 3 and the ‘inverse train’. This time, the Guests lay on the lambswool mats and the roles were reversed. The girls would suck the Guests cocks and ‘face-sit’ the previous Guest in the chain. At the gong, she would then fuck the cock she had just been sucking. And so on around the train. As before, attendees (the six girls who formed the original train) would minister to a cock insufficiently erect to fuck and any Guest who failed to get hard enough on the first round was eliminated. Again, and somewhat amazingly not a single Guest was eliminated, and the train went around twice before any of the Guests came. Next time round, also. It took six rounds of the inverse train to establish a new Grandmaster, and, guess who this was? Right again, Nr 6! What price a fine body in the face of stamina like this!

Third time around, Nr 6 picked Lynda, and she had a hell of a time getting him off. She tried everything, but no matter how she worked him, up and down, back to front or side to side, he kept it up. What for me had been a way of redeeming myself for an early blunder had now become a matter of challenge. By this time the girls were less concerned with maximizing their honoraria (all were already assured of a substantial sum), than with moving the proceedings to a conclusion. However, Nr 6 was not about to comply, not even when Sultana, Lynda’s partner, ground her cunt into his face to such an extent that he could hardly breathe. 

The upside to this was that the other Guests, greatly aroused by the violence of Lynda and Sultana’s treatment of Nr 6 came rather readily --- on reflection it is not hard to understand that watching Nr 6 get shagged stupid, at least the way Lynda and Sultana were going about it, was more arousing than actually being shagged stupid oneself! 

According to the rules, any Guest who came four times was automatically eliminated and suffice it to say that the conclusion of the evening was a room containing twelve girls and one single Guest, you guessed right again, Nr 6! Lynda had finally got him off, but that was only number 3. The fourth orgasm took the combined efforts of almost every girl in the room. We mounted him in pairs and fucked him as hard as we could. But after a while even the fittest of us, and I, the newbie, was clearly one of the least ‘fit’, could hardly keep going, Our chests heaving, we dismounted and gave way to the next pair. A fresh onslaught ensued, but when this too came to an end, there was this fat erect dick ready and waiting for the next.

Lynda got him eventually, but what a struggle! Those, however, were the rules and in the end I think Nr 6 got five hours of continual sex with a roomful of gorgeous women without paying anything more than the ‘cover’. As I had long since understood, the “Guests” we had been entertaining were not just ‘any guys’ but fairly well heeled, to put it mildly, so the ‘cover’ was not what you would call chump change. I’m sure “our guy” though -- since he was our first Guest and had chosen me when first he became “Grandmaster” I had come to feel a bit proprietary towards him --- went home feeling very ‘manly’!

When he left, finally, we girls got out of those damn costumes and chilled over a drink or two. One by one the non-residents disappeared into the changing room and emerged a while later to say quick goodbyes. By this time, Jane had worked out the accounting, and each girl was informed discretely of her share of the ‘take’. Not unnaturally, there was some discussion about this, but Jane was careful to ensure that no girl could compare her own take with that of any other girl, and the sums involved were so large that few were disposed to argue for too long. And after all, there was no sign that any of the girls had not enjoyed the evening. Quite the contrary. Although I had not orgasmed myself (I will admit to have been close a few times), several of the girls had orgasmed regularly. Some many more times than the Guests. If this was a job, it was not what you would call ‘hardship’! These were seasoned professionals, long adjusted to providing sex to strangers for money. 

If you could do it, I thought to myself, what better way of earning a very respectable living. As ‘working girls’ go, these were very much the top of the crop. If not, then Jane would not have chosen them. It was as simple as that, and I even felt privileged to be counted amongst them and to have been able to ‘hold my own’ in such company, notwithstanding my lack of sexual experience. Again, I marveled at the transformation that had brought me from being a frustrated frumpy housewife in the mid-west to the epitome of a debauched ‘fallen woman’. Hell, I thought, if this was prostitution, it sure had its advantages!

When all the non-residents had left, Jane and Alicia prepared to descend to our quarters downstairs, but I hung back. 

“What’s this?” Jane said, somewhat sharply.

“Oh Nothing,” I replied. “Lynda invited me to stay up here tonight. That ok?”

I well remember Jane’s reply. With a twinkle in her eye she said,

“It’s ok with me! I’m sure you’ve learned enough by now to make your own decisions!”

I suppose this should have sent a warning gong going in my head but at the time I did not even digest Jane’s words. I was thinking only of Lynda, and of that lithe body and gorgeous cunt and clit….!



Out of Peoria Ch. 05



Out of Peoria: A Story of Innocence lost. 

Chapter 5: An equally kinky night! 

It was far past midnight and one by one, with final kisses, the girls who lived upstairs retired to the bedroom. Lynda and I where finally alone. 

“You know, you have a gorgeous body,” Lynda said, setting down her drink. 

“Thank you,” said I. “You are rather well off in that department yourself!”

Lynda looked at me with a slight twinkle in her eye. She didn’t beat about the bush! “Well let’s see if mine does for you what yours does for me!”

And so saying she set herself next to me on the couch and began stroking my breasts gently. I responded in kind and we ran our fingertips over each other, moving ever closer. Lynda’s thighs parted invitingly. Mine too and I felt a sudden thrill as my forefinger detected the moisture that was already emanating from Lynda’s pussy. I found suddenly that I also was very moist and highly aroused. I mirrored Lynda’s stimulation, sliding my forefinger around her pussy lips in a circular motion, increasing the pressure incrementally as the juices flowed from inside of her. 

We began to kiss, more and more passionately and in a way that I had never kissed before. As our tongues entwined I felt Lynda’s finger ease my pussy lips apart and enter my cunt, always with that circular motion, exploring, expanding, entering, exiting; around, in, out, around, ever deeper. I, the novice, wanting to move further, faster, Lynda, the experienced, holding me back, keeping the motion gentle, slow, incremental. Mouths entwined, we explored every millimeter of our vulvas, sliding a finger slowly upwards to our clits, back to the vagina, back up to circle the clit with agonizing slowness, further up to stroke the sides of the clit hood, back to the vagina, penetrating deeper, spreading copiously flowing cunt juices all around our vulvas.

Our bodies began to jerk involuntarily as we approached orgasm. Again, I, the novice, impatient, Lynda, the experienced, holding me back, maintaining that state of pre-orgasmic bliss that I had never known before existed. How long we remained in this state of grace I could not say. Inevitably, unable to hold back my own reaction to even the most sensitive stimulus, I was the first to boil over, engulfed in orgasmic spasms that seemed to start deep within me and erupt to encompass my entire body, which shook and heaved involuntarily in wave after wave of ecstasy that would not cease.

Indeed, it did not cease! The moment my thighs re-opened as I collapsed back on the couch, Lynda moved down and began to stimulate my still pulsating clit with her tongue. Always gentle, never impatient, Lynda’s tongue explored my cunt lips, cunt and clit, keeping me on that high elysian plane of sexual ecstasy until I felt again those involuntarily spasms engulf me. For a second time I convulsed in orgasm, more intense even than the first, and even then Lynda’s tongue did not cease its exploration, and did not until I was truly fully and completely spent. I believe I actually blacked out, collapsed on the couch, limp, incapable of movement, rational thought, word or deed. 

When I came to, Lynda was smoking what I assumed was a cigarette (though I later realized it was something a little stronger!). Her legs were apart and her cunt, still glistening gleamed out at me. She was stroking it gently with a careless forefinger, circling her cunt lips then opening them and sliding her finger up and down her slit in endless repetition.

“ Quite a little tiger, aren’t you,” she said with a smile.

Still woozy, all I could utter was a grunt of sorts. There was a short silence. My eyes were riveted on Lynda’s cunt as though mesmerized.

Lynda continued, “I do believe you didn’t know you are a lesbian?”

This came right out of the blue and shook me well and truly out of my stupor.

“What do you mean?” I said.

“What I said,” Lynda replied. “I don’t think you knew you are a lesbian.”

Suddenly I was fully cogniscent! Everything my mid-west upbringing had instilled in me rebelled immediately to the thought and my instinct was to retort “I’m not a lesbian!” However, the facts on the ground gave me pause. Eventually I said,

“Why do you say that?”

“It’s rather obvious, dear, don’t you think? Don’t be offended. There’s nothing wrong with being a lesbian. It’s just the way you are made.”

I was utterly lost for words. Lynda continued,

“You’ve surely noticed,” she said, “that you are turned on by the female body. I spotted it immediately I saw you in the dressing room, the way you looked at the girls. You just have not made the obvious connection.”

“And look at you now,” she continued coquettishly using two fingers to widen her slit. “You can’t keep your eyes off it, can you!” 

What use was it to point out that in the mid-west you were not allowed even to utter the word “lesbian”, let alone own up to being one!

“Lynda, you have me confused,” I said. “Where I grew up the very word ‘lesbian’ is never uttered. There are women and there are men, and that’s about it.”

“Oh tell me about it,” Lynda sighed. “There is so much ignorance, and prejudice. But take my word for it. You are a lesbian. You just need to admit it to yourself and your life will be so much the better for it. Look…” she drew attention to her glistening body and her glittering vulva and inserted two fingers deep into her cunt. In and out. Around the edges, up to the clit and back in and out. “Tell me this does not turn you on.”

I had to admit to myself that it did, but it was too sudden. I was not quite ready.

“But if I am a lesbian,” I said, “how come I enjoy sex so much with men?”

“Oh come now,” Lynda said, admonishingly. “Any woman can provide sex for a man. I get turned on myself by the sight of a stiff cock and occasionally I orgasm when it pounds in and out of me. But it’s rare unless there are girls around. It’s the sight of the girls enjoying themselves that really puts me over the top. Ask yourself, how often have you come with a man in a one-on-one”

I was still thinking about this when Lynda continued

“Anyway, I bet you never came with a man when he is doing what he wants, unless of course it is also what you want. That’s the key. It’s not what the man wants, it’s what you want! And you want me, don’t you. You want me more than you have ever wanted any man. Have you ever come like you just did with a man?”

I remained silent, because she was right. I thought of the session I had had with Jane and Alicia, ending in my first real orgasm, and I realized that this also was on a different plane from the sex I had had with men. I had assumed my lack of interest in sex with my ex-husband was because he was such a jerk, but I had to admit that I had never really been ‘sexually involved’ with a man, not in the sense I had just been involved with Lynda, not even with Alex, who I had fucked for hours!

Lynda filled the silence. “Well you don’t need to give it a name if it makes you feel uncomfortable, but my bet is you find this ..” again she drew attention to her cunt “quite attractive. And, unless I am very much mistaken, you owe me at least three orgasms! Shall we begin?”

I could not quibble on the three orgasms. In fact, it had seemed like one continuous, orgasm that lasted about an hour! And whether I was a lesbian or not, I needed no second invitation to administer to that gorgeous glistening cunt. In no time flat I was licking and sucking on Lynda’s cunt and clit as if there were no tomorrow! And she was vocal in her enjoyment of it. We were both in seventh heaven. But whatever I did to Lynda, whether with tongue, finger, fingernails or teeth, though she seemed continuously close, I could not bring her to orgasm. 

After an age, Lynda said,

“Darling, you are doing wonderfully. However, maybe we should move up a notch?”

Of course I had no idea what she meant, but by this time I was completely under her spell. 

Lynda directed my attention to a drawer on the underside of the plinth at the center for the room, where we had serviced the Guests. Inside I found a variety of instruments, and in particular the ‘pussy whip’ Lynda nodded was what she had in mind. It was short and had a thick, leather thong. 

“Perfect,” was Lynda’s comment.

She sat on the couch with her legs splayed so that her cunt was fully exposed. 

“Ten strokes on the right lip, ten on the left, and let’s take it from there” was her comment. “Make sure you don’t miss! That thing can mark your thigh for a month!” 

Of course I was horrified. But as I said, I was under Lynda’s spell and whatever she asked me to do I was going to do. 

I began tentatively, aiming the whip at the right cunt lip and trying hard not to ‘miss’, as instructed. But Lynda was scathing in her response. 

“That’s no way to whip a cunt,” she said scornfully. “Give it some gas. It needs to hurt.”

And so I increased the force of the stroke, more and more until Lynda was reduced to grunting rather than protesting. Ten on the right, ten on the left. Then lick, suck, fingers, nails. There was no denying Lynda was responding.

“Ten more on each side,” she panted.

And as I complied, I found somewhat to my horror, that I was enjoying whipping that cunt and my strokes became more and more ferocious. I would whip Lynda into submission. 

“Jeez! That was better! Now you’re getting it!” was Lynda’s comment as I got done and started again licking, fingering and sucking the aroused flesh of her vagina. Her pussy lips were now bright red and engorged.

“Now spread them and ten right up the middle,” Lynda said, her tone suggesting urgency.

Again I obeyed. I spread her cunt lips apart and laid the whip hard right down her cleft so that the thick thong of the whip almost entered her vagina and the tip struck her clit. I increased the force with every stroke, encouraged by Lynda’s grunts and cries. When I was done, Lynda was squirming with pain, though undoubtedly pleasure too. 

“Now tongue the clit,” she stuttered through clenched teeth.

And sure enough, a few minutes of clit tonguing had that gorgeous torso shaking with the onset of orgasm. And it kept on shaking, and on and on! I sucked her clit deep into my mouth and out again, working the soft flesh with my teeth. And did not let go until she was fully spent and had collapsed back on the couch, comatose.

When she recovered, Lynda said,

“Bet you enjoyed that almost as much as I did!”

And I had to admit she was not far wrong! Again I felt almost like pinching myself to ensure this was real. Until recently anticipating life as a staid ‘homemaker’, I had just administered a serious cunt-whipping to a confessed lesbian, one who obviously thought I also was one, and, Yes! I had enjoyed it. What did that say about me? Was I not only a lesbian but a sadist as well!?

“Not at all,” Lynda replied to my inquiry. “You were administering pleasure. Your pleasure was in giving me pleasure. Think of it this way, would you have continued if I had said stop?”

And I had to agree with her. I would have course not have continued if she had asked me to stop. Nevertheless, the pleasure I had felt administering pain was disquieting. 

Mischievously, Lynda thrust her hand between my legs.

“As I thought,” she said. “Hand me that whip!”

“But..but,” I stammered, desperately “I owe you two more orgasms!”

“Don’t worry about me,” Lynda replied. “I’ll get my pleasure as you got yours! Get up on that couch and open your legs --- very wide!”

Of course, Lynda was much more expert with the whip than I was. Where I had laid on strokes separated by seconds, Lynda laid them on separated by minutes. In between strokes she would caress my breasts, nipples, cunt, clit with her tongue and gentle fingers, and would even kiss me passionately and whisper in my ear exactly how I would feel as the next stroke of the whip bit into my vulva. She increased the level of pain incrementally from a mild “tingling” to true agony. But an agony exquisitely suffused with sexual pleasure. 

I have no idea how long Lynda strung out the whipping of my cunt and clit, only that it seemed like an eternity, one that I fervently wished would end in a crushing orgasm, but yet wished would never end. I was in a trance where body and mind combined focused themselves solely on sensation, sexual sensation. Lynda taught me that night how close together pain and pleasure can be, and she finished me off with an orgasm of supreme intensity that was hard on the border between pain, pleasure, relief and release.

“God, you are gorgeous,” I heard Lynda say as I re-emerged into the real world. “And so refreshing.”

She was smoking another ‘cigarette’ and, again, legs splayed, playing with her cunt, its lips swollen and reddened from the whipping.

Without speaking I moved towards her and buried my head between her thighs. I was learning Lynda’s technique of combining gentle flicks of the tongue with nibbling and biting, inserting fingers into her cunt until they were thoroughly wet with her juices and then using the moisture to stimulate the tip of her prominent and fully swollen clit. Her moans and groans indicated her pleasure and I understood how the whipping of her cunt had served to increase sensitivity.

My own level of arousal increased with Lynda’s and I repositioned myself on the couch so she could stimulate me. The feel of her rough tongue on my own swollen pussy lips pulsed through me like an electric charge. We stimulated each other ferociously in the “69” position with me on top, then rolled over so that Lynda was on top, and back again. And this time no external aid was necessary. Our orgasms were violent, noisy and mutual.

“A tiger indeed!” was Lynda’s comment after we had disentangled and regained some semblance of composure. “You learn fast!”

“I have an excellent teacher,” I replied.

Passions were, for the moment, spent and we were able to talk more normally. Lynda told me something of herself. She confirmed Jane’s assertion that ‘upstairs’ regularly entertained gentlemen: “..of distinction, you understand’.

“We do them any way they like --- within bounds that is. It’s amazing what turns men on. Call me a whore if you like, I don’t do anything I don’t want to do. Never have. Never will. If you’ve got it, use it! And go to the bank regularly! I won’t have a body like this for ever. ”

“But if you’re a lesbian, how can you enjoy sex with men?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘enjoy’, though some men are remarkable sensitive. It’s their pleasure that turns me on. I especially like making them squirm, beg for release. Some men love to be teased. You can keep them going for hours once you learn a few tricks. And it’s all good money in the bank. Patty and I often do them together and sometimes we all join in. There’s nothing turns a man on more than having multiple women working his cock. We really love doing that, though for reasons the guys do not suspect. Imagine, you can get someone to pay you big bucks for providing you with an unwitting instrument of foreplay! Patty gets monumentally turned on when we work as a duo, and you can imagine what that means for later on! Guests just love it. They think we are putting on ‘a show’ designed for their pleasure. It does sound strange, I know, but watching Patty straddle a guy --- she does this very well, as you may have noticed --- turns me on like hell!”

Patty aka “Will ‘o the Wisp”, was, I had gathered, Lynda’s regular partner.

“…Though of course we have an agreement. We are both free to have our ‘little bit’ on the side.”

This remark turned me off rather effectively! I suppose it was the intensity of our session that made me think I was something special. To hear myself characterized as a ‘little bit on the side’ was something of a dampener, to say the least! However, when I look back on it, that remark of Lynda’s came just at the right time. She had sensed that I could become emotionally involved with her in a way she did not want. She had her current partner and although she obviously enjoyed me immensely, this did not mean she was about to give up her emotional tie with Patty.

“Maybe you’d like to try a threesome sometime, with Patty?” Lynda said, confirming what was going through my head.

“Maybe,” I replied, but cautiously. “But first I have to think about some things. “

To put it mildly, the revelations of that night required me to pause and think hard and deeply about myself, my sexuality and what this meant for my future. My night with Lynda was indeed a “one-night-stand”, one to remember, but it was also a watershed in my own life. 

We said our goodbyes, and kissed affectionately.

“It was a wonderful night,” Lynda said. “I knew it would be the moment I set eyes on you.”

Foremost in my mind as, still in a daze, I encountered the dawn on descending the stairs and returning to my own quarters was the question “Was I really a lesbian?”.

Letting myself into the apartment as quietly as I could I immediately encountered Alex raiding the ice-box. To my surprise, I was still full of desire and the poor guy must be wondering to this day at the alacrity with which I shed my dress, knelt at his feet and started sucking on his cock. This was limp and it took me an age to get him half way stiff. I led him over to the couch, motioning silence --- house rules discouraged sex in the living room --- and continued sucking, stroking and wanking him until his erection was secure. Then I climbed up on the couch and rode him hard, banging his cock into my cunt, still dripping with the juices of desire, pounding his groin into the rawness of my thoroughly whipped flesh. I rode him like a dervish, as one possessed. Oh No, I was no lesbian! Look at me, fucking this man. I love it, I love it, I love it.

Certainly, I could fuck a man, and fuck him and fuck him and fuck him. I rammed myself up and down on Alex until I was covered in sweat and even he was panting with the effort of resisting my thrusts. Alex had stamina, but even he could not withstand the ferociousness with which I banged him for long enough. As I felt the warmness of his cum enter me I simulated an orgasm, but did not come. For all his stamina, Alex was spent, and I was not. I had done the one-on-one test, and failed it.

Brushing his lips in a brief kiss, I excused myself silently and retired to the sleeping room. I needed time to myself. 

Once there though, showered, and safe and secure under a duvet, I still could not rest. My hand strayed between my legs to that still wet cunt and I masturbated, coming instantly, though thinking not of Alex or of any man, but of Lynda. I masturbated twice more before sleep overcame me and I remember thinking there and then that Lynda’s blanket assertion that I was a lesbian may not be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. But there was something to it all the same.



Out of Peoria Ch. 06



Out of Peoria: A Story of Innocence lost.

Copyright ã Ron Ryder 2003 

Chapter 6: An unexpected proposition

It was well past mid-day when I awoke. At first I did not know where I was. The 'sleeping' room was not familiar to me at all. This was only the second night I had felt the need to retire to be on my own. Communal 'sleeping' was all very well if you were feeling horny. As long as someone wanted to have sex with you, you were available. That was how it worked out and that was why we had a separate room where anyone feeling the need of a decent sleep could retire. 

The house was very quiet. I lay awake looking up at the ceiling and reflecting. Slowly, in snippets, memory of the previous evening and night's events returned. I felt disturbed, but in a sense also at peace. What a night it had been! Whichever way things evolved, I was moving forward, advancing myself. Possibly, I reflected, the speed of evolution did not have to be quite so breath-taking! However, forwards was always a better way to be moving than backwards.

I slipped on my dress and entered the living room. I had suddenly become conscious of hunger and thirst. Someone had left half a sub in the ice box and I grabbed it along with a bottle of water and plonked myself down on a sofa in the living room and proceeded to munch away. I had decided to ask Jane about what had happened with Lynda and what she, Jane, thought. Was I a lesbian or was I not? And if I was, what did this mean? I trusted Jane, and she had so much experience she surely would know one way or the other and have some sound advice.

As if by an act of clairvoyance, the key in the lock turned out to be Jane herself, returning with some groceries. 

"So you've finally emerged," she said not unkindly. "I hope they weren't too nasty to you up there!"

"No! Not at all --- well, it was a bit heavy. I suppose you were trying to warn me it would be. But Lynda and I got on rather well."

"Yes!" Jane said. "I rather thought you might. She can get quite wild, though, but I see you survived."

"Yes!" I replied absently. "Er.. Jane," I continued.

"Yes!"

"Er, do you have a few moments. I'd like to talk to you about something."

"What a coincidence!" Jane replied. "And I'd like to talk to you about something too. Quite interesting actually. Who goes first. Wait – I see you've snagged my sub! Let me dump this stuff and get something myself." 

Jane returned carrying a large plate of mixed salad laced heavily with slices of avocado. 

"Tuck in," she said. "That sub needs stiffening up."

I did.

Jane said. "Me first. It's urgent. I suspect your's can wait."

Although it appeared we were alone in the apartment, Jane dropped the tone of her voice several notches, to an almost conspiratorial whisper. There had been an inquiry, she said. It concerned me, and it came through 'channels' that were absolutely trustworthy and above board. Jane made the appropriate movements with her eyes and fingers to indicate 'people in high places' and lots of 'moolah'! 

"You did tell me you have some experience in accounting, didn't you?"

Puzzled, I nodded. "Yes, I took classes in accounting and worked in an accountant's office as a clerk for about a year. Er...?"

Jane held up a hand to still inquiry.

"All will become clear," she said. "As we discussed the other day, you need some kind of gainful employment. I mean, you did very well last evening. Very well indeed. There's no doubt we could arrange for you to make a decent amount of money from occasional 'parties'. But this would be a bit hit and miss -- there is a lot of competition and if we could settle you into something more stable, this could be even better. Do you agree?"

"So far so good," I said, munching on my sandwich. "Carry on." 

An investment company of some prestige, she said, was looking for a girl, a certain type of girl. And Jane had been asked for a recommendation. In her opinion, I was perfect for the job. Was I interested?

"Well you have to tell me more than that, Jane," I said. "What kind of a job is this? Why is it 'special'?"

"Well I'm sure you can use your imagination on that!" Jane said.

"Well if you mean "Company whore", you can forget it, Jane. I may be into sex and I've even enjoyed being paid for it, but that's quite different from being the trollop every Tom, Dick and Harry gets to fuck as part of his bonus!"

Jane looked at me askance. 

"You haven't quite got it, have you. When I mean ..." she made that motion again with her eyes "...and when I mean..." she made that motion again with her fingers, "you have at least the brains to figure out that I am not referring to a 'company whore' --- at least not in the sense you describe."

I gulped down a long swig of water.

"Yes. Sorry about that. I'm not thinking too clearly today."

Naturally, Jane went on, my main function would be to provide sexual entertainment, but definitely not for 'any Tom, Dick and Harry'.

"Companies in LA do this routinely, you know. There's nothing particularly remarkable about this one. They hire attractive women on regular company positions with nominal authority within the company, authority that entitles them to be present when corporate decisions are made, or when important customers visit. 

"One's presence and, shall we say, putative availability, is designed to "create or enhance opportunities" -- that is I believe the way it's put in marketing terms. I did it myself for three years. It can be quite heady. You meet men of influence on a day to day basis. Naturally, this provides opportunities for sideline work that can also be quite lucrative."

I was silent for a moment. Then I said, "I'm not sure I could handle this. I don't have the experience. I mean, last night, where would I have been without you and Alicia coaching me? You are talking about going out on my own..."

"... as a 'company courtesan'!" Jane interrupted. "And of course you can handle it. I watched you carefully last night and you did just fine. And I've been watching you carefully ever since you joined our commune. You have qualities that make you almost uniquely suited to this job. You could do it off the cuff without batting an eyelid."

Again, I paused. 

"Well thanks for your confidence in me, " I said. "But what are these qualities you refer to. And what's the difference between a 'company courtesan' and a 'company whore' anyway?" I ended up somewhat more brusquely than I had intended.

"There's no sharp dividing line, of course," Jane responded, carefully amd thoughtfully. "A prostitute makes her living with her body. The girls upstairs make their livings with their bodies, but they are very choosy. They are certainly not available to any "Tom, Dick or Harry", By choosing carefully and remaining attractive to affluent clients, you may say that they make their living as much with their brains as with their bodies. So you might say they are more courtesan than prostitute. You would be going up-market from them. One notch up the ladder. More brain than body. But when you come right down to it, I'd have to give it to you that the bottom line in all cases is sexual favors in return for financial gain..."

"But on the ground, Jane continued, "it is very different from what upstairs does. They are very good at what they do, but none of them could be a 'company courtesan'. I would not even think of recommending them. But you have a refreshing naiveté, an innocence. You can more than plausibly play the part of 'female executive'. And you have some professional experience." She paused. 

"To put it in a nutshell," she continued, "a company courtesan has to have the appearance and demeanor of a genuine professional occupying a genuine high-level job, while at the same time, when appropriate, being able to transmogrify into a top-line whore. She must only be able to do this, she has to be able to sense when to do it and have the ability to seduce the person she is meant seduce without this being obvious to any third party. Furthermore, she has to be able to fend off the attentions of those --- the great majority I may add --- who would dearly love to play, and think they are "Mr. Big", but are not, from your companies perspective "Mr. Big Enough'. 

I was silent. All I had wanted to do was discuss with Jane the matter of my sexuality, and now suddenly this! Talk about breath-taking pace! I could not quite take this in.

"And you really I think I can do all this?" I asked, probably sounding bewildered.

"Well, there would be a learning curve and I'm not trying to persuade you," Jane said. "You will have to adapt quickly at the beginning, think quickly and on your feet. I could well understand if you think you are not ready and it's no skin off my nose if you decide it's not for you. On the other hand, I do think it is a marvelous opportunity for you. And think what it might mean later in life to have on your transcript that you were a Department Head at a major investment company."

"But surely that is a joke?" I replied.

"Not entirely! To be effective you have to gain knowledge. Admittedly, the company wants your talents as a courtesan not as a business professional, but to be convincing a certain level of expertise is advisable. So you will learn quite a lot about how things work. And anyway, a transcript is a transcript. Depends who is reading it." 

She paused. "Think of it this way. You are young, you have a gorgeous body, the world lies at your feet. Now go ten years along the track. This is where I am."

"But you have a gorgeous body," I protested strongly. "And you're fantastic at sex", I added, realizing suddenly that I may have gone too far! How well, really, did I know Jane, after all? "I mean..." I stammered. But she took my comment at face value.

"You mean I would make a first class whore," Jane finished off the thought. She smiled, diffusing any hint of offence. "Maybe, but the competition is ferocious. This is LA. There are pretty faces attached to gorgeous torso's all over the place, and fifty percent of them are for hire. It's not like in times past, when girls had little experience of sex. When I was in my prime, most of my competitors were ten years older than I was, and I wouldn't want even then to have been in their shoes! These days girls give their first blow jobs at fourteen! By the time they are eighteen they know as much about pleasing a man as I do, they have hard bodies and firm tits and many of them are as smart as apples. A cute girl with a college education who knows what she is doing has the world truly at her feet. Maybe I could still compete as a courtesan, but for how long? Like it or not, most of the men you will see are, shall we say, in the prime of life, and most of them would take a young firm body every time over 'a seasoned woman', even if she comes with that little extra touch of class. I'd last a few years max., and what am I supposed to do with the rest of my life? Find some rich old jerk and serve out my time? Not for me. I value my independence."

"So what did you learn when you were a 'company courtesan' that helps you preserve your independence?", I asked.

"I learned about the law and how to run a business," Jane replied. "It's certainly clear to you that I run a business. The business is supposed to be illegal, even in LA. But I run it within the law. There's a fine line, and it is not easy to find. I found it. It's a gold mine. In five years, I will never need to work again." 

I was still silent. Jane said,

"Look, I am not trying to persuade you. However, you should be clear that this is an opportunity for you that will not recur. It's a once in a lifetime thing."

After a few moments I said "Can I have some time to think about it?"

"Unfortunately not," was Jane's immediate reply. "If you want a chance at this job I have to make a call immediately. It may already be too late!"

This time I did not hesitate.

"Go make the call!" I said, with bravura.

===============================================================

And so it was that early next morning I sat in a plush leather armchair in the Executive Suite on the top floor of an LA downtown office complex. To say I was nervous would be like saying that a gazelle being chased by a lion is slightly anxious! I was dressed in the business suit Jane had helped me choose the previous afternoon. My hair was up, my shoes were flat heeled, functional. They were for walking. I had wanted to wear high-heeled strap-ons that showed off my feet, but Jane was vituperative.

"The image is of a staid business person --- a 'power bitch'! Power bitches do not wear strap-ons!"

So to all appearances I was a 'power bitch' and no-one was supposed to know, or even conceive that underneath that veneer was nothing but me. No panties, no bra, no stockings. 

"Those that matter will know," Jane had said. "And those that do not matter will only suspect!"

After a seeming age I was motioned to my feet by a subservient person vaguely of the female sex, who opened the door to his 'presence' and closed it silently behind me. 

"Ah! Hello. I'm Cecil!" said the large distinguished looking, balding gentlemen crossing the room to shake my hand, for all the world as though encountering a new business partner. "Let's take a seat, shall we."

I did, moving slowly and with dignity, crossing my legs as Jane had taught me and saying nothing.

"Answer truthfully, but do not volunteer! Turn everything back to him. He is the focus, he it is you have to please" were amongst the myriad instructions I had received from her. "This is an interview. Everything depends on your demeanor. You have to show him you are truly a courtesan."

Cecil Witherspoon, his real name --- it was written on his door in gold letters --- was quite charming and immediately went about trying to put me at ease. 

"Coffee, perhaps?"

"Will you be joining me?" Jane had schooled me well.

"Er, No! Unfortunately, the medical profession has turned coffee into a banned substance for people like me. However, if you would care for coffee, I would be happy to allow myself a small, a very small scotch. How is that for a deal?"

"Thank you. Then I'd love a coffee."

"Sugar, milk?"

"Black, please."

"Ah! How long has it been...?" Cecil's responses suggested I had started off on the right foot. 

The obvious question "Coffee is a banned substance and scotch is not?" was on the tip of my tongue, but I held back, lacking the confidence.

Cecil rose, crossed the room and called for coffee to be brought. "Black," he said. "Please take extra care in the preparation. Blue Mountain of course ... " he glanced at me, I nodded (though if he had asked me where the Blue Mountains were...!?).

As we were waiting for the coffee to appear, Cecil said,

"Well, my dear, I do not believe in beating about the bush. So the first thing I need to know is your real name. I can't call you – er – "he consulted myopically a sheet of paper he had placed on the table before him "er.. Destiny! My name is really Cecil --- curse on my parents. What's yours?"

"Susan," I said directly. "Susan Sandersen. That's how I was christened" – which of course it was not, but that was the name on the documents Jane had magically procured for me, a lady with many 'connections' I had discovered. "And by the way," I continued, "I think Cecil is a nice name."

"Oh come now!" Cecil said, a shade crossly. "Don't patronize me. It's a hideous name. Everyone thinks someone called 'Cecil' has to be gay!"

"I understand," I said. "But what's in a name? It's the person behind the name that matters."

"Precisely, Susan," Cecil said. "Precisely."

"And I can see that you certainly are not gay," I dared to add a shade mischievously. A risk perhaps, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.

"Indeed no," Cecil said. "Perhaps alas! Sometimes I think gay people have it right and we hetero's are the ones who make life difficult for ourselves."

He asked me about my experience, and I recounted the story Jane and I had the previous afternoon invented, following to the letter her dictum not to volunteer!

"So you are accustomed to positions of responsibility?" Cecil said.

"Yes!" I replied. "But of course, I am just starting out. I was certainly on my way up the ladder, as I think you will see from my transcipt."

"Yes, I'm sure," Cecil glanced myopically at the file he had laid on the table, without looking at it! "I can see you have ambition." 

This kind of small talk continued. I recounted the convoluted story Jane had invented for me as to why I had left the mid-west, how I had responded to an offer by a west coast company and been let down when this entered Chapter 11 following the disappearance of the CEO, Chairman and half of the board, following a whistle-blowing spree by a high-level executive. 

"I was really shocked, of course, but I had burned my boats and what was I to do? I had of course several other interviews lined up, and I was confident that my current state of 'availability' was very temporary. But 'a friend' had strongly recommended Witherspoon Investments, and so here I was. Cecil did not question any of this baloney. He just nodded. It seemed like I was saying the right things.

A discreet knock at the door indicated the arrival of the coffee. The subservient person vaguely of the female sex set down in front of me a silver tray on which were arranged a silver coffee pot, a cup and saucer of pure Wedgwood china and two discretely arranged slivers of chocolate, in their wrappers. There was no sugar on the tray, neither was there milk. When the door closed behind her, Cecil said 

"Don't mind her. She has the airs and graces of an arthritic slug, but she's been with the company for six hundred years. You'd think the Chairman would be able to do something. But No!" He sighed. "The power structure inside a California Corporation is something you have to experience to believe. Best I can do is stick fingers up when she isn't looking and call her 'The Ogre' behind her back. Imagine!"

So saying, he crossed over to his desk, fished deep into a drawer and drew out a bottle of Macallan 25 year old. Not that at that point in time I could distinguish a 25 year old Macallan from any other scotch, or even the veriest hooch, but there came a time when I could. And that's how I know that the healthy portion of liquor Cecil poured himself that morning was truly "The Macallan".

Back nestled in his chair, Cecil said,

"I can see you are no novice, Susan ..." (little did he know!) "... so we do not need to beat about the bush." He sipped his scotch, I my coffee.

"Indeed not," I said. "Please do be frank."

"You will be appointed "Head of Marketing: Special Accounts". Six reports. Your number one report, Jim Janacek, has been with the firm for 15 years. He is in the loop and is appropriately remunerated. He is, you will doubtless be interested to know, 100% gay and is also, shall we say, fully supportive of all company policies. Until you have gained experience and inside knowledge, he will be the person who will actually run the Department, though he will of course in all outward respects defer to you. He will also brief you thoroughly on all meetings. Be assured, he is an excellent person. "

"I am assured," I said. Gaining confidence, I re-crossed my legs. "I assume as time progresses and my experience grows, his role will become less central?"

"Er.. Yes! Precisely!" Cecil replied. (Was I overplaying my hand?) "Er.. When your experience grows commensurate with the business, or course."

"Precisely," I said. "Someone of such expertise, experience and sensitivity as Jim will always be essential." I smiled warmly.

"Er, quite," Cecil said.

Cecil continued,

"Your salary will follow the norm for the position you have within the company. We shall of course require the usual personal and professional information and references."




Out of Peoria Ch. 06



"Of course," I replied, already in possession of three impeccable references, on embossed paper, brilliantly forged by whomsoever Jane knew who did these things.

"I'm afraid you will have to go through the formalities with ..." Cecil nodded towards the door.

"I understand," I said.

"Nothing I can do, unfortunately. But Ogre though she is, you will find she is thoroughly professional, though she can seem a trifle testy when it comes to high level appointments of women. I'm sure it's not jealousy, but..."

"I understand fully," I said neutrally. "Naturally, I will make it a priority to ensure that ..." I nodded in the direction of the door ".. has every reason to believe my appointment will be advantageous for the company."

"Precisely," Cecil said. "I'm sure you will be successful."

"Now, as regards bonuses," Cecil continued, "this is a matter of some delicacy."

"Of course," I said.

"You come highly recommended."

"Thank you. I hope I will prove worthy of the recommendations."

"Oh I am sure you shall," Cecil said. He paused, "Nevertheless, possibly some independent, shall we say personal, corroboration may be justified, as part of the interview, of course."

"Of course," I replied. "And I shall be delighted to provide whatever may be helpful in confirming the veracity of those who have recommended me."

"Excellent!" Cecil said. "Then if you have finished your coffee ...?"

As he spoke a section of the far wall, a bookshelf, opened out silently into the room. 

"You understand, I hope," Cecil said. "The Ogre..." he nodded in the direction of the door, ".. would never enter without invitation. Nevertheless, reasonable precautions, you understand...!"

"I understand!" I said.

Cecil took his scotch with him. I left my coffee pot on the table. We entered the 'inner sanctum' and the bookshelf closed behind us. I found myself in what can only be described as a 'boudoir', elegant, tasteful, no expense spared.

"I like to think of this as my retreat", Cecil said. "No-one who has not experienced them understands the stresses and strains of executive responsibility. From time to time, stress relief is not a luxury, it is a necessity."

"I understand fully," I said, knowingly. "And if in my capacity within the company I can contribute to assisting in this regard, I would do so to the best of my ability."

"I was sure you would see it this way," Cecil said. "And if I may say so without appearing ungallant, you would seem to be a person perfectly qualified to provide this essential service, with grace and distinction."

"Of that you can be assured," I replied. "And if I may say so, it would give me the greatest pleasure to start as I would mean to continue."

"You know," Cecil said as his free hand strayed to my thigh, "I was sure the moment I set eyes on you that you are exactly the person we are looking for."

I have to confess that Cecil was rather ugly. This was not only because of his age, which had brought with it commensurate girth. He very probably started out life looking ugly. But he compensated with a certain charm and manner that made one feel important. As he stroked my thigh, his hand rising ever higher and higher, it was clear he was not only thinking of himself. He was giving me the opportunity to retract, to withdraw, to register distaste. There was a seeking of 'mutual contact', of sorts. Of course, schooled perfectly by Jane, I knew exactly how to react. "Uninvolved, but appreciative" Jane had said, and so I behaved. I followed her instructions to the letter. She had been there and she knew what it was about.

Cecil's free hand inched closer and closer to my groin. And as it did so, my legs parted imperceptibly, encouraging him to move up further. We were joined at the eyes and soon, the tips of his fingers brushed the lips of my uncovered vagina. 

"Beautiful," he murmured, "Truly beautiful."

I sighed gently in response.

He caressed me gently with his fingertips for a long while, taking sips from his glass at intervals. I held unblinking eye contact, registering that I was enjoying what he was doing. And indeed, this was only partially feigned. Power has its attraction, and everything I had seen spoke power and influence. A man of means, one who could have any woman of his choice. was seeming to choose me. I will not say that I was overcome with this thought, but it was a thought that entered my mind. "This is an opportunity you may never get again", Jane had said. And I was learning what she meant!

Cecil's glass was finally empty. He withdrew from me and set it down on a nearby table. He said,

"My dear, you are a beautiful woman. Would you indulge an ugly old man who would like nothing more than to see you as nature made you?"

My answer was silent. Words were not called for. Cecil settled in an overstuffed chair and I stood before him. With great deliberateness, I began with my blouse, a stiff affair, chosen because of its ability to hide the absence of underpinnings. As its buttons were in turn released, my pear-shaped breasts inched into his vision. Maintaining constant eye contact, the final button released, I exposed my breasts and upper torso. Wordlessly, I allowed a stray finger to caress my nipples, stiffening them, giving a focus to my upper body.

"Beautiful," was Cecil's sighed response.

My skirt came away in one movement, my shoes I discarded in careless movements, I stood before him as nature had created me.

Cecil's eyes caroused my body inch by inch as I stood erect, not moving, legs marginally apart. I found to my amazement that his obvious appreciation of me turned me on. My nipples stiffened, my legs parted ever so little, just enough.

Cecil sighed. "What is this life, if full of care, we have not time to sit and stare" he said. Then, "My dear, would you mind?" He nodded in the direction of the drinks cabinet. Amongst the array of bottles I found The Macallan.

"Yes," he said. "You are very observant. In the presence of such perfection, only the Macallan is good enough!"

Silently, I replenished his glass. He took a sip.

"And now, gorgeous creature that you are, indulge an old man further, one whose every cell reverberates at the sight of a woman stimulating herself."

I sat nearby, very close, and inch by inch I opened my legs wider and wider, revealing my cunt. A forefinger began --- Lynda had shown me how -- circling the vaginal lips within infinite slowness and purpose. I followed exactly the cycle with which she had on that fateful night aroused me. Around and around, up and down, in and out, deeper and deeper, releasing the juices, circling the clit, in a never ending cycle. Always with that eye contact. 

Cecil watched and sipped his scotch. He was mesmerized. His pleasure was my pleasure and the more obvious his reaction, the greater my arousal. My cunt juices were flowing freely and I spread the fluid around with my fingers so that my entire vulva would glisten before his eyes. I opened my legs wider and wider, fully prepared to frig myself to orgasm, or to move on to other things. 

But Cecil did not stir from his chair. His eyes just devoured my body, every inch of it, settling always on my glistening cunt. Eventually he let out a sigh.

"Splendid, my dear", he murmured. "Splendid!"

"With the very greatest of regret," he continued, with an even greater sigh, "I have to break off the interview at this point. Do please forgive me and do not be offended. Be assured my imminent departure does not in the least represent disinterest. Quite the contrary. What it is to be a slave to the clock. Please arrange everything with ..." He nodded in 'her' direction. "She will introduce you to Jim, your first in line, you understand, and he will take it from there and introduce you to your staff. He is very experienced. You can trust him absolutely... Now, about that retainer bonus...!"

I almost fell off the chair when he was specific about the sum. 

"Cash, of course," he continued. Possibly he misconstrued my silence "If this is not adequate...?"

Regaining composure fast, I said hastily, "That will be fine, thank you."

"Thank me not, young lady," Cecil said. "It is merely a reflection of the sure and certain value you will bring to the company!"



Out of Peoria Ch. 07



Out of Peoria: A Story of Innocence lost.

Chapter 7: Life as a “Company Courtesan”. 

The strange thing about my initiation to life as a company courtesan was that for the first two days it was as though I really was being installed as a head of department in a major investment company! Jim Janacek turned out to be a very nice guy. Gay he may have been, you would not know one way of the other from his appearance or his manner. What you did know was that he was polite, discreet and supportive without the slightest hint that the role reversal he was required to accept as a result of ‘sexual discrimination’ was anything other than a normal adjustment to normal corporate life. “He is appropriately remunerated!” Cecil had said. I presumed he was. But still, it would have been quite normal for him to find some way of digging in the knife. Jim never did. If he had such feelings he kept them completely hidden. Jim was the closest thing you could ever imagine to being a ‘company man’. He knew his job, he performed it to perfection, and if it irked him that his nominal position was lower than his actual one, not a single hint of this showed, not once in my entire tenure as his nominal ‘boss’. 

Jim assembled the staff, two women and three men, none of whom made any obvious impression, and introduced me as the new head of department. They too, displayed no hint of any disquiet that an outsider, another young and nubile blonde?, was brought in to ‘rule’, while they and Jim remained in their slots, loyal employees. 

“Please greet Ms Sandersen,” Jim said to the assembled staff, as though with a fanfare. “Our new guide and protector!” This he said without the faintest trace of irony. Part of my job, he was reminding them, was to ensure they kept theirs, no small matter in times when people were being let go right, left and center all over the country. It was not in their interests to inquire too closely exactly what my role in securing their jobs really was and it was definitely none of their business even to wonder why every new boss the Department acquired turned out to be a comely woman! Naively, perhaps, I assumed they all knew, finding out only later how mistaken I was.

Nevertheless, I went round the circle shaking hands, looking each person firmly in the eye.

“Do please call me Susan,” I said. “I’m sure we will get on very well.”

“Who was in this job before me?”, I had asked Jim previously.

“Ms Sylverton,” he replied immediately. “A most charming and knowledgeable lady --- quite like yourself, in fact.”

“And can you tell me why she left?”, I had asked.

“Ah, there I really cannot say. I have no idea. She was very successful. Everybody liked her. Perhaps another opportunity arose…?” 

There we left it and from that moment on there was no further mention at all of Ms Sylverton.

Jim shepherded me through my first few days with the company with grace, a consummate professional. Together, we chose new décor for my office. We went for an uncluttered ‘look and feel’ with impressionist paintings (reproductions of course) placed strategically about the walls. I confessed myself entirely satisfied with Ms Sylverton’s choice of furniture. The desk was of Danish teak, light and elegant. The chair, a director’s chair, was comfortable and appropriate, without being ostentatious. I was entitled to a company car and chose from the pool a BMW with shaded windows and a sun roof, much like Jane’s, I reflected --- elegant and powerful, but nothing that would stand out as unusual in LA traffic. 

I was also entitled to a company apartment, Jim said, hinting, though again, with the greatest of discretion, that this was not something in which I had a choice. He drove me there, a good address, and showed me around.

“Ms Sylverton was very happy here, I believe,” he said. “She liked the place exactly as it is.”

I took the hint, noting that the design and layout was discrete, but perfectly suited for romantic evening a deux! “It’s lovely Jim,” I said, “I couldn’t imagine how one could improve on it.”

I was sure you’d think so,” Jim said, again without a trace of sarcasm. 

I thought to myself, not only on this, but on many other occasions, that in staffing a department, you could not improve on Jim. He performed his function to perfection. His job was to manage discretely the day to day running of the Department while supporting me, even more discretely, in every respect. Nothing more, nothing less. He was my right-hand man, performing effortlessly the many tasks that this entailed, not the least of them being providing me with the information necessary to appear to be running the department. Over time he came to be my confidante. My true role was never admitted openly between us, but we both knew that we both knew! And it did not matter. 

Jim reminded me of a butler of the old school, who served his dumb-ass master faithfully and professionally, without giving the slightest hint that even could conceive of the possibility that his master was a dumb-ass! When I got to know him better and had established that he was 110% trustworthy, I asked him about this, obliquely.

“Well, my dear,” he replied, equally obliquely, “special accounts require special methods. Now if only the fat-cat clients were gay….!”

On my first evening, I returned to the commune to collect my things, such as they were. Really, of course, I wanted to thank Jane for being my benefactor and also to elicit her help in acquiring a wardrobe! In the commune I had gone around for the most part naked, or at most in a terry-cloth robe like the one Jane wore. When I went out, it was in cut-off jeans and a halter top. These were all the clothes I possessed.

Jane was ecstatic. “So you made it after all,” she said. “See, I was right. You are tailor-made for the role.”

I expressed my thanks and assured Jane that as soon as the bonuses started coming in, the commune bank account would not be the worse for it.

“My dear, I am delighted that you succeeded,” Jane said, “And any contribution you wish to make will be gratefully received and put to good use. But first you need a bit more help….”

Jane knew all the right fashion stores and by the end of the evening I had the kernel of a wardrobe, something for every occasion. Jane even allowed me my high-heel strap-ons. 

“But only wear them when you know it is the right time to look really sexy,” she admonished. “This will be soon enough!”

On day two, Jim went through some of the ‘special accounts’ with me.

“Now Waterstone, that’s looking a bit jaded. Possibly need a bit of work to get them focused again. Smitherford, on the other hand is looking very good.”

One by one, we went through the list of accounts, with Jim giving me briefings on where they stood, what their internal politics were, who the influential people were. As he went through the list, he would quite often say, dryly,

“I imagine Mr Witherspoon will be having some discussions with you as regards these people.” 

My relationship with Jim was unique in that, although we both knew what my role was in ‘helping’ build up the special accounts, to bolster the ones that were withering and to inch into a gallop the ones that were currently trotting, this was never at any stage openly acknowledged. Jim’s briefings always focussed on who the influential people were, but also on the advantages that these people would gain from an enhanced relationship with Witherspoon investments. He fed me with the information I would need to provide the relevant people with rationalizations for why they should maintain and enhance the business they did with Witherspoon, without at any time even faintly suggesting that these were rationalizations. 

By day two I was no longer apprehensive about ‘my role’, I was eager to begin! I read through everything Jim set in front of me with alacrity, absorbed some of it, compiled lists of questions, which Jim answered, giving no hint as to whether he thought the question was naïve; the consummate professional providing me with the means to do my job. When would the action start, I kept wondering!

================

I didn’t wonder for long. On day three came a call from The Ogre – would I be ‘available’ for an 11am meeting. After a suitable pause, during which I contemplated Renoir’s “Nudes Bathing”, I replied that I could in fact clear my calendar for that time. 

And so, taking a deep breath, I gathered together the material Jim prepared for me and headed for the elevator. It was crunch time. Could I deliver?

Cecil greeted me with his usual charm and elegance.

“I’m so glad you were available, Ms Sandersen, this could be quite an interesting meeting.”

And therewith he shepherded me into the Board Room where three bright faces were already assembled around the gleaming oak table.

“Gentleman,” Cecil said, “this is Ms Sandersen, our new Head of Special Accounts. She is here to help me provide you with up-to-the-minute technical information as to your investments, their prospects and the possibilities there may be for improving your portfolio.”

I arranged my papers on the table, took a deep breath, said,

“Good morning, gentleman,” in as neutral tone as I could manage, and tried to look knowledgeable. This really was crunch time. 

The subsequent discussion went about twenty feet above my head. Every so often, Cecil would turn to me, as if seeking support for an assertion, and his talent was such that on every occasion he provided me with enough information to either not support, or shake my head, or just raise an eyebrow as if to say, “You could do this, or you could not.” He was very good at this.

After a while, I became conscious of the notelet that Cecil passed to me under the table, beneath the view of our guests, who seemed to be becoming increasingly impatient. As Cecil was saying,

“Well, of course, I cannot but agree with you, but the market is just not cooperating at this point in time --- however…..”

The notelet said “green tie.”

Now as is only natural when men meet a new woman, all three of our guests around the table had been eyeing me, and looking for a response. None of them, of course, had received one. I was the neutral professional, an adviser to Cecil, who was conducting the negotiations. But now, I knew what to do and ‘green tie’ began to receive the odd return glance. Neutral, of course, but designed to indicate that of the three, he was the chosen one. The influence of this on the group dynamics was immediately noticeable and quite profound. Whereas ‘green tie’ had been the most vociferous critic (of, presumably, Witherspoon’s performance), his manner began to change. His colleagues, of course, had no notion at all why this was, but Cecil was quick to move in. As time evolved to the point where ‘green tie’ was getting something akin to a ‘green light’, the entire atmosphere in the room had become much more collegial. This was a joint problem that had to be worked on, Cecil said, and green tie was the first to agree. 

Lunch was suggested, and it was not entirely a surprise to me that I was seated next to ‘green tie’. Nor was it surprising that during lunch, a card was passed to me under the table. A standard business card, but on the reverse had been scribbled the hotel, room number and the time. My response was entirely by eye contact. It was a mutual agreement and I am quite sure that no-one in the circle noticed, save the only person who was supposed to get the message -- and of course, Cecil!

The hotel was of the utmost luxury. I navigated the lobby, found the elevator and knocked on the door firmly, feeling nervous, but in control. The door opened silently and I entered noiselessly.

“Good evening.” The green tie was gone and he was dressed casually in slacks and open-necked shirt. “I was sure you would come.”

“You were right,” I replied. “Here I am!” This was said with a hint of little girl ‘but I know not why’. Nothing would come easy.

“Would you like a drink?” green tie asked? 

I would estimate he was mid-forties and married with two children. Thickening about the waist, as many men of that age do, he was not unpresentable. I did not desire him in the slightest, but he also was not abhorrent to me.

“Thank you. A whiskey sour, if this is possible.”

The mini-bar delivered both and soon we were sitting side by side on the sofa sipping on our drinks. Green tie had also chosen a whiskey sour.”

“You are very beautiful,” he said, eyeing me greedily.

“Thank you,” I replied, eyeing him, but otherwise maintaining distance.

There was a silence as we sipped our drinks.

“I should introduce myself. Barry is the name.”

“And I’m Susan,” I said. He seemed almost to want to shake hands, but I held back and eyed him with an amused expression on my face.

“Quite formal!” I said.

He sighed, “Sorry about that,” he said. “I’m just not much good at this.”

“Not much good at what?” I asked coquettishly.

“Hell, you know!” was his reply.

So I decided to take the lead. We were not there to exchange pleasantries, after all. I moved close to him on the sofa and raised my hand to his cheek. I placed his free hand on my thigh.

“Make love to me,” I distinctly heard myself saying.

Talk about an amateur! I had to do practically everything. Even when I allowed my skirt to rise up to reveal to him my vulva, I still had to direct his hand to it. And I had to unbutton his trousers to get out his cock. And I had to suck on it for ever to get it hard, and even then it kept on collapsing before I could get on top of him.

“Hell, Susan, I don’t know about this,” green tie said eventually.

“My dear, “ I replied, stroking his cheek again. “Forget everything. Think only of your desire for me. You do desire me, don’t you?”

“Oh Yes!” said green tie hastily. “God, I’ve never desired anything so much in my life.”

“Then give yourself to it,” I said. “And relax.” 

And so saying, I stepped back from the couch and stripped for him. Slowly, very slowly. Then I returned to couch at the opposite end from where he was sitting, eyes like saucers, and I opened my legs wide. I heard myself say,

“I want you to make me come!”

Clumsily, green tie leaned forward and started to lick my cunt. He had no idea at all how to do this, but he did his best. And I did my best, helping him by stimulating my clitoris so that gradually my cunt juices started to flow.

I moved so I could grab his cock and stimulate him, and slowly but surely he gained an erection. I pumped him harder and harder until his erection was solid.

“Oh God!” I said, letting go suddenly, “fuck me, please. Please fuck me.”

And wonders of wonders he succeeded in getting it in me. Hovering above me on the couch, he pumped away like a dervish and within twenty strokes he came in pints. As he came I simulated an orgasm as well as I could. You can imagine what I was thinking!

Later, somewhat recovered, he said “You are the most gorgeous woman I have ever been with.”

I replied. “That’s wonderful to hear. I’m truly flattered”

“I mean it. I feel like a million dollars!”

“Me too!” I lied.

As I drove home, two thoughts occurred to me. The first was, ‘Hell if they are all as easy as that’. The second was, ‘I’m not sure I want to do that again!’

And there you have in a nutshell the “Courtesan’s dilemma”. You get paid well, but you do not get to choose who you fuck. 

Green tie wanted to set up another ‘date’ immediately. “We could make it tomorrow. I don’t have to leave until the afternoon.’”

I demurred. “One step at a time, Barry” I said. “You have me confused. We have to take this slowly.”

I don’t know how the jackass interpreted this, but to me it meant that I had to consult Cecil to see whether I had to go through this once again. Green-tie wanted my number and I gave him my business number, knowing that this led through Jim. Thank God for Jim. Whatever would I have done without him.

At home in my new quarters I immediately threw off my clothes and entered the shower. The hot streams of water soothed me, and I began to relax. But as I slipped between the sheets and tried to sleep, I kept on wondering what I had got myself into. Was it my fate to seduce ‘green ties’? If so, I remember thinking, possibly poverty is preferable!

==================

I did have to see Green tie again, in fact I saw him many times more. It seemed he had fallen for me and he thought I had fallen for him. How blind some men can be. Fortunately he lived far away, was married and kept on a short leash. He called incessantly and I occasionally took a call and listened patiently to his latest plans to ‘get out of town’ for a clandestine tryst. Whenever a trip was pending I received an instant invitation to join him. Each one I discussed with Cecil, and I wonder if that jackass ever figured out the correlation between my acceptance and a recent enhancement of his companies’ holding with Witherspoon. Green tie always greeted me at the airport with an eager hug and a kiss and whisked me off immediately to his hotel room for sex, as though I had been itching for him in the months of our parting, as he had obviously been itching for me. 

This turned out to be a reasonably familiar pattern, so that after six months on the job I found myself jetting around the country, to such desirable places as Cincinatti, Cleveland, Akron, though also sometimes to New York, New Orleans and one memorable trip to Hawai. Not all my dates were as naïve as green tie, fortunately, and even he improved as a companion and sex partner after he had been taken through his paces a few times. So my experiences were mixed. Some were hard work, but some genuinely pleasant.

Gradually I adjusted to the realities of my new life, reflecting that nothing came from nothing, and that on balance this was, after all, a lot better than poverty! 



Out of Peoria Ch. 08



Out of Peoria: A Story of Innocence lost.

Copyright Ron Ryder 2003

Chapter 8: Life as a "Courtesan" takes an upbeat.

Several days after my first encounter with 'green tie' I met Cecil again; on a Friday afternoon as I recall. As before, the 'invitation' came via "The Ogre" --- would I be available etc etc. 

When I got up there, however, there was no sign of The Ogre. Cecil's door was ajar, and I peeped through.

"Ah, there you are. Come in, my dear."

I closed the door behind me, wondering what to expect. 

"Would you mind," Cecil said, reaching into his deep drawer and hauling out his bottle of Macallan,

"Of course not. In fact, if I may be so bold...." "Certainly, my dear," Cecil said, his eyes lighting up, "Delighted!"

He poured both drinks, healthy portions, reverently.

"To our success," he said, holding up his glass.

I sipped. My first taste of Macallan. And not at all bad it was too!

"I just wanted to let you know that our meeting the other day was most successful. They have decided to increase the level of their investment. A great relief, I must admit. I was afraid they were going to bow out. But at the last minute, there seems to have been a change of heart!"

"Delighted to hear it," I said, sipping more, and with obvious lack of enthusiasm.

"Come now dear, was it so bad. I'm sure our friend caused you no grief, though probably little pleasure, but think of it as your vital and necessary contribution to advancing the cause. I have no idea what transpired, neither do I want to know, but whatever it was it made all the difference. As a result I have decided to increase your bonus by 50%."

This was gratifying, but surprisingly did not lift my spirits. 

Cecil was silent for a while, sensing my mood. Then he said,

"I was wondering... well, the Ogre is gone for the weekend and my calendar is free for some time. I wonder whether you might like to......"

We were in the boudoir, but this time I was not on trial, but a part, an essential part, of Witherspoon Investments. My success with 'green tie' assured that I was a company person now. And quite a difference this made! In no time flat Cecil had my clothes off, and his, and I was on my knees, stark naked and sucking hard on his cock. Though this was reluctant, it was reluctance of a different kind to that I had experienced with 'green tie'. 

"Take your time, my dear," Cecil said. "We have all the time in the world."

And so it was. 

I sucked him gently then. And stroked and massaged, until his cock began to come to life. Cecil was ugly, yes, but yet in another way he was not, and neither was his cock. It was large, though not too large, just right-sized for tonguing and sucking, and nicely formed. Fondling, licking, wanking gently, sucking, I settled in for the long haul. And Cecil laid back and sipped his Macallan and made all the right noises.

After an age, Cecil decided it was my turn. I lay back on the couch, legs splayed, as his lips and tongue explored my every orifice and cranny. Now it was my turn to make all the right noises. I was not simulating. Cecil's tongue found my clit and would not let go. That tongue circled, the lips latched onto the hood, until the entire area was swollen and I was palpably aroused. Yet still the exploration did not cease. Cecil stimulated every accessible area, spreading my cunt lips wide and inserting his tongue as deep into my vagina as it would go. In and out, tongue fucking. 

Like all good lovers, Cecil had learned that a woman needs time. She needs time to adjust and to respond. She needs to feel the confidence of her lover, his desire for her, and his desire to please her.

Cecil paused in his oral ministrations. Very deliberately, he placed a finger in the Macallan and proceeded with a sensitive forefinger to trace the outer edges of my cunt lips. More Macallan on my clit. His breath evaporated the liquid, leaving behind a gentle cooling/burning sensation. My body arched responding to the sensation, which did not cease. More Macallan, until the glass was empty and my entire vulva was captive to the velvet touch of his tongue and lips. A true Scotsman may have thought this to be an awful waste of the 'wee dram', but as far as I was concerned he would have been dead wrong. What Cecil was doing with it did a whole lot more for me than were it to stimulate merely my tongue! 

Cecil tongued my cunt and clit, every millimeter of it, on and on and on, in circulating motion, deep inside, then up to the clit and clit hood. I gasped with pleasure, and this was not feigned!

Quite deliberately, Cecil poured more Macallan into his glass. Again the magic liquor stung my engorged lips and clit, exciting me more and more until, suddenly, the thought of orgasm came into my mind. On and on went the cycle of oral stimulation, the gently glow of the liquor, more saliva until my entire vulva was throbbing with impending release. Still then, that inquiring tongue tip did not relent. Probing, ticking, circling that tongue about the clitoris, licking up and down the clitoral hood. Not a micrometer escaped his attention. 

Unhurried, timeless, Cecil worked my cunt and clit until I was in a frenzy to come. I wanted to come. I wanted him to make me come. My pelvis moved of its own accord in tune with his rhythm, more and more fervently, more and more urgently. But still that tongue flicked out, retracted, holding me in limbo, until in a frenzy I thrust my groin into his face, trying to force the issue. But even then, that tongue held back. The Macallan came out again, and around and around, gracing flesh now utterly gorged, the tongue flicked on and on, around and around, up and down. 

My gasps and cries were now aural. Make me come, they said, make me come.....

And in the end the blessed release occurred and I was engulfed in an orgasm of such intensity my entire body shook for minutes before orgasmic collapse set in and I slumped back on the soft cushions at the end of the couch, spent, fulfilled, wholly satisfied.

When I came to, Cecil was sitting back at the other end of the couch sipping his Macallan. There was a contended grin on his face. His free hand strayed to his half-limp cock and stroked it up and down the upper surface. As he stroked, his cock stiffened, and as it awoke, so did in me a determination to tease him as he had teased me.

I played him as though he were a helpless fish on the line, fingertips, nails, lips inner mouth, teeth, everything that I had. The stiffer that cock became, the lighter was my touch. I worked it with everything I had.

Cecil's voice came to me as though out of a dream.

"Perhaps you would like to fuck now!"

And this made me aware of my own passion, far from spent. I rose and mounted Cecil's cock and rode him hard, and rode him slow, and rode him up and rode him down, and rode him to and fro. And still, notwithstanding Cecil's grunts of sexual pleasure, that cock stayed firm and hard, deep within me.

At some invisible sign, we switched position, and he was entering me from the rear, pounding into my liquid cunt, again, again, again. Another change of position, and he entered me face to face, my legs wrapped around his body, urging on his penetrations deeper and deeper inside me. He pounded me with all the force his weighty body could command and I could feel it again, that sensation, rising in me, rising ever higher. Until with a final flurry of pure animal response I felt his seminal fluid spurting into me. And at that moment I came too, clenching my thighs hard around his torso, squeezing him like an anaconda, squeezing him dry, and spending myself at once.

We collapsed back on the couch, mutually satiated and exhausted. 

When I came to, there was Cecil, sitting at his end of the couch, sipping on a fresh shot of Macallan and smoking a cigar. He was also stroking his penis as though for all the world preparing it for a fresh assault!

Well, my dear," he said, as though engaged in intellectual debate, "You are quite the tiger I thought you'd be."

For a moment I was speechless, but soon recovered. 

"Well?" I said, injecting a note of indignation into my voice. "Does a gentleman supply his lady with a cigar, or do I have to go find my own?"

There we sat, Cecil and I, both sipping Macallan, both smoking Churchill's of the highest quality, separated by the length of a couch and by thirty years of age, yet bound together by a mutual passion that both of us sensed was spent only for the moment. Cecil's ugliness had transmogrified into, not beauty, but something more significant. Cecil was not only a 'presence', he was a 'sexual being' of the highest order. 

"On reflection, I think I'll double your bonus," he said, tongue in cheek.

I flung a cushion at him, though, you understand, in play. I had the presence of mind to ensure that neither the Macallan, nor the cigar were in any danger.

Over the succeeding months I had several sessions with Cecil in his boudoir, and all were satisfying, all were gratifying and some were much needed after encounters with 'green ties', 'red shirts', 'grey hair, receding' etc. But it is fair to say that none of these encounters approached the level of intensity that this, our first encounter had achieved. If sex binds, then the gradual diminution of its intensity weakens the bond. So, although I felt bound to Cecil, the bond weakened in strength as time went by, though it did not disappear entirely until --- well, let me not get ahead of myself!

Suffice it to say that on that Friday evening the negative feelings my first 'company encounter', the one with 'green tie', had brought to the fore were dissipated. I would not say I was thereafter perfectly contented with my situation, but I now saw it more like it was. After all, I was being paid handsomely to have sex with men. I was not there to enjoy myself, but to do a job. And if I did enjoy myself then this was icing on the cake. And if I did not enjoy myself, but felt instead a sense of violation, of emptiness, there was always Cecil there to pay attention to me, to apply himself to my womanly needs and to make me feel sexually integral again.

As the weeks rolled into months and the months into years, I became fully integrated in my role within the company. Jim remained the faithful 'right hand man', and through him I learned a lot about the workings of an investment business, indeed of business itself. My role, I realized, was in the last analysis a relatively minor one. I could influence a reluctant client to continue with the company and a luke-warm client to maintain allegiance. But without the Jim's of the company none of this would have been worth a hill of beans. I was, to be sure, the icing on the cake, but there had to be a cake! The cake could withstand without the icing, but icing without a cake, that had no chance at all. This realization, which came slowly, helped me to place my role within the company in perspective. It also encouraged me to make great efforts to 'learn the business'. My body, which was currently my 'competitive advantage' would not always be so. 

But right now it was, and how I worked on that body. I oiled and anointed it. I spent hours on my 'shave', ensuring that my vulva would remain the glittering symbol of innocent femininity that it was. I enrolled in a fitness training program and spent hours on the machines toning muscle and burning off the beginnings of fat. 

But in my mind were Jane's wise words that it would not always be so. Nothing I could do would preserve the body of a young woman beyond its time. However you twisted and turned it, the best you could do was to stave off the more obvious signs of aging. That sweet, silky skin of the twenty year-old was the preserve of the twenty year old. It would not be long before it was, as Jane had predicted, no longer 'hard and tight yet satin smooth'. Whatever wiles experience may have taught me would not then be sufficient compensation. I would be over the hill to compete as a courtesan.....

But in my initial years at Witherspoon Investments everything went so well, such thoughts occurred to me but rarely. Cecil was quite serious in saying he would double my bonus. As the months progressed and my success within the company continued, this did wonders for my bank balance. I was a frugal person, and I figured if I could keep this going for just a few more years, I would have a nest egg that would ensure my independence for the foreseeable future, come what may. This gave me great comfort. 

I had lived in a commune foot-loose and fancy-free for a while, a blissful while, but now it was clear to me that this had been a moment in time, never to be repeated. Now I was on my own and I needed to fend for myself.

Nothing reinforced this impression more than my periodic visits back to old haunts. Every time I visited, someone had moved on. First Alicia -- Jane had no idea where she was, she just vanished one day. Then Alex, who, according to Jane had found as time progressed that fulfilling the fantasies of a house of women was not the be all and end all of life. No-one knew where Alex was. He had evaporated. 

Likewise Lynda, and her friend Will 'o the Wisp. They were replaced seamlessly upstairs, but with girls with whom I had no relationship and nothing in common. Only Jane remained, and you can imagine the shock when she told me she was about to leave.

"I have this opportunity in San Diego", she said. "It's a 'one in a lifetime' thing" --- where had I heard this before! "Hell, there's so much I'd like to tell you, but I have to hit the road pronto. Leave me your phone number and let's stay in touch."

I did leave my number, but much good did it do me. After a week or so Jane called. "Hihowaya! OhMiGod is life hectic! OhHell, there's my other phone going --- Ohshit, don't go away, get right back to you!"..... 'bbbbrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr' 

This happened three or four times, and that was the end of that. I was learning the downside of the Californian lifestyle. Nothing was for keeps. In fact, nothing was for very long! Everything and everyone was on the move. If there was stability, it was in the very instability of the society and not obviously better, though certainly not obviously worse than the life-style I had been groomed for, that of housewife and mother in the mid-west. Nothing could be more stable than this, nor more boring! But the Californian lifestyle, for all its glitter was a 'live for today' lifestyle that, although certainly not boring, did not provide security. 

Was there a happy medium? Could one combine excitement with security? I doubted this, and it troubled me. Possibly, I could gain financial independence. But what would that do for me? Would it make me happy?

For all that I was contended in my new job, I was uncomfortably conscious that this obviated the making of real friends. How could you have a friendship with someone when your life was dictated to by the need to provide sexual services to clients and if this was distasteful, equilibrate this by engaging in 'compensation sex' with your employer, a man who knew how to please a woman, but still old enough practically to be one's grandfather! 

And I was under no illusions about Cecil. Right now, I was his number one. But it was only a matter of time before he tired of me and some other, younger, sexually more voracious vixen took my place. Cecil was a man of means, and as such there was no thought in his mind that even vaguely constituted security, either for himself or for anyone associated with him. He was a wild spirit, who would go wherever the spirit would lead. He obviously enjoyed his relationship with me, and reveled in the sexual adventures we experienced together. Though a distance was maintained, he was closer to me at that point in time than any other human being. Nevertheless, I knew instinctively that his support would one day end and I would be left to pick up the pieces and move on.

I had money, I enjoyed the high life-style, but where was I to go from here? This thought kept nagging at me as time went by. What was my next move? I did not know, and could not fathom what it could be. I found, too, though this took some time to admit to myself that I was not only lonely, I missed women. My life revolved entirely around men, for the most part finding ways to please them. Sometimes this was fun, sometimes less so. But as the number of men that I serviced grew into the hundreds I could not help but think of Lynda and her assertion that I was a lesbian! Where was that thesis now? 

Nevertheless, as time went by I came more and more to realize what was really missing in my life. And it was women; seeing them, talking to them and, above all, I finally admitted to myself, having sex with them! I masturbated often, sometimes hard, sometimes long and dreamily. And I found in my dreams that it was not the body or penis of a man that excited me, but the female form with all its grace. Often I came with the image of a glistening vulva and wide open slit starkly burned on my eyeless retinas.

I could have sex with men, Yes! I could do it as a job and I could do it, as I had with Cecil, and have fun -- and even come to orgasm. But when alone, masturbating myself, when one is truly honest about one's feelings because there is no point in not being, it was women that were in the forefront of my fantasies.

This being California, events took a turn I could not have possibly anticipated, nor, if I had anticipated it, would I have necessarily regarded it as a step forward. A woman needs security, I found. And for all my worldly wealth, I did not have it. My emancipation had been a step forward. I had learned things most people in their lives do not even dream about. But what use this if the result was that my most basic needs were not attended to?

That my next step in life would result in my becoming rather less secure than more I could not have rationally wanted. But then again, this next step was not rational. It was not rational at all.



Out Of Peoria Ch. 09



Out of Peoria: A Story of Innocence lost.

Chapter 9: Love at last? 

We met at an office gathering, a celebration of some kind of milestone in the companies’ history. I can’t remember what this was because from the moment I set eyes on her, all I could think about was Heidi.

Cecil introduced us. 

“I don’t think you’ve met our new Head of Special Accounts,” he said to the tall bronzed, blonde lady at his side. “Heidi, meet Susan. She’s the most successful “HSA” we’ve ever had. Susan, my wife, Heidi.”

I took the proffered hand and registered that gleam in her eye. She knew. She knew everything, and yet she did not care. I think we both knew in that instant. It was love at first sight.

We did not talk that evening. Heidi was too busy doing the rounds --- Cecil’s trophy wife being shown off! We eyed each other, though. at every available opportunity, but it was only as the evening drew to a close that we came again in close proximity. 

Occasions of ‘corporate celebration’, which fortunately happened only rarely, brought many influential men into town and, as the world turns, important “intimates” of the company, if they were in high favor, got to spend the night with me at my apartment. This was a singular honor because the location of my apartment along with my unlisted phone number, were closely regarded secrets. So my ‘partner for the night’, my third in three nights, was a ‘close friend’ of Cecil’s, at least so he said and so he must have been to gain the ‘honor’ of my attentions.

As a close friend of Cecil’s, it was inevitable that we would not leave without taking our leave, as it where, and while he was saying his good-byes to Cecil, Heidi took the opportunity to say goodbye to me too. Her voice was cool and proper. It was our eyes that dazzled. When our hands parted I found a small sliver of paper left behind. I pocketed it silently, and with a parting, final glance into those piercing blue eyes, set off to ‘work’.

I don’t know whether my companion of the night noticed anything, almost certainly not. He was fairly drunk and drank an additional ample portion of the Macallan before we got down to business. He laid a hand on his thigh, but moved up too quickly and his clumsy attempts to stimulate my cunt did nothing for me except to strengthen my already strong desire to ensure that he was rendered ‘neutral’ as soon as possible. Murmuring appreciation, I fished his cock out of his pants and went down on it. He fingered me avidly as I did so, his forefinger penetrating my vagina, again too soon. Feigning arousal, I invited him to the bedroom where we unclothed each other. Then I laid him down on the bed and started serious work on his cock.

He came in my mouth even before I had him properly hard. Then he fell sound asleep. On my way back from the bathroom, I washed the remaining taste of him away with a slug of scotch and hastened to pick up the jacket of my suit from where it lay on the floor. In the pocket was that precious sliver of paper. All that was on it was a cell phone number. That was all, but it was enough. 

Returning to the bed, I slipped in next to my gently snoring companion, and began to masturbate. And you will not need to guess who the object of my fantasy was, as I frigged away and orgasm succeeded orgasm!

In the morning my only thought was to get to my phone. But my companion, it seemed was a morning person. I awoke with his hand on my cunt, and this was soon followed by his tongue and lips. I spread my legs like a good whore does, and let him have his way, moaning and groaning as though his ministrations were doing for me what in fact was the opposite from what they were really doing! Rarely have I been so thoroughly turned off when having my cunt licked! I simulated an orgasm, but this just encouraged him, and with an agility that belied his age and girth, he straddled me and kept on tonguing my clit while I worked on his cock. I sucked him hard and kept on sucking, but this only encouraged him yet further and after a while he was fully erect. I had to mount him and ride him, which as you can imagine I did with full force, banging down onto him so we sank deep into the mattress before riding up, pausing, teasing his cock tip with my pussy lips and then falling on him again with the full weight of my body. 

But even this did not get him off and I groaned inwardly as I felt his cock turn limp again. Dismounting, I sucked it back to life. A further round of hard-fucking, with the same result. No matter how hard I tried, I could not get him off. We sucked and fucked in every conceivable position and if he was surprised at the urgency with which I bounced up and down on his cock, he would have been even more surprised if he had known the reason for my alacrity!

Eventually, a ferocious, prolonged two-handed wank with him standing and me kneeling at his feet had him cum, again in my mouth, but I did not care. I was only too relieved that it was over. 

I declined his enthusiastic invitation to lunch, pleading urgent business, and heaved a huge sigh of relief as the door closed on his back. 

I lunged for the phone. She answered immediately, a husky, sexy voice with a slight foreign accent.

“Where are you?”

“At home.”

“Where’s home?”

I told her.

“I’ll be there in half an hour.”

Hastily I showered, feeling as nervous as a high school girl on her first date. I had just finished shaving and oiling my vulva when the bell rang. Throwing on a robe, barefoot, hair wild, free and all over the place, I raced for the door. She entered silently. Neither of us spoke. The robe and Heidi’s dress slipped simultaneously to the floor. And so did we. Right there on the carpet it began, fondling, scratching, biting, rolling over and over, groaning, moaning, screams of ecstasy, on and on, into the bedroom and onto the bed for more, more and yet more ---- there was no end to it, and neither of us wanted there to be. 

But end it had to, and with a jolt. We were lying side by side fingering each other playfully, working up the energy for another bout when Heidi’s eyes cast a glance at the clock.

“Mein Gott!”
She staggered to her feet.

“I have to leave you darling,” she said. “I promised Cecil --- he’s having ‘very important people’ to dinner.”

She accented ‘very important people’, indicating sarcasm. “Trophy wife has to be there.”

As she was pulling on her dress she looked down at me, lying spread-eagled on the bed. 

“I don’t make many concessions to Cecil,” she said. “But some are smart.”

“Don’t feel bad,” I said, glumly. “I have to entertain one of his friends tonight. Obviously not a ‘very important one’.” My tone mirrored hers.

“Ha! There you go. At least I don’t have to shag them!”

I looked up at her, but her wicked smile diffused the remark of all offense.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ve been there too. There aren’t many places where I haven’t been.”
I paused, then said, tentatively, 

“Have you been before where we just were?”

Heidi did not hesitate a moment. She leant down and caressed my cheek.

“No, dear. I have not. There I have never been before.” 

Then her manner turned business-like. “You better get working on yourself. Your mate for the night is going to think you been rolling in a gorse bush!”

I looked at myself and realized what she meant. My body was covered with thin red lines, blotches and bruises.

“Holy cow!” I, too, leapt to my feet, surveying the damage.

“Serves you right for being such a tiger,” Heidi said playfully. “Gotta run. Ciao!”

“Stop!” I almost shouted. “When will I see you?”

“Soon!” she said. “Very soon. I’ll call you.”

The door closed behind her with a bang.

I rushed for the bathroom and spent an hour trying to repair the damage. I did the best I could to cover everything. Oh well, I thought. If the lights are low, he’ll never know.

My companion of the evening was a courteous gent in his early fifties (I would judge). I was still in a whirl from the afternoon’s love-making, by far the most extraordinary of my life. This left me with the surety that I had not deceived myself, but that Heidi was as hooked on me as I was on her and my spirits were so elevated, I was, I believe, better ‘company’ that night than I had ever been before. 

And this extended to the bedroom. The men I had been with (there were more than enough for me to collect statistics!) tended to fall into two categories. Some men talked mainly about their wives. An amateur psychologist would probably conclude that these were the ‘guilt-ridden’ ones and their chatter was designed to rationalize to themselves just why it was they were ‘cheating’. The second category comprised men who did not mention their wives at all and said nothing about themselves either. Some of them, however, catgory three, went on for ever about themselves, covering up perhaps an innate inferiority complex, but they did not mention their wives. These, one would surmise, had long since accommodated to the deficiencies of the marriage bed and rationalized to themselves that ‘cheating’ was ok. 

My companion of that evening fell into the first class. So much so, in fact, that he blurted out his entire marital history even before we were ‘properly acquainted’ so to speak. He’d been married three times, it emerged, and his current wife was thirty years younger than he was. All of them were beautiful, he said, and they turned him on. But, he said, he had not succeeded in persuading any of them, not even the latest one, who had been born in an age when sexual promiscuity was the norm rather than the exception, to suck his cock. (He did not exactly use this language, but this is what he meant!). The most recent wife, he solemnly asserted, enjoyed being licked and tongued by him, but would under no circumstances return the compliment. He seemed to find this unfair, possibly with justice, but I could not help but think of Brad, who on rare occasions, would work away at my cunt with his tongue, lips and teeth without having the slightest idea what he was doing nor being the slightest bit sensitive to the effect this was having on me. Turn off or not, I encouraged him to stimulate me orally nevertheless because however inept he was the lubrication his saliva generated eased penetration, when he decided it was time to fuck. 

Such revelations as my companion of the evening had vouchsafed are of course grist to the mill of the true professional, and so it was that I spent the night ministering orally to his cock. And most appreciative he was. I would work him until he was hard, then straddle him so we could ‘69’ and step up the pressure until he came. Three times around and he was still going --- I believe the poor sod had not had sex for months! 

“Heavenly!” he would say. 

Never has ‘work’ seemed so effortless. I was on top of the world. I could suck this man’s cock until kingdom come. 

Fourth time around he was definitely flagging and on the fifth an entire harem probably could not have got him up.

“I’m afraid, my dear,” he said, “there’s no gas left in the tank.”

I smiled at him brightly. 

“Well perhaps,” I said audaciously, “you wouldn’t mind just finishing me off ..?”

What a vixen! I lay back on the bed, legs wide apart and let him lick me and caress me, tongue me, finger me ---- Oh, how I made that man work ---- until pity gained the upper hand and (if I may say as I shouldn’t) I effected one of the best simulated orgasms of my career!

And he was so grateful. How simple it is to please a man!

When he was asleep my hand strayed to my groin and I masturbated myself again to orgasm, this time a real one. And again, the fantasy was no man, but Heidi. And she was no longer fantasy. She was real, and she was mine.

========================

In the morning my companion seemed ready for more action, but his cock just would not do it for him. Try as I would, there was no juice left in him. Rather than have him leave embarrassed, I praised his performance of the night before and begged him to ‘bring me off just one more time’, which he did with alacrity. Honor satisfied, he left, readily accepting my excuse that ‘urgent business’ precluded me from joining him for breakfast. 

I am not sure he left an entirely happy man, but if not, then nothing a woman can do for a man would have made him so. 

My urgent business was, of course, waiting for my cell to ring. 

It didn’t.

I became anxious.

I called Jim on a landline. Did I have any appointments that could not be postponed?

“Well,” Jim’s voice was entirely calm and neutral. He knew nothing! “.. Mr Witherspoon had inquired whether you might be available later on this afternoon…..”

I recalled it was Friday! It had been ages since I had had a Friday session with Cecil, and he would want one now, exactly at the wrong time! But Jim continued, 

“…. Apparently there is someone he would like you to meet.”

I groaned inwardly! But then recovered. It wasn’t Cecil, it was some mongrel of his he wanted to dump on someone for the weekend! I decided enough was enough. Whoever got this one, it was not going to me. 

“Can you put him off. I’m really feeling rather exhausted. Actually, I think I may be coming down with something.”

“I’m sure Mr Witherspoon will understand,” came Jim’s soothing voice down the line.

“Thanks, Jim,” I said. “Have a good weekend.”

“Have one yourself, Ms Sandersen,” came down the line. “And look after yourself.” Try as I would, I just could not get Jim to call me Susan.

Still that damn cell did not ring. Impatient, I called Heidi’s cell. Her answering service responded. 

An hour later I called, with the same result.

Eventually, exhaustion overcame me and, unwillingly, unwittingly, I drifted into sleep on the bed.

I awoke to the trilling of a phone and immediately leapt for my cell. But when I pressed the appropriate button the ringing continued. Still drowsy, it finally dawned on me that the phone that was ringing was my landline. Hastily, I lurched across and grabbed the handset from the cradle. How had Heidi got my landline, was what I was thinking. But the voice on the end of the line was not Heidi’s, it was Jane!

“Hihowaya!”

“Oh, er, is this Jane?”

“Herself. I tried you at the office but they said you were home today.”

“Erm, um Yes! Not feeling entirely 100%,” I said, still half asleep. Inwardly I cursed myself for giving Jane my home (unlisted) number.

“Sounds like Cecil is working you hard.” 

“There’s some company thing going on,” I said woozily. “It’s been a bit too much, all round.”

“Been there, Susan, been there. Hang in. Anyway, I’m just touching base, how you’re doing and all.”

“Doing fine, Jane, just fine….. And, by the way, I’ll never forget how you set this up for me.”

“You see. I had more confidence in you than you had in yourself.”

“Very right, Jane. And I appreciate it, I really do. And if there is every anything I can do to replay you, do let me know, won’t you.”

There was a pause. Something was coming. I was sure of it.

“Well actually”, Jane’s voice changed perceptively, “it’s interesting you should say that!”

Another pause.

I was silent, fearing the worst.

“Listen,” Jane said. Her tone turned businesslike. “Not to beat about the bush, I do need you actually. Right now. This weekend to be precise. In fact tonight and tomorrow night. Can you do it?”

“Oh shit Jane,” I was suddenly awake, “not this weekend, please!”

There was a silence.

“Why not this weekend? Cecil usually leaves weekends free, or has he changed?”

I paused. I had said it, damn my eyes, and Cecil did leave weekends free.

Finally, I said “Jane, I do truly want to replay you, but does it really have to be now, this weekend? It’s really inconvenient.”

A long silence.

“Susan, I would not be asking if I did not need you. But I do. I’ve just been let down by my regular partner -- Tina, remember her? -- for a threesome tonight. I could cancel, but it is someone very, very special. He’s come down to San Diego just to see us. And there’s no-one down here with the class. You are the only person I know who has…..”

I remained silent.

“…. And I have a big event arranged for Saturday that I’m committed to and believe it or not half of my regulars have quit on me. There must be a bug going around. I managed to pull in three, but I need three more urgently for tomorrow, and believe me, I would not be calling you if it were not an emergency. There’s a reputation at stake here. Please believe me, I wouldn’t be calling in the cards like this if I had an alternative. Help me out. Please!”

What should I do. I willed that damn cell to ring. It refused. 

“Jane, can you give me some time?”

“How long?”

“I thought hard. “An hour?”

“An hour max,” she said. “Please believe me I would not ask this of you if I did not need to.”

“I believe you. I’ll do my best. I’ll call you within the hour. That’s a promise.”

I tried Heidi’s cell again, with the same result. In desperation I left a message, appropriately veiled --- who knew? One hour. She had said she would call. Why did she not call?

Fifty-five minutes into the hour she did.

“Where were you? You said you would call!” 

“I’m calling! What’s with?”

Calmed somewhat, I explained. I had an obligation. It would take me out of town. It was something I did not have to do, but that I felt I ought to do. Helping a friend and benefactor.

“No problem,” Heidi said. “Obligations are important. If this is someone who matters to you, you should go.”

“But I want to be with you!” I said, a tone of desperation in my voice. “You matter to me much more!”

“And I want to be with you,” came the reply. “But life is not always the way you want it to be. I will be here when you get back.”

“Are you sure?”

“Do you doubt it?”

“No!”

“Then what’s your problem?”

And therein lay the rub. If I were sure of Heidi, what difference, indeed, did a weekend make? But such is the insecurity that love brings, I was very far from sure. One afternoon of intense passion was not enough. Especially not in California! 

I called Jane on the hour precisely. And two hours later I was on a plane to San Diego. I wish I could say I was sure I had done the right thing. But I was not. I was almost certainly the most reluctant passenger on that plane. 

Jane met me at the airport and after falling all over me with gratitude, she took me straight to the hotel, a discrete, elegant place up the coast in La Jolla. She chatted like a magpie the entire way.

“Pietro’s a sweetie,” she said. “You’ll like him. He’s ‘something’ in the movies, at least I think he is. I used to see him with Tina in LA, but since I’ve moved down here he’s taken to coming down once in a while. Just to see me, fancy! Well, he likes Tina too, and it was all set up, only she called this morning. Came down with something. No-one down here can take her place. Pietro is extra special. I had Tina perfectly trained and we worked very well together…..” 

“…. But I’m sure Pietro will get on with you even better,” she continued. “I had to train Tina, but you’re a natural. You’ll fit in like a glove on a hand. …..”

“…. His real name is Peter, but he is proud of his Italian background and he really likes it when you call him Pietro. I think he’s nouveau riche, but he plays the part of the aristocrat very convincingly. That’s why I can’t just take anybody. Here’s the deal.”

Pietro, she said, liked very long and sensuous sessions. Nothing hasty or hurried, but long, very long. We would start with a dinner, which would be out of this world and last forever. Then around midnight we would go up to his suite and get to work. Pietro liked a fixed routine. Always the same. First he would pour us all drinks and then he would settle down on the couch. Jane would start to fondle him and work on his cock while I did a slow strip. 




Out Of Peoria Ch. 09



“I know you’ve nothing to take off, dear,” Jane said. “Neither do I. Just do it slow, and show him your body.”

Then I was supposed to move to the couch alongside Pietro and slowly open my legs wide, showing him my cunt and gradually edging close until he could finger me.

“It will be slow and gentle. He has a very gentle touch.”

And I would help him now and again with a stray finger, showing him which buttons to press. There would be lots of eye contact. When Jane had him erect….

“Mind you this can take a while. He’s in the prime of life so you don’t expect him to spring to attention!”

… I would mount him, sliding his cock deep into me, and then just sit on it. No pumping, just still.

“You can rock backwards and forwards on him if you like, and squeeze him with your cunt walls, but don’t make any attempt to get him off. He’ll stroke your breasts, but always gently and sensitively.”

While I was sitting on Pietro’s cock, Jane would remove his shoes and trousers and the do a slow strip herself, ending up where I had been, having her cunt fingered.

“Slowly, he will go limp,” Jane continued. “You will feel it slipping away. But don’t react. Just sit, rock to and fro and squeeze. Eventually he will be back where he was when we started and we begin again. I’ll take his cock and bring it back up again. You help him out of his shirt and let him finger you for a bit. Then you take over his cock, and we take turns until he is good and hard again. Then I mount him and sit on him as you did until he’s limp again. And round and round we go.”

Eventually, Pietro would suggest moving to the bedroom, where one of us would face sit…

“Just sit, offer him your cunt, your clit, whatever you feel could do with a lick. No face fucking or grinding."

… while the other either sat on his cock, or sucked and wanked him stiff, whatever the situation called for. 

“You can be a bit more active when you’re sitting on him, but nothing too vigorous. We would take turns until he came. This, she said, would take a long time!

“I know it sounds a bit odd, but it’s quite nice really. It’s quietly erotic. You probably won’t come, knowing you!” -- she gave me a sly glance ---- “but you will feel good, I can guarantee. Tina thought it was ‘kinky’ at first -- you know what a fire-ball she is. But she got used to it and came to like it for a change.” 

At the hotel we headed for the powder room where I changed into my working gear --- a short skirt and a blouse. No knickers, of course. And no bra. 

“It’s especially important with Pietro,” Jane said. He doesn’t like to see marks on your skin, where underwear has been. I thought suddenly of the scratch and bite marks all over me, but it was too late to worry about those now. They were a day old, and I healed fast. Maybe the lights would be low and he wouldn’t notice. 

Pietro met us in the lobby. He was indeed a distinguished gentleman with a shock of well groomed white hair, combed back. And he was every bit as gracious as Jane had led me to believe.

“Ah Jane, my dear,’ he said, raising her hand to his lips, “how wonderful to see you.” It sounded corny, but it fit Pietro perfectly. He had the kind of ‘old world’ charm a man needs to carry that kind of thing off. In a way he was a refined version of Cecil. 

“And who is this delightful lady you’ve brought with you?”

“This is Destiny, Pietro. Beverley was hoping to be here but she had to cancel at the last minute.’ (Beverley, I presumed, was Tina’s trade name.)

“How splendid to make your acquaintance, Destiny,” Pietro said. “You look absolutely ravishing, I must say.”

“I’m sure you two will get on fine,” Jane said.

“Oh I’m quite sure of that. Quite sure. I can see in her eyes she is a lady of great distinction.” There was a twinkle in his eye as he said this, at the same time raising my hand to touch his lips. I almost felt like curtseying!

And the evening evolved exactly as Jane had predicted. Taking us each lightly by the elbow, Pietro led us to the hotel entrance just as a stretch limousine was gliding onto the apron. The driver emerged and opened the door for us to enter. The interior of the limo was tastefully appointed. I came to suspect it had over the years seen its fair share of action!, but not tonight. Everything was very correct, as though we were just going out on a regular date. Pietro offered us drinks and both Jane and I opted for a Chardonnay.

“I think for me,” Pietro pondered, “a Campari on the rocks. I always have to be different!” 

The wine was delicious, the ride as smooth as silk and the restaurant sumptuously elegant, with silent footed waiters and true Italian cuisine. There were no menus. 

“I wonder,” Pietro said, “if perhaps you would perhaps allow me to order?”
“Of course, Pietro,” Jane said. “Who knows about Italian food like you do?”
“Thank you, my dear. A fine compliment, which I accept, though possibly undeservingly. I think I know your likes quite well by now, but Destiny?”

He turned to me as though I was the most important person in his universe,

“…. what are your special favorites? Pasta with sea-food perhaps, calamari, scallopini, soglioli ….”

“I assure you,” he whispered conspiratorially, “they import it daily all the way up from Rosarito!” …. 

“or perhaps carne, vitello…. saltimboca perhaps?” 

Fortunately, I had visited enough restaurants on “Witherspoon business” to know my way around an Italian menu, even without seeing it! 

The meal that followed was supreme, to put it mildly. And of course, it was long! Six courses, each as delectable as the preceding one. But Pietro was the perfect companion. He knew what to say and when to say it, and more important still, what not to say. If you ask me what we talked about I would not be able to give an answer. Pietro was a master of ‘small talk’. Although the meal lasted for ever, the wine flowed free and this and Pietro’s conversation helped me to relax. 

And back at the hotel, on the stroke of midnight, everything went exactly as Jane had predicted. Pietro’s suite was elegant and tasteful, as was, it seemed, everything about him. I followed Jane’s instructions to the letter, obviously to Pietro’s great pleasure. 

“How gorgeous you are, my dear, was his comment as I slowly unwrapped my skirt and slipped out of my shoes. “You have a perfect body, and the grooming….” His eyes finished the sentence admirably!

We serviced Pietro exactly has Jane had instructed, and his responses were exactly what she had predicted. His touch was as gentle as a feather and he sighed his appreciation continuously, but never in a way that seemed false. She was right in saying the experience would be sensual and pleasurable, also that night would be long! When Pietro finally came -- inevitably in me rather than in Jane! --- it was with a long sigh almost of regret. We lay side by side on the bed, Pietro’s arms about our shoulders. Dawn had long since broken and the California morning sun was shafting into the room.

“What a splendid night, my dears. One of the best ever, I have to say. Jane, your friend Destiny is a treasure. Wherever did you find such a Goddess?”

“Yes, Destiny is special isn’t she,” I heard Jane murmur.

Goddess or not, Destiny was feeling rather mortal at that point, and in imminent danger of nodding off! However, it was not to be!

“And just in time for breakfast!” Pietro’s voice broke into my waning consciousness. 

Fortunately, he meant breakfast, not ‘breakfast’, which many of my “Witherspoon companions” would have meant! There were mild protests. Surely, after such a night, Jane said, Pietro must be tired and need to rest.

“No, my dears, you have both been absolutely wonderful and you shall have a proper breakfast. I insist. I’ve asked especially for bliny’s with fresh blueberry sauce. You’ll love them. And the grapefruit juice will be fresh squeezed at the table. I’ve seen to it.”

And so we lingered over bliny’s with fresh blueberry sauce, drank our fill of the freshest of freshly squeezed grapefruit juice and, heaven oh heaven, real Blue Mountain coffee! Everything with Pietro was perfect and unhurried. Life was to be enjoyed to the full, every moment treasured. 

When finally we got to leave --- Pietro insisted on shepherding us to the car --- I breathed a long sigh of relief.

“Quite a character isn’t he,” Jane said.

“Quite,” I replied weakly. “He is indeed. But if I don’t get horizontal soon … ”

“There’s a quiet room at my place,” Jane said. “You’ll be undisturbed. You’ll need your stamina for tonight!”

Those were the last words I registered before drifting into sleep beside her in the car. Jane woke me when we reached her place, and I wondered initially where I was. Immediately I thought of Heidi and how wonderful it would be to call and hear her voice. Such was my state of exhaustion, though, once I had thrown off my clothes and fallen onto the bed in Jane’s dark shaded room, I lapsed immediately into sleep. My cell fell onto the bed beside me. 

==================



Out of Peoria Ch. 10



Out of Peoria: A Story of Innocence lost.

Chapter 10: An obligation fulfilled.

“Here’s the deal”

Jane, all business, was addressing the twelve girls assembled in her spacious apartment in the downtown San Diego area. Of these, I recognized only one, Lynda --- we had said “Hihowaya, well fancy meeting you here!”. She looked as gorgeous as ever, even clothed! Guiltily I felt desire. “Let’s get together,” Lynda had said. “Later.” I demurred, but did not say No! The remainder of the girls I did not recognize. Jane had assembled them from wherever she could. Some were clearly professionals, others looked more like regular hookers. They were all pretty with lithe bodies, but not in the same class as the group Jane had assembled for the “Latex session” I had taken part in upstairs at her house in LA. And it seemed she had signed up 24 guys, so with 12 girls, the ratio was opposite from the norm in LA. Could it be that Jane’s “opportunity she could not refuse” had not materialized, at least not in the way she had expected?

“The guys are all from out of town, from the East Coast mostly” Jane continued. “They’re in town for conventions, company meetings, whatever. They are all professionals and they have to be well heeled to get in here, or even know about this place. So there will be no trouble. The only thing our Guests know is what they signed up for, which is an ‘Evening at Jane’s’. Of course it is generally known on the convention circuit and in vague terms what this means, but the nature of the evening has not been specified for them, unless perhaps by word of mouth. But then, I change the format from time to time, so what they expect may not be what they get. You can rest assured, however, that they will all be fully satisfied. That’s your job, and you are all professionals. We work together, as a team. There are no ‘prima donnas’ here. We work for each other and we get our fair share of the take. Understood!?”

This apparently was. Jane continued,

“Since many of you are here for the first time --- and a million thanks to those of you from out of town --- I’ll just run through the rules of the evening’s game. It’s based on ‘strip poker’ and the reason for this is that, as far as I’m aware, the Guests are all first timers -- at “Jane’s”, I mean. I keep careful records and none of the ID’s --- you have to have a ‘Club ID’ to get in here --- are on the list. Getting an ID is not easy, or cheap!, and I have an elaborate system of security to ensure that no-one gets in who has not been fully cleared. To put it bluntly, there will no riff-raff, and no undercover cops. ”

“For those of you who do not know this, ‘out of town’ guys at conventions are usually quite naïve. Many of them are beginners. This is an adventure, for some, possibly their first experience with “illicit sex”. They are professional people, but we cannot expect them all to be sophisticated, and especially not as regards sex. So we have to help them, and take the lead. ‘Strip poker’ is a concept that they are certainly familiar with and have fantasized about. By starting off this way we not only help them feel at ease, we also delay the onset of real ‘work’. Champagne will be flowing, and inhibitions will be lowered when it comes to the crunch.”

With this introduction, Jane took us upstairs to the ‘Conference Room’, which had some of the attributes of ‘upstairs’ in LA, without having quite the same class. The arrangement was almost like a lecture theater, with concentric rings of chairs in two sectors, each raised from a podium by a few feet. The walls were angled so that the focus of the room was the podium on which, centrally placed, was a plinth I recognized well! The ‘Guests’ would sit in numbered seats behind desks for all the world like students at a college, were it not for the champagne buckets already in place, one within easy reach of every Guest. The champagne would be top quality, it was ‘on the house’, and it would be replenished frequently. So we could rely on considerable consumption! Access to the podium was via three aisles, one along each wall and one down the center. The room was quite small with a low ceiling having something of the character of a conical ‘amphitheater’. The walls were hung with pictures of nude girls in various stages of undress, but nothing overtly sexual. Erotic the pictures were, but none portrayed explicit sex. 

The rules were simple and complex at the same time. The girls, pre-prepared with appropriate clothing comprising shoes, skirt, panties and blouse, would sit on chairs spaced evenly at the foot of the podium and facing the ‘audience’ On the podium was a tall table and a high stool for the ‘Mistress of Ceremonies’ --- Jane would no doubt be in her element. On the table was a gong, a large deck of playing cards, an urn containing 24 numbered ping-pong balls, and an ‘hour glass’, which was set to run through in five minutes. There was also a large, square wooden box, the reason for which will either be obvious or will become apparent. 

The game would begin with the sound of the gong, whereupon Jane would descend from the podium and proffer the card deck to each girl in turn, who would draw a card. Once all the girls had their cards, they would turn them face outwards to the audience. The girl with the card having the lowest value was required to step to the podium, facing the audience and Jane would draw a ping-pong ball from the urn, and invite the Guest having that seat number to come up to the podium and remove the girl’s blouse. This would cost him $5, which Jane would collect and which would disappear into the wooden box. Once her blouse was off, the girl paraded up and down the podium displaying her breasts, and then return to her seat while the guest returned to his. The cards would be shuffled and re-distributed and the girl drawing the lowest card would mount the podium. If her blouse was already gone, the Guest whose seat number was drawn would be invited to remove her skirt. This would cost him $10. Similarly, if a girl had lost her blouse and skirt, the Guest would be invited to remove her panties, naturally this time for $20. Shoes did not count. These stayed on. So a girl who had her panties removed was declared naked.

I recall thinking to myself what a far cry this was from the elegant session in LA. $35 times twelve made up $420! Assuming a cover charge of at least $100, a full strip of twelve girls could net us $2820, about $200 per girl, once Jane had taken a double cut for the house. How could this compare with the $5000 I had netted from my participation in LA? I was soon to find out. 

If a naked girl drew the lowest card, she was required to mount the podium, and sitting up on the plinth spread her legs wide, revealing her cunt and playing with it gently. This was when the fun began. The Mistress would then conduct an auction, minimum bid $20, raises in units of $5. The auction won the Guest who bid highest the right to lick that cunt for the five minutes it took the sand to traverse from one half of the ‘hour glass’ to the other. Once the gong sounded the round was over. The Guest returned to his place and a yellow garland was placed around the girl’s neck, indicating that she had had her cunt licked. 

If a ‘yellow girl’ drew the lowest card she was required to mount the podium and a new auction took place, this time with a minimum of $30, the winner gaining the right to have his cock sucked by the girl. Once this operation was completed, the girl’s yellow garland was replaced by a blue one. 

“Sometimes a Guest will come right away,” Jane said. “If he comes in your mouth, you must drain him, taking all his come in your mouth, show this to the audience and then either swallow it or let it dribble down your chin and over your neck and breasts. I know some of you may not like to do this, but this is the rule. You just have to go through with it. Some Guests will prefer to withdraw at the last minute and spray you. Again, it’s his choice. Shut your eyes and let the cum fall where it may.” 

And then, Jane said, the fun began in earnest. If a ‘blue’ girl drew the lowest card, the auction began at $50 and the winner had the right to fuck the girl’s cunt.

“They have the option of two positions. One has you lying on your back on the plinth with the guest standing. The other has you leaning over the plinth with your tits pressed to the surface and your legs spread, and the Guest taking you from behind. His choice, not yours. Sometimes the Guest will come during the five minutes and if he does you should hold his come inside you until you are back in your chair, and then let it ooze out so everyone can see. And by the way, when you are seated you should of course play with your nipples and your cunts as you wish. Let the Guests see you are sexually aroused. The more ‘aroused’ you appear to be the higher will go the pollen count in the room! The higher the pollen count, the higher the bidding will go. You’ll see how it works. ” 

A girl who had been fucked received a red garland and if a ‘red’ girl drew the lowest card then the auction started at $75 and the highest bidder could choose from a number of options. 

“He can fuck you in any position of his choosing, including female superior. Or he can have you suck him, or he can lick you, or he can ask for a ‘69’. Some of the Guests may ask for an ass-fuck, but this is off limits. I know some of you do this, but some of you do not and we want the same rules for all. So ass-fucking is not on the menu. Same goes for tit-fucking. Some of you have great tits for fucking, others not. Same rules for all. No tit fucking.”

A red girl stayed ‘red’ and the rules did not change until all the girls were ‘red’. At this point, two girls, those who drew the two lowest value cards, would mount the podium and the auction winner could either choose one of the girls and one of the previous options, or he could ask for a two-girl suck, or could lie on his back on the podium and have one girl sit on his cock, the other on his face. This was the high point of the ‘game’ and it continued until time ran out.

“We start at 9pm and finish at 3am. Guests are free to leave at any time, but must pay a fine of $200 if they do. Not many will choose this option, believe me, but you do get the occasional one for whom it gets to be too much. Usually they have run out of money and can’t bear the sight of other guys getting laid when they can’t. Needless to say, the Guests will have well-stocked wallets.” 

Jane paused in thought. “What have I forgotten? Ah Yes! Now just to reiterate, if a Guest comes on you rather than in you, just let it drip where it will, and then spread it around you so your bodies glisten. And above all else, remember the golden rule. All Guests are sexy, gorgeous and turn you on like hell. Whatever they do, you adore it. The ‘take’ will depend on your ability to make these guys cast caution to the winds and empty their wallets. It’s a bit like gambling. Most of the Guests will have a ‘limit’ in their minds, but all of them will have at least twice this amount in their wallets. Our goal is 24 empty wallets. No more, no less.” 

To say that I was less than enamoured of the ‘rules’, which appeared to me to be degrading, would be the understatement of the year! I caught Jane later while we were changing into our outfits.

“This is a far cry from your place in LA,” I said to her in a neutral tone, not wishing to offend, but truly inquisitive as to why. 

“I do agree, Susan,” Jane sighed. “But the competition up there was getting serious. It was getting to the point that unless S&M was on the agenda the fat cats were not interested. You were lucky to leave when you did. I had to start including whippings, cunt torture, C&BT, all kinds of things, and that is not my scene. The only alternative was to move down-market, more guys, less money per guy. That’s not so easy to do in LA, and it’s very risky. You get all sorts of crazy people in LA. But San Diego is a convention city. It’s set up to accommodate companies and organizations to hold meetings. So at any one time there are a lot of guys in town. And most of them are married and this is their chance of the year to get real sex! They are not ‘fat cats’, but you’d be surprised what they are prepared to pay for what they want. So provided you get the numbers right, the net take for a girl tonight will be about the same as we got up in LA. You’ll see.” 

She paused. “I’m sure you think this kind of event is degrading, and I won’t ask you to do it again. But you may find it is not as bad as you think. We are in complete control. You have to fuck a lot of guys and I’m sure sitting playing with your cunt while cum crystallizes on your tits is not going to turn you on, though, surprisingly it does turn some girls on. Usually I have no trouble getting twelve delectables together who actually get off on this kind of thing. Exhibitionists, you know. But I was really in trouble tonight and I really have to thank you again for helping me out.”

“For you, only, Jane,” I said. “I would not do this for anyone else.”

“I know,” Jane said, patting me gently on the shoulder. “And I thank you for it.”

This conversation calmed me somewhat, though my reservations remained. But as the event proceeded and the bidding began I saw her point. From a business point of view the agenda was conducive to a high ‘take’, of which my share at the end of proceedings actually exceeded my ‘take’ for the LA event. Jane was not just a pretty face. She knew how to convert ‘assets’ into money, and I remember thinking that Witherspoon Investments could well have used her talents, and not as a courtesan!

There was a price to pay for the move down-market, however. While I had enjoyed the LA event unashamedly and been truly sexually aroused, this one was work, pure and simple. I learned that night what it means to be a whore. And this, still, was a far cry from the brothels and ‘the street’.

On the point of nine, we entered the auditorium, which now took on a wholly new appearance. The lighting was directed solely at the podium so that although the Guests could see us very clearly, they were cast in shadow. It was like being on stage. The lights shone on you and the audience was in silhouette. For this I was grateful. Candles were placed strategically about the room and their scent created that musky tinge to the air that I remembered from LA. 

Jane was dressed in her black outfit, fishnet stockings, tight panties and a top that highlighted her breasts and nipples and left her midriff exposed, but covered her almost up to the neck band. A severe look. But as I saw those legs that truly went ‘all the way to the ground’, I could not help but remember our sessions together in the commune. She it had been who had introduced me to lesbian sex. I remembered the thrill with which I had licked her cunt and clit, and my pleasure on noting her response. It entered my mind that given time I could perhaps have fallen in love with Jane. In many respects she did resemble Heidi….. I thought of Heidi and felt ashamed. Yet she had said she had ‘been everywhere’ and to ‘Go for it!’ and thus comforted I put her out of my mind. I had a job to do, and while I was not looking forward to it, professional as I now was, I would do it to the best of my ability.

Jane first addressed the Guests, explaining the format. When she was done, we entered individually with Jane calling out the introductions. To my surprise, each girl’s entry was accompanied by polite applause. There were no cat-calls or whistles. Just polite applause. I, of course, was Destiny. I had drawn the last place in the line, which pleased me because I was sure the central positions would receive the most attention. At the end of the line, an occasional lapse, a hint perhaps of distaste, might go unobserved.

The ‘event’ began. As expected, Jane was her authoritative self. She was the Mistress of Ceremonies, and woe betide whomsoever may be the subject of her displeasure. Nevertheless, I could not fail to notice the two heavy set gentlemen at the back of the room. That Jane would hire ‘bouncers’? --- I was appalled! 

When I asked Jane about this later she told me that they served a triple function. Occasionally, at this level of the market a drunk Guest could get violent. It had happened. But in addition, these were professionals in contact with the outside. 

“The vice squad down here,” Jane said, “is so very unpredictable. They leave you alone for ever and a day, but one day they pounce.” The ‘bouncers’ second function was to sound a warning giving us time to cover up. 

“They can’t stop you just doing a strip show,” Jane said. “That’s not illegal. But they know, of course, that much more than that goes on here. Some club owners use bribes, but I don’t. There’s no cop ever got his dick wet for free here. That’s why we need protection. They raided us once, but by the time they got in here all that was going on was a ‘swim suit’ show. Nothing they could do about this. By now they are savvy and they go after less professional joints.” 

The bouncer’s third function, was to refresh the champagne buckets whenever necessary. This they did often, but always one at a time. I recall thinking that having champagne provided by ‘heavies’ was an artful way of reminding the Guests of their place! When it came to ‘business’, Jane took care of all angles.

To my great relief, I was lucky with the cards, though Lynda was not. She was the first to blue and first to red, and she had been fucked six times before I gained my own red garland. 

Somewhat to my surprise, the first Guest to fuck me, a middle-aged man with a moderate paunch, bid higher for me than any other previous fuck had drawn. I tried to think of this as a compliment! He pumped away and timed it perfectly, coming hard into me just as the gong sounded. He squeezed the last juices from his cock into me, and I held his come inside me, allowing this to drip out drop by drop only after regaining my seat. I spread my legs wide, and sat well back in the seat so the Guests could see each drop emerge from my cunt. I spread the cum slowly and absently around my vaginal lips and my pussy, and transferred some to my nipples, finding to my surprise that they stiffened up remarkably.

Quite a sight I must have presented --- at least the next time I was ‘up’ I drew twice as much at the auction as the previous highest bid. This Guest was younger and he choose to fuck me doggy style. I laid my head on the plinth and responded to his thrusts with muted grunts, quite different from the “Oh Ah Oh Ah Oh Ah Oh Ah Oh!” cries most of the girls seemed to favor. I was Destiny, and though I simulated ‘arousal’, it would be a challenge to get me off --- well, that was my strategy and I think it worked well for me. My second fuck also ended in a cunt full, and I played with this exactly as I had the first, maintaining a sense of self absorption, appearing to enjoy spreading the sticky stuff about my vulva and my breasts.

On and on went the game and as it evolved, the initial inhibitions of the Guests melted away. My eyes had grown accustomed to the shadows and I could see that every man jack, oblivious to his neighbors, was jerking off virtually continually. And I had to admit, knowing men as I did, that Jane’s way of constructing the evening was very artful.

Eventually we were all red and soon after I was up for a twosome.

“Caroline and Destiny,” Jane called out as we ascended the step onto the podium. 

“The bidding starts.”

This auction lasted quite a while, and again, drew the highest bid up to that point. The lucky winner elected to have me ride him, while Caroline face fucked him. His cock was large and fully erect, and as I rode him gently up and down I knew instinctively that this was not the last time I would service this particular cock. He was ‘turned on’ by me. This was obvious. As I rode him I joined eyes with Caroline, enjoying her nubile body, her tight stomach and her pert breasts with prominent nipples. A pretty sight we must have presented to the audience! We made a perfect match, both favoring the ‘muted but appreciative’ tactic, rather than the ‘Oh Hell you are driving me wild’ approach which was the more usual. I found this not only tacky, but far too artificial to be convincing. However, it takes all sorts and I suppose some of the Guests genuinely believed that they were fucking this or that girl to ecstasy, even as it was as obvious as that night is not day that she was simulating. My own simulation ---- I gained little sexual pleasure from this event --- was to register moderate but not excessive enjoyment, to remain a challenge. “Which of you,” I wanted to convey to the assembled Guests, “is man enough to really get me going?”




Out of Peoria Ch. 10



Next time I was up, this time with Tiffany, a very pretty brunette with large breasts, guess who won the auction. Right first time! But it cost him dear! I rode him again, this time with a little more energy and with a somewhat higher level of response. Tiffany was of the “Oh Ah Oh Ah Oh Ah Oh!” brigade, but in the duo she seemed to latch on more to my strategy and muted her responses to the oral stimulation she was receiving. She fondled her breasts, which though large, seemed unenhanced. Normally, large breasts did not attract me but I had to admit that Tiffanies were firm, well formed and quite arousing. What little pleasure I did gain that evening was, I realized, entirely due to the sight of female bodies in action. The duos were fine. These I actually enjoyed.

Again, the Guest survived, and also the next time, when my partner was Lynda. We were now approaching the end of the proceedings and Lynda’s body was thickly coated with dried and drying semen. It was all over her! This time I worked my Guest harder, rising up until his penis almost left my cunt, then pounding down on him harder and harder. This guy obviously had deep pockets. He had outbid the field twice now, and both were successively the highest bids of the evening. I was his chosen one, and so he deserved to come. But yet again, although I was now actively trying to make him come and trying to signal to him by my actions that I myself was close, he survived the onslaught and left the podium sprouting a penis proudly erect and still glistening in the lights from my juices. It was as though he were playing the same game with me that I was playing with him, challenging me to make him come! 

But he pushed his luck too far. Six rounds in a row I failed to draw either of the lowest cards, and as the clock approached 3am, he bid on another duo, this time Electra and Sultana, a slight girl of mixed race with small tits, but a fearsome action. She it was who received his seed. His body arched and his semen spewed up into her, seemingly in pints. But I knew that, though he came in her, he was not thinking of Sultana, but of me.

As luck would have it, I was next up, again with Tiffany, and this Guest wanted a double suck. And he got one, in spades! Just as the gong sounded he exploded, withdrawing from Tiffanies mouth to spray semen all over our breasts. The pair of us were covered in it and I felt the stickiness ease its way between the cleft and down to my stomach.

As the clock ticked down the bids went up. The final duo of the night brought the highest bid of all, $1000, and it was Sultana’s privilege to finish off on a high note by fucking her Guest like a dervish until he also pumped his seed inside her, gush after gush. You could sense them by the reverberations of his body. And you could sense also that half the room came along with him! God knows how much semen was released that evening, but if I am any judge, the amount expended ‘on stage’ was by far the lesser part!

And so the ‘event’ ended, we girls filed out in orderly fashion, and then raced for the showers! The water soothed me. I let it flow over me, cherishing it’s warmth. I took a floating shower head to my cunt, and fingered myself deep inside, expunging every trace of semen. And when I was done, I sat on the edge of the tub re-shaving my cunt and coating it with soothing oil. I did not really feel violated -- Jane was right. The forum was sufficiently professional that the ‘degrading’ aspect I had feared really did not come to the fore. We were not degraded, I felt. We had been performing. We were less whores than actresses. You can act with your mouth, or with your cunt. They are both orifices in your body.

When I was finally done in the shower, my vulva again pristine and ready, most of the girls had already left. Lynda had hung back, but I declined politely her invitation to her hotel room. She just shrugged and we parted with a kiss. She it was who had awakened conscious thoughts in me that I was a lesbian and I was undoubtedly attracted to her. But however attractive Lynda’s torso was, I had moved on. I was in love. And a woman in love is not for having, not by any other.

Soon, Jane and I were alone.

“I want to thank you again, Susan. That was a truly magnificent performance.”

“Thank you,” I said. 

“ You have come a long way. You seem to have perfected the art of simulation. Quite a talent.”

“Thank you,” I said again, simply.

Jane indicated discrete interest in ‘playing’, but she picked up my response instantly. Without words exchanged this issue was resolved once and for all. Instead, we sat and chatted and sipped on a startlingly good Chardonnay, perfectly chilled. I had an hour to kill before heading for the airport and this was as pleasant a way of spending it as I could have wished for. Jane was a very nice and sophisticated lady and I was honored to be her friend. But she was no longer my mentor, or guide. We chatted now as equals. 

But at the forefront of my mind was Heidi. The weekend was not over. A full Sunday lay ahead. Heidi would be waiting. Of this I was quite sure.

“Any time you’re in need of cash,” Jane said as she opened the cab door for me. “You know where to come.”

“Thanks, but no thanks, Jane,” was my response. “You were a very important person in my life and you have helped me greatly in my life. I will always remember you very fondly and will always remember what you have done for me. But now we are quits, right?”

“Right!” Jane said. “But also friends.”

“Definitely,” I said. 

“And one thing I have learned in this life is the wisdom of ‘Never say never!’ ”

We parted with a gentle kiss.

I returned gratefully on the earliest flight to LA, in eager anticipation, but also anxious. I had not dared to call Heidi so early on a Sunday morning. I did not know her habits. But as soon as we touched down, I made the call.

“It’s me!” 

“You think I don’t now that!”

“When can we meet?”

“Where are you?”

“At LAX.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“Your address, dumbo! Where the hell are you at! I want you now! I need you now!!”

===========



Out Of Peoria Ch. 12



Out of Peoria: A Story of Innocence lost.

Chapter 12: Swinging both ways.

Heidi also found it hard to believe. Later I wondered why I had not just deep-sixed the whole bundle and forgot about it. But I didn’t and now it was too late.

“How many do you have?” she asked.

“At least seven. Three with this girl and four with a bunch of even younger looking girls around a pool. “PoolTeenScene 29, 31, 34 and 39. ”

“Lemme see them.”

“All of them!?”

“Well, start with the first and see how we go.” 

I was into it now, so what was there to do. I ran the first SpycamTeen video …. A standard scene starting with blow job, moving to 69, then to on top and a ‘hard fuck’ finale with him on top and coming all over her.

“The others are just the same.”

“Probably from the same take. They use every inch of footage multiple times,” Heidi said, laconically. “Nice body. Nice cock, don’t you think.”

“Really? I was too busy looking at the girl. What a body!”

“Indeed!” Heidi goosed me playfully!

We viewed some parts of the PoolTeenScene videos and there was no doubt it was the same guy. One scene showed him lying splayed out on a lounger by a pool being fucked on-top by a nubile dark-skinned girl with neat, round tits and strong thighs. She worked the hell out of him and eventually got him off. But what a struggle!

“Are you sure this is the guy you think it is?”

“Absolutely!” I said. “I can scarcely believe it, but if it isn’t Ron it’s his double!”

“Holy shit,” the video was still running, ‘that’s quite a cock he’s got,” Heidi was murmuring to herself.

“Heidi, what shall I do? I just don’t know. I mean, he’s my report. I’m responsible for him. We can’t have Witherspoon employees being touted around in porn movies, available to every Tom, Dick and Harry in porn shops all over the country. Think of what would happen if it came out!”

Heidi was silent.

“Heidi, I have to tell Cecil. The guy has to get fired. This can’t be allowed.”

Again a slight pause, then,

“Let’s not be hasty, my dear. Hey, what is it you do for the company after all!”

I bristled with indignation. 

“I do not go around displaying myself on celluloid,” I said indignantly. “And whatever I do has official company backing – well, semi-official.” 

“True, true, my dear, don’t get heated. I’m not trying to be offensive.”

“But let’s think about this for a moment,” she continued. “Who is this guy?”

“Just a grunt accountant. A zero. I’ve hardly noticed him all the time I’ve been at Witherspoon. I’ve talked to him three times in three years --- you know Jim does all that stuff.”

“Well whaddyaknow. Susie my love, I think we found ourselves a playmate!” 

“What, you mean Ron!?”
“Precisely, my dear. I mean Ron. Look at him. Whatever editing they may have done, that’s quite a performance. They don’t take amateurs who can’t perform. This is a guy with stamina.”

I was utterly horrified. “You mean…!?”

“Precisely. We talked about missing a cock. Now we got one. And on our terms!”

Nothing I could say would sway Heidi. She was quite adamant. 

“Listen,” she said. “Life is to be lived. This guy has got what it takes. What can be wrong with having a little fun with him?”

“Heidi! He’s my report!” I said indignantly.

“Oh sure,” was Heidi’s response. And I at least had the grace to blush! 

“Come on, Susan, where’s your joie de vivre. Let’s give it a go. What have we got to lose?”

“But what if he doesn’t go for it? What if he goes to Cecil?”

“Pah! Before he gets to Cecil hell will have frozen over. Anyway what is he going to say? We have the videos, and as far as anything else is concerned, it’s your word against his. Who has the greater value for the company?….”

“..Besides which,” she continued, “why should he complain. We are offering free sex until it comes out of his ears with the two most gorgeous women on the planet!” 

I did have to admit she had a point there.

“Shit, if Cecil can spend his time being serviced by three teenagers in a beach house in Malibu then why are we not entitled to our bit of fun with one of his subjects, even if he does happen to be one of your reports? Let’s take him out for a day’s boating and see how things evolve.”

The reference to Cecil did it for me finally. Not that I was particularly attracted to Ron, but Heidi wanted it, and as I thought about it, it did after all kill a bird or two with one stone!

And so it was that I had ‘a word’ with Ron. He was the subservient person I remembered. I invited him to my apartment, played a segment of the video and he came clean immediately. Yes, that was indeed he, but he had been tricked. He had not known. Evil women had led him astray and taken film of him without his consent.

Tricked indeed, I thought. With seven features involving “Heartknob” (By now I had read the box!), you could tell that to the marines! 

But I was nice with him. I just told him what he had to do and he noted it down and left my apartment meekly enough. 

So Heidi got her wish, though my wish was that if this was to be a pattern, next time around I would be sure we got a less wet fish! 

How wrong can you be about a person you do not really know?

I found out on the boat. Ron appeared exactly on time and, unleashed from the shackles of Witherspoon Investments, and his clothes!, turned out to be an interesting human being after all. He was intelligent, and even witty, and his performance --- well that was truly Alex-esque! He was everything that Heidi had suspected he would be and his cock remained stiff for hours and serviced both of us even if we did get off mainly by eye contact with each other. The high point for me was a final fuck with me on top and Heidi friggin’ herself like mad. The sight of her, so close, but nevertheless holding back, brought me to orgasm even before the man beneath me had shot his load. A novum indeed! And if that was not enough, when I climbed off, thoroughly fucked and totally exhausted, Heidi climbed on and fucked the guy to Kingdom Come, which eventually he did, and Heidi got off at the same time. What a scene that would have made in a video, I thought to myself!

When we got back to her villa Heidi and I fell on each other and needed no ‘toys’ at all to come to orgasm again and again. Such was our arousal at the threesome on the boat. When we were spent, we drank a deep toast to Ron. 

So Ron turned out to have a lot more to him than any reasonable person who had associated with him on a casual basis had any right to expect and in the ensuing months, we did many threesomes with him up at Heidi’s villa. Each time he lived up to all expectations and beyond. Heidi and I enjoyed him immensely and we enjoyed each other through him. 

While we were relaxing after love-making Heidi said to me one day. “I was so happy to see that you swing both ways, just like I do.”

“What do you mean?” I responded indignantly.

“Come now dear,” she said, a trace of impatience in her voice. “Don’t tell me you don’t enjoy fucking Ron. It’s written all over your face.”

I think I blushed.

“But it’s only because you are there,” I said. “The kick is your reaction, not his. That’s what gets me off.”

“Hmm! That’s as maybe. But let’s not quarrel about it. I, certainly, enjoy Ron’s cock. And I enjoy it immensely when he finally gets off and shoots his load deep inside me. Don’t tell me it isn’t the same for you.”

“Would you enjoy it just as much as if I were not there?” I asked, persisting.

“Probably not,” she said. “A threesome is a threesome. All parties are involved.”

I thought about this long and hard.

“You know what, Heidi, I think you are missing the club.”

“No dear,” Heidi replied. “You have missed noticing that I go to the club every day I am not with you!”

And that left me with much food for thought. I lay awake, turning and twisting things in my mind. The revelation that Heidi had not in any sense been ‘faithful’, but was effectively ‘having her cake and eating it too’, disturbed me deeply. She had said,

“Well you have your clients. You are screwing them and sucking them every day. What do you expect? Should I wait until you are ‘available’?”

“That’s a completely different thing, Heidi, and you know it. That’s work. I admit it’s sometimes enjoyable, but it is also sometimes repugnant.”

“So what do you want,” Heidi replied, “Monogamy?”

“Honesty!” was my immediate reply.

“So I’ll be honest then. The only thing I ever hid from you was visiting the club. I tried to get you to come with me, but it was not your thing. So what am I to do? Give up the club? Be ‘mistress’ to you, frigging myself off waiting for you to appear, whenever you have the time and inclination? ”

“That’s never how it was!” I had said angrily. “How can you say that? I’m in love with you. And I thought you were in love with me.”

“What’s ‘in love’?” Heidi had replied. “Sure, I am emotionally attached to you. You matter to me more than anyone on earth. This does not mean there is no-one else on earth.”

“But….sex…!” I stammered.

“Sex is sex. Love is love. What you do for Cecil is sex, it has nothing to do with love. What I do at the club is sex. It has nothing to do with love.” 

My mind was a jumble of emotions. I enjoyed sex with Heidi. And I was in love with her. That was for sure. I also enjoyed fucking Ron – in fact more and more every time we fucked. This was also sure. Was I in love with Ron? No! That also was for sure. So what did fucking someone have to do with being in love with them? 

A very confused young lady labored into sleep that night. Very confused indeed!

As it turned out, matters resolved themselves for me in an unexpected manner, though one a reasonable person could reasonably have expected! What happened was, Ron fell in love with me. Well at least he said so, repeatedly and persistently, and I have no reason to doubt it. Nice person though he was, he came to be an annoyance.

“What am I to do?” I asked Heidi. 

“What do you want?” she replied.

“I want you.”

“Well you have me. There, aren’t you lucky. You have what you want.”

“But Heidi, you are not being helpful. I’ve got a problem here. It’s fucking serious!”

I did not often use ‘f-words’ words in conversation so Heidi got the point fast.

“Just tell him to piss off!” she said, unhelpfully.

“Oh sure! A guy two doors down from me at the office, who knows where I live, who pesters me every day! Get serious. He thinks that because I enjoy screwing him I’m in love with him! I mean, you can’t blame the guy for this. It’s not an abnormal reaction.”

“Be honest, Susan,” Heidi said. “Do you not have feelings for this guy? I’ve watched you often enough and you seemed to me to get off with him quite effectively!”

“Sex is sex, and love is love,” I replied testily. “Those are your words. Anyway, you get off with Ron just as well as I do, and a lot more often! And you’re not in love with him, are you?”
“That’s because I get my kicks from orgasms, Susan, as you know. You get yours otherwise. And Ron is one of the few men you will ever meet who has the stamina to satisfy you.”

“Oh come on, Heidi,” I said, impatiently. “This may be so. But I am definitely not in love with him, nor ever could be. He is not for me. You are. You know that.”

“There’s knowing and knowing,” was Heidi’s considered response.

And that was the first time it had ever occurred to me that Heidi may doubt my love for her, even as I had once doubted her love for me.

There was a long pause.

“Ok. I read you,” I said. “How can I convince you?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about it,” Heidi said, “ and -- now this is tentative, I have not thought it through….”

“Go on!” I said impatiently.

“Well, assuming we are pulling on the same string, which I do, you have a problem getting Ron off your back, and both of us have a score or two to settle with Cecil. Wouldn’t it nice if we could kill two birds with one stone?”

I listened attentively.

It was three days before I could get to see Cecil. He was ‘out of town’, whatever that meant. Eventually the Ogre let me into his office and there he was, sitting behind his desk as ever, cool, calm and elegant.

“Susan dear,” he said. “It’s been ages. Where have you been?”

“I’ve been around, Cecil. Maybe you did not notice?”

“Ah, my dear, it’s been a very busy time. I’m so sorry if I have appeared to be inattentive.”

“Not at all Cecil. But as you once said to me, I believe, lets not beat about the bush.”

“Ah!” Cecil said, still politely. “I believe I may well have said that. Yes!”

“Well not to beat about the bush, I would like to suggest that my value to the company is not commensurate with my remuneration.”
“Indeed!” Cecil responded. “Well, my dear, thank you for being upfront about this, and by all means let’s discuss a – shall we say, substantial increase in your bonus?”

“Thank you for that thought Cecil, but we need to go a little further than that. Let me tell you how I see it. As my records show…” I pretended to consult the file I had brought with me “… I am currently ‘seeing’ on a reasonably regular basis 55 key connections of Whitherspoon Investments, and in addition 9 ‘Special Clients’ -- these are the ones who make social visits to my apartment, you understand.”

Cecil looked a trifle perturbed. Where was I going? But he said, quite calmly, 

“If you say so, my dear. I have no reason to doubt your records are accurate.”

“So if I were to, shall we say, withdraw my ‘social services’ from Witherspoon, this might have a considerable knock-on consequence for the financial well-being of the company?”

For once Cecil was halted in his tracks. 

“I have the figures here, if you would care to look….”
“Er No! My dear, I’m sure the figures will be accurate.”
“Oh they are, Cecil, they are. And if I may be so bold, I was surprised myself at the magnitude of the investment increases that have occurred since I joined the company.”

“Indeed, er-hem Yes! This has not gone unnoticed. Let me suggest…..”

“No!” I interrupted, imperiously, “let me suggest!”

Cecil was all eyes.

“Here is what I would like to see. First, I am not happy in my current dwelling. It is too small and the address is inappropriate. Also, it does not belong to me, but to the company. I would like the company to buy an abode for me. The abode will of course belong not to the company, as my present apartment does, but will be in my name. I will own it, unencumbered. I have found the perfect place and you will find all the details on this sheet.” 

I handed the sheet to him solemnly across the desk.

Cecil donned his spectacles and scrutinized the document carefully. The sheet comprised all the financial details and the bottom line included a number with many zeros!

Slowly, he looked up at me and started out,

“My dear, I would be only too happy to oblige, but…..”

Again I interrupted. 

“There’s more Cecil. It’s an overall package. My second requirement is that the company grant me six months leave of absence. On full pay and benefits, of course. I have taken virtually no vacation since I have been with the company. That’s about five years, so I am sure you will agree this requirement is entirely commensurate with the past service I have performed for the company.”

“Susan, my dear, what you are asking…..”
“Of course”, I interrupted, “during my leave of absence I would still be available, at my discretion of course, but with due account taken of corporate goals, for ‘social duties’. Bonuses, naturally, would be due, and I thank you for your suggestion that these should be doubled. This will be adequate. But only for those customers of Witherspoon whom I have seen before. New clients of the company I would be able to see during my leave only following negotiation on a case by case basis, with an honorarium based of course solely on the value of my time and the value of my services to the company. But nevertheless, significantly in increase of the bonuses I receive for entertaining ‘current customers’. Can we agree on no less than four times the current rate?”

Cecil stared at me as though I were from another planet. Slowly he regained his composure.

“My dear, I would of course wish I could comply with your every request. You have indeed performed sterling service for the company. However, I’m afraid I must inform you that what you are asking is quite impossible. I could never get it past the Board.”

“Oh, I’m sure you will find a way, Cecil. You are such a clever man. I have always been in awe of your abilities.”

“Your flattery is very touching, Susan,” Cecil said. “But…” he raised his arms in emphasis “…there are some things that are beyond my powers.”

“I’m sure you underestimate yourself, Cecil. Really, you can’t disappoint me on this.”

“Honestly Susan, if I could do it I would.”

“Then it’s settled then. You can certainly do it.”

“I’m afraid not, Susan. If I approach the Board with such a proposal, they will undoubtedly insist on your instant dismissal. Such is life. Anything….. Anything! I can do, I will. But this is beyond my powers.”

I let that sit for a long while, eye to eye. 

“Well Cecil,” I said finally, “ there is an alternative. If you cannot do this for me then I may be compelled to reveal to the Board certain things that they may not like to hear about.” I appeared lost in thought.

“Actually,” I continued, “ maybe I should just take them straight to the Press. You know the way they love to beat on the machinations of corrupt Executive Officers.”

This rocked him finally into the realization that he may not be in control of the situation.

He said, finally. “All right, Susan, stop beating about the bush. Where exactly is the rubber hitting the road. I realize you have connections with a lot of clients, but I cannot believe a single one of them would be prepared…..”

“Oh, there’s a long list of things, Cecil,” I interrupted breezily, “but let us begin with a beach house in Malibu.”

“A beach house in Malibu?” Cecil said, in apparent bewilderment.

“Cecil,” I said impatiently. “Don’t be tiresome. There are cameras in the world, you know, and I do believe at least one of the girls is, shall we say, slightly under age!”

Cecil eyed me carefully. My gaze was unflinching. Never again would this man underestimate the capacity of a woman scorned to hit him where it hurts the most. I had him by the short and curlies and he knew it.

After a very long pause, he said, in a somewhat different tone,

“You know Susan, your idea about having a place of your own. When I think about it, it does make a certain kind of sense. If I were to present it to the Board in the right way, then perhaps….!”

“I have great confidence in your powers, Cecil. I’m sure the Board will see it your way.”

“And as for the leave of absence, that will require work, but I feel confident I can persuade the Board that this would be entirely commensurate with your services to the company.”

“My ongoing services to the company, Cecil. I’m sure you meant to say it this way.”

“Indeed! Your ongoing services to the company. That is precisely what I meant to say.”

“And the bonus increases will of course be simple.”
“Indeed, as you say. That will be the easy part.”

I rose. 

“Cecil, you are a wonderful man. I knew you would be able to do it!”

It was that easy. How are the mighty fallen!

He did it in a week. How he did it I have not the faintest idea. He probably used his own money for the villa and spun some tales about the rest. The financial information I provided him would, at the very least, justify the leave of absence and the increased bonuses. Suffice it to say that in short order I had vacated my apartment in Downtown LA and escaped to a luxury residence up in the hills. Quite close to Heidi’s villa, as it turned out, not entirely by accident, you understand.




Out Of Peoria Ch. 12



And as I understood, Heidi’s plan to ‘fix Ron up’ worked out a treat as well. I didn’t ask, and she didn’t tell. Just casual reports that he soon got over losing his ‘love’ and discovered also that there are more ways of making a living than adding up columns of numbers ad nauseum! I liked Ron. He was amusing, but strangely enough if he had been prepared to stick to the script, he would have come out the loser in the game. As it was, by forcing the issue, by being active, pursuing his emotions, whose force perhaps, via contact with Heidi and me, he had first come to appreciate, he was able to find a new life, one which, by all accounts, was much more satisfying than the one he had left behind. Ultimately, of course, this is his judgement, but I am confident he would have seen it the way I did when benefactors helped me realize potential I had not known I possessed.

And Cecil Witherspoon, for once in his life (or twice in his life if you count his marriage to Heidi), was left high and dry, wondering what had hit him, and what might hit him next. His uncertainty was our triumph, which was complete.

Of course I had not the faintest intention of ever returning to Witherspoon Investments, and as the clients began to grumble that I was ‘late’ or did not return their calls, or even did not turn up for arranged ‘dates’, Cecil soon got the message. But he had signed up on the dotted line. And for the next six months my salary and benefits, along with bonuses, whether earned or not, were paid scrupulously. And guilty conscience had I none. Cecil had hired me to fuck. And fuck I had, whether it pleased me or not. I had helped expand his business many-fold and if this was because of the weakness of men, was that my fault? Cecil knew why he had hired me and there was not a shadow of a doubt that the second he realized I was gone and away, a new HSA would appear on the scene at Witherspoon, younger, more dazzling, more gorgeous, more adventurous than I could ever be. Even Cecil would eventually come out of this ahead. I wished my successor the same good fortune I had had myself.

And fortunate I had been. Two benefactors, Jane and Heidi, had heaved me up from a helpless young woman on the streets of LA, narrowly escaped from the hum drum life of a mid-west housewife, to the up-market Courtesan I now was, who owned a villa in Beverley Hills and entertained only the most elegant and affluent of clients, foremost amongst them being one Pietro, a gentleman with many connections! Imagine the pleasure it gave me to invite Jane to visit me in my villa, and her astonishment at finding Pietro, oozing charm, sitting on my sofa sipping Campari on the rocks!

“She’s promised me a full weekend,” he said to her, the devil!

Jane glanced at me, a shade reproachfully, but at that instant the doorbell rang and presently I re-appeared with Tina. It had taken a while for me to track her down, but Heidi did truly seem to know everything that went on in L.A. that had to so with sex --- and that was quite a lot. She it was, too, who had located Pietro (who did indeed have a wart just below his left ear ---- No! I did not inquire how Heidi knew!).

“Ah, Beverley, my dear,” Pietro said as Tina smiled sweetly down at him. “You are as gorgeous as ever! What heaven this is going to be.”

And Jane’s slight frown had evaporated. I had done right by Tina, and by her, and if she had to adjust to new realities, that her ‘pupil’ and not herself was now calling the shots, she gave no hint that this concerned her.

Pietro said, in his soft gentle voice, almost sighing, “Destiny has suggested a few changes in the game plan. I’ve no idea what she has in mind, but I am absolutely sure that we will all have a wonderful time together.”

The door bell rang again.

“Ah, that will be our chauffeur,” Pietro said. He rose, and taking Jane and Tina by the arm, with me following behind --- a consummate politician that man --- we entered the stretch limousine and set off on our way to restaurant number one of what was to be a three restaurant weekend! 

With a man like Pietro you did not want to change the agenda much. He liked his sex long, slow and gentle. When I first suggested to him a foursome with Tina and Jane he’d been a bit skeptical. I think he was a little embarrassed at having saved himself the trip down the coast to San Diego and contented himself with one-on-one’s with me! But I assured him he would enjoy it, and the girls would too. And they would not at all hold it against him that he had been seeing me instead of travelling down the coast. I was about to say “After all, we are professionals,” but I stopped myself just in time. True though it may have been, it was not the kind of thing one said to Pietro!

We started him off with a little show. Tina and I did a slow strip while Jane released his cock and balls and began a gentle massage. When we were naked, Tina and I flaunted our lithe bodies, touching our breasts and pinching our nipples, then ignored Pietro and turned our attentions to each other. We stood close together so that our nipples touched, and we kissed and tongued lightly. Hands strayed to thighs and onto groins and we began to finger each other in unison. The room was well fitted with mirrors and Pietro could see us from just about every angle. He obviously liked what his saw and his cock gradually responded, as Jane’s ministrations continued unabated.

I don’t know about Tina, but I enjoyed this overture to proceedings very much. Tina’s cunt was responsive but firm against my inserted finger. She became very wet very rapidly and her breathing began to express arousal as I slipped a silken forefinger into her, then out and along to massage clit and clit hood. Naturally, she was doing the same for me, with very much the same result. We kept it up for a long time, kissing from time to time, but never changing the pace at which we fingered each other. In, out, up, circle, stroke, in, out, up, circle, stroke … on each cycle we became more and more aroused. Our legs parted slightly and we turned our bodies to expose our extended pussy lips so that Pietro could see better exactly what we were doing to each other. All the while, Jane massaged his cock and balls gently and began to remove his clothes. 

When he was naked and his cock stiff, Tina and I moved close to him and I indicated that he should take over stimulating Tina, while she continued stimulating me. Mischievously I ran my fingertips and nails up and down his erect cock. Meanwhile, behind, Jane did her strip and then stepped forward to join the action. She knelt before Pietro with her breasts touching his thighs, and took the tip of his cock into her mouth. Tina and I had separated to let her in, and I now indicated to Pietro that he should stimulate both Tina and I, while Jane took care of him.

His touch was featherlight, just enough, never too much, and his forefinger was long enough to enter deep into my cunt and massage the upper wall. He also used an interesting rotating motion, and occasionally inserted two fingers and used a ‘scissors’ motion. As always with Pietro, every movement was slow and gentle, considered, considerate, responding to reaction. There was lots of eye contact.

After a long while, we girls exchanged places. Jane swapped with me, Tina with Jane and I with Tina. Guess who got the best of that deal! Pietro’s right hand was even more responsive and imaginative than his left. 

Tina now began to work Pietro’s cock a little more vigorously than Jane had done. She was an expert fellatrix. And Pietro appreciated her attentions and passed them on with interest! After another ‘long while’ I indicated a fresh switch. Now I got to suck cock and Tina and Jane got fingered. And so we continued, round after round.

This was my first attempt at being ‘mistress of ceremonies’ --- perhaps orchestrater of proceedings might have bee a better way of putting it ---- and I had been a bit apprehensive. However, both Tina and Jane seemed more than happy to let me organize the scene and as for Pietro, he laid back in his sofa and gave every indication of being in his seventh heaven.

Lord knows how many rounds we did, but eventually a switch was called for. 

“I’m sure Pietro is just gasping to taste your gorgeous pussy, Jane. What do you think, Pietro? I’m sure Jane would be only too grateful. ” 

“Whatever you say, Destiny my dear. I am in your only too capable hands.”

So Jane sat low in an overstuffed chair arranged next to the couch and splayed her long, slender legs wide. A cushion set beneath her raised her glistening cunt, exposing its entire length. Playfully, she circled her vulva with a forefinger. 

Pietro sighed at the sight. “Magnificent!” he said, and he wasted no time taking to his knees, stroking those silken thighs and then putting his lips and tongue to work on Jane’s cunt. 

I knew from experience that his oral technique was exemplary. It was the best I had ever experienced by a man. He was patient and attentive and he seemed to know just when to switch from stimulating the vagina to moving up to the clitoral area. He was one of the very few males who had actually brought me to orgasm this way, though it did take the poor man four hours of unrelieved action. But he was determined to get me, and get me he did! 

Tonight I had to share him with Tina and Jane so there was no question of a four hour stint, but there were compensations. Once Pietro was in place and at work, Tina lay on her back on the soft rug on which he knelt, slid her head up between his thighs and began work on his cock and balls. And guess what Destiny got to do? Right first time! Amongst the many things I had missed on leaving the commune was the taste of Tina’s young cunt and the sight of her writhing in ecstasy as I tongued her clit. So I placed a large cushion under Tina’s rump, and knelt down and went to work. For a long while the only sounds in the room were the sporadic cries of delight from the recipients of oral largesse.

I stimulated Tina with great care, but nevertheless with the full intention of bringing her off. Tina was truly heterosexual, but that did not mean that she had any objection to a woman licking her clit! Man, woman, hand, object, whatever; Tina had as strong a sex drive as Heidi, was multi-orgasmic and responded enthusiastically to all stimulation of her body. It was not long before her groin began to squirm and I knew that all that was preventing her from gasping out her pleasure was the fact that her mouth was full with Pietro’s cock. I wonder if he sensed the origin of the extra powerful stimulation he must now be receiving. 

I brought Tina to orgasm in waves, alternating between licking gently her vaginal lips, deep-tonguing her vagina, and flicking the tip of my tongue across her swollen clit. She came noiselessly, her thighs clamped tight around my head as I pressed my mouth into her mound of Venus. Quite an orgasm it must have been! I was practically out of breath when the pressure released and Tina’s thighs fell back, splayed out, played out. I knew she would recover fast. 

Time for a switch, and it was my turn to receive Pietro’s attentions, while Jane ministered to his cock and Tina got to lick Jane. I was very far from orgasm. The range of the female sexual response never ceases to amaze me. Some women come within minutes and are ready again in minutes. Others come quickly, but then are disinterested in sex for hours or even days thereafter. Others still, take forever to come, but them come ten times in a row, while yet others take forever to come and forever to come again. I belonged in this last category, which I found was very convenient for a courtesan. 

Now that I was in a position to choose my clients, I excluded any and all who did not give me sexual pleasure. Yet I very rarely came to orgasm. I found I could pleasure a man and be pleasured by him for an essentially unlimited period of time -- well, I have not at the time of writing reached a limit. And so it was with Pietro that night. I would not come, but being pleasured by him was always a delight and the appreciative noises I made from time to time were not at all feigned.

I knew of course that Pietro possessed almost unlimited oral stamina, but I nevertheless broke off this ‘scenario’ after one round. Regretfully, because I would not have minded a second bout all to myself with Tina’s cunt. I sensed however it was time to move on. Pietro had waited long enough. It was time for a cunt to wrap itself around his cock. 

In the center of the room, the region most completely ringed by mirrors, was a large rectangular coffee table of Danish teak. On this, I now placed several sheepskin rugs, which overlapped the edges. This was my version of Jane’s ‘plinth’, which in my mind had a too obvious sexual connotation. My preference was always for the natural and what could be more natural than a Danish teak coffee table? I don’t know whether Jane noticed the difference, and she said nothing about it. But I did have the feeling --- wrong of me I am sure --- that she did notice that pupil and mistress had changed roles. I should not presume, but that was my feeling, and why not be honest about it? 

Pietro lay on his back on the table with his legs protruding over one end and his feet on the ground. I had been the last to be stimulated by him, so I took the lead. Pietro’s cock had wilted slightly so I first wanked him stiff. Then I mounted him in reverse, so I was facing away from him and leaning back supported myself by placing my hands on the table beside Pietro’s body. The table had been very carefully designed in height and width. A girl could kneel on it, or straddle it with her legs on the ground without having to stretch. 

As I pumped gingerly up and down on Pietro’s cock to add the final touch to its hardness, Tina straddled Pietro with her knees on the sheepskin rug and her cunt hovering around and over his all too willing lips. Jane’s role in this new ‘scenario’ was to kneel on the cushion I had placed at the foot of the coffee table and to stimulate either me, or Pietro, or both. She started off with a sensual attack on my clit, which a complete penetration of my cunt by Pietro’s cock left fully exposed. I fancied she was really trying to get me off! At the same time, she fondled and squeezed Pietro’s balls with her long slender fingers, tightening them up and firming up his erection. Of course, Jane knew Pietro’s responses very well. His cock was now very hard, and he was quite aroused. But I knew from experience that his arousal could be ‘contained’. I took his penis deep within me and rocked gently backwards and forwards. The sensation, as Jane continued to flick her tongue across my clit I can only describe as exquisite. 

After a while, I gave the sign for a switch. I eased off Pietro’s cock, which Jane immediately grasped in a fine-boned hand and pumped back to full erection. It was Tina’s turn to mount, and my turn to stimulate and of course I reveled in this new opportunity to caress her clit and the sides of her pussy lips that were splayed out as her cunt was impaled on Pietro’s cock. Jane now straddled Pietro’s head and I could tell from her reaction that she was ‘into’ the scene. She was truly experiencing sexual pleasure. As indeed were Tina and myself. Again, I set out to make her come, and with Pietro’s cock deep within her, this was even easier than previously. She rocked backwards and forwards with ever increasing intensity. On the forward stroke her clit encountered my waiting tongue. At the same time I ringed Pietro’s ball bag with a well manicured fingernail. So we girls were having fun, and as for Pietro, his response to my question was to release his mouth for a second or two from Jane’s cunt and sigh, 

“I am in heaven. Let this go on for ever!”

Well nothing is for ever, but we did keep Pietro in his ‘heaven’ for a very long time. Each time Tina mounted him she came, with my help, of course! It seemed the more she came the easier it was for her to come again. However, she also got more and more excited so after a few rounds --- well, probably many rounds, she could not contain herself and pumped Pietro’s penis more and more until it, finally, began to erupt. I was trying to keep pace with Tina’s flying clit as the first drops of semen slid down Pietro’s cock and exited Tina’s vagina. Tina was now in her element and she fucked Pietro like a dervish. I responded by squeezing hard on his balls. His semen flooded in waves down his penis and I made sure it was all rubbed into Tina’s vaginal lips and her clitoral hood. To cap it off, Tina herself came yet again, and this time visibly, emitting her own fluids, which mixed with Pietro’s so that the entire regions where genitals joined was drenched in fluid. 

I had rarely seen a girl ‘squirt’ and the origin and mechanics of it remain to me a mystery. But squirt Tina did, and what timing! Her orgasm provoked yet further spouts of semen from Pietro’s cock and when after an age the pair of them finally came to rest, the limp cock emerging from the liquid orifice, Pietro found his voice,

“Fantastico! Fantastico! I think I die!”

Well of course he did not, but an appropriately timed suggestion that perhaps a move to the bedroom may be in order was gratefully accepted. And in no time at all, Pietro was lying on his back in my king-sized bed snoring gently. Tina was on his left side, snuggled up close, and also comatose, and Jane and I were on his right side.

Not a word passed between us. Just hands and lips. The moment Pietro showed signs of sleep, Jane’s hand slipped between my thighs. I opened my legs to let her sample the wetness of me, and I reciprocated, sampling the wetness of her. 

As I have mentioned before, if I were not in love with Heidi, I believe I could very well have fallen in love with Jane. That night, we consummated our sexual attraction in ‘loveness’. We would not be partners (though “never say never’!), but we were very close to each other at that moment. This was because of a number of factors, the least important of which were having experienced Tina’s orgasms, as well as Pietro’s orgasm. This of course meant we were in any event sexually aroused. However, the spiritual element that accounted for the intensity of our feelings for each other had entirely different origins.

The culmination of that physical and spiritual arousal was a monumental mutual orgasm. We kept it going for a seeming age and we timed our responses so perfectly that Jane’s thighs clamped down hard on my hand just as my thighs clamped down on her hand. Our bodies shook and shook as wave after wave of orgasmic spasm coursed through us. When this subsided, we kissed, long and passionately. There was much longing in the kiss, much appreciation too. We both felt, I think, what might have been. Then, spent. we too fell into a much deserved slumber.

I have no idea what the time was when we entered slumber. My drapes were very carefully constructed so that no light appeared in the room even in the middle of the day. Probably it was close to 6am. 

Likewise I have no idea who woke first, only that it was not me! I know this because when I woke, Tina and Pietro were engaged in a soixante neuf that brought sexual grunts from both parties! This was not ‘in the plan’, but what the hell! They were having fun. Spontaneity has to have its place!

I lay doggo, but searched for Jane’s cunt under the covers. And as my fingers slipped between her legs I felt hers slip between mine. ‘Officially’ asleep and oblivious to the extra-curricular activities that were going on in the other half of the bed, Jane and I stimulated each other. As far as I was concerned it could go on for ever!

Unfortunately, this elysian state of affairs had to come to an end. We became aware of the bed bucking and heaving, as though one were experiencing an earthquake. It was of course nothing other than Tina bouncing up and down on Pietro. What a libido that girl had! 




Out Of Peoria Ch. 12



She kept going for a very long time, but eventually, noisily, she came with an almost frightening intensity. I reached out and switched on one of the bedside lamps. Tina had fallen on her face in collapse after her orgasm and Pietro was stroking her back gently, calmly and soothingly. His penis, which obviously had survived Tina’s onslaught, was now half-limp. Clearly he had not come, but he was in no way complaining! Rather, he looked guilty.

“What a wonderful girl Beverley is,” he said. “So demanding!”

I let that pass. “Who is up for breakfast?” I said. “ Well, er, brunch,” I continued after registering the positions of the fingers on the clock!”

It seemed clear we were three! 

We showered together, soaping each other, removing sweat, secretions, rejuvenating. Then, donned in bathrobes we left for the dining room where Chantal, as per instructions, had everything laid out. Poor Chantal. I had asked her to appear at 9am and it was already 2pm. But Chantal had seen it all before and she knew her services would be remunerated more than adequately, so she was all charm and grace in conducting us to our places around the table.

“An’ Madame Beverley?” she inquired, politely.

“Has a slight tummy upset,” I said. “Please go ahead and serve.”

Then to Pietro, “I know you love bliny’s, but I thought, for a change “Crepe a la Bretagne”?

“Wonderful,” Pietro said. “And your girl. She is so beautiful!”

“D’you think so,” I replied. “Her name is Chantal and she does have some special qualities. I mean, other than culinary”

“Oh indeed!” said Pietro emphatically. “I could be very interested in learning of these qualities.”

“Ah well, perhaps,” I said. “We will see what plans Chantal has for the day. Mind you,” I continued obliquely, “I’m not sure Chantal’s predilections would be to your taste.”

Pietro seemed puzzled by this, but said eventually,

“My dear, if she is your friend, I’m sure she will be mine too!” 

Jane gave me a sideways, somewhat wicked glance. If there had been any doubt in her mind, I think that at that point she recognized that I had moved on from where she had left me. But it is naturally so, is it not? The good pupil learns from the good teacher not only what the teacher knows, but how to advance that knowledge. Jane had introduced me to Pietro, but she knew that nothing stays the same --- especially in California – and that to all appearances I had developed my own approach to “Courtesanship” that included elements she either had not thought of or had thought of but not been able to deliver on. She did not know, of course, that my ability to deliver was because of Heidi and her myriad connections throughout the sexual jungle that is LA. That was my secret!

The Crepes had of course been delivered by a bakery and all Chantal did was reheat them in the microwave. I had long since cottoned on to the fact that, for all his mannerisms, Pietro was attracted by the ambience, not the taste of the food! All that was needed was the appropriate pretence. For all that, the crepes tasted damn good. The coffee was of course ‘Blue Mountain’, the juice freshly squeezed (in downtown Burbank!), and the ‘blueberry sauce’ had been specially prepared the previous day by a local groceteria. (Yeah, right!)

Whatever, Pietro was more than satisfied and, I was gratified to notice, could not take his eyes off Chantal. Well you can understand this. She was tall, willowy, long-legged, extremely pretty, and she had this bearing that is only French. No other women can do it. Only the French. Every glance, every body movement is at once a ‘come-on’ and a ‘challenge’. (Of course, Chantal was not French, but she was pretty good at doing it!)

As we sipped our coffee, Pietro said to me,

“Well, my dear, yesterday you fulfilled my expectations and more --- you expanded my horizons. What, I wonder, is in store for me today!”

I appeared to ponder on this, and eventually answered,

“There are several possibilities. But if you really like Chantal….”

“Oh yes!” interposed Pietro instantly, “I do, I do indeed!”

“… then maybe a slight change in plan may be appropriate.”

“By all means,” Pietro said. “You can be assured of my full support in any change of plan.”

Which in plain English meant that he was prepared to pay whatever he was billed, exactly as I had known he would.

“Let me have a word with her and see what her plans for the day are,” I said. “But I did warn you, didn’t I, that she is not for everybody.”

“You did, and no matter. If she is for me I will be an experience the richer. If she is not, likewise.”

I disappeared for a while, then returned and said to Pietro,

“I have had a word with Chantal and she is prepared to join us, but insists first that this should have your full approval.”

“Oh it does,” Pietro said. “Please reassure her,”

“No, I think you will have to do that,” I replied. I disappeared again and when I re-appeared, Chantal was with me, and she stood by the table near Pietro, prying him with cow-eyes. 

“Pietro, I apologize for this,” I said, “but Chantal insists that you approve her as God made her, so to speak. That is, she will only join in with us after stripping for you and having you approve her body.”

Of course, Jane had long since cottoned on and as “Chantal” did her strip, possibly the slowest and most sensual I have ever seen, Jane eased Pietro’s bathrobe aside and began to stroke his cock. Chantal’s body was of course exemplary, even superbe! It was milk white all over, unmarked and the proportions were perfect. And you could sense Pietro drooling over that body, as a young boy responds to his first sight of the female form (as I indeed myself drooled --- if only the vixen were not strictly hetero!). The memory of “Beverley’s” ministrations together with this new unexpected beauty was quite enough to have Pietro champing at the bit!

So we had him champ!

“Pietro,” I said, “I did warn you that Chantal is not for everybody.”

“You did Destiny, but please, consider myself your willing slave!”

“Ah! That’s really the point, Pietro, because Chantal is actually my slave. She does my bidding and my bidding only. And she responds, if I may be blunt, to physical pain. Are you still interested in having her join us?”

But Pietro was so captivated by that gorgeous body he wasn’t taking in what I had said.

“Of course, my dear,” he said hastily. “Please. I am totally in your very capable hands!”

I don’t know why, but I had formed the conclusion that Pietro was a good candidate for a bit of S&M. It was a risk, but as I said, if you do not advance in the courtesan business you regress. 

So Pietro was seated on his couch staring at that gorgeous white body, strung up with her hands tied to a hook in the ceiling. Chantal wore nothing except a collar around her neck. Her long blonde hair, which at brunch she had worn ‘up’ was now at full extent, covering her back and extending well below her midriff. 

I made various commands, such as “display your breasts”, “part your legs”, and Chantal obeyed every time, of course, with a “Yes Mistress”.

“Who is your mistress?” I asked cruelly.

“You are, M’dam”, she replied instantly.

“What do you do when your Mistress commands?” I continued.

“I obey, Mistress.”

“Then part your legs and display your cunt. I’m sure our guest will appreciate it.”

‘Our Guest’ was at that time having his cock sucked by Jane, but he was of course anxious to get Chantal into the action. He said nothing, but I could tell that as Chantal spread her legs, revealing extended pussy lips, he was more than ready.

I crossed the room and pretended to unlock a cabinet. Therefrom I extricated a number of objects including several whips and other devices. You could see from Pietro’s eyes that this was new territory for him. You could also tell that he was not sure how he would react. But there Jane gave him no respite. She stroked, licked and sucked his cock. Her job – she had understood --- was to keep him up and ‘interested’. 

I chose a ferocious looking whip that, however, had broad, soft thongs so that the appearance was much more ferocious than the effect. Chantal of course played the game to perfection. I stood before her and began to whip her breasts. Red marks appeared and her nipples stiffened. I concentrated on the nipples, striking harder and harder.

Pietro was in a frenzy! His cock was as stiff as a ramrod, and Jane worked it mercilessly, keeping it at full stretch but not allowing an orgasm.

Chantal’s breasts were bright red from the whipping and her nipples stood out like sentinels. Of course, we both knew that the marking would subside within 12 hours. She was not really being hurt, but ‘color’ was being brought to her breasts. Chantal knew me very well, and that I would never go beyond, or even close to what we knew to be her limits. This was important because I began after a while to pay attention to her vulva.

“Stretch your legs,” I commanded, and Chantal complied.

I then proceeded to whip her cunt, using a whip and a stroke from below that seemed to have devastating effect but in fact did not. Pietro was not in a position to notice the difference between reality and effect. He begged me to stop, but I refused him.

“I warned you, Pietro, that Chantal is different. You have to trust me.” 

Jane intensified her attentions to his cock. 

“I will show you, Pietro, in case you have any doubt, that Chantal is reacting naturally.”

And so saying, I cut her down and led her across to the sofa where Pietro was being serviced. Her hands were still tied as I bad her to lie on the sofa and to spread her legs.

“Watch!” I said to Pietro. 

And I took a thick short single-thonged whip, similar to the one Lynda had used on me, and I began to use it on Chantal’s cunt. Ten on the right, ten on the left, ten down the middle…..

And it was quite obvious that Pietro was ‘turned on’ as never before. So much so that I invited him, far before the ‘program’ I had agreed with “Chantal” was complete, to put her out of her misery. And so he did. He fucked her on top like a dervish and came in pints! 

Time for dinner! 

At midnight (it was now the midnight from Saturday to Sunday) we returned from Pietro’s second restaurant, even better if anything than the first, and relaxed in our ‘room’.

“Destiny, I hope you do not have any more surprises for me,” Pietro said. “Chantal was quite devastating and I shall never forget her …. but that intensity…. Phew!”

“Well Pietro, you know you agreed to abide by my decisions, and I hope so far you are satisfied…..”

“Oh very much so!” interposed Pietro, “..only…”

“And there will be no more surprises --- well, let us say the surprises will not be quite so dramatic!”

As the night progressed, sucking and licking followed handling and fondling, and the only surprise I deemed it appropriate to initiate came during the phase where Pietro was lying on the table being fucked. The innovation was then to employ the toy that Heidi had introduced to me. As Jane sat on Pietro’s cock, I inserted the obelisk-like electrode between upper cunt-wall and cock, and I attached the small clip to Jane’s clitoral hood. As I played with the controls, the effect was quite profound. Jane’s response was immediate, and Pietro must also have felt some thing because he asked me to employ the device “whatever it is” until eternity.

Well eternity it was not, but we all had a go with it and even Tina pronounced it good (though, she did say, “Why the hell don’t we just fuck the guy stupid!”). No commercial commonsense, Tina!

We got Pietro off sometime during the night and after he succumbed to slumber Jane and I spent a few precious hours thereafter pleasing each other. Next morning (Tina had been admonished!) we showered, dressed, and the stretch limo conveyed us to Pietro’s favorite “Sunday Brunch”, where we pigged out like there was no tomorrow.

It’s hard being a Courtesan, but I guess someone has to do it!

As Jane was saying goodbye she thanked me for the weekend. 

“I understand,” she said, “how you have adjusted the ‘game’ to suit your own requirements. You have done this very well….” She hesitated. “… better than I could,” she said. “Any time you want help…!”

“Thanks Jane,” I replied. “I really appreciate it. As you know, Pietro has lots of connections, so I think there should be plenty of opportunities for this threesome. We complement each other well, don’t you think?”

Jane did, and it was indeed so that we saw gents as a threesome on a regular basis, and not to our financial disadvantage, of that you can be sure! 

Pietro was a little bit shocked by his reaction to Chantal, but he recovered.

“I had no idea I had a masochistic streak,” he said.

But he was open enough to exploit it and we had more than one session that involved pain. I had learned from Lynda of the proximity between sexual pain and sexual pleasure, and it was interesting to try it out ‘in the field’, as it were. As time progressed “Chantal” and I as a duo came to acquire more and more clients until they practically filled our calendars. That’s the amazing thing about being a Courtesan. At the beginning it’s hell and you have to take whatever work you can find viz. my experiences with ‘green ties’. But once you get over ‘the hump’ (if you get over the hump, which many girls do not), life becomes very easy and very comfortable. Maybe you need to be lucky too, I am prepared to admit! 

============================================================== 

So at the time of writing I am a ‘high class Courtesan”, whatever you wish to understand by this term. I am ‘for hire’, but if you want me you are going to have to walk a long road to find me, and even then nothing is guaranteed. I am rich beyond my wildest dreams, and almost certainly, dear reader, much richer than you. If current revenues continue for just a few more years, I will be financially independent whatever the markets do, and at the tender age of 32! What I will do then I do not know, but at present I have no complaints about my life. I have carved out a space in the ‘paid-sex’ scene in which I am comfortable and in which there is no threat to my independence. In addition, I have taken steps to cover myself in the event I fall foul of the vice squad. You can never protect your person 100%, but you can protect your assets. So if they ever do come for me, me is all they will get!

It has been a long road from Peoria, but I have never had the slightest regret that I traveled it. I am emancipated, worldly wise and independent in a way I never could have been in a confining marriage with Brad. I have come to recognize that Brad was not a bad guy. He was just an ordinary guy. And I am not an ordinary woman. As to whether I would recommend the path I have taken to any other woman, I would say Think! Where are you at, what are you options, what is important to you? My life is certainly more romantic than any ‘wife-mother’ life could be, but it is different and once you embark on it the ‘way back’, if this is what you decided finally that you want, is far from easy.

Also, though I like to think I created my new life all by myself, I was lucky in my connections and I had important benefactors. But connections do not do it all. They can only facilitate a path, a path that must be trod by you yourself. There is a saying that you make your own luck. It is not entirely true, but neither is it entirely false.

===============================================================

Although I am now an independent Courtesan, my private relationship with Heidi has lasted, and still lasts to the time of writing, though we do now see less of each other. Passion wanes, and with it lust for adventures elsewhere grows. She is a free spirit and so, following my emancipation, am I. We enjoyed each other, and we continue to do so, but neither was, is or ever will be an encumbrance to the other. We are, however, soul mates, and if Heidi were to fall in love with another woman, or if I were, then I’m sure our first act would be to call the other and let it all hang out. What we have, Heidi and I, will ever die and will never degrade because we are absolutely open and honest with each other. 

Am I a lesbian? I still don’t know. I adore women, their bodies, their grace. But there is also great satisfaction in being pleasured by a man, and pleasuring him in equal measure. What’s in a name?

Love? What is it? If not that which I have described exists between Heidi and myself, I do not know. Passion, ecstasy, these I know. These are real, the pursuit of which makes you alive.



Out of Peoria



After a while we swapped again, all in all four times. Each time Jane was impaled on Alex’s cock she went through the same sequence. Her aureole became fully swollen and her nipples stood out like sentinels. During her quiet phase she would lean forward and embrace me, kissing me passionately, our mouths joined with tongues entwined, our upper bodies extraordinarily still, as our loins continued to vibrate.

I was so engrossed with Jane, captivated by her lean, lithe body and myself aroused by her arousal, that Alex’s orgasm took me completely by surprise. It was my turn on his cock and I was leaning forward grasping one of Jane’s nipples with my teeth whilst riding him in and out much as we had been doing, it had seemed for ever. I felt suddenly this gush of warmth deep within me as Alex’s entire body arched upwards. His semen spewed into me and his cock convulsed against the walls of my vagina, gradually subsiding in waves.

When Brad had come I had felt satisfied, as though this was me coming too. But with Alex and Jane it was different. Strangely, instead of satisfaction I felt disappointment. I cannot think why, but somehow I had assumed that Alex’s cock would remain stiff as long as it took --- ie. as long as we, meaning Jane and myself, wanted it to. Somewhat extraordinarily, Alex’s orgasm and the subsequent collapse of his erection made me suddenly aware that he was a person not simply an object, a combination of fingers, tongue, lips, face and cock! His sexual arousal had been growing in intensity much as Jane’s and mine had, but I had somehow been oblivious of it. And he had finally lost control and come. Jane, too, had come. In fact she had come each time she rode Alex’s cock. This in no way stopped her from continuing and one orgasm seemed merely to be a prelude to the next. She just dropped down a notch and began to work herself back up again, As I came to learn, Jane was truly multi-orgasmic. 

But what of me? I had not come at all. In fact, as I sensed and recalled Jane’s climaxes, I realized suddenly that I had never in my life experienced an orgasm! And this made me pause for thought. Whereas Brad had paid scant attention to my body and had invariably come within five minutes of the onset of serious attention being given to his cock, whether by hand or by cunt, Alex’s cock had survived hours of continuous heavy action, not to mention his constant oral ministrations. His ‘performance’ (if one wants to think of it as such) was miles beyond what I had naively imagined was possible. And then there was Jane too, the ultimate in eroticism, bringing herself time after time to orgasm. And even when Alex had his own shattering climax, shooting his sperm deep into me in gushes that seemed to go on and on for ever, even then I did not come. What was wrong with me? How much stimulation did I need to get off, and was this within the bounds of human endurance!?

Well these thoughts flashed through my head as our threesome wound down following Alex’s orgasm. The thoughts were not neatly packaged, nor anything like as rational as I have set down in retrospect. But there was a disquiet, and the origin of the disquiet was my apparent inability to orgasm. What was the reason? Was this a physical defect in me, or was it just that I had spent my whole life up to this point believing that the object of sex was to get the man off, that women derived their pleasure by serving the man. To my horror, I realized that until this point in time I had not really known that women had orgasms! One read about such things in magazines, and I had had of course experienced sexual pleasure, not only now with Alex and Jane but also on occasion with Brad as well. With no point of reference though, how could one know one had not had an orgasm ---- until the retrospective obviousness of Jane’s climaxes made this palpable.

As I rolled off Brad’s cock, with his semen spilling out of my vagina, on that, my first night in the commune, I should have felt elated --- I had done what, prior to this evening, I would never have thought I could do. And during it, I had felt elated. Afterwards, though, more like confused. It had been a wonderful experience, but there was something missing. Was it an inherent defect in me that I had not come to orgasm?

Suddenly, I presume because of the inhibitions driven into me by a former life, I felt embarrassed and hastened to my feet, heading for the bathroom!