1 comments/  1635 views/  0 favorites

Total Woman Journal 01

By: bhuff



The Problem with Men

The Total Woman Academy graduated only the finest of women, instilled with exceptional intelligence, beauty and poise. They had spent their college years basking in assertive manhandling by the resident coach tutors, perfecting their feminine personas. Special events like Father-Daughter Weekend and Free-Will Weekends provided bonus opportunities for exposure to real world workouts. Sometimes encounters with the events' guest coach tutors turned into unexpected incest when the Academy students were paired with sponsoring uncles or cousins. Family ties aside, each compulsory copulation was consummated with enthusiastic abandon.

Alas, for the typical post-graduate, her experiences with the outside world turn out to be dejecting. She was dispirited by the everyday world of corporate and social consortia who failed to ignite her feminine fires. Even the leaders among the pack dithered, striking up conversations and dilly-dallying with faux romance. It was too vanilla. A TWA graduate expected to provide spontaneous sensuality to her newest lascivious aficionado, inclined to accommodate his slightest sexual whim. 

Thus, fearing they would become complacent among the languid masses and lose their honed TWA advantage, graduates attended month long retreats at selected TWA venues to keep their minds and bodies tuned to peak performance.

TWA sent Ned to be the current month's emeritus coach tutor at the Caribbean Island TWA Hostel. There, TWA graduates would attend his tune-up seminars to keep their alluring flairs at elite proficiency. 

Ned took his responsibilities seriously. The attendees arrived in their finest man-baiting personas and he was charged with acting out spontaneously his first impulsive fantasies generated by their sexual mien. His role required him to promptly drive the graduate through the uninhibited behaviors she was obliged to render to an unfamiliar but authentic alpha male.

The corporate inbound flight was uneventful. The shapely stewardess was exceptionally attentive to her alluring VIP passenger. She hinted repeatedly about providing any service Ned might require. Halfway through the flight, frustrated at his lack of response to her sexual innuendos, the stewardess boldly offered to suck him or fuck him, or both if he preferred. He declined politely, explaining that he wanted to save his energies for the long month ahead. As he disembarked at the end of the flight, she wished him well, then turned to enter the cockpit. She would offer the pilot a special thank you for the smooth, safe flight. Hopefully, he would be more inclined to her bold offer and satisfy the tingling in her pussy.

A limousine gathered Ned at the airport and dropped him in front of the resort island TWA residence. He paused on the stoop for a moment to puff up his macho charisma and then pressed the doorbell. He heard steps in the foyer beyond; the lock clicked and the door inched open. Before him stood an exceptional young woman and Ned's cock gave a twitch. Within the first seconds of seeing her, his capricious mind flashed the plan for copulating with this prime feminine beauty. Ned stepped across the threshold, commencing his month long obligation as the resident guest coach tutor for the Total Woman Academy Caribbean Hostel.

--------------------------------------------

Monday

Living Room – Jolie

The smiling young lady stepped back to give her visitor a normal personal space. She extended her welcoming handshake. Ned took her right hand firmly in his left and moved closer, a more intimate distance, immediately establishing his hegemony in her presence. He didn't smile and fixed her genial brown eyes with his somber stare. She let her full smile fade to a slightly open mouth, the bright white incisors peeking through the ring of cherry red glossed lips.

Ned cupped her chin with his right hand and circumnavigated her bee-stung lips with his thumb pad. The plush orifice was pliant and warm. Her upturned gaze stayed neutral as he held her face and tested her acquiescence to his audacious touch.

"What is your name, my dear?"

"Jolie" she said and then continued respectfully. "Ned, welcome to the tune-up retreat. I was thrilled to find out I would be with you again."

Keeping his attention on her face, Ned blindly kicked the entry door closed behind him and pressed her back a step, using her captive right hand, like a dancer leading his partner. She back stepped gingerly through the foyer into the living room, watching his face for any sign of recollection. She was only one of the many Academy students that he had coached to elite sexual prowess. And it had only been two overnight sessions in her sophomore and junior years. The secondary coach tutors had greedily monopolized her time, a compliment of sorts. But Ned was the emeritus coach tutor and any training sessions with the veteran instructor had been highly coveted by the coed students.

Ned raised her captive hand and looked her hour-glass body up and down, trying to remember where they may have met before. At the Academy, of course, but when and in which part of the facility. He turned her slowly in a dancer's pirouette, examining all the features of his impending first conquest, seeking a clue to her place in his past.

Ned's gaze started at the bottom where Jolie's painted toenails and the heavy gold anklet twinkled as she pivoted on one bejeweled strappy heel. Her smooth legs were exposed to a line above her knees where the hem of her fashionable yellow summer dress ended the bare-legged columnar vista. The tailored dress conformed to her moderate hips and narrower waist as it continued up to its sleeveless scooped collar. 

She completed her exhibition rotation to face him again. Ned look intently at her face, trying to recall her. Her Afro-Asian bronzed complexion was clear, her almond eyes elongated by her high cheekbones. Large gold hoops pierced her earlobes, half hidden in the luxurious deep brunette hair that relaxed easily on her shoulders and fell to mid back. 

She was extraordinarily beautiful, just like all the other students he had tutored and fucked. He tried hard but couldn't remember her. 'Oh, well' he mused, 'she's here now; let's get back to the matter in hand'.

Ned refocused on her lush red lips, the first visions that had twitched his cock and triggered his impetuous plans. 

"Down" he commanded as he depressed her hand towards the floor. Jolie bent one knee and descended until her face was at his crotch level. She assumed a stable three point stance: her left heel firm to the floor, her right toe and knee planted on the carpet. Ned released her hand; she knew what to do.

Jolie's fingers opened his belt, button and zipper and let his pants fall. Ned may have felt his cock twitch on first meeting but he was performing professionally now. His cock had not swelled. The tubular meat arched downward, secreting the underside vee behind the knob poised close to Jolie's chin. 

Jolie extended her tongue tip and curled it up against the hidden sensitive skin. She levered the limb member up and placed her mouth half over the crown, a suction kiss that pulled Ned's corona past her lips. She tasted his haunting manly musk. 

She sucked harder, drawing in more length, feeling the start of firmness develop inside her mouth. She sucked harder still, hollowing her cheeks. That gained additional size. It was all a familiar process and she was good at it.

Ned felt bulky now and jogged his hips, signaling his desire for strokes. Jolie moved in slow motion, advancing his length past her teeth and tongue, the dental ridges and raspy lingual appendage glazing his nerve covered shaft. She was only taking him half in and he wanted to sink deeper. Her face was level, brown eyes closed. He placed his hands on her head, every impatient man's habitual reaction at this point in the oral foray. She almost hesitated at the customary contact, seeking guidance, but experienced Ned gave proactive signals and she smoothly complied with his desired depth and pace.

She sank his cock completely in her oral cavity, letting his glands glide past her tonsils. Ned held her head close, basking in the woman's pulsating gullet. He let her up for air. But not for long.

It had been a long trip to the island. The private flight stewardess had been eager to serve all of Ned's needs and desires. But he had held off, saving himself for these TWA responsibilities.

Now his responsibilities called to him in earnest. He pressed deep against Jolie's face and ejaculated his first jets down her throat. It was a relaxed spend, pumping easily after the day-long dry spell. It felt nice to reduce his over-supply of seminal fluids. With less urgent pressure, he could properly administer his abnormal training regime for the special seminar attendees.

Jolie swallowed around his knob until she was again out of air. She pulled half back and continued to massage Ned's ebbing meat with her tongue as she breathed through her nose. Fully deflated at last, Ned drew her off his rod and raised her to stand. Preludes concluded, Ned turned his mind to the next steps in the process.

"Show me my suite."

Jolie led Ned to the upstairs guest coach tutor master suite. It was well furnished with an oversized bed, bathing spa, walk-in closets, a cozy sitting area and a large carpeted space in the center for the anticipated creative endeavors.

Satisfied with the nature of his abode for the coming month, Ned positioned Jolie in the central open space and undressed her. With Jolie's willing assistance, the summer dress sank quickly to the floor. Her skimpy and minimal lingerie were similarly gone in short order. She stepped out of the heels. 

Jolie followed Ned into the suite's rain shower bath cabinet and cleansed away the bothers of his inbound journey. He fingered her to a standing orgasm, her reward for releasing his travel stresses in the living room downstairs. Serendipitously, he found Jolie was blessed with full fleshiness at her pussy lips. That led to his all-night exploration for more of her delightful blessings. 

Ned was an alpha male but even he had limits. He fucked her plump pussy twice during the night and cataloged her other bodily charms for anticipated later trysts. He already had plans for lusty use of her nice tits and ass. After that, they played and snoozed intermittently past dawn.

At mid-morning, Ned suspended his overnight cuddles with Jolie. He donned a housecoat and dismissed her to her own room. Further duties called. His second assignment was due to arrive today.

Total Woman Journal 02



Ned stood in the center of the living room gathering his thoughts and steadying his enthusiasm. The doorbell toned its siren to his next call to duty. Having established his mental presence in the now, he closed the remaining distance to the foyer. The bell sounded again. He grasped the doorknob and opened the door.

There stood a spritely young lady in brown button front dress, wavy brown locks to her shoulders and oversized black rimmed sunglasses. She looked like any ordinary woman you might meet along life's path: the grocery checkout clerk, office assistant, associate realtor or just a school mother picking up her kids. And she was Ned's next assignment.

Ned's first instinct was to look at her eyes which were hidden behind the fashionable bug shield shades. He tenderly took each side in thumb and forefinger, drawing them forward off her ears and face. She raised her eyes to him and Ned was drawn into her gray pools of enchantment. He held out his hand and she placed her palm in his as he invited her across the threshold.

She stepped to him in sensible low heels, complementing the natural everyday mode of her beauty. She stood close and her low shoes brought her several inches shorter than Ned. The short sleeve dress hung on her balanced curves at breasts and hips, hinting at the moderate womanly body beneath. Her calves below the knee length hem showed muscle definition down to well-turned feet and ankles. Ned's gaze returned to her face, questing for another view of those wondrous gray eyes. 

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Belinda" she quietly replied, almost a whisper, lowering her gaze and face.

Ned was conflicted by her dress and demeanor. A TWA graduate should be glamourous and confident in the company of men, even an alpha male such as himself. This everyday woman persona was a uniquely tantalizing routine: submissive confidence.

He tilted up her face and stated 'matter of fact' his core requirement for her, inferring her foregone commitment.

"Belinda, I want your vision to stay focused on my face whenever we spend time together. I want your eyes on mine even while we fuck, even as you cum. In fact, with how your eyes make me feel right now, we will be fucking very soon."

Belinda showed her innate expressive dexterity. Her one eyebrow cocked a tick and her lips momentarily curved into the slightest of a smile. Ned saw the tiny facial signs and took them for Belinda's concurrence with the plan.

Regardless of the accuracy of his body language interpretation, alpha male Ned acted the take-charge gentleman as he escorted his lady to stand before the living room full length wall mirror. Her arms hung loose at her sides. Standing behind her, he cupped her chin and held her face level, capturing her reflected stare in his. Ned gazed steadily and used his peripheral vision to guide his movements as he undressed her.

His fingers picked at the front buttons, opening each one in turn as his hands descended to below her waist. He gently took each lapel in hand and drew them slowly back and down. The dress slid down Belinda's slack arms. She now stood in beige bra and panties, again sensibly figured and sized for all-day comfort. The fawn cottons and lace were just a shade lighter than her East European tanned skin. She and Ned stared at each other stoically.

Ned's hands went behind her back, losing the reflected view. The bra bands and fabric shifted at her shoulders and cleavage and then slackened when Ned unhooked the back strap. His palms crested her shoulders and moved under the cups. She shrugged her shoulders to assist the removal. The cups fell away, exposing her boobs. They were lovely. Ned broke gaze in order to appraise her breasts. Belinda stayed true to his decree, maintaining her look on his face. Ned's eyes and hands admired her perfectly sized teardrop breasts with their perfectly sized pointy nipples.

Ned broke finger contact as he adjusted his pants; his thickened cock rose taller beneath the zipper. Comfort attended, he returned his attention to Belinda's requisite stripping. His hands rested on either side of her hips. He fingered the cheeky wide bands and rolled the top edge before pushing downward. Belinda's hips wiggled as the panties descended. She boogied the beige lace to her ankles and stepped out. 

Her hands moved behind her back to personally check the condition of Ned's cock; it was nicely large and erect inside his shorts. She caressed his man flesh, cocking both eyebrows with desirous approval.

Ned got the message and took her hand, leading her up the staircase. In his guest coach suite, his shorts fell off easily, his erection heavy and ready. Facing Belinda, he hugged her body and took his first lingering kiss, eyes open, same as Belinda. He lifted her by her butt cheeks and popped her onto the mattress. Belinda's legs formed the cradle that bolstered his hips. Ned braced up on elbows, a proper distance to view Belinda's grey eyes gazing up from inches below. 

His firm tip found her moist soft cunt lips. At the contact, Belinda's eyes and lips repeated their eyebrow cock and the nearly unnoticeable lip curl. Ned took it as a go-ahead sign. Not that there was much doubt. Mounted up in this missionary position, nothing was going to stop him now. But it was charming to have concurrence from his beautiful fuck mate.

Ned drove deep in one mighty thrust. Belinda's eyes went wide in astonishment at the sudden stretch in her womb. She bit her lip to stifle the surprised yip. Ned drew back and plunged again. Her membranes were warm and wet surrounding his prick. He lunged and recovered again and again. The strokes were full, powerful and gaining intensity. 

Belinda was too absorbed to do other than be Ned's sexual receptacle. She kept her eyes open but lost close focus. She was staring through him to a distant focal point and compressing the piston pounding her core. 

Ned lost his control, bounding in her saddle, bouncing the bed and mattress. The inevitable was inescapable; he poured and roared in the same instance, repeating the combination as each subsequent rope of sperm ejaculated into his brand new acquaintance. After his fervor receded, he rolled sideways, pulling Belinda into a lazy side-saddle. He needed rest.

"When I wake up" he mumbled, "I expect you to give me a vigorous cowgirl."

"Yes!" she exclaimed, then enthused further. "Cowgirl is my special talent. Afterwards, my exhausted cock mates tell me it is unforgettable."

Ned drifted off fantasizing about a vigorous cowgirl fuck from the prim lady named Belinda.

Ned dreamed: there was Belinda spreading his body wide, Belinda massaging his arms and legs, sucking his cock. He slept fitfully, unable to get comfortable by curling on his side, his favorite sleep position. He emerged from his slumber looking at the ceiling which flickered with the colorful light of candle glow. 

Sensing something was different, he tried to get up but failed. Thereupon, he discovered his wrists and ankles were banded with leather cuffs and fastened to the bed's four corners. He was naked and exposed; the only bedcover was a black satin sheet stretched over the mattress beneath him.

A sound brought his attention to a darkened corner of the room. A figure rose from the shadowed corner chair. Its steps brought it into the dim candle lit bedside area. It was Belinda, of course.

She wore nothing. Her drape of soft brunette tresses tickled her shoulders. Her lips were frosted fire-engine red. In Belinda's hand was a foot long black wand, thick as her finger with a red rubber tip, looking like an oversized black pencil with eraser.

Ned blinked his eyes to clear his vision, assuming he was dreaming. Looking again, she was still there.

Belinda sternly rebuked him. "Hey, HEY! None of that, look at me, always look at me."

Ned closed his eyes, irritated by her stern tone and the unaccustomed captivity. A sharp crackle lit up his left nipple. He jumped and looked at his chest. The wand was an inch above his stung nipple.

"Did you just Tazer me!?" Ned cried incredulously. 

Belinda laughed. "No, no... nothing that serious. It's a contact activated pencil vibrator" she pooh-poohed.

She touched the red tip to his sternum and it vibrated against his skin. It felt electric but Ned could see that it was just a mechanical tickler. Ned looked into her mischievous grin.

"That's better" she instructed him. "Just lay still but always look at me. Like I said: cowgirl is my special talent and I assure you, it's unforgettable."

Belinda climbed up to straddle Ned's hips. Ned had a view of her luscious cunt; her spread thighs framing her exposed pink nether lips. The wand crossed his vision headed for his right nipple and he shot his look to Belinda's bemused expression. The wand halted its journey and inched away from his nipple.

"When I said: look at me, I didn't mean my tits or my cunt. I meant my face, my eyes even better. Understand?"

"Okay" piped Ned.

"Good."

Belinda repositioned her nether lips to tent Ned's cock. She slid back and forth. Ned obediently watched her face as she railed along his length. His peripheral vision could see her hips jog and the body movements gave tremors to her breasts. His dick responded to the unseen sensations. Belinda noted his stiffening.

"That's good, Ned. Get that cock hard for me."

Ned jogged his hips to extend and aid the strokes. Belinda noted his assistance with warm eye squints and a nodding smile. Ned was eager to please if it avoided contact with her magic wand. Deciding Ned was hard enough, Belinda reached between her legs and maneuvered Ned vertical. She slid down slow and steady, pushing his phallus all the way inside her. She rested at the bottom, wiggled her ass to get proper bracing with her knees and started the long strokes.

Belinda liked to be in control of a real stud. Her corporate life was filled with male associate sycophants. She always dressed to the nines and exuded sexiness. She certainly was not the everyday woman character she played this morning at Ned's front door. The businessmen around her might be her subordinates, peers or superiors but they all melted in her presence. They imagined their cocks touching her lips, tits, hands or pussy: coating her extremities and orifices with their sperm. They never had a chance as far as she was concerned. They were too weak and easy to manipulate. 

Right here and now was her fantasy: manipulating an alpha male. Drawing the fly into her web with sweet purity, then consuming her prey with sexual debaucheries.

Belinda watched Ned watching her. He was getting into the theme of this scenario. He was correctly watching her face, his ardor building. The signs were obvious. Ned was ready to spew. The time had arrived for the final act.

Belinda stretched out her hand and touched the wand to Ned's nipple. Ned cried out in surprise and anger. She retreated. She touched the other nipple; Ned cried out again and bucked his hips to stop her. She tapped the wand to his bellybutton. Ned felt the electric-like vibration send a reflexive tingle to the tip of his dick deep in her womb and he whimpered.

Belinda pressed the tip to his bellybutton again and held it there. Ned went wild as he felt his cock light up. He wrenched against the wrist and ankle restraints; his hips twisted, rose and dove, trying to unseat the evil wench holding the wicked wand. Belinda rode Ned like a bull-riding cowgirl which, at that very moment, was exactly what she was. His cock got bigger, longer and harder inside her and she clung with legs and hands as her man's corona scoured her vaginal walls. At one very intense contortion, she heard Ned's ultimate howl and felt the first warm flood of ejaculate soak her womb. She withdrew the wand and Ned's writhing edged down, his urethra still firing its following shots of sperm from his oversensitive erection.

Ned lay motionless under her after that, drenched with sweat. His eyes were closed, not looking at Jolie. Belinda recognized the condition; he had passed out. The best TWA Coach tutors had done the same over the years when she had practiced this routine. 

She eased off of him and his softened prick drooped between his thighs. Belinda removed her sex mate's cuffs and rolled him on his side. She spooned into his back, her cunt pressing his ass cheeks and her tits poking his sweat drenched back, guarding her exhausted male through the remainder of the night. 

Ned slept long, embraced by the pseudo girl-next-door that had fucked him cowgirl in a way that he would never forget. He awoke after noon the next day. His cell phone was squawking its special emergency tone. New duties awaited him. He dismissed Belinda, saying the text message seemed urgent. Belinda pouted. She really wanted one more fuck with Ned, a nice soothing one this time. But she would wait for subsequent opportunities over the remaining month. Obediently, she sauntered off to her personal suite to prepare plans for more kinky scenarios with Ned.



Total Woman Journal 03



Ned thumbed his cellphone to re-read the incoming text. 

'Taxi driver got lost, dropped me at the Strip and Fuck Club. Can you come get me? Please?? ... Farrah'

Ned summoned the chauffeur and rode the hour through afternoon rush hour traffic to the exclusive club. He asked the driver to park nearby, explaining he needed to bailout the latest TWA tune-up attendee. 

Ned flashed his TWA crested member card at the door. The bouncer nodded knowingly. About an hour ago, a striking young woman had produced an identical entrance card and said she was meeting her tardy business associate inside. The shaved head black man escorted Ned inside and pointed towards the smartly dressed vixen seated alone at a small café table against the far wall. 

Farrah saw the bouncer point her out to the man he was guiding. She took up her drink and sipped coyly, hiding her conceited smile, eyeing the TWA coach tutor over the rim of her glass. Ned palmed a C-note to the bouncer during his thank-you dismissal. She could barely hide her smugness as Ned moved across the room. 

Rather than completely closing on the young woman named Farrah, he slipped into an empty table at the center of the room. The dozen male patrons ignored him as they watched the dancing stripper wiggle seductively out her last clothes onstage. She was good; the last warmup show before the featured star of the afternoon. That main act always included audience participation, thus the club's name. The cluster of topless waitresses had departed the room just before Ned arrived. They hustled backstage to ready themselves for the compatible floor activities that they would perform during the upcoming main event. 

Ned sat sideways to the stage, facing Farrah and ignoring the naked performer as she bowed her exit stage right. The music had faded and the men were scraping their chairs, getting positioned for the afternoon's ultimate stage spectacle. 

Ned coolly stretched his arm level towards Farrah across the room. He pointed his index finger, then wiggled the 'come here' finger motion. The men did double takes between Ned and Farrah. 

Her expression froze at the impudent summons and she abnormally blushed at the unwanted audience's attention. Ned's treatment was so different from the way ordinary men stuttered and fawned in her presence. But her TWA instilled poise rose to the occasion. The alpha male had beckoned her; she must oblige.

Farrah meekly rose from her safe sanctuary beyond the edge of the male crowd. She stepped off warily, a slow model walk, headed for Ned's crowded focal position. Her path forced her to squeeze between the randomly cited chairs and tables, their occupants mesmerized by her graceful amble as she brushed through the crowd.

Ned examined her as she seductively approached. She was not tall, even in her heels, a bit petite in the body. Her club-wear red dress was very loose, sleeveless, with large arm holes gathered at the tied waist. The loose collar drooped low, displaying her smooth skin from her neck down to her toned abs. Breaking free of the obstructing throng, her runway model struts fanned the fabric sides atop her firm compact breasts. The skirt was full, the wide hem fluttering at mid-thigh. 

She ended her bidden trek a few yards from Ned. His hand signed a spin motion. She obediently executed a nimble dance revolution, giving everyone a 360 panorama. Her bare back confirmed Ned's suspicions. Farrah's firm nubile boobs were unbridled beneath the loose dress.

Her surrounding rapt admirers were stone silent. They had never seen such a spicy nymph attending the normally male dominated club. The strippers and waitresses were pros and fair game. But this sex kitten was unknown but certainly worth getting to know. She willingly followed directions from this visiting stranger.

She finished stepping up to Ned and extended her hand. "Thank you for inviting me over, sir." 

Ned glanced at the extended hand of greeting but didn't move to respond in kind. Rather he slumped a little in his seat, opened his legs a bit wider and pointed dramatically to his groin.

Farrah took in an imperceptible breath of annoyance before she lifted her skirt hem waist high to reveal her bright white satin thong. The silent room rippled with low groans. Farrah straddled up onto Ned's waiting crotch and dropped the skirt hem over their legs, shrouding the cozy genital contact.

Meanwhile, the bouncer noticed the quiet in the main room and then the murmurs; he left the front door to investigate. He spied Farrah mounted on Ned's lap with every male eye in the room focused on the pair. Her oscillating hips ground her panties hard against Ned's zipper. The lap dancing pair were staring intently into the other's eyes, apparently oblivious to their audience. Quick witted, the bouncer signaled to the control booth to hold off on the impending main stage act. This unexpected free show was good for business. The word of mouth rumors alone would generate double the club's volume over the next few months.

Farrah pulled Ned's face into her chest. She hugged his neck, looking past him to where the bouncer stood sentry. Ned's nose was filled by her flowery scent. He inched his face under the dress to her left tit. He kissed and then nipped her bare pert nipple. Farrah's eyes shot wide at the tit nibble but then squinted into a sly smile that thrilled the watching bouncer and club onlookers. She rolled her shoulders, rubbing her hidden boob harder against Ned's shrouded face. Her hips renewed the sawing action against his sheltered erection. 

The men had recovered their wits and whispered bawdy accolades to each other. Farrah heard the giddy murmurs and took them to be implied complements. She increased her attention to Ned's happiness. 

Her mood was broken by a coarse remark.

"Hey, Baby! Don't let him hog all your cunny! Give ME some of that."

Farrah noticeably stiffened at the abrupt catcall but recovered and continued Ned's sinuous lap dance. The bouncer strode towards the rowdy drunk. Farrah caught her beefy protector's eye just as he loomed behind the offender. She shook her head and bade him come hither. She reached out and clutched a fist full of his muscle shirt, dragging his ear down to her whisper.

"I'll handle it" she assured him. "Leave him to me."

The bouncer nodded his consent and retreated to his nearby hovering post, having demonstrated to the patrons that he was ready to pounce on any bad behavior. 

Ned and Farrah glowed from their public foreplay. The clientele wondered how long Ned could hold out without cumming in his pants. Ned had the same thoughts. Farrah had fulfilled his initial fantasy of the sexiest lady in the house instinctively drawn to his masculine charisma. The next obvious step was full genital penetration, but not in a public room full of ardent spectators. Soon, one lucky client would get laid onstage as part of the upcoming main performer's stage act. The other customers would watch from the gallery while the cocktail waitresses released their pent-up lust.

Ned unburied his head from beneath Farrah's bodice and pressed her upright in his lap.

"Let's get out of here" he suggested.

"Yes" she agreed. 

Farrah unsaddled from her man. Her panties were soaked. Ned's fly was damp and shiny with her vaginal dew. She helped Ned up and he turned to tow her straight for the door. Farrah pulled back gently, head nodding toward the crude heckler seated back the other way. 

She led Ned back through the small crowd. Parking him nearby, she posed herself in front of the uncouth lout. The fat man struggled to stand but she pushed him firmly back into his seat. She steadied her stance and leaned far forward. Her top draped beneath her horizontal torso, giving him a great down-collar vista of two perfect breasts tipped with two perfect pointy nipples. Monitoring his stunned face, Farrah ran her hands up her thighs and under her skirt. Her hips rocked to and fro, bobbing her suspended tits as she drew her panties down and stepped them off her ankles.

She straightened up and the man slouched in his seat, expecting her to climb aboard his bulbous hips and give him the same treatment Ned had gotten. She dangled the moist white thong in his face on an outstretched finger. Her feminine tang was strong in his nostrils. He tried to grab the prize but she jerked it back.

"I'll bet that's as close as you'll ever get to real pussy. Think about that as you whack yourself off for the rest of your pathetic life." 

The crowd joined Farrah's hilarious laughter. The embarrassed man turned beet red and anger crossed his face. Ned decided that it was a good time to leave. He clasped her hand and marched towards the door, picking a path close to the shielding bouncer. Farrah paused next to the large security dude, pressing her dew stained panties into his hand.

"Thank you, kind sir. Can you hold these for me? I won't be needing them anymore tonight. One of these days I'll come back to retrieve them and then suitably reward your kind service." 

She hopped on her tiptoes as she pecked his cheek. He gave her a roguish grin as he touched the lipstick mark left behind. Farrah placed her palm flat against his massive muscled chest to keep his attention.

"Oh, and do the waitresses a BIG favor. Let loudmouth handle his own dick. No help from them."

The bouncer leered towards the fat man and nodded knowingly. "Good idea, ma'am."

Farrah broadly strutted her ass as she walked away, a final taunt to the humiliated heckler.

There was a misty rain as they exited the club. Their town car was parked at the curb. The attending chauffeur tipped his cap as he closed the rear door behind the harried couple. Ned and Farrah released their nervous breathes as they collapsed side by side onto the black leather seat.

"Hey, girl... that was a bit risky at the end, don't you think?"

"Maybe..." she cooed. "But I think I handled it well."

Ned leaned sideways, taking his first kiss from the little imp. She responded with warmth, cupping her palm behind his neck, prolonging the contact. Her other hand stirred a finger on Ned's stained pants. They relaxed the kiss but stayed close, noodling noses.

"Looks like I made a mess... let's get you out of your soiled duds." She worked his pants closures, then kneeled on the floor boards to tug them off his legs. Ned's cock was full and heavy.

Farrah crawled up into his lap, saddling her hips over his. This time, there were no intervening clothes and she tented her sodden pussy lips over his prick. She shrugged her club dress down her arms and the red fabric ringed her waist. She braced her hands on Ned's shoulders.

"I think this is where we left off..." Farrah moved into the sawing motion, rubbing her soft cunt skin along his hard-on from balls to crown. Her feminine moisture slicked his manhood. 

Farrah's tantalizing chest advanced and receded under Ned's gaze. Aroused Ned hugged her cleavage to his face, restricting her freedom of movement on his cock. No matter; Farrah took it as a sign of his readiness. She moved a nipple sideways to his mouth, lifted her ass by hugging his head, captured his knob at her cunt's open gate and pressed down. Ned moaned into her boob as she slid him in halfway. 

Farrah used the same sawing motion to scrape his corona along her vaginal walls, working him deeper. They moved easy, enjoying the slow mutual stimulation, feeling the rumble of the car propelling onward. Farrah moved to its rhythm, watching the outside world through the shaded rear window, resting her chin on his head. The other cars passed their rain speckled limousine. Farrah watched their fuzzy glimmers flash and fade in blue, white and yellow hues. She felt contented, safe in strong arms, the firm cock of a real man shifting inside her. She hoped Ned felt the same serenity.

He did. For him, the buildup never lasted this long. By now, he had usually spurted himself inside his mate. But this time, Farrah was doing something to him that calmed his fervor as she stoked his fire. The long public foreplay, her careful lubrication and her gentle strokes sent mild, rather than wild, energy coursing through his body. The sensations were long lasting but were never intended to be endless.

Ned felt his inner surge cresting and decided not to fight destiny. He hugged Farrah tighter as his toes tingled and his nerves sparkled up his legs. The tingles circled around his groin as he reached his peak, groaned and shot gobs of spunk into her womb. Farrah felt the thick discharge and reflected his hug, though not his orgasm. This was Ned's fantasy time and she understood her subliminal role in these preliminary tune up sessions. In later sessions, she would get her due and discovery her share of joy during her coming month in this man's arms.

The afterglow glowed within them. "Do you remember me?" she asked softly as she nuzzled his neck. 

Ned thought she had looked familiar but there were so many TWA students that had passed through his life and his bed. It was nearly impossible to keep track of them all; only a sacred few dwelled as lasting memories.

"When did we meet?" he enquired.

"You ran me through my sophomore to junior evaluation assessment. I only got 4 out of 5 for seated cowgirl. At the time, I was devastated. But it pushed me to practice harder. Thank you for the incentive to become perfect. I think I scored a 5 out of 5 this time, don't you?"

Ned nodded a murmured agreement into her cleavage.

The car bumped and swayed through the hostel gate, jostling them out of their swoon. Farrah eased off his cock and picked up Ned's pants, holding them for him to re-don. He laughed and brushed them aside. She hoisted her dress panels to cover her chest and he halted that move as well. They alighted half naked from the limousine into the misty night air. The giggling pair skipped to the door: Ned in his shirt, sans pants and barefooted; Farrah topless in heels, her dress tied at the waist and cloaking her ass.

Upstairs, Farrah danced a teasing pirouette across the threshold of Ned's guest suite. He pulled off his damp shirt and followed her into his sanctuary totaled nude. He advanced on the still giggling Farrah, who playfully backed away, then scampered out of his reach. He chased her as she flounced around the room. At one point he gripped her flapping pseudo-skirt, hauling her back against his body. The waist tie was no work at all, even as Farrah friskily twisted to escape. Her giddiness goaded Ned to another erection, focusing him on his next sexual conquest.

Ned pressed Farrah face down on the bed, her legs flailing over the edge. He lined up and pushed in, burying himself a second time tonight into her pussy. Farrah stiffened at the onslaught but then relaxed. Ned laid his full weight against her back, confining her under him. His need for stimulation had escalated after the gentle lovemaking in the limousine. 

The rough catch and fuck scenario gave him that greater drive. His hips mimicked Farrah's earlier sawing motions as he drilled her quick and hard. Farrah felt the pussy pins and needles as her clitoris rubbed against the bedsheets. Ned felt his ejaculatory spasms begin, quickly levered up his chest and buried himself deep. His howl accompanied his pulses as he expelled his verbal and liquid euphoria. The rough sex also excited Farrah and her deferred orgasm rippled strong along the length of the rod in her cunt.

Later, Farrah lay cuddled against Ned's body in the arm space, securely embraced in his arm. They were too keyed up to sleep, even though exhausted. Farrah was a little confounded by the ferocious doggie style fucking, especially after her gentle nurturing of Ned in the car. But the vigor of the fuck had triggered her ecstasy. And that was a good thing.

Ned fidgeted to get settled into the mattress, stared at the ceiling and pondered his next use of Farrah's charms. His nerves were still wired but he was too tired for the efforts of fucking. He lifted Farrah's soft hand onto his half hard prick. Farrah was aware of the meaning and stroked his length. She continued to massage it through the swelling and ejaculation. Ned closed his eyes after that and felt sleep creep into his brain.

At morning's light, Ned gazed on Farrah's pouty sleeping lips, imagined them circling the base of his cock, his knob deep in her throat. 'I'll save that plan for later' he thought. Happy Ned sent Farrah to her own room with a playful farewell smack to her cute little ass.



Total Woman Journal 04



Ned strolled the house, passing a couple of his attendees lounging in the living room. Their faces lit up at his entrance, freshly energized as he echoed their eager greetings. Ned felt his own palpable temptation to the girls' eager reactions. They placed themselves in their most approachable postures and asked if there was anything, anything at all, that he needed. They had satisfied his initial meeting fantasy and were obviously competing for a sooner than scheduled follow up round. "Not right now" he consoled them. "Maybe something later."

Having declined their entreaties, he passed through the kitchen. Its windows overlooked the pool where other attendees were sunning themselves in the tropical sun, sensibly nude, working on their essential all over tans.

Ned was drawn to a ruckus emanating behind a kitchen side door. It sounded like wrenches falling on a concrete floor and mild cursing. Ned opened the door to the attached garage. Stepping through, he found a vintage Mustang convertible occupying the middle bay; its engine hood propped open. Beside it, an over-all wearing mechanic was bent over facing away, putting scattered shiny tools into a shop box.

Ned offered "Can I help you with anything?"

The mechanic spun around to confront the garage intruder. The tone was authoritative, the hands braced on hips.

"Sir, please leave. This area is off limits to guests for safety reasons."

Ned immediately seized upon the gender of the gear jockey. It was obviously a woman. The stern voice was plainly feminine. Her torso was clinched by the overalls elastic waist band. But even in the baggy jumpsuit, her huge boobs were clearly evident. She was blond; most of her hair was tucked under a cloth cap, some strands escaping. Ned rebutted her warning.

"Sorry to disappoint but I can assure you that nothing in this house is off limits to the guest coach tutor."

With the authority rankings reversed, the woman let her hands drop from her hips and stood more attentive to her interloper. Ned took over the conversation. 

"So... who are you and what are you doing here?"

"I'm Gus, well actually Augustina, but I like to be called Gus. I'm here to attend a month long tune-up seminar... apparently with you."

"Okay, Gus. But you were supposed to come to the front door so I could act out my first impressions of your initial appearance."

"Well... yes, sir... but my flight was delayed until after midnight. Rather than bother everyone during the night, I decided to rent a car and drive myself here. On the way, I noticed the engine wasn't quite tuned right. Those rental guys don't know how to take care of a sweet model like this. She's got a classic body and plenty of muscle to make all the right moves."

Ned couldn't tell if Gus was describing the car or herself. He decided it didn't really matter. He would soon find out for himself.

"So, how did you know the engine needed work?"

"I graduated from TWA with top honors in Mechanical Engineering and took a job with Total Woman Industries in their automotive design center. I know my stuff."

"So, is she ready now?"

"Oh, yeah... She's ready to purr like a kitten and rumble like tiger."

Again, Ned couldn't tell if she was describing the car or herself. Again he decided it didn't matter. He was ready to find out for himself. He was obliged by his role to act out my first impressions of her initial appearance. His first duty was to evaluate that classic body.

Ned stepped to Gus. He tabbed the overalls front zipper and drew it down to her belly. With both hands, he spread the lapels. Unsurprisingly, her generous breasts completely filled her industrial grade brassiere. He expected nothing less from this alluring engineering ingénue.

His hands slipped to her tons of fun, kneading the tight packed globes. Even though buttressed by her packed rack-sacks, Ned could sense the heavy plasticity of her chest flesh. 

Gus stood still, accustomed to the male fixation on her big boobs. She had briefly considered breast reduction surgery during her studies at TWA. But the curriculum emphasized making the most of nature's gifts and eschewed medical alterations of any kind. 

The TWA coach tutors had taught her the best use of all her carnal assets, every part of her anatomy, tits included. They counselled patience for the typical man's trance-like focus on her chest trophies, even as they impatiently pandered their own zeal for her breasts. She learned to wait out the boob maulings and then unveil her other ways to rock a man's cock.

Gus would have let Ned play all day if that was his desire but she was tired of the work clothes and was eager for Ned to sample her other feminine expertise. Without disturbing his manual contact, she slipped out her cap and fluffed her blonde tresses about her shoulders. The arm wiggles shimmied her chest, only delighting Ned more and holding his attention there.

Gus smoothed the lapels past her shoulders and let the overalls hang from her waist. Her hands unclipped the back strap and she gently eased Ned's fixated grope on her bra cups in order to remove them. Turning aside, she closed the engine hood.

Gus guided Ned to lean back against the car grill, taking time to kneel and slide his shorts down his legs. She confronted his half hard prick. Ned watched her tongue lap around his shaft and knob. He looked up to close his eyes but instead was confronted by the classic pinup artwork decorating the garage walls. 

Cheeky women in short shorts and filmy tops struck suggestive poses, holding work shop products offered for sale. One sat on the floor, eyes and mouth opened in surprise, a large power drill propped between her wide spread knees. Another stood pucker-lipped as she supported an axle rod in both hands, pretending imminent fellatio on the oversized shaft. Still another smiled sideways from down-dog, her heavy breasts uncovered, a gigantic screw provocatively balanced on her shapely ass. There are dozens of the vintage calendar tableaus, all kinky burlesques of industrial technology.

Meanwhile, the real deal was motoring right along on Ned's growing erection. Ned let his attention drift to the bobbing head at his groin. Gus was working like a well-oiled engine but one with water dregs in the fuel tank. The smooth series of strokes were occasionally disrupted by stutters in the rhythms. She would angle her head and rub his knob against cheeks, gums and palate. Even then, her raspy tongue never lost its slippery contact to his shaft.

Ned halted her ministrations to his masculine altar. Gus rose, expecting more boob handling. Ned knelt and drew her bunched overalls over her magnificent ass and down her legs. Her panties were delicate and silky, unlike the sturdy spandex-reinforced bra.

Ned stood for their first kiss, a gentle reminder that he wanted her to enjoy this first meeting as much as he did. Message sent, he faced her to the front grill and leaned her over, forcing her to press her nipples firmly against the wax polished hood. He wiggled her shoulders, watching the compressed chest meat bulging and shifting beneath her ribcage, perfect shock absorbers for the bumpy ride ahead. He edged her dainty panties aside; his knob found her opening. 

Gus spread her feet wider for stability. She reached wide and gripped the fenders, placing her cheek on the cold metal bonnet. Ned's first thrust was strong and the hip collision rammed her body forward. Her squashed breasts rolled beneath her torso. Ned rammed and retreated, testing the depth and texture of her vagina. Her boobs slid and squeaked on the stiff wax polish with each lunge.

Ned took some pity on her, realizing he could get a quickie doggy fuck from anyone anytime. What he really wanted was to feel her tits caress his cock. He pulled her up and hustled her into the back seat. She laid herself out, habitually aware of every new mate's initial cravings. Ned straddled her belly, laying his phallic tube between her mammary meats. Her skin was blushed from the cold metal wax burns.

Gus propped her tits together around his prick. He was still slick from her vaginal juices and their moves were easy. Ned was irregular with his long strokes. Gus was skilled at this routine; she had practiced a lot with the coach tutors at the Academy: in bed, on lounges, sprawled on the pool deck. But this was her first time jammed into a car's backseat. The confined space gave her an extra challenge, yet her experience told her what to do.

Once, at a TWA-arranged elite fund raising event, she had been the center of attention on the dance floor, her unfettered boobs bounding to the disco beat beneath her shimmery nightclub dress. Her pledge contributor sponsor, goaded by her suggestive cavorting, had hastily stripped her topless on the dance floor, lay her out and satisfied himself in her prone cleavage. He dismounted and ordered the spunk-spattered blonde to pull a boob-job train for his guests. She complied, well-practiced in the ways to tongue tickle each successive man's tip until he came powerfully on her face and her rumpled blonde tresses. 

Gus likewise worked that magic now on Ned's cock until he finally blew his spunk on her chin and neck, quenching his initial fantasy zeal. He collapsed on her upper body, getting cum smears on his belly. She hugged his ass close, entombing his dying prick in her chesty mounds, resting from her own exertions. Ned recovered his wits and checked her condition in metaphor.

"How's the engine now? Is she ready to cruise around the block?"

"She's primed and raring to go" Gus murmured her assurance.

They toddled naked and gooey to her assigned bedroom, giggling all the way. At the bottom of the stairs, Ned gallantly indicated that Gus should lead the way. On the first step, he slapped her ass; she whooped at the sudden smack. Jogging the steps, she scampered ahead, Ned in hot pursuit. He chuckled at the peek-a-boob sidewinders that her bounding stride produced. He chased her down the short hallway and captured her from behind in a boob groping hug as she struggled to open her assigned bedroom door.

Tumbling inside, she untangled and jumped onto the large central bed. Ned climbing on behind her. The boudoir walls were covered with mirrored glass. They romped naked on the bed and posed for the multiple reflections. The various angles gave Ned spectacular repeating views of her juicy cunt and mouth. 

Ned recalled the dozens of postures from the vintage garage art. He maneuvered Gus into his interpretations of the pinup poses, sans advertised machinery. He positioned his own body as he would for sex with the staged model. They tested his ability to penetrate her feminine orifices in the proposed positions. They found some arrangements impossible for decent coitus. Ned consoled himself by playing with her always available tits, tweaking the erect nipples. 

In some downward positions, Gus bent over him and dipped her nipples against his erection. He fluffed the weighty masses. When on her back, Ned found incentives to flutter his fingers on the sides, delighting in the liquid waves rippling across her chest. Sitting her upright, he spooned behind her, pinching the nubs as he nibbled her neck. When he made her hold a particular pose, his prick nimbly probed her pussy or mouth, testing his ability to get depth and control of the strokes. 

The foreplay was inventive to say the least. Gus fell into her role with abandon, forgetting to give only controlled demonstrations of her capabilities. Ned let her push him to the edge before he reluctantly halted the action. Even still, he inadvertently came twice during the run-throughs: once in her mouth and the second time in her hand. During an exceptional blowjob, Gus rebelled when he signaled her to desist. Instead, she sucked more deeply and triggered his pre-mature spend. The second time, after a vigorous hand job where she failed to heed his stop-work order, she lapped up the male elixir spilled on his belly. 

In the pre-dawn finale, he finished her off with a traditional missionary position. He hugged her torso, crushing her heaving boobs between his biceps and chest. Her bountiful breasts buoyed his body. The all night workout had wearied him and occasionally he paused while inserted, his full weight pressing on her body as he briefly caught his breath. He was thrilled when she took those opportunities to demonstrate her talented vaginal muscles, keeping him primed by massaging his cock with compressions even when he was motionless inside her.

By dawn, the exhausted Ned had handled and analyzed Gus in all kinds of distorted alignments. He looked forward to returning to his favorites during the coming month. Gus had similar thoughts as she bade Ned farewell when he departed to his next duty call.



Total Woman Journal 05



The Caribbean island climate was always tropical and refreshing year-round. It was the perfect venue for indoor, outdoor and beach activities. Ned never checked the weather reports; it was a dismally boring exercise: sunny, passing afternoon showers.

So it was strange that he was fully attentive and prepared to watch every facet of the weather prognostication that Paula was about to present in the small theatre room of the hostel. The projection booth at the rear of the room today would house multiple cameras instead of projectors.

Paula was a TWA graduate with a degree in Mass Communications. She had been shuffling amongst Midwest local stations as a public interest commentator or weather girl. She kept hoping for a sudden sick-day by a regular staff presenter, a lucky chance to demonstrate her skills as a field reporter or a weekend anchor. But the studio executives understood ratings and her great looks left her in parallel moves as the broadcaster's eye candy and charity telethon enticement. Paula decided a different kind of telethon might do the trick. TWA had arranged a private online screening of Paula's qualifications.

Paula appeared stage left dressed in a smart business suit. Her blonde hair was fashionably coiffured; her silver ear baubles sparkled beside her perfect stage makeup. The ruffled blouse was buttoned to the neck; the blazer and skirt were cut neat, articulating her womanly curves. Smoky hose covered her athletically sculpted calves protruding from below her skirt hem down to her black heels.

She stopped left of a blue screen where the graphic illustrations would appear. Further to the right was an electronic tote board. It would display the feedback from the exclusive online audience of executive producers.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to my personal telethon. I might call it a dress rehearsal but, as you will soon see, that would be an oxymoron, a contradictory description. 

"Today, I am auctioning personal goods and services. I will pause at times during the performance to solicit perks and proceeds. Please wait until invited before entering your offers. At the end of the show, I will select the best one. Sorry, folks, but there can be only one winner. Stay alert, be competitive and good luck."

Ned encouraged Paula with silent hand clapping motions, letting her know he approved of her introduction. He was cooperative but impatient to take his part in the spectacle.

The blue screen lit up with a weather map of the Caribbean Sea, dotted with smiling sunbursts.

"It's going to be lovely everywhere in the region. Lots of sun with maybe a passing afternoon sprinkle to moderate the humidity."

Paula used a palm to fan her chin in mock Southern belle swoon-style. "I am already feeling a bit flush from the heat and this jacket is just too much."

Her hands plucked at a blazer buttons straining over her bosom.

"This coat has to go. But a girl has too watch her clothing budget. Who will bid on a second hand blazer? Can anyone give me $1,000?"

The tote board came alive; the first bid was the minimum. A second bid appeared: $1,200. Another bid followed on the heels of another as a digital clock counted backward from 30 seconds. At zero, a buzzer sounded. Paula walked across the stage and pressed a light beside the highest figure. It appeared at the top of the row with the words: jacket, the amount and an identification number of the bidder. That was the end of round one.

Paula lifted the coat lapels and shrugged it off. She handed it off stage to an assistant.

"Congratulations to the winner. Your prize should arrive by overnight express tomorrow."

She returned to her station, stage left of the blue screen display.

"In sports, today is the anniversary of the famous gold medal victory by the US Women's Soccer team where Mia Hamm ripped off her jersey after the win."

The blue screen showed the legendary celebration by the team's star player.

"I will honor the event with a similar act. Who wants my blouse?"

The tote board spun as the clock counted down. At the end, a figure far surpassing the blazer bid won the contest. Paula moved the bid to the second row on the register which now had the added item of: blouse, the bid and ID number.

Paula moved center stage, gripped her silky shirt. She whooped a victory cry and ripped suddenly; popped buttons went flying. She yanked the sleeves off one arm and then the other. It was the viewers' first good look at her bra-packed cleavage as it rebounded from her vigorous machinations. She wrenched so hard that her hairdo lost a bit of its neatness and tendrils hung over her cheeks. She wadded the silk and tossed it harshly off stage for postage and handling to the bidding victor.

Paula regained her composure, fingering lose strands behind her ear. They were non-compliant and she released the rest of her hair to form a loosened demeanor. She fluffed her curls as they graced her shoulders.

"In Washington, the government announced another security breach involving hacked computers."

On the blue screen, a harried bureaucratic spokesman stood at a press conference podium and answered a pool reporter's shouted question by stating: 'Yes, we were simply caught with our pants down.' The image paused in still shot.

Paula gave a sly grin. "Well, I'm not wearing pants but what am I offered to get caught with my skirt down?"

Not anticipating a protest from her unseen audience, Paula unfastened the clip and zipped the side zipper down. She walked towards the bid board with the open waited skirt still covering her auspicious ass. The clock buzzed as she arrived. Paula looked at the entries and smiled. Finally, one of the producers understood the personal nature of the telethon. 

His entry had no dollar amount but read: 'Four weekend slots over the coming year as guest news anchor'. Paula moved it to the third posted entry on the register. She faced the cameras and nodded knowingly, signaling that the online participants should take note.

Paula proceeded to donate his prize. She held her hair bun in a gathered handful and beamed her joy. Her hips wiggled and the skirt shuffled down her legs. Its descent revealed her garter-less stockings and cramped panties. She launched the discarded tailored wool off stage with a fluid kick. It would be sent to the creative bidder for his trophy collection.

Freed of street clothes, Paula took a few moments to sashay her splendid ass in a sensuous dance routine while she retraced her path back to stage left. 

As she arrived at her standard position, the blue screen lit up with a scene from a mansion's sunny backyard. Young women skittered and bobbed topless around a pool deck, chased by handsome men in Speedos, one capturing his quarry from behind with handfuls of boob.

"And in celebrity news, several promising starlets were in attendance at a Hollywood executive's post-production party. Nubile film assistants, actress wannabes all, spent the weekend with the industry veterans learning the ropes, or gropes, as it were. The star actors familiarized the eager young guests with the massive size of their egos, talents and God given endowments."

As she spoke, Paula inched her hands behind her back. As the film clip ended, she paused and smirked, nodding to the tote board. She watched as the bids started their run-up. As the buzzer sounded, she clicked the bra back clasp. The cups and straps hung looser on her frame.

After giving the cameras a moment to get set, she replicated the prancing jog of the nubile actresses, her generous boobs bouncing under the lacy covers. Arriving at the tote board, she leaned forward and the chesty undergarment dropped down her arms before being tossed to join its predecessor items offstage. 

Paula stood tall and proud. She cupped her own tits and displayed the mounds for her audience. A quick lick and a finger circle of the areolae completed the display. Turning to the bids, she was pleased with the progressive nature of the offers.

"A weekend of a hands-on interview in Paris for a year-long contract as weekly host of special reports from luxurious vacation resorts."

"A week of interviews with the studio producers in Bali leading to a two year contract as special reporter."

Paula studied and pondered the difference between the two top competing offers. One interviewer would be good; more intimacy and less effort as the man tired less through the fewer days and nights. Multiple interviewers would keep her busy but might be fun as the men competed for her approval. The real difference was the contract term and she chose the two year offer. It became her fourth selection on the register and she re-crossed the stage with a model's hard step to give her boobs and ass an inviting jiggle.

During the latest winning bid selection, a kitchen island countertop had been placed at her blue screen station. Paula dropped a short kitchen apron over her neck and tied it around her waist. It covered her nipples and belly but not much else. The stage prop table held a tray of cookies.

"In our homemaker segment this evening, we have tips for you housewives on taking care of the old hubby after his hard day at work."

This was Ned's cue and he stepped onstage. Paula smiled sweetly and opened her arms to welcome her homeward arriving husband. Ned let her hug her tits hard against his shirt. He pulled her closer and squeezed her ass cheeks as they melted into a passionate extended kiss. She leaned back in his arms as they came up for air.

"How was work, honey?"

"I was hard all day thinking of you, dear."

"Really? Let me see." Suspended in Ned's supporting hug, Paula rubbed her hand soothingly on his crotch. Her other hand took a macaroon from the counter tray.

"I made cookies" she said. She offered him a nibble as she continued the slow sensuous rub on his groin.

"I don't want cookies; I want nookies." he said. 

His hand swept the cookie tray off the far edge of the counter and it clattered to the floor. He pulled the apron ties and lifted the neck loop offer her head. He palmed her ass cheeks and lifted her butt onto the table edge. He grasped her ankles and elevated her legs, resting them either side on his shoulders. His hands rumbled between Paula's thighs, gripping her panties and tearing them apart at the sides. He braced her legs again, cupping her ass cheeks. 

He dove in. His tongue licked her labia, using his finest cunnilingus expertise. Paula lay back on the countertop, staring at the ceiling, her eyes and mouth opening and closing in silent appreciation as Ned worked her soft flesh. Her hands roamed to his scalp. Ned's head bobbed and weaved, moving his face side to side and up and down. She locked her ankles as her ass vibrated in Ned's captive hands. Suddenly, Paula's hands scooted to grip the counter edges. Her body locked ridged as her orgasmic wail filled the kitchen setup.

Ned stayed in character until he felt her completely relax, then backed out. Standing back, he assisted Paula with a hand as she righted and joined him standing. They kissed, Paula tasting her own love juice. Ned placed both hands on her shoulders and pressed down. Paula turned his back to the table before descending. His shorts fell off at her insistence. His cock was fully hard, of course; her encompassing mouth was wet and warm. 

The online feed zoomed in for a close-up. Paula was a cacophony of tongue, lips and bobbing face. Ned let her play for the cameras but this would not be the end for him. He pulled her off and pushed hard, splatting her ass on the floor, quickly kneeling between her legs as she braced her torso on elbows, spreading wide as Ned pierced her.

Unseen by the onstage fucking partners, the tote board lit up. It began ticking as Ned rammed into Paula in earnest. The countdown was scheduled to be longer this time: 60 seconds for this final bidding round. Ned quick stroked, one beat per second. Bids arrived.

"Two weeks of interviews at your choice of venue, your choice of head count, one year of weekday news updates."

"Personal assistant to the producer of your choice, promotion to assistant producer in one year."

Other similar entries filled the available slots. 

As the clock reached its countdown, Ned reached his peak. Paula held him tight in her embrace as he pulsed his spunk deep inside her. The buzzer was unable to drown out his cry of ecstasy. There was no other noises in the auditorium except their diminishing gusts of breath as calm returned. Ned finally backed off and rolled on his back. His cock flopped on his belly as lay resting.

Paula roused herself and walked gracefully to the final bid tabulation. Nude but for stockings and heels, she read through the final offers. All were beyond anything she would have gotten from continuing her rounds through the local and regional hiring managers. With thoughtful foresight, she picked the one that offered two years of internship with quarterly special reports from worldwide luxury resorts catering to the rich and famous. 

Attended by studio assistants and video technicians during the onsite tapings and broadcasts, Paula would stand out as the center of attention eyeballed by the curious and affluent alpha males guests. She could be selective as she lured the lusty suitors, one of whom could be unwittingly destined to be her lifelong mate. It was the perfect scenario for meeting the objectives of her unique education: prosperity for her, a generous alumni endowment for her alma-matar and a secure legacy admittance for her daughters at the Total Woman Academy. Paula's career and life had just taken a fortuitous turn for the better.



Total Woman Journal 06



The remaining weeks sped by, filled with advanced exercises for the residents. The girls were inventive as they individually, or in covert teams, staged enticing setups for Ned to act out his immediate impulses. Ned was tantalized constantly by everyday activities that were duplicitous sexual provocations. Real or role playing activities mimicked such scenes as topless or nude volleyball, scanty schoolgirl uniforms in the library, innocent office intern or secretary slut displays, the flirty young grocery store cashier and the MILF cocktail waitress. Each scenario led to fucking them then and there, expedited by Ned's unconstrained access to their bodies.

 --- --- --- ---

 It had been a fantastic month of continuing adult education for Farrah. Her departure morning had now arrived. She was not the first to leave; Augustina and Paula had preceded her over the previous two days. 

 Augustina was first. After Ned's inventive tutorial in garage calendar art, she had contacted TWA to see if they could arrange similar industrial modelling opportunities. Acting as her talent agent, they had indeed secured keen interest in her talents. After a final full day and night of Ned's exclusive tune-ups, she had flown off the island to a scheduled photography gig with a major industrial tool manufacturer. Everyone wished her luck and said they would be on the lookout for her future published portfolios gracing the walls of their local mechanic's shop.

 Paula had been next. The successful web-streamed telethon had snagged her a nice contract with an international media conglomerate. Ned and Paula had spent her final day and night sequestered in his suite, bidding each other farewell in their chosen carnal manner. The next day, a weary but buoyant Paula had boarded the media corporate Learjet and flown off to her glamourous future as a television special reporter.

 Ned had then turned his attention to Farrah for the final wind-down to her month long tune-up. It was a similar all day and night special session: thorough and intensive. Farrah had woken naked and satiated but alone in the rumpled bed. Ned had slipped away, letting her sleep late that last morning. She arose and preened in preparation for her exit and homeward journey. She reluctantly cleansed away Ned's spunk where it was drying on her skin, drooling from her womb and leaving a not so unpleasant after-taste in her mouth. Ready to go, she wandered towards the front entrance and her waiting limousine, dismayed that she couldn't thank Ned with a last hug and smoldering kiss for all his advanced coaching techniques.

 Her ruminations were interrupted by soft sounds from the library. Stealing to the open doorway, she discovered why he had been distracted.

 There were clumps of colorful pajama lingerie scattered on the floor. Ned was laying naked on the sofa; Jolie and Belinda were kneeling over him, backs to the door. Belinda was alternately kissing him, then dipping one nipple and then the other for him to suckle. Her hands caressed his chest and her fingers diddled his nipples. Ned's hands squeezed and kneaded her nubile tits with their hardened rosy tips.

 Meanwhile, Jolie was sucking his cock. Her hands were likewise engaged. When not holding Ned's erection upright for the intermittent lollipop licking technique, they were caressing his inner thighs and belly as her mouth bobbed. She paused and swallowed whenever she deep-throated him completely. The three fully involved sex mates infused the room with scents, sighs and moans.

 Farrah surmised that the remaining pair of had hijacked Ned that morning and he, unable or unwilling to resist, had succumbed to their premeditated ménage-a-troi . She graciously suppressed her own disappointment at losing her final farewell with Ned and decided to leave them be. At the last instance, Ned somehow spied Farrah at the door and wiggled an arm above the melee to wave a gentle goodbye. She returned the wave and blew him a kiss, then left. Settling into the back of the town car, Farrah directed the chauffer to detour from the direct route to the airport and stop by the Strip and Fuck Club. She had a final errand and duty to take care of.

 --- --- ---

 The Learjet landing gear touched the concrete runway so gently that Paula barely felt her return to terra firma. The jet slowly smoothly and turned off the runway towards the island airport's terminal. Immigration and Customs were polite and efficient, well versed in their role of accommodating the tourist traffic that was the small country's main source of revenue.

 A chauffeured limousine swept her along the beautiful beach front highway to the finest resort on the island. The hotel staff had been briefed on the arrival of the VIP TV reporter. She could boost their fortunes if she was favorably impressed and said so on air to the worldwide audience. They shamelessly fawned over her as they escorted her to their best luxury suite. 

 In her room, a bouquet and notecard from the network executive apologized for his delay but promised to make it up to her during this weeklong pre-recording scouting trip. Paula took the opportunity to refresh after the long journey. First impressions were important and she wanted to be well received by her newest employer and benefactor.

 Submerged in a bubble bath, she didn't hear her network colleague arrive in the outer suite. She was mildly surprised when he entered the bathroom to find her head with its bunched blonde curls protruding above the suds. Wanting to show the respect due her boss, she rose quickly, standing in the tub and extending her hand in business-like greeting.

 The dazzled elder executive beheld the wet nude woman, her bosom and voluptuous body speckled with foam. Although he had watched the onscreen Paula strip and fuck during her live streamed broadcast, this first look in real life certainly aroused his interest.

 "Hello, sir. I'm Paula and I'm very pleased to finally meet you." Her smile was broad and welcoming, the perfect look for a promotional spokeswoman.

 "Please call me Mike." 

 The grinning old man stepped closer and squeezed her hand in greeting. Her reflective grasp was wet, warm and snug. His cock gave a twitch inside his shorts. He had a flitting image of Paula's nether clench feeling equally wet, warm and snug on his genital appendage. He regained his composure enough to play the gentleman.

 "Maybe you should finish up in here and meet me in the living room. We can have dinner while we discuss our agenda for the coming week of scouting out this resort."

 Mike didn't say that he already had an agenda for scouting out Paula's luscious body during the coming week but both adults were aware of the planned circumstances and mutual expectations. Mike hoped he could fulfill her expectations of his stud role.

 ... ... ...

 Paula sat across from her enamored host and supervisor in the formal dining room. The soft light twinkled off her dark blue low cut lame dress. Her blonde hair, though fixed in a fashionable up-do, touched her ears and set off the blue turquoise baubles hanging below. Mike reveled in her beautiful presence and sensed the waiters' special attentiveness to their table, taking any cue that brought them within her enthralling aura. 

 Mike was proud to be her sole focus of attention, as she ignored her obsequious circle of serving admirers. The fare was delicious, the wine superb and the conversation easy. They discussed the venue and schedule of tours, demonstrations and events the resort management was excited to pull off for this prime advertising occasion.

 Mike led the discussion of the agenda but he was working up his appetite for more than food and drink. Being older, it took longer for his libido to percolate. Now, after the first sight of sudsy Paula in the bath and her dinnertime glamourous display and attractive demeanor, he was more than ready for getting on with the inescapable bedtime action. They left the dining room, strolling to his luxury suite.

 Therein, Paula was the perfect consort, undressing the old man while abetting his roving hands to explore her body as she concurrently disrobed. Later still, their intertwined bodies lay together on the bed. The love-making had been slow and placid in keeping with Mike's declining abilities. Paula focused on his pleasure and sensed that Mike was pleased with his mild ejaculation. She tried again before dawn, sucking him into response and gentling him through an even weaker cum.

 After brunch, they lounged side by side at the clothing optional pool area. Topless Paula stole her hand to Mike's as he catnapped weary from the night chores. He liked the feel of her touch but it was too soon for any amorous activities. Acknowledging his mortality, that morning he had texted the home office for reinforcements.

 Later in the afternoon, Paula noticed two handsome young men enter the pool area. They searched the crowd and their faces lit up with recognition when they spied Mike and Paula on the far side. They made their way through the scattered furniture occupied by semi-dressed guests.

 "Hi, Dad" one said as they arrived.

 Mike opened his eyes and his whole face expressed his joy at seeing his twin sons.

 "Thanks for coming, boys. This is Paula. Paula, meet my sons, George and Gilbert."

 The bronzed athletic pair took station either side of Paula as they admired their tycoon father's latest acquisition. Paula sat up, her breasts hanging attractively before their gaze. The young men shuffled in some nearby chairs and joined Mike and Paula in their little alcove.

 The conversation was usual and pedestrian; a bit of getting to know you talk after the brief introduction. George and Gilbert were immodest about ogling the topless Paula. Sensing their desire for a more intimate discourse, Paula took the lead. She condescended to the house rules, donning a sheer wrap for the short jaunt to the suite, escorted by her triumvirate of excited admirers. 

 In the room, Mike settled into the plush cushioned easy chair. Without any hint of inhibition, the boys dropped their shorts and tee shirts. They shared the minimal duty of stripping Paula: George removed her flimsy shoulder wrap as Gilbert yanked down her panties.

 The strong men heaved her lightly onto the bed and positioned her profile to the old man. They settled on roles, one calling "Heads", the other "Tails". Mounting the bed, they kneeled at either end of the doggy posed Paula. Mike watched this all with stoic interest, his hand stroking his flaccid cock through his bathing suit.

 George cupped Paula's chin and tilted her head back. She looked up at his face as his engorged penis waggled near her parted lips. Gilbert bumped his spongy tip at her nether lips and she widened her stance to aid his entry. With Paula properly positioned, the boys' dual penetrations were amazingly smooth. 

 They set a coordinated rhythm. Pushing in simultaneously, they pressed their groins hard against her ass and face, burying their cocks completely in unison. After a few of those synchronized strokes, they switched to a shuttle rhythm, bracing their hips at a standstill as they rocked Paula's body between them. Her orifices were in turn ebbed and flowed along their sturdy cocks. Mike watched it all with increasing interest, his hand moving quicker now.

 George and Gilbert built to a frenzied flurry of strokes, their coordination simply collapsing into random thrusts. Paula heard their growing moans and grunts as the inevitable carnal crest approached. The young studs gripped tighter on handfuls of hair and ass meat. She closed her eyes as George's pubic bone battered her nose and Gilbert's belly smacked her ass. She sucked hard on George and clutched her cunt around Gilbert's rod. The males' gusting breaths reached the sought-for crescendo as Paula felt the first jets splat deep in her womb and her mouth was flooded with semen. Unseen by her above her back, George and Gilbert had leaned in and lock lips. The bisexual men kissed wetly, tongues whipping along the others lips as they soared through their orgasms. The trio's taut bodies eased and slowly disentangled. Paula fell on her side her back as the twins dismounted the bed. She lay spread limbed, weary legs and arms akimbo.

 "Was that what you needed, Dad?" Gilbert inquired.

 Mike rose from his chair, his shorts off, proudly self-fondling his semi-turgid erection.

 "Yes, thank you, boys. That will do."

 The lusty lads departed. Mike climbed on the bed between Paula's spread thighs. Braced above her on knees and elbows, he shuffled up until his cock was in position, hovering near her cunt.

 "Place me, my dear."

 Paula fumbled blindly between their groins and rubbed the elder executive's knob against her oily labia. Mike let his weigh settle onto her soft body as he penetrated her soaked pussy. The sex was more robust this time, though still gentle. When Mike called out his ecstasy and dribbled inside her, Paula cooed sweetings in his ear and fondly rubbed his back. She now knew that Mike was a voyeur that needed plentiful visual stimuli to get aroused. She would use that knowledge during their remaining time at the resort to give Mike the inducement he needed for satisfying sex.

 The rest of the week was a series of tandem swaps. George took Paula to his suite every morning for an hour of robust sucking and fucking. Gilbert took his turn in the afternoon, likewise propelling Paula into a couple of hard orgasms. Suitably satiated by his sons each day, Paula spent her evenings gently working Mike through his sex session. Sometimes, after fucking, they spent the night intermittently petting. Other times Mike left for his own room soon afterwards for much needed post-coital rest. Elsewhere, the bi-sexual twins reveled in each other's embraces during the night.

 The weekend brought a change-up in the schedule. The twins departed when the production crews arrived. It was a hectic full week of photography and video recording. There were multiple audience segments to satisfy. Mike's mass media empire covered the spectrum: public magazines and films that would be delivered by both mail and online streaming and their more private adult themed equivalents. Each recording session gathered both the family and risqué rated content; Paula performed the promotional script clothed and then repeated it, barely or not at all clothed. The shoots were edited post-production for the appropriate media. 

 Mike watched every take and later reviewed the edited product. One in particular caught his fancy. The makeup artists decorated Paula with a body paint swimsuit. She revealed both the family and clothing optional pool areas wearing the naughty colorful covering. Even the public promotions hinted at the titillating getup, unable to conceal the loose bounce of her boobs with their erect nipples. Near the end of the adult shoot, Paula stood beneath the poolside shower and twisted her body into coy flashes of her intimate zones as the body paint melted away. Mike sat forward in his director's seat, obviously tickled by her free boobs' bobs and weaves.

 Mike reviewed that post production edited segment in his suite while naked Paula echoed the poses alongside the large projection screen. It was the visual stimulus that Mike required for their fucking later that night. Mounted cowgirl astride his hips, Paula shimmied her chest and guided his hands to her nipples and bouncing masses to make the shower scene fantasy more real for him. The memories and realities kept Mike hard enough for long enough in order for Paula to achieve a matching orgasm during his ejaculation.

 The week long grind reached its end and Mike and Paula left on his private jet for the mainland. In the big city, Paula was moved into a penthouse suite in a tower near the corporate headquarters. Her day shift duties were undemanding around the executive office suite: eye candy greetings for VIP visitors, concierge errands and research for her quarterly field assignments. She worked in tandem with two other interns who were following similar career paths. 

 Her night shift duties were more exhilarating. Mike and his bisexual sons rotated their visits nightly amongst the three interns. Paula took to her assignments with gusto. Mike, George and Gilbert each had different predilections. Occasionally, George and Gilbert would not visit her at all; sometimes they joined her in three-ways. Paula approached each rendezvous with equal care. The men sometimes emailed or texted ahead, ordering her to prepare for specific fetish demands.

 Tonight, when she answered her apartment door wearing the requested businesswoman's suit, Mike was there accompanied by the French redhead intern, Marie. That meant that George and Gilbert were probably double teaming the petite Oriental intern, Suki, packing her tight little body with their man meat. 'Lucky girl' mused Paula, fondly recalling her own shared use by the boys.

 Lithe bodied Marie was costumed as a schoolgirl, as opposed to other nights when Mike might attire her in a French maid or office slut getup. Her very short plaid skirt flashed lily white pantie peek-a-boos. The midriff tied white blouse stretched across her pointy nipples. The threesome cuddled on the couch, letting Mike's Viagra percolate as the interns sensuously removed each other's clothes, piece by piece. 

 Retiring to the bedroom, Paula lay out on the sheets with spread thighs. Mike kneeled naked beside her. He watched as the redhead lapped at the blonde's cunt, performing a practiced cunnilingus on her sister intern. Marie was fastidious about keeping her long red tresses pulled aside, facilitating his view. Paula torqued her waist sideways, angling to fellate Mike's cock as he played with her boobs. 

 Marie's tongue brought on the usual magic. Paula's oral-induced orgasm was strong and satisfying for her; her feverish moans and body tremors transmitting adding impetus to Mike's stiffened prick. Soon after, the nimble redhead flopped on her back so that Mike could mount her in missionary pose. The evolving fantasy played out in his head. 

 Mike had watched the 'teacher' seduce her 'student' into a lesbian tryst. Now Mike, the 'headmaster', would fuck the naughty 'schoolgirl'. His cock slipped inside her as he savored her pussy tainted kisses. His thrusts were even and long, normal for the limitations of an elder male. Paula smoothed hand caresses along his back and ass and palmed his balls between his legs. His cum was modest but fulfilling, thanks to the playful interns' affections. With the old man satiated for the time being, the amorous dual swaddled themselves around Mike, ensuring his warm and peaceful rest until dawn's departure.

 Paula lay quiescent, warmly embraced by her drowsy boss and fuck mate, his fingers dreamily picking at her nipples. This would be two very good years for Paula, both personally and professionally. And then... who knew what would come next?

 --- --- --- ---

 The Strip and Fuck Club was one of an international franchise that prided itself on the exceptional nature of its exclusive entertainment venues. On a monthly schedule, a selection of the specially retained talent was swapped between clubs scattered across cities, countries and continents. The variety of women kept the hands-on performances fresh and the libidos of the local elite males fittingly primed. 

 At midmorning, Buster was lounging in his control station near the front door. He needed this downtime break from his hectic responsibilities as assistant manager and head bouncer. It was rotation week, a very busy time for the staff each month. In addition to their regular duties, it was their obligation to orient the newest member of the performance cast to the vagaries of their latest workplace.




Total Woman Journal 06



Buster had spent two days engaged in multiple farewell forget-me-not fucks with the departing young lady and then joined with the other veteran staff for three days of similar intensive orientation with the incoming sexual artiste. He was tired and napping fitfully in his chair.

 Thus, he felt irritated when the door buzzer disturbed his rest. Official opening was midafternoon but Buster sometimes had to politely chase away some randy old member who wanted to jump the line. Still, this was very early, even for an elderly early bird. 

 He opened the door to bright sunshine pouring in and it took a moment for his blurry eyes to adjust. Blinking to clear his vision, Buster discovered the cute little minx from a month ago standing on the sidewalk. She wore the same red club wear dress and heels, the one she had been wearing on the night they had first met a month ago.

 Farrah smiled brightly as the look of recognition washed across Buster's face.

 "Hello, my handsome prince. Do you still have that something special of mine? I promised to return for it and give you a reward."

 Buster chuckled knowingly. He opened the door wide in invitation for Farrah to enter.

 "I think I can find it. Come on in while I look around."

 Farrah stepped inside as Buster relocked the door. He turned to his side office near the vestibule and set a cardboard box on the desk. Although the elite male audience usually retained a piece of their sex performer's undergarments as souvenirs, the cleaning staff occasionally found discarded bits in the morning. Buster kept the boxful in his office as a sort of genital musk-odor potpourris.

 He sorted through the collection, pausing to show Farrah a candidate article which she eliminated with a negative head shake. Finally a stained bright white mini-thong got a positive response. Buster held it while he returned the box to the shelf.

 He dangled her thong on his finger much as Farrah had done to her heckler some weeks before.

 "What kind of reward did you have in mind?" His question dripped with false innocence.

 Farrah was amused but not fooled. Both knew 'what' the reward was going to be. The 'where' and 'how' was the question. Farrah wanted Buster to be happy with the outcome and cocked an eyebrow, inviting his lead.

 Buster gently took her hand and led Farrah into the club's dim and empty main room and onward to the darkened low stage. She watched as he retrieved a padded bench from the wing and positioned it behind her at center stage.

 Buster sat on the bench, placed her panties at his side and folded his hands in his lap, attentive as Farrah posed before him. In the control booth above the bar at the rear of the house, the lighting technician was fiddling with his control board. He spied Buster and Farrah on stage, arranging the furniture and settling in. He recognized Farrah as the minx who had stopped the show weeks before with her unscheduled lap dance. She was obviously setting up for another performance with Buster. No opportunity wasted, the technician quickly prepped the video cameras to record her exposition. Streaming the edited video online would advertise the club and generate more revenue.

 Farrah heard light disco music filter into the air. An overhead spot dimly glowed down on her. Apparently, someone was adjusting the ambiance and would witness Buster's reward. She didn't care. She was leaving the island today and nobody would remember her particular passing presence among the many sexy women who crossed this stage before or after her.

 Farrah bunched her riotous tresses atop her head, picked up the music beat and sashayed her hips in a slow dancer's pivot. Facing away from Buster towards the missing house audience, she rolled her hips, coyly peaking over her shoulder at Buster. Her hands released the bundle of curls and descended to the dress top ties, pulling the knotted closure. 

 The dress fell to her waist, exposing her bare back to Buster and her fine-looking tits to the rolling cameras. The observant technician zoomed in for a better aspect. Farrah's body swayed to the music and she shimmied and quivered the dress past her compact hips. It dropped to the floor and she was naked but for her dancer's heels.

 Farrah turned her focus to Buster. Still in dance mode, she stepped back and forth in front of him, spinning and swaying, giving him all around views of her excellence from many angles. The unseen cameras recorded her strip dance as well.

 Her movements closed the gap and she eventually ended standing at Buster's knees. Farrah leaned in and unfastened his pants; he helped her slide them off. His cock was flaccid despite her presentation. Farrah took up the challenge. She straddled his legs, sitting well forward, propping his large penis upright and nestling her exposed cunt against it. Her face leaned in and took his mouth and tongue in a smoldering kiss as she began her signature slow tenting movement on his manhood. 

 Buster responded to the moves, showing his appreciation for her premium lap-dance. His hands guided her hips as she continued the genital caress. The cameras continued to roll as the technician zoomed in and out to best capture the stimulating action for prosperity.

 After a few minutes, Buster showed some arousal. Farrah felt his cock gain tumescence against her wet and warm labia but it was still not fully hard. She had given it a good try but further measures were needed. She slid down his legs until she kneeled on the floor. Levering his legs apart, she shinnied forward. Her tongue licked his length before her lips and mouth gobbled his knob. That got a firmer reaction. He was harder and longer now, rigid enough that she could push down and get his knob past her tonsils. Swallowing caresses further firmed the situation.

 The technician activated additional side stage and overhead cameras, collecting the show from multiple angles. He unfastened his pants and extracted his erection. From now on, he would be multi-tasking in his booth: recording and masturbating.

 Buster was delighted with the little minx's attentions. Farrah felt his hands settle on her head, guiding his cock deeper into her throat. She moaned and the vibrations set off tingles in Buster's rod. He held her face down, drawing out her full range of skills: swallows, moans, shaft licks, everything. He let her pause occasionally to breathe. Finally, he felt the urge to move onward in collecting his reward for dependably securing her lost lingerie. He let her up and snapped his fingers. She scampered back into his lap.

 Farrah held his shoulders as she hovered in pre-mount position. Buster gripped her ass, aligning the connection. He held her there suspended as he kissed and suckled each of her rosy nipples in turn. Another smoldering lip-locked kiss accompanied her descent as her pussy was impaled on the meaty shaft. She slid all the way down, feeling his length bump her cervix. She braced her hands on his chest, closed her eyes and let the muscular black man lift and drop her to set the rhythm. He began with long deliberate strokes. His powerful arms pumped the woman on his erection, using her womb to caress his cock. It was a workout for him, even with the moderate size of Farrah.

 Buster wanted less strenuous action for the finale. He gripped handfuls of nubile ass, stood up and, maintaining penetration, lay Farrah back on the bench. Farrah hugged the black stud's body with locked wrists and crossed ankles. She readied herself to become the receptacle of Buster's lust. His hips hammered away in the cradle of her splayed thighs. His long strokes quickened, then shortened and then became a frenzy as he plumbed Farrah's cunt in the climb towards his sensual peak. 

 Buster bellowed out at the summit and pulsed his essence deep within her. Farrah felt the warm jets flow inside her and she swooned into a drawn-out trance. Still drifting in her the dream state, she barely noticed when the satiated Buster eventually drew out and left her limp body reposed on the bench. As he strode from the stage, Buster high-fived the chauffer, signaling his handoff of Farrah back into the driver's responsibility. The reliable wheel man had come inside to check on the tardy Farrah and had watched much of the show.

 The technician in the booth turned off the cameras and stage lights. He wiped off the sperm and lotion coating his left hand. The erotic scene had progressed well and he had cum right along with the actual participants. Now he would cut and edit the spooled recordings into a premier final product. The edited version of the video would soon join others on the club's pay-per-view site and provide customers with similar masturbation stimulus. More importantly, it might incentivize them to pay the high club fees for attendance at the live events.

 Farrah emerged from her pseudo-coma alone on the bench. The chauffer stood by in attendance. Seeing her come back to the present, he helped her to sit up. He found her panties that had been beneath her back on the bench during her final stint underneath Buster. Always the gentleman, the chauffer helped her don her panties. He pulled them tight, patting the crotch, watching it get stained anew; this time with manly dribbles leaking from her womb. Seeing how weary she was, the chauffer carried her to the limo, depositing her in the backseat for the remaining ride to the airport.

 --- --- --- --- 

 Meanwhile, back in the TWA house library, Ned had been submerged beneath his two remaining naked trainees. He had somehow spied Farrah earlier at the door and wiggled an arm above the melee, waving a mediocre goodbye. She returned the wave and blew him a kiss, signifying that she understood his inability to walking her out appropriately. Life has priorities at any one moment and his amorous partners never skipped a beat in establishing their current primacy of his attentions.

 Ned had left Farrah fast asleep earlier that morning. He had toddled toward the kitchen, intending to serve her a farewell breakfast in bed. Along the way, he had been ambushed by the last pair of housemates. 

 The three days that he had devoted to Gus, Paula and Farrah had been too long a dry spell for the last two attendees. They had made a pact to double team Ned over the next two days, rejecting individual consecutive sessions. Now that Ned's carnal rundown with Farrah was concluded, they were too impatient to wait any longer. They pounced on the man of the house and hustled him giddily to the nearest furniture, which happened to be in the library. 

 Pajamas and lingerie were hastily abandoned and naked Ned was laid out on the makeshift altar of the sofa. Jolie and Belinda dove into the first litany of their intended two days of cock worship.

 Jolie and Belinda had prearranged their first roles; there was no competition here. Jolie horded Ned's cock, reprising Ned's first attraction to her lips, swallowing him quickly. Belinda blocked his vision of anything else but her eyes, though letting him nibble her nipples a bit. Ned let them play and rewarded their efforts with a glob of sperm. The ladies traded his male discharge back and forth between their smooching lips, sharing the cum-wad. 

 Ned evaded their clutches while the girls were momentarily distracted, playing with his sperm. He toddled through the kitchen, snagging a cup of java, as he escaped to the rear yard pool area. He was soon joined by the amorous pair who let him lounge as they sunbathed nude nearby. The day was spent in leisure: napping, splashing, a little naked group Yoga after Ned lifted weights in the gym.

 Ned decided an evening on the town was warranted before leaving the island. The girls dressed in revealing dance-club fashions; Ned opted for dark slacks and shirt. The limo dropped them at the upscale resort club. Ned wore sunglasses, even though it was night-time, parodying a mysterious celebrity accompanied by two mouthwatering pieces of arm candy. The waiting line tittered with conjecture as Ned and his consorts were quickly ushered inside.

 They occupied a corner booth, shielded from the curious crowd by the club's VIP protection crew. The music was loud, suppressing any attempt at conversation. Ned was not concerned; what more could they say to each other after a month of orgies. What secrets were yet to be revealed? His escorts went to the dance floor to see and be seen. The dresses certainly let them be seen. Short skirts hopped to give peek-a-boo ass cheek flashes. Loose tops imparted amusing little nip-slips. The male clientele were very attentive. 

 Ned was approached by hopeful female fans, some ducking past the sentinels. They slipped into his booth for close-up greetings, seeking his identity. Ned was polite but aloof. The club crew allowed the thrill seekers to banter until Ned signaled them to remove the curious devotees. 

 The trio finally tired of the faux fame and took their leave. They ascended the elevator to the reserved upper floor hotel suite. The view was romantically fantastic. The harbor sparkled as the lighted yachts swayed at their berths far below. The full moon adorned the wave crests that washed ashore and swept the beach. The flirty dancing and the follow-on serenity of the vista below put the young women in a mood for love-making. Ned splayed out on the sofa, facing the night view and letting his dates initiate the action.

 Jolie set the stereo to emit gentile vocal strains. She and Belinda swayed before Ned, a sensuous foreground to the background night vista. They helped each other dance out of their clothes, the soft moonlight glowing off their smooth skin. They joined Ned on the sofa, working from either side to get him naked and ready for love. The female team performed the disrobing and titillation, kissing his lips, ears, chest and bellybutton. They jointly held and stroked his erection until it was long and sturdy. When they steered him to the bedroom and its gargantuan bed, Ned was unresisting. Throughout the night, their lovemaking was often, gentle and gratifying.

 At dawn, Ned woke alone in the bed. The last two participants of his month long colloquium had departed a day early, returning to their mainland lives. He lay quiescent and exhausted but proud that his seminar had been successful in amplifying the propensities of his pupils. 

 Today, Ned would leave the island and return to his traditional responsibilities and functions as the Emeritus Coach Tutor of the Total Woman Academy.