I'm a freelance consultant in the area of computer software development.
Call me Al. I normally work for large corporations on a contract basis for a
few months per stint. I recently moved to New York from the San Francisco
area, and since I was starting in a new city where I had no business contacts,
I was forced make use of contract placement companies, also known as
"headhunter agencies." These are middlemen who try to get contracts for people
like me in return for a cut of the money. They way this works is that after
the agency gets me a interview that results in a job, I sign up as an employee
of the agency, who then bills me out at a higher rate to the company where I
actually work. It's a sleazy business, but without more contacts here I have
to work this way.
I got my current contract through a smallish agency. While working on
this contract, another agency called me about another position that was
somewhat more lucrative. After interviewing at the new company, I was offered
a contract. Now, my existing contract was a typical one in that it was
open-ended and could be terminated by either party with two-weeks' notice, so,
barring any major pay raise from my current job, I planned to quit my old job
and accept the new one. In keeping with my usual policy in these cases, I told
the new company I'd sleep on the decision and get back to them the next day.
I then left and called the headhunter agency that currently represented
me to inform them that I probably was going to take the other job. The
headhunter there tried to persuade me to stay at my current position. My early
termination would mean a loss of revenue for the agency, so her reaction was
predictable.
However, I told her that barring an increase in my billing rate, I was
going to take the new job. With that she put me on hold, and when she came
back, she explained that the agency couldn't get any more money from the
company I was working at, but that Rachael, the owner of the agency, would be
willing to take less of a markup and give me a raise rather than lose the
contract altogether. When I asked how much of a markup, the headhunter said
that Rachael wanted to discuss that with me personally. When I explained that
I was going to make my decision by early the next day, the headhunter put me on
hold again and when she got back on she said that Rachael would be glad to talk
to me later that day, if I could make it after work.
I was willing to do that, and so we set up the meeting between Rachael
and me 6:00 PM that evening. Although I'd never actually met Rachael, I had
spoken to her on the phone a few times and remembered her as being
businesslike, professional, and most important, reasonable. I was hoping I
could get enough money out of her to make it worth my while to stay at this
job, since the new position, though more lucrative, was less interesting. I
would never admit that to Rachael, of course.
It was Friday evening, and by the time I was able to show up at the
agency the door was locked and everyone who worked there was gone except Mary
the receptionist who let me in when I knocked and, presumably, Rachael.
Now, I was familiar with Mary from all the times I had come by to pick up
my paycheck. She was in her early twenties and quite attractive, with
shoulder-length, stylish blonde hair and a very sexy, slim body. She was about
5 foot 2 or 3 and had firm, perfectly sized breasts -- not too large and not
too small. She was outgoing and flirtatious, and every time I saw her she was
wearing very stylish and somewhat revealing clothes.
That day she was wearing a silky, button-down blouse with the neckline
open low enough to show off a hint of her gorgeous cleavage. Her bra was
either quite sheer or non-existent, as I could make out the contours of her
breasts and nipples through her blouse. She had on a calf-length skirt with a
slit halfway up her thigh. It was really tight around her hips and ass and was
thin enough for me to faintly glimpse her skimpy, dark bikini panties
underneath. She had on a pair of high heels and, as always, wore little or no
makeup. She looked even sexier than usual, which is saying a lot. As I often
did, I wondered how she got away dressing that way in an office environment.
Mary buzzed Rachael to tell her I had arrived, and when she got off the
phone she said that Rachael was on an important phone call hoped it would be OK
for me to wait 20 or 30 minutes. I said it was, and Mary said that Rachael
wanted me to know that she really appreciated me coming by and told Mary to do
whatever she could to make me comfortable.
She asked if I wanted coffee or soda or anything, but I thanked her and
said I really didn't need anything. She smiled and raised an eyebrow when I
said that. I ignored that and told her that since it was late she didn't have
to stay on my account. She thanked me quite nicely but said that she had to
stay late anyway and work. I made a sympathetic comment about Mary's bad luck
at having to work late on a Friday, and this led to us making small talk for a
few minutes.
On previous visits I often found myself staring at her sexy body. I'd
always try to be discreet, but sometimes she would still catch me staring, to
which she'd react with a coquettish smile. As we sat there chatting she once
again caught me staring at her, but this time she raised her eyebrows, licked
her lips, and languidly turned towards me, slowly pushing her chest out as she
did. Although her movements were subtle and ambiguous enough for her to deny if
confronted, this was still more flirty than she ever was with me in the past,
and I choked on my words for a moment in surprise and arousal. She just
laughed sexily and then resumed talking to me as if nothing had happened.
Now, this both turned me on and made me nervous, and I tried to hide my
confusion and arousal as we spoke. I doubt I did a very good job of it, but if
she noticed, she didn't let on.
After a few minutes of our idle chatter I had more or less calmed down
again. Mary finally gave me a fake-sad look and said in a deliberately
childish, pouty tone of voice that she had to get back to work. As she walked
back to her desk, I could see her perfect ass straining sexily against the
material of her tight skirt as she unabashedly swayed her hips. I'd never seen
her do that in my presence before, either, but then again, I couldn't remember
if I had ever seen her doing anything other than sitting at her desk.
Dismissing her sexy antics as insincere, immature flirtation, I plopped
down on the couch in the reception area to find something to read. This didn't
prevent me from continuing to stare at her ass until she sat down, however.
The exagerated way she moved her hips was turning me on, and I decided to enjoy
it while I could -- i.e., while her back was turned.
Despite my intention to not take Mary too seriously, I couldn't help but
wonder if perhaps she was trying to get my sexual attention. For a moment,
my mind drifted off into a fantasy of her slowly stripping for me as I watched
from my vantage point on the couch.
But then I sobered up and reminded myself that she probably had dozens of
boyfriends and there was no way she'd ever consider a 37-year-old, slightly
flabby, balding guy like me. I thought back to what life was like when I was
her age, and I had to admit to myself that I'm too shy and nervous around women
to ever have stood a chance with someone like her even back then. A woman as
attractive as her could easily afford to be as picky as she wanted, and I'm
sure she'd have no time for my insecurities and shyness. I sighed and forced
myself to stop thinking those grim thoughts and to just enjoy her flirting and
her sexy body while I had the chance.
And I was getting ample opportunity for that right then. I guess she
didn't have to man the phones after hours, and instead of sitting at the
recetionist's desk she was working at one of the headhunters' desks typing on
the word processor. From my seat in the reception area I had a really nice view
of her profile as she sat there and worked. I took advantage of the view
whenever I thought she wasn't looking.
Although she was quite a sight, I didn't want to appear too lecherous by
just staring, so I looked around among the magazines nearby and tried to find
something worth reading. The pickings were rather disappointing, and I was
trying to figure out which of "Business Week" and "Forbes" would be less
boring, when suddenly Mary piped in with, "If you want something more
interesting you can read my 'Cosmopolitan'".
I laughed and said, "I'm not sure if that would be an improvement over
this shit."
She gave me another of her flirty looks and replied, "Oh, c'mon now, Al.
Do you mean to say that you'd rather read about the stock market than to look
at the sexy women in Cosmo?"
Her comment caught me off guard -- she sure was being flirty. Covering up
my surprise and embarrassment I answered, "Oh -- you mean in the ads? I must
admit that I have a hard time thinking of a woman as sexy when she's blatantly
advertising clothes or perfume -- or any product for that matter. It sort of
detracts from the whole thing, you know?"
I was proud of myself for hiding my surprise so well with my somewhat
glib, and actually quite honest reply, but my pride was short lived, as Mary
quickly flabbergasted me with her reply: "Oh. I guess I know what you mean.
So how about if I go downstairs to the newsstand and get you a 'Penthouse'?
Those women aren't advertising anything ..." her smile became devilish, "...
and besides, they're naked. I think you'd like that a lot better."
I felt a wave of arousal and surprise. Although she's a flirt and a
tease, this was a bit much even for her ... at least compared to anything I'd
seen her do in the past. The only thing I managed to stammer was "Well ..."
before she turned towards me. She lifted her hands to her blouse as if she was
about to unbutton it, and she said, "Or do you prefer the real thing? I'm not
wearing a bra." She paused, raising her eyebrows, and looked at me with an
intensely serious and provocative expression and with her hands poised ready to
open her blouse for me. She kept that pose and just stared at me as wave of
anxiety and arousal swept through me.
I was speechless and must have looked like an idiot with my mouth hanging
open. After a few seconds that seemed an eternity, she slowly lowered her
hands, and still staring at me intently, she said, "I'll get you a
'Penthouse'," and got up.
I shook my head disbelievingly and stammered to her to sit back down, but
before I could stop her she had sashayed out the door, her hips swinging even
more blatantly and seductively than before.
I was dumbfounded. What was going on? Why was she acting this way?
Mary was getting me sexually excited, but I was also getting nervous and
scared. I'm quite insecure about sex and I always feared beautiful women --
they always seemed to be so confident and so sure of their abilities to get men
to do what they want. And I have always been especially vulnerable to that
sort of manipulation due to my sexual insecurities and low self-esteem. What
did she want, anyway? I couldn't imagine she would want to be this sexual with
me just for her own pleasure, and I tried to figure out what might be her
ulterior motive.
Could it be that she was working in cahoots with Rachael and was somehow
trying to seduce me to stay with the agency? That seemed likely, but I
couldn't imagine what Mary would get out of it. With Rachael, it was obvious:
as the owner of the company she would profit from my staying on and continuing
to generate her percentage of my take. But what about Mary and her paltry
receptionist's salary? Did Rachael offer Mary a commission to persuade me to
stay? If so, did she tell her to use sex? Or did she just ask Mary to be
charming and is this all Mary's idea?
I figured it was likely that Mary _was_ doing this for the agency for
some sort of compensation -- probably monetary. I got more than a little bit
angry at Mary's manipulation, and I decided to give her a piece of my mind when
she came back, and I started rehearsing what I was going to say to her. But as
I did, I began to have second thoughts. Mary had turned me on a lot and part
of me -- a _big_ part of me, I grudgingly admitted to myself -- wanted more. I
became quite scared as I realized how much I wanted her to continue with her
manipulative seduction despite the fact that it may not necessarily be in my
best interests.
I kept trying to convince myself that I wasn't going to let her get away
with this, but my heart wasn't in it and I finally gave up fighting myself. I
decided to just let whatever happens, happen. After all, even if I decided to
stay on at this agency for my current salary, I still was doing just fine
financially. And besides, I knew I wouldn't give up the new job just for some
cheap flirting -- Mary was going to have work for her money. I at least had
enough self-control to hold out for that ... or at least I hoped so.
So I began to get excited about playing hard to get and seeing how far
Mary would go, and I tried to imagine what might transpire once she returned.
But then I had another thought: what if she was just going to give me the
magazine and then go back to work? What if I was assuming too much about her?
Maybe she really _was_ trying to be friendly and that was it. After all,
Rachael _did_ tell her to make me comfortable, and perhaps the flirting and the
'Penthouse' were simply a product of Mary's overzealous desire to be helpful.
Or worse yet for me, what if Mary was indeed trying to seduce me, but
suppose she just gave me the magazine and then waited for me to make the next
move. Most men would catch the hint and be all over her, but I'm so damn shy
and insecure that I'd never have enough guts to try anything with her -- even
with a lot of encouragement. Making a pass at a woman is the most terrifying
thing I can imagine. A psychologist would probably say its a phobia with me,
as is anything involving my being sexually agressive and taking those kinds of
risks. And so I feared that if she wasn't extremely aggressive, and I thought
it quite unlikely that she would be, I would sit there like an idiot like I
usually do in these situations and blow the whole thing.
So instead of being happy with anticipation and looking forward to
playing hard to get, my mood deteriorated to one of despair and helplessness.
This always seemed to happen with me when I had a chance to make it with a
woman, and I cursed myself for being so neurotic.
I no longer wanted to be seduced. I felt so confused and out of control
that I didn't think I could resist her charms and act in my own best interests
any more. I feared succumbing to whatever it was that she might offer me, and
then agree with Rachael to terms decidedly to my disadvantage. I felt naked
and scared. In the back of my mind I realized this was illogical, but my fear
was so strong and I felt so vulnerable that I couldn't make logic prevail. In
a state of near panic I vowed to resist everything Mary might do.
Just then the door opened and Mary flounced back in. She made a point of
locking the door behind her and winking at me, and then she plopped down on the
couch next to me. She gave me a lewd smile and started slowly reaching into a
bag she had with her. But before she got very far, I blurted out in panic,
"Wait, Mary, wait."
She stopped reaching for the bag and slowly lowered her hands to her lap
and gave me a questioning look. She stared at me patiently while I struggled
with myself. She didn't seem the slightest bit upset or even surprised at my
obvious anxiety. Finally, under the pressure of her stare I started talking,
trying to get her to stop flirting with me: "OK, Mary, uh, look ..."
"Yeah?" she queried with a friendly smile.
I was getting more and more confused and panicked. All I had to do was
to become cool, thank her for the magazine, and then ignore her. But that sort
of thing takes composure and at least some strength and confidence. I had none
of those right then, and so I just helplessly pleaded, "Like, uh, why, Mary?
Uh, why are you doing this?"
She looked innocently surprised and asked, "'Why'? I'm not sure I know
what you're asking. Why did I get you the magazine?"
"Well, uh ... yeah ... I want to know that, but also ..." it was hard to
get to the point -- I didn't know how to say I suspected her of trying to
seduce me. What if I was wrong -- what a fool I'd feel like then. So I lamely
continued my question: "... I mean, why are you ... are you, you know ... being
this way with me?"
"Well first," she replied cheerfully and without hesitation, "I got you
the magazine because I thought you'd like it ..." ('Like hell!' I thought
suspiciously. 'You got it to seduce me. And cut out the fake innocence.' But
I didn't have enough guts to actually say anything like that to her) "... but
I'm still not sure about your other question," she was saying. "Are you asking
why I'm being nice to you?"
She seemed a little hurt, but I didn't believe it. I wanted to say, "No.
I'm asking why you're being such a slut with me. Did Rachael put you up to it?
How much is she giving you for this?" But instead, all I could get up enough
courage to say was, "Well ... yeah ..." I was whining "... I mean, you've never
been this ... this nice to me before and ... and, well, I'm a little surprised
and ... and, well, I guess I'm just wondering why."
Never missing a beat she replied, "I want you to enjoy yourself, Al."
She lowered her voice and gave me a provocative look and continued, "I'm just
trying to help."
I suddenly noticed that despite my panic and anger, she was starting to
turn me on. She looked so sexy there right in front of me, and her flirty
moves were having their effect. But I forced myself to ignore that and snapped
back sarcastically, "Right. And this is just all out of your altruistic love
for your fellow man."
She was totally unfazed by my anger and her demeanor became more serious,
although no less provocative. She calmly answered, "Not really. I'm not a
self-sacrificing person and I don't do things that aren't in my own best
interest."
I had thought so! Her true nature just came through: tough and
self-serving. I no longer doubted she was in cahoots with Rachael. "So what
_is_ your interest here?" I snapped back. "Surely it's not because you want ...
you want ..." I started choking on my words, because I couldn't bring myself
to say "want my body", even in the negative context I was trying to use it.
That's how deep my phobia about making sexual advances is.
She kept her serious, provocative gaze on me and interrupted, "It doesn't
matter what I want -- what's important right now is what _you_ want."
Damn it, she was a pro! I was ambivalent, caught between wanting to get
out of there and wanting to stay and get swept up in Mary's apparent seduction.
If we started focusing on what _I_ want, she'd use my ambivalence to twist me
around her little finger.
I felt desperate to get off of the subject of what I want and said, "But
Mary, it _does_ matter what you want, because ..."
She interrupted again. "No, it doesn't matter. I'm _very_ capable of
taking care of myself and of getting what I want. You needn't be concerned
about that. All you should think about is what _you_ want ..."
I felt weak and powerless, and I didn't know what to do next. I was
actually trembling with fear and I'm sure she saw it. My panic increased.
Mary had only paused a second and then went on, "... and I know what you
want, Al." She stared into my eyes for a moment and she no doubt saw me
weaken. I felt a wave of despair as she said, "You want to see some pictures
of naked women," and a wave of sexual arousal went through me. Her expression
told me that she knew then that I would stay for anything she had to dish out.
So much for my vow to resist her.
She shifted her position on the couch next to me -- she got up on her
knees and then sat on her calves facing me. Her skirt was bunched up a little
bit and it rode up an inch or two above her knees. She reached into the bag,
bringing out a 'Club' magazine and said, "I thought you'd like this better than
'Penthouse'." She tossed it on my lap, saying, "It's much sexier."
I had to admit to myself that she knew what she was talking about. I'd
spent many an hour masturbating to the pictures and pornographic stories in
'Club'. This masturbation of mine was quite private and quite intense: I would
get lost in hot fantasies, sometimes for hours while teasing and stroking my
cock, balls, and body. I felt quite vulnerable and was terrified at the
prospect of her finding out how much I loved to play with myself that way. I
was glad Mary had tossed the magazine on my lap, since I wanted to make sure
she couldn't see the hard-on that was beginning to rise in my pants.
On the cover of the magazine was a very sexy, shapely blonde woman
wearing only a G-string. Her palms covered the fronts of her bare breasts, but
only enough to hide her nipples and not much more. The crotch of the G-string
was a small, frilly, black triangle that barely covered her pussy. This photo
turned me on quite a bit, and I made a mental note to get a copy of this issue
to take back home with me that night.
Speaking slowly, softly, and deliberately, Mary said, "She turns you on,
doesn't she?"
She startled me and I jumped in my seat. Reflexively I said no, but Mary
just looked at me like she knew I was lying. Her gaze was strong and
unwavering and I broke down and stammered, "Well, yeah, I like her."
"So lets have a sexual fantasy with her, Al."
I was flabbergasted and I looked up at her with pleading confusion in my
eyes.
"Come on, Al," she shrugged with mock non-chalance, "it'll be fun."
I was terrified. "Well ... I, uh ... I don't know ... maybe I shouldn't
..."
She ignored my protests. "I love sexual fantasy," she said cheerfully
and with more wholesome-sounding naivete than I could believe. "Come on, Al,
let's have one now. Rachael won't be done for at least 15 minutes."
"I don't know ... how can you be sure that she ..."
"I know, Al," she interrupted. "Rachael won't be free until at least
6:30."
I noticed it was then 6:15. Mary's certainty about this reinforced my
suspicion that Rachael and she were in this together. No doubt they arranged
for me to be alone with Mary until 6:30.
Despite these thoughts, I still found myself wanting to be seduced. This
scared me, as a part of me feared what I was letting myself in for. The
conflict was beginning to drive me crazy. "I don't know, Mary," I sighed. "I
mean ... it's nice of you to offer ... _very_ nice of you, as a matter of fact
... it's just that ... well ... right here ... is ... it's so ... so public,
and ... uh ..." I looked down and let my words trail off. I was paralyzed
with indecision and fear.
After letting me sit there like that for a moment, Mary suddenly said,
"Al ..." the fake wholesome sweetness was completely gone from her voice and
she spoke with strength and more than a little sexual power.
I looked up and when our eyes met she continued "... I can tell you like
to have sexual fantasies when looking at magazines like this ..."
I sighed defeatedly. I didn't want her to know that.
"... and I think you'd even like it better with me helping you."
She waited for my reply, but all I did was sigh and gesture helplessly.
Finally, she went on, her voice low, sultry, and almost threatening: "You want
to ... much, much more than you're letting on, Al. We both know you'd love
it."
"Well ... I guess so," I murmurred.
"I _know_ so, Al." She paused, boring into me with her gaze. I squirmed
uncomfortably, but finally decided to acquiece to her. What harm would there
be in looking at the magazine, I thought to myself as I hesitantly nodded my
acceptance.
"So look at her, Al," Mary said, the matter now settled. She pointed to
the sexy woman on the cover of the magazine, still on my lap. "I can tell you
like her." Her manner was slow and deliberate, and she never lowered her eyes
from mine. "But don't you want to see her naked?"
I smiled sheepishly and nodded. She saw my reaction but she pretended
not to have noticed it, and she continued, a bit more insistently, "Wouldn't
you like to see her naked breasts, Al? Don't you want to see her nipples?" She
emphasized the word "nipples" and pushed her chest out slightly. The motion
was subtle, but she did it slowly without lowering her gaze from mine, which
made it impossible to ignore. I couldn't help but lower my eyes to Mary's
chest, and I then noticed that her nipples were erect. I caught myself and
quickly looked back into her eyes, hoping in vain that she didn't see me gaze
at her breasts. But she was just staring at me with a knowing, confident look
that made me gasp.
I suddenly panicked and looked away, down at the magazine, back at her,
off into space, and back at her again. As soon as our eyes finally met again,
she said, always slowly and deliberately, "And don't you want to see her pussy,
Al?"
She paused, staring, and then continued, "Wouldn't you like to look up
between her legs and see her crotch -- her naked cunt?"
With those words Mary again made a slow, subtle motion, this time
shifting her weight slightly so that her legs spread apart a little bit. I
found myself looking towards her well-covered crotch as her hemline rode up
maybe a half inch higher on her thighs. But I couldn't see up her skirt, much
as I wanted to.
Again I went into a panic as I realized that she knew I was staring. I
was getting quite scared, but also rather aroused. After our eyes met again,
she said, always slowly and deliberately, "I know you want to see her, Al.
Here ..." she picked up the magazine, revealing the bulge in my pants. She
made a point of looking down at it and then slowly raised her intent gaze back
to my eyes. She said nothing about my erection, but her gestures were enough
to let me know she was aware of it. She continued, "... let me show you where
she's posing nude."
She thumbed through the magazine until she found what she was looking
for, and then she laid it back down on my lap. The model was in a bedroom
setting, totally naked, bending over the top of the dresser with her ass
pointed out at the camera. There was a mirror behind the dresser which showed
the model's naked breasts. She was looking in the mirror right into the camera
with a nasty, lewd expression on her face. One of her hands was on her ass
cheek, pulling it open.
Never ceasing to speak slowly and deliberately, Mary said, "Look at her
nipples." She paused a moment and continued, "And what an ass she has! Do you
like her ass, Al?"
Mary looked at me, waiting for a reply. I was practically paralyzed with
terror, but I swallowed thickly and managed to force myself to say, "Yes, I
like ... it." I couldn't bring myself to say the words "her ass".
"What a hot fantasy woman for you, Al! Imagine being there with her ...
staring at her naked body. She doesn't mind ... she wants you to stare. She's
posing for you ... right there in front of you ... naked, spreading her ass for
you. See how she's looking at you? She knows how much she's turning you on.
She's telling you something, Al. Do you know what she's saying?"
"Uh ... no, um ... I ... I, uh ..." I stammered, nearly unable to speak
but realizing that I was starting to enjoy what Mary was doing to me -- in
spite of my nervousness.
"She's telling you she wants you to take out that big, long cock of yours
and jack off for her."
I sighed nervously.
"She wants you to, Al. She knows how much you love to jack off and she
wants to help you. She does, Al. She wants to play with her ass ... to fuck
her asshole with her finger ... and to look you deeply in the eyes and talk
really dirty to you ... to tell you what she's doing to her herself ... to tell
you to keep stroking that hot penis of yours."
Mary paused. I looked up at her, the beads of sweat starting to drip
down my forehead. She stared right through me. I couldn't hold her gaze and I
looked down at the picture and then nervously around the room.
"Look at her, Al," Mary whispered throatily.
I looked back down at the picture, and she said, "I bet you love jacking
off to photos like this."
I gasped and went into a panic, stammering idiotic-sounding denials: "No,
uh ... not really ... I mean ... well, it's not ... I ..."
She softly but firmly interrupted me, just saying "Al" and staring at me.
I stopped my yammering and she continued, a bit more deliberately and
intensely, "You love how it feels to squeeze and stroke your cock while looking
at her, don't you, Al?"
I started my protests again, but before I could say much she cut me off:
"Don't deny it, Al. I know you do." She stared at me, waiting for a reply.
I sighed and tried to deny what she was saying, "Mary ... it's not what
you think ... really it isn't ... I mean, I guess I sometimes ... well ...
Mary, damnit, this is so difficult ... don't you understand that ..."
She cut me off in mid sentence, ignoring everything I was trying to say.
"Your long penis feels so good when it hardens in your hand, doesn't it, Al?"
Damn her! But I was paralyzed with fear. I hadn't wanted her to know
about my masturbation, and I felt totally demoralized to see how much she was
able to infer. All I could do was stare at her with my mouth open, my
semi-hard cock twitching under the magazine on my lap. Despite my fear I was
intensely aroused and mesmerized by her.
She continued, slowly and deliberately, never lowering her gaze from my
eyes, "Yeah, you love feeling it get hard as you stroke it. You tickle your
balls with the fingers of your other hand. You spread your legs wide and you
thrust your hips in rhythm ... in rhythm to the way you squeeze your prick with
your fist. It's all covered with oil and you slide your hand up and down your
burning, hard shaft as you pump your wet, spurting cum all over her ass."
I was trembling and nervously fidgeting under her gaze. After a pause of
a couple seconds she continued, "You love to do that, Al, don't you?"
I looked down sheepishly. She quietly said, "Look at me, Al." I looked
back up into her eyes and she continued insistently, but still slowly: "You
love making sperm come out of your penis, don't you?"
I murmurred, barely audibly, "Well, I ..."
She interrupted, even more insistently, "Yes you do, Al. You love
shooting it out all over the place. And you like to watch your penis as your
semen spurts out. You stare at that creamy, white, thick sperm all over your
penis, slowly, thickly oozing down all over it. Your sweet penis gets so wet
and slippery, and you love playing with your sperm on you ... rubbing your
fingertips in it, smearing it into your soft, slippery penis." Another slight
pause. "You do that, don't you, Al?"
I was almost beyond resisting. She had me mesmerized and quite aroused.
I managed to feebly protest, "Well ... no ... but I guess ... well, some of
what you said, anyway, but ..."
"All of it," she corrected. "Every thing I described. Don't deny it,"
she said over more of my protests. "You can hardly wait to get home, open up
the magazine to this picture, and take out your cock and jack off -- just like
I just described. Don't deny it, Al. I know you can hardly stop thinking about
what your sperm is going to look and feel like all over your dick when you make
yourself cum."
"Mary, please ..." I protested feebly, the words choking in my throat.
"It's OK, Al. I understand." She spoke more softly and kindly.
"Really, Al. Now listen to me."
She paused and I looked at her to hear what she had to say. "You're
embarrassed and scared of what I know about you," she continued. "Most men
don't like women to know that they like to masturbate. They think it makes
them less virile and macho. Well, Al, I don't care about any of that. Whatever
you like to do to yourself is just fine with me, believe me."
I nodded, although I was quite skeptical. She went on, "So Al, I
understand how nervous you are that I know about your masturbation, but I
assure you I won't tell anyone. Not a single person, Al. I promise."
She seemed sincere, but I didn't trust her. I'm sure my skepticism
showed on my face, because she continued, "No, Al. Really. I really mean it.
I give you my most solemn assurance that I'll keep my word and never betray
you." Her voice became an intimate whisper: "It'll be our secret, Al -- our
intimate, totally private little secret."
She leaned forward and touched my arm. "I'm glad I know some of your
private pleasures, Al," she whispered. "It's so special, so exciting to have
someone with whom you can share your forbidden secrets."
She moved really close and whispered very, very softly while staring into
my eyes. "Such sweet secrets, Al: all alone at home, nude on your bed, your
eyes closed, your penis all covered with oil. It feels _so_ good to slide your
fist up and down your slippery, hard shaft ... ohhhhh, so _good_ ... imagining
that woman in the magazine ... that nude woman ... standing over you ... making
you jack off for her ... making you pump out all your sperm ... such intimate,
hot, _nasty_ secrets, Al."
All the while I was staring, dumbfounded. She put her arms around my
neck and said, "You love your sperm, Al," as she slowly brought her lips to
mine and kissed me long and deeply.
After she was finished she breathed, "Yeah, you _do_ love your your
sperm, Al ... and your penis. It's OK. Don't worry, baby, it's our secret.
Your sperm ..." she kissed me "... and your _sweet_ penis ..." she kissed me
again "... are our private ..." another kiss "... intimate ..." and another
"... hot ..." and still another "... _nasty_ little secret."
With that she pushed me back down on the couch with her on top of me,
this time hotly embracing me and squirming on me as she pushed her tongue down
my throat and passionately kissed me for at least a minute or two straight. At
first I resisted, however feebly, but soon I was tightly embracing her,
fondling her ass, and grinding my cock against her willing groin.
After I was drunk and dizzy with desire she stopped and got up off of me.
As I panted and slowly dragged myself up off my back, I noticed that Mary
seemed totally unfazed. She was quite calm and collected as she said, "Take
off your clothes and masturbate for me, Al."
Still recovering my wits, all I could do was feebly grunt an incoherent
protest, which Mary brushed aside with, "I like having a man jack off in front
of me."
She gave me a slight leer and paused to let her words sink in. I would
willingly masturbate for her, but not here ... not with Rachael around. I was
almost started crying. "But Mary ..." I stammered, choking on the words, "...
please not here ... I'm so ... I'm so ... well, I'm kinda scared and ..."
"You're more than 'kinda' scared, Al: you're terrified." I swallowed and
nodded. It was all I could do. She continued, "I want you that way."
I looked up at her, surprised and pained. "It turns you on when you're
scared, Al," she went on, ignoring my pleading gaze. "Being scared makes you
_more_ turned on. Right?" I looked down and mumbled that she was probably
right. "Don't deny it, Al. You _want_ this ..." she paused until I looked up
into her hard gaze and then she continued, "... you want this very, _very_
badly, Al."
As she said that she put her hands on her breasts and slowly lowered them
down the sides of her body, her eyes boring through me. "Feel the fear, Al,"
she said after her hands reached her thighs. She got up on her knees and
leaned a little closer to me, saying, "Sex scares you, Al." She grasped each
of my shoulders and moved her face closer to mine. She licked her lips lewdly
and demonicly, and then said, breathing huskily, "I want you terrified, Al."
She cupped my cheeks in her hands and moved still closer, licking her lips,
breathing heavy, moaning, and making facial expressions as if she was fucking
me or masturbating. I'd never seen anyone act so lewd and intensely arousing.
My cock was hard in my pants. She then said, "So scared ... and so _hot_ Al!
Feel the fear. Feel how hot you are."
She continued for a few more moments with this and then said, "I've
barely gotten started, Al. This is just the beginning." She sat back and
looked down at my lap. My erect cock bulged up in my pants. "And look how
hard I've got you already."
She looked back into my eyes and said, "Take off your pants and jack off
for me."
I really didn't want to do it right there in the office with Rachael in
the next room. "But Mary," I pleaded. "Not here ... not with Rachael ..."
She interrupted, "Rachael won't come in. She'll buzz me on the phone
first. Don't worry. I meant it when I said I wouldn't betray your secret.
She'll call and I'll just tell her you're in the bathroom ..." she paused for
emphasis "... pissing." She hissed out the word and then licked her lips.
She paused for a moment, staring, and then continued, "It wouldn't be far
from the truth, you know." Another pause. "I mean ... if you _were_ in the
bathroom, you'd be holding your cock and watching your hot _piss_ stream out --
and that's what you're going to be doing here, Al -- except it won't be piss,
of course."
She got up and went to the chair across from me and sat in it, facing me.
She said, just as slowly and deliberately as ever, "Now masturbate for me." I
still did nothing, and she continued calmly, "I know you want to." A short
pause. "You've been staring at my breasts all night." Another pause. "I'm
going to play with them while you jack off." Always staring into my eyes, she
slowly unbuttoned her blouse and let it hang open. She raised her hands to her
breasts and slowly began to caress and tease them.
"Touch your dick, Al," she said, but I still tried to protest. "Tease it
... tickle it ... come on ... I know you love how it feels in your hand. Don't
you want to hold your penis, Al? Look at my nipples -- all erect and hard like
that hard meat of yours. I know how sensitive your penis gets when its hard
like this. Come on, Al," she begged mockingly, still squeezing and caressing
her breasts as she stared into my eyes. "I know how badly you want to slide
your hand up and down that rigid prick of yours ... milking pleasure into it
... milking the cum out ... _squeeeeezing_ it so good like you love to do."
I still was struggling between wanting to run away and hide and taking
out my cock and furiously stroking it for her, and I did nothing. She stopped
rubbing her breasts and said, "Maybe I should show you how to do it, Al." She
reached into her purse and brought out a rubber, two-headed dildo. Its color,
texture, and look were quite lifelike, although it was at least a foot long.
She put it down next to her on the chair and then unzipped her skirt about
halfway up and opened it wide.
Never lowering her gaze from my eyes, she slowly spread her legs,
exposing her naked crotch, and she said, "I took my panties off when I went out
to get you your jack-off book, Al. Look at my hairy cunt." I noticed that she
wasn't a real blonde, but it didn't matter. The sight of the dark pubic hair
covering her moist pussy really turned me on.
She picked up the dildo and held it out for me to see. "This is _my_
penis," she said in her slow, deliberate manner. "Watch me play with it." With
that she grasped it around the shaft with her two hands so that both of its
heads were visible. She slowly lowered it down her body, rubbing one of the
heads against her breasts and nipples, and then her stomach, groin, and to her
pussy. All this time she kept intensely, seductively gazing into my eyes. I
was mesmerized by her.
She then positioned one of its heads between her legs, and holding it
completely still with the other head pointed out at me, she pushed it inside of
her by slowly grinding and gyrating her hips. Keeping a firm grasp on it with
both hands, she began to fuck herself with it solely by moving her body -- not
the dildo. Never lowering her gaze from my eyes, she slowly and deliberately
bumped and grinded, the now moist end of the dildo pushing rhythmically, hotly,
and hypnotically in and out of her grasping pussy. After a short while, she
increased the pace of her gyrations, but not too fast and still very
deliberately so as to maximize the effect she was having on me as I watched
her.
All the while she kept her eyes glued to mine, and I found it more and
more difficult to resist stroking my cock as I watched her sexily writhe before
me, the dildo sliding in and out of her thrusting crotch. Soon she said, "Look
at my cock, Al. See it sliding in and out of my cunt." With that she lifted
herself up slightly so that only the head of was in her, and she rotated her
hips, making the dildo bend and squirm. She said, "Oooooooh, _fuck_ me!" and
sat back down so that the dildo slid way up in her. She repeated that sequence
a few times, each time making me less and less able to resist touching and
squeezing my own cock.
Then, she stopped and let go of the end. About half of the dildo was in
her, leaving about 6 inches or so sticking out. The lifelike dildo looked like
a cock sticking out of her. She just sat there for a minute so I could stare
at her.
Then, she squirmed out of her blouse and stood up, unzipping her skirt
the rest of the way and tossing it on the chair behind her. She was totally
naked now except for her high-heeled shoes and the end of the dildo sticking
out of her. "Look at my cock, Al," she said, reaching down with one hand and
lightly tickling the shaft and head of the dildo with her fingers. "It's so
sexy, isn't it?"
It indeed was, but as soon as I realized that, a wave of fear shot
through me: that penis-like thing turned me on, and I suddenly worried about
being gay. This homophobic fear had a strange effect on me: it aroused me
intensely -- much, much more than I could sublimate or deny. The more I
realized how much I liked looking at that penis, the more aroused I became in
my fear. My cock grew rigid and pushed the front of my pants out noticibly.
Mary seemed to be aware of the effect this was having on me. "Look at my
penis, Al," she said. She moved her hips from side to side, causing the cock
to shake, too. Watching it wiggle, I felt a palpable surge pulsate through my
penis and groin. I'd never before experienced such a pronounced reaction in my
penis without touching it. It felt as if I could almost cum just from watching
Mary sexily making her penis-like thing move for me. This homosexual response
scared the hell out of me, and my arousal grew with my anxiety.
"Let's touch our cocks together, Al," Mary was saying. "Come on," she
said with a seductive, mock-pleading tone, "Don't you want to get nude with me
and rub our penises together?"
I was beyond speech by this point. Besides, I'm sure Mary intended it to
be a rhetorical question.
"I want to touch the head of your dick with mine," she continued.
"Ohhhh, yeah -- so good, so hot -- right on the tip where your sperm comes out
... yeah! Just sorta ... _push_ 'em together ..." She moved her hips to
illustrate how she was going to push. Another spasm went through my penis and
groin, this time causing me to close my eyes and moan sharply with pleasure.
"Oh _yeah_ Al," she panted seductively. "Feels so damn good inside your
dick, eh? Well this ain't nothin', Al. We've barely gotten started."
I smiled weakly.
"Now get up and get nude," she demanded suddenly. "_Now_ Al!" she
ordered, when she saw that I was still hesitating. I was no longer able to do
anything but obey her. As I nervously fumbled with my shoes, socks, pants,
shirt and finally my underwear, Mary was saying, "I want to rub the head of my
cock down your shaft ... yeah ... to your balls ... oh yeah, it feels so good
to rub our penises together ... I'll push my head right there on the base of
your cock ... right there where the bottom of your penis meets your balls ...
I'll rub it right there, right where you first feel your cum flowing up the
inside of your dick ... push a little there ... then slide it back up the
underside of your penis to right under the rim ... on the bottom there right
where it meets your shaft ... and push on it there a little, too ..."
She removed the dildo, turned it around, and put it back inside of her
with the heads reversed. The one that was previously in her was now pointing
at me -- I could see it shine with her juices.
"It's all wet now, Al. My hot penis is all wet and slippery for you ...
so slippery against your dick, Al. Come on, damn it!" she said insistently,
"Hurry up and take off those underpants and come over here," her voice was
filled with seductive, mock urgency. "I can't stand it any more -- hurry up and
let me rub my hot, wet dick against yours ... yeah ... so slippery and
throbbing ... oh hurry ... rub your cock on mine ... PLEASE!"
I was finally out of my clothes and I stumbled to her ... I was dizzy
with lust and couldn't stand well. "You're too tall for me," she hissed, as
she stood up on her toes and pretended to be surprised that our penises still
could barely touch. "My dick won't reach yours, damnit! Lie down on the floor
... on your back ... I want to kneel over you and rub _dicks_", lewdly
emphasizing the word "dicks" by leeringly licking her lips as she hissed out
the word.
I was on my back in a flash and she was soon straddling me on all fours,
her dildo poised right above my rigid, throbbing penis. Lowering it down
against mine, she did pretty much what she said she would: first she pushed its
head against mine and bounced very, very slightly. The sensations made me gasp
so loudly it was almost a yell.
She then just started moving her hips from side to side, causing the
dildo to rub and glide against my penis. Our shafts would meet and the
slippery sensations drove me wild. While she did this, she was rhythmically
speaking in a low, chanting, seductive whisper: "... ohhhhh ... rub it ...
yeah ... so hot ... the shaft ... oh, oh! ... yeah ... slippery hot penis
against mine ... your big penis ... look at our penises, Al ... yeah ... so
hot ... makes you spasm ... yeah ... penis spasm ... yeah ... such a long hard
dick, Al ... rub our dicks together ... please! ... oh, yeah ... you love dicks
so much, Al ... oh yeah ... my dick makes you so hot ... so long and hard ...
throbbing ..."
She then leaned down and rested her chest on mine, holding my arms down
with hers. But she was still kneeling, her ass up in the air and her dildo
still rubbing against my increasingly aroused cock. Rubbing her breasts
against my chest as well, and looking me deep in the eye from just a few inches
away, she said with a mock pout, "Oh baby, my dick is getting dry." It indeed
was. "Make it wet for me, honey. Please! Please cum on my dick." She moved
so that the head of her dildo was at the base of my cock and its shaft was
against my balls. Slowly sliding the head of her penis-thing up the length of
my shaft, she moaned, "I want your _sperm_ all over my big, long, huge,
throbbing DICK!"
Just as she said "DICK", the head of her dildo reached that spot she
described on the underside of my penis, right where the shaft meets the rim.
With that, I felt the first hot, burning load of semen flowing up my penis and
exploding out of the head. As spasm after spasm of cum gushed out of me, Mary
kept lightly pushing and sliding her dildo all over my penis.
"Oh yeah!" she was panting in time with my spasms and moans. "Gimme your
sperm, Al. All over my hot dick. Yeah! Cum all over my penis, Al. Ohhhh, so
wet and hot. Yeah! More! Such a hot penis ... such a turnon for you to see
and feel my penis all over yours ... oh yeah ... you love my penis ... you
love looking at it ... you love feeling it ... and you really love cumming all
over it ... oh, what a sweet penis boy you are!"
As I came, I closed my eyes, arched my back, and tried to push my cock up
against Mary's dildo. But she kept wiggling and sliding it all over my penis,
which teasingly kept me yearning for more. Even after I was spent, I felt like
I hadn't really finished. I yearned to squeeze my cock in my fist and tightly
pump it to satisfaction as I was accustomed to doing when masturbating, but
Mary was leaning on my arms and I couldn't move them.
After a while, I had drifted into a pleasant, post-orgasmic daze. In the
back of my mind I felt Mary get up off of me, but I was half asleep and just
lay there. As I sleepily reflected on Mary's expert attentions, I noticed that
every time I pictured her with the penis-like dildo sticking out of her, I'd
become aware of a faraway feeling of arousal. I'd experience the same feeling
when visualizing my own cock. Somehow, Mary had gotten me to be much more
interested in and focused on penises than I had ever been before.
I still had a homophobic reaction to all this, but I managed to
rationalize it away by telling myself that being turned on by my _own_ penis
isn't homosexual, nor is being turned on by a woman with a fake penis.
"Don't fall asleep, Al."
Mary's voice startled me from my reverie. I shook myself awake and
looked up. She was holding her blouse in her hand and had already put her skirt
back on, and she stood over me, her naked breasts hanging over my head.
She jiggled them and laughed slightly, as if thinking of a private joke,
and then asked, "How does your penis feel?"
I reflexively looked at it, noticing the semen all over it and my groin.
The sight of it sent another vague sensation of arousal through me, and for a
second I just stared at it. I really liked looking at it. Suddenly, I
remembered that Mary had asked me a question. I quickly looked back up at her
and said, "Oh ... uh, wow! It feels _really_ good!"
Although I had only paused a second, Mary must have noticed my reaction
to seeing my cock, because she ignored my reply and said, "See how much it
turns you on now, Al? I doubt that the sight of your penis ever got you _this_
hot before." She paused and wiggled her breasts again. "And don't worry, Al,"
she continued. "This'll be our secret. Our hot, _nasty_ little secret."
As she spoke, Mary began to lightly rub and twist her nipples with her
fingers. I stared raptly at her as she did this. "They'd feel really good on
your balls ..." she continued, "... and in your ass hole. I'd like to fuck you
in the ass with my nipple, Al."
As I kept staring, she silently continued to play with her nipples above
me until after a minute or so she suddenly stopped and said, "Now you'd better
get dressed. Rachael should be off her phone call any minute now. Here," she
said, reaching into her purse and tossing me her panties, "wipe your cum off of
yourself with these."
I again snapped out of my reverie, dragged myself upright, and wiped off
my semen as best I could. She took the panties back when I was done, saying
with a wink, "I'll keep these for you, Al. Later on we'll have some more fun
with them."
"Uh, oh, OK," I mumbled absently and started dressing. I felt exhausted
and quite fuzzy-headed, and I became quite nervous about my meeting with
Rachael. I couldn't think clearly enough to negotiate well, and I was extremely
worried about the likely possibility that Rachael put Mary up to her seduction
of me. I felt out of control and vulnerable.
Suddenly, Mary's statements sunk in a little: she seemed to be saying
that she had more in store for me. As I buttoned my shirt and tied my tie, I
asked, "Uh, Mary, uh -- you kind of implied that ... that, well ... that
there's more stuff we could do ... I mean, I _think_ that's what it sounded
like ..."
She was buttoning her blouse. "You want more?" she asked, sounding cold
and detached, but with a hint of invitation in her voice -- a bit like a whore
fishing for more business.
"Well ... yeah ... I, uh ... I mean, I'd _like_ to ... to maybe do some
more with you ... I mean ... I mean if you want to ... uh, you seemed to imply
that ..."
"Well, Al," she interrupted, somewhat more warmly but still with
unmistakable whorishness. "I'm sure we can work something out ... under the
right circumstances I'm willing to do a whole lot more with you." She smiled
and her voice became more friendly. "But for now, hurry up and get dressed,"
she continued. "We can discuss it later -- I'm not going anywhare. You should
go into the bathroom and clean up a little. I'll tell Rachael you'll be right
back if she calls. Now hurry ... and unlock the door so you can get back in."
I was still too dazed to think very clearly, so I just followed Mary's
orders and went into the bathroom to wash up. Once there, I noticed that I
didn't look as dissheveled as I had feared. My clothes had stayed pretty much
unwrinkled because I'd taken them off before getting down on the floor, and all
I had to do was wash my face and comb down my hair before I looked more or less
normal.
The cold water on my face helped to get me back to an acceptable level of
lucidity, and I was then able to reflect on everything that had happened since
I arrived. I began to fear my meeting with Rachael -- if she and Mary were
working together on this, I reflected, who knows what she'd lay on me in this
meeting.
Actually, I had a way out -- I could just go home right then, skipping
out on the meeting. The thought was tempting, but not as tempting as Mary, who
had seemed to promise further sex with me. Her whorish attitude led me to
wonder if perhaps she was some sort of hooker. I actually hoped she was,
because I had more confidence that I could get what I want from a woman if its
for money than for any other reason. The prospect of somehow arranging more
hot sex with Mary after my meeting with Rachael was the only thing that kept me
from running away. Besides, I was feeling well enough to go through with the
negotiations -- or so I told myself as I walked back to the office to face
Rachael.
Back in the agency, Mary told me that Rachael was done and would meet me
in the conference room. She led through the main office into a corridor, her
hips swaying seductively as usual. As I followed her, I pictured the conference
room as one of those that are typically found in small offices such as this
one: a room slightly larger than a large office with a table and a few chairs,
and perhaps an overhead projector or something similar.
So I was quite surprised when Mary unlocked a door at the end of the
corridor and motioned me to follow her inside. The conference room indeed had
a table and chairs, and even an overhead projector in a corner, but it was much
bigger -- and much plusher -- than I expected. It was more elegantly decorated
than any conference room I had ever seen, even in the biggest of corporations.
If it wasn't for the long table taking up maybe half of the room, it would have
looked more like a plush living room in an expensive home than a conference
room.
I gaped at the thick carpeting, the overstuffed chairs, the lamps, the
two large couches, the wide-screen TV, and especially the bar against one wall.
"What's the matter?" Mary asked, a playful expression on her face. "You
don't approve?"
"No, not at all. Of course I approve," I replied. "I'm actually quite
impressed. I've never seen a conference room -- or anything in a corporate
office -- quite like this. It's ... it's ..."
"Elegant?" she offered.
"Quite so," I replied.
"Well, Rachael believes in treating her clients right." Mary turned and
winked at me, reinforcing my fears that she and Rachael were in this thing
together. "Now Rachael will be here in a minute, so just sit down and make
yourself comfortable." She turned and started walking out.
"Uh, Mary," I called out. She turned seductively to face me as she
reached the door.
"Yeah?" she purred.
"Well, uh, I'd like to ... to talk to you about ... well, about ..." My
voice trailed off as my shyness returned. I wanted to discuss the possibility
of further sexual adventures with her. As usual, I found it nearly impossible
to bring the subject up.
"Don't worry, Al," she interrupted, reassuringly. "I'm not going
anywhere, and we'll have plenty of time to talk. Now just make yourself
comfortable and Rachael will be right in." With that she turned her back to me,
pulled her skirt up, wiggled her naked ass at me while winking over her
shoulder, and flounced out the door as her skirt fell back down.
Although I was sexually spent, at least for the moment, this still was
able to cause a faraway sexual reaction in me. I sat down and took a few deep
breaths. I didn't want to be distracted during my negotiations with Rachael,
and I wanted to get them over with quickly and get back to Mary.
A minute later the door opened and in walked Rachael. Now, even though I
had spoken to her previously on the phone, I wasn't prepared for how young she
looked. From her demeanor and the fact that she was the owner of this agency,
I expected someone maybe in her mid to late 40's, or possibly even older. But
Rachael looked around 35 or so -- and a very attractive 35 at that. She had
medium-length, expensively styled red hair, a sensuous and attractive face, was
maybe 5'6" or 5'7", and had a really nice figure. Her hips and bust were full,
but neither was too large, and I noticed she had really nice legs. She wore an
obviously expensive business suit, but one that showed off her body to good
advantage.
I stood up and we shook hands, and she said, "Well, Al. I'm glad you
could make it on such short notice. I really wanted to have a chance to try to
persuade you to stay with us."
I liked her forthrightness. "Well, I'm glad, too. Although the new
offer is a really good one, I like my current job ..." thoughts of Mary went
through my mind and I added, "... and I especially like this agency. I'd like
to try to work something out so I could stay with you."
"Well, it looks like we have the same goals tonight," she said as she
motioned me to be seated. I sat back where I was before: on the couch to the
far right against the arm rest. She chose the seat next to the couch that was
facing at 90 degrees to it. This put her left leg about three inches from my
right one.
"But before we start, Al," she continued, "Let me tell you a little bit
about me and about my agency."
"OK," I replied cheerfully.
She told me how she built this agency up all by herself into what it now
is -- a $10 million a year agency that supplies temporary office help and
high-level consulting services to major corporations. She's the sole owner of
the company and that there is no debt, and there was well-deserved pride in her
voice when she told me that.
I told her how impressed I was at how well she had done, and she received
the compliment graciously and seemingly gratefully as well. With that, she sat
back comfortably and gazed pleasantly at me. I was a bit at a loss for words,
so I just looked around the room, trying not to let my nervousness show.
"So, do you like our conference room?" she asked after I had begun to get
quite uncomfortable with the silence.
"Yes, I do," I replied, grateful for her converstaional opening. "I've
been in lots of companies, but I don't think I've ever seen a conference room
as elegant as this one."
"Well, I want my clients to be comfortable," she replied. "I think that
the proper atmosphere can really be conducive to good business relations.
Don't you think so?"
"Well, I guess so," I answered. "I just think this is really nice -- and
I wish more businesses would take the time to do things like this."
"Well, they used to do that a lot more, say 20 or 30 years ago," she
replied. "But nowadays everyone's in it for the fast buck and they don't like
to spend money on such niceties. That's why this country is going down the
shithole so fast these days, I think."
I was a bit taken aback at her use of the word "shithole," not because
such language shocks me or because I think it's unladylike or anything, but
because it seemed a bit out of character with the elegant, refined image she
had been conveying up until then.
But more than that, I was impressed with her views about American
business and about the decline of the U.S.A. I share her views and I have a
hard time finding people who agree with me or are even willing to discuss them.
I guess most Americans can't cope with the reality that the good ol' American
dream is pretty much dead -- or at least in a rather advanced, comatose state.
So, her comment sparked me to start talking about my opinions, and pretty
soon we were in a rather animated conversation about this topic. As we talked
I became more and more comfortable with her and started to like her quite a
bit. She was smart, perceptive, witty, and quite sexy. I often found myself
staring at her legs which were crossed right in front of me, and I couldn't
help but notice her body, which seemed relaxed and loose under her clothes.
Most women in business seemed so stiff and uptight, and Rachael's apparent
comfortableness with her body was a striking change from that.
As we continued to chat, I began to notice that Rachael was acting quite
businesslike and I saw no evidence that she had any knowledge of Mary's antics.
This made me wonder if perhaps I was wrong about Rachael having something to do
with Mary's behavior. Maybe Mary's actions had nothing to do with Rachael
wanting me to stay with the agency. At any rate, I began to feel better about
dealing with Rachael as we continued to talk.
After a few minutes of this, I had all but forgotten about Mary. Those
few times she intruded into my consciousness, I just dismissed the thought
about her with a reminder to myself that she would still be there when I was
done here. I found myself drawn to Rachael, but in a different way than I was
drawn to Mary. She was sexually attractive to me, but in a less blatant and
more refined manner than Mary was. She wasn't doing anything that could be
labelled as flirtatious, and didn't seem to be intentionally trying to arouse
me -- at least not in the way that Mary had done. Rachael was just behaving
like a confident, refined woman who knows she's beautiful and who always does
her best to show off her charms.
We were long done with the subject of the decline of American values, and
our conversation had meandered into many related areas: art, politics, current
events, literature, etc. Finally, it was Rachael who got us back on course.
"You really are a stimulating conversationalist, Al," she said, sending a
shiver of arousal through me as I savored the compliment. "But as much as I'd
love to continue this with you, we have some business to attend to, I'm
afraid."
"Yeah, I know," I sighed. "I guess we need to see if we can reach an
agreement about my rates that would allow me to stay with your agency." I
vowed that I wasn't going to let her charm me into settling for less than what
I wanted, although I had to admit myself that her ample charms would be hard to
resist.
"Uh-huh," she said cheerfully. "So, Al, what would make you want to stay
with us?"
"More money," I smiled.
She smiled back. "How much more money, Al?"
With that, we lept into the negotiations. The new contract paid me $200
a day more than my current one. Although the headhunter had told me that
Rachael wouldn't give me that much of a raise, I asked her for it anyway. Sure
enough, she replied that she couldn't afford that much and offered me much
less. I rejected that offer and we fell into some old-fashioned horse trading.
After a while, Rachael gave me what she said was her final offer: we'd
split the difference, and I'd get a $100/day raise. Now, this was enough for
me, and I was more or less willing to accept. However, I didn't want to seem
to eager, and I really wanted to get away from her and think about it alone
before I made my final decision. So, I told her I was leaning towards
accepting, but I wasn't sure.
With that, she said, "I understand, Al. You need time. But I want to
help you make up your mind."
This sounded like perhaps she was going to kick in some more money, so I
smiled and gave her an inquisitive but encouraging glance.
"I know you're having a hard time with this, Al," she said, speaking
slowly and carefully and watching me very closely. "I realize that money isn't
the only thing that's motivating you here."
I'd heard this kind of thing before: my negotiating partner would try to
use the "money isn't everything" argument to make me feel guilty about being
greedy and thereby to beat me down on price. I knew how to handle it.
"You're right, it's not, Rachael," I countered. "I have to weigh the
money with all the other intangibles. It's a decision only I can make --
alone. That's why I need to sleep on it."
"Of course," she replied, unfazed. "You said you're leaning towards
accepting my offer of $100 less a day to stay with us. You obviously have
priorities other than pure greed. That's admirable."
Always beware of compliments during negotions, I reminded myself.
"Thanks," I said politely but looking back at her with resolve. "I'm glad you
understand."
"Oh, I do, Al," she replied calmly. "But there's one thing I still
_don't_ quite understand."
"OK," I replied, wondering what she was up to. "What's that?"
"What is it about us that would make you want to give up $100 a day?"
she asked, with mock innocence.
I realized that she had me. I had to admit to myself that the only
reason I was even considering her offer was because I liked how she and Mary
were making me feel. How could I admit that to her? I tried to come up with a
plausible-sounding explanation at the spur of the moment. "Well," I said
nervously, "I ... uh, I'm just, well ... well, _comfortable_ with this agency
and ... and you've always treated me well and ... and, well, I guess it's not
always easy to make a change. The fact that this is a known situation is worth
something to me, I guess."
I realized that if I wasn't careful, she'd have me agreeing to her terms
right there on the spot, so I quickly added, "But you know, it's a hard choice.
That's why I need the time tonight to sleep on it and think it over."
"Of course," she replied. "I understand perfectly why you'd need time.
I already told you that I understand that. But I'm still a bit confused, Al.
I hope you don't mind me asking you about this. I don't mean to pry or
anything."
She paused a moment as if wanting a response, so I nervously replied,
"Oh, no ... it's OK." It _wasn't_ OK, but the reply just came out of me before
I could think.
She nodded and continued. "I'm still confused. Would you really give up
$100 a day just for some familiarity and comfort? I mean, that's more than
$25,000 a year."
"Well, yeah ..." I stammered, feeling trapped.
She kept on. "And so there must be something else, Al. That's a lot of
money."
She was taking a big risk with this line of questioning. I could easily
say that she was right, that come to think of it, $100 a day really _isn't_
enough. I could then thank her for opening my eyes and reject her offer. But
somehow I knew that she was aware of that risk and was confident that I
wouldn't do that.
"Yes, it is a lot money," I replied, helplessly trying to think of a way
out and stalling with that non-committal reply.
"So what is it, Al? What do we have to offer here for you that's worth
the money you're considering giving up?" She was outwardly kind but coldly
unwavering.
"Well, Rachael, it's hard to say," I prevaricated. "It's sort of ... of
a feeling I have, I guess. It's ... it's hard to put my finger on ... just a
feeling -- you know?"
"What kind of feeling?" She kept on pushing.
"Oh ... I don't know ... just ... just a ... just an intangible kind of
... it's hard to say, Rachael." I was desperate.
"That's why I ... I need time to ... need time alone to think about it
... you know, to try to understand it better before I finally decide.
Sometimes I ... I need to ... well, how can I say this? ... uh, sometimes I get
feelings that I should do something and then later on regret it. It's a
problem with me. That's why I need to ... to think it over some more. You
understand, don't you?" I pleaded.
"Yes, Al, I _do_ understand," she replied kindly. "I don't mean to put
you on the spot. I'll back off."
"Oh, that's OK," I replied, the words practically gushing out of me. I
was off the hook and I felt relieved. "I'm just sorry I can't give you a more
timely answer," I continued magnanimously.
"No, Al, I really do understand, and I couldn't expect a better answer
from you." She was all sweetness and friendliness. "In fact, I should
apologize to you, as well. I put you on the spot even though I understood
perfectly what was motivating you. I sometimes get pushy in spite of what's
best for me ... and for the situation. It's a fault I still need to work on."
"Oh, that's OK, Rachael. You don't need to apolgize for that." I was
filled with sweetness myself, partly from relief at being let off the hook,
partly because Rachael was being so nice, and partly because I sensed our
discussion was coming to an end and I was looking forward to more fun with
Mary. "But if you insist on apologizing," I continued, "I certainly accept
it."
"Well, thank you, Al," she replied graciously and seemingly with sincere
feeling. "You're most gracious, but that doesn't change the fact that my
pushing you was still uncalled for. I knew from the beginning that the main
reason you were seriously considering my offer was because of how sexually
turned on I'm getting you."
Shit! This whole line of discussion was a skillfully laid trap for me
that Rachael had set, and I had fallen right into it. I was visibly shaken
when she sprung it on me, and I swore to myself and started to make a feeble
protest.
"Oh, there's no use denying it," she continued, cutting me off. "I know
I'm a very attractive woman, and I can clearly see the reactions I'm having on
you."
"Rachael," I protested, visibly in pain. "It's really ... I mean ...
it's not what you think, and ..."
"No, Al. It's exactly what I think." She was kind but firm. "But don't
worry. You have nothing to be ashamed of. I don't think anything's wrong with
that. It's a normal reaction on your part ..." she said, giving me a sly look.
Then she continued, "... especially considering that it's exactly the reaction
I wanted you to have."
"Oh," I said, sullenly and with a bit of venom. "Wonderful. I'm so glad
to know that," I spat. So perhaps my original suspicions were correct after
all about her and Mary.
"Don't take it so hard, Al. It's nothing personal," she said coolly but
still with kindness in her voice. "This is business. I make a lot of money
off of you here, and I want you to stay."
"Well," I said, feeling a strange calmness come over me, presumably
because things were now more out in the open. "I guess I can understand it
from your point of view -- sort of. But, well, I mean, I'm not used to ... to,
well ..." I was resentful and feeling bold "... to someone prostituting
themselves in this kind of business deal."
I wanted the words to sting, but to my dismay, Rachael was totally
unfazed. "That's no big deal to me, Al. You see, I _am_ a prostitute."
I assumed that she meant that she acknowledged that she used sex to win
business deals. "Well, in that sense, many women are, I guess. But what I was
trying to say was ..."
I was looking to make the insult more pointed, but she cut me off. "No,
Al. I don't think you do understand. I really _am_ a prostitute. You know, a
hooker: I make money by performing sexual acts."
I was shocked. This was totally unexpected. "But, but ... how ... ?"
My sentence trailed off into nothingness.
"I told you how I built this business up. Well, what I didn't tell you
was that I've been a hooker since I was 17. I always hated pimps and I managed
to always work on my own. It was hard, but I don't give up easily, and by the
time I was 21 I was pulling in over $5000 a week. That was quite a bit back
then. I'm really good."
All I could say was, "Uh, you must be."
"Very, _very_ good, Al. So after a while I had worked myself up to being
a very expensive, very high-class call girl. Although I was able to stay clear
of any pimps, I still had to work through escort agencies. I made a good
living, but I didn't like the agency getting its big cut. So three of the
girls and I started our own agency. We did quite well, but after a few years I
wanted more. Plus, the escort business is really a hassle. It's too visible.
So, I hit upon the idea of starting this legitimate business as a front. I had
a lot of money in the bank, so I started up this agency as a temporary
secretarial service. I sent girls out on straight assignments, and I also used
it as a front for the other kinds of services we provided."
So that explained Mary, I thought to myself.
Rachael was going on with her story. "Pretty soon I was making as much
on the straight business as I was with the other stuff, so I expanded and went
big-time, placing consultants like you as well as the run-of-the-mill office
help. I now pull in over $10 million a year, and most of the people who work
through me have no idea about the other side of the business. My contacts as a
call-girl get me right to the top of most of the major corporations, and the
men are happy to hire my people -- both for office services and for the other
services I perform. I've had this business now for over 8 years, and although
I keep busy running it, I still sometimes will go out on a sexual assignment
myself. Needless to say, I'm quite expensive."
"Of course," I replied with bitterness.
"So yes, Al," she continued, ignoring my remark, "I _am_ a prostitute.
And this gets me back to our little business deal here."
"OK," I murmurred, still depressed, but wondering what she was leading up
to. If it was a sex-for-money deal, I might go for it.
"Well, Al, do you know what my markup is on you?" she asked.
"I don't know," I replied glumly. "What? Maybe $200 or $300 a day?"
"How about $600?" she replied calmly.
"That's a 100 percent markup!" I exclaimed. "How do you get them to pay
for it?"
She smiled slyly and said, "I don't give away trade secrets." I could
imagine what kinds of persuasion she used on her clients.
"Actually, I only make $200 on paper if you accept the raise I'm offering
you," she went on. "That's $100 a day for me after tax and expenses. The
other $400 is tax-free and under the table -- that comes to $500 of profit a
day, or more than $10000 a month free and clear. You can see why I want you to
stay with us."
"Yeah, I certainly can," I answered, suddenly aware of a new angle. "So
you can afford to give me a lot more than $100 a day, can't you."
She smiled again. "Not on paper I can't. I have to show a profit."
"But it kind of gets under my skin to know that you make so much off of
me," I shot back. "If the clients pay, I must be worth it to them and I think
I should get more of that money than you have offered so far.
"Well, I don't mean to underestimate your considerable abilities or the
high respect the clients have for you," she countered, "but in this case I must
point out that the extra $400 a day is because of _my_ efforts, and I assure
you that our clients are very clear on this point."
"OK," I replied, "I grant you that. But you mustn't forget that no
matter whose services the $400 is meant to pay for, it still will stop if I
take the other contract. Maybe something less than the $400 would be better
than nothing. The way I see it, you get the money under the table, and so you
can give some of it back to me under the table, as well." I was proud of
myself and my negotiating skills.
"Now we're finally getting down to business, Al," she said. "Yes, I could
do that -- but I'd rather give it back to you in other ways." She shifted
her position on the chair so that her leg was pressing against mine.
"You see, Al," she continued, "I'm willing to give half of the $400 a day
back to you, but in, well, 'personal services' instead of cash. That comes to
$4000 a month in these services from me, Mary, or one of my other girls. Mary
normally charges $1200 to $1500 a night. I usually charge at least $2500. For
$4000 a month, you can get quit a bit of sex from us Al -- and it'll be the
best sex you ever had."
I felt a twinge in my cock, and I found myself having a harder and harder
time thinking. Rachael went on, "You see, Al, Mary and I really understand
what you need. With us you don't have to bullshit around with trying to
satisfy your partner, or with 'making love', or with trying to stay hard, or
with anything like that. I've been in the business for over 18 years, and know
what men _really_ need. I know what _you_ really need, Al -- probably even
better than you do. Mary, I, and some of my other girls are experts, Al.
We'll get you hotter than you've ever been, and we'll keep you that way for
hours."
She sat back again in her chair. My cock was almost totally erect, and
it twitched and throbbed as it pushed up the front of my pants.
"So what do you say, Al?" Rachael asked. "Do we have a deal?"
I didn't answer immediately. I needed to think.
If I accepted her offer I'd be making $100 a day less than if I took the
new offer (although it's $100 a day _more_ than my current rate, I reminded
myself). On the other hand I'd be getting two or more nights a month with
Rachael or Mary or some other experienced woman. I wanted to say yes, but I
started to fear that I was going to be ripped off. If I agreed to this and
then Rachael welched on me, I didn't have any legal recourse -- I could hardly
take her to court for withholding sexual services.
If she did rip me off I _could_ just quit, but the good offer I would be
turning down today in order to take Rachael's offer would be long gone, and I
couldn't be sure there would be another. But as a freelance consultant, I was
accustomedd to that kind of uncertainty, I reminded myself, and I realized that
I was afraid of a lot more than being ripped off financially. I was afraid of
the power Mary and Rachael would have over me if I gave in.
While all this was going through my mind, Rachael patiently sat there and
waited for me to answer. Finally, I said, "Well, Rachael, I'm inclined to
accept, but ... but, well, I'm worried."
"About what?" she asked calmly. "You can always quit if I don't keep my
side of the bargain."
"I know," I said, no longer able to refrain from laying my cards on the
table. "But that's not really it. It's that ... well, that I'm afraid of being
... being ... well, being out of control and ... and, well, under your ... I
mean, I'm afraid of the emotional aspects of this kind of arrangement," I
hedged.
She smiled to herself and nodded. "You almost said your afraid of being
under my power, didn't you, Al?" she purred, her voice taking on a deep,
husky, inviting aspect. "You're afraid of the sexual power I can have over
you, right?"
"Well ..." I sighed and then hesitated. Rachael was absolutely correct
and I didn't know how to worm out of admitting that to her. "Yes," I finally
conceded, "I'm afraid of ... of what you said."
"Hmmmm ..." she said, nodding slowly as she stared deeply into my eyes.
"You know what I think, Al?" she suddenly asked.
"Uh, what's that?"
"I think that you _want_ me to have sexual power over you. I think it
really turns you on, Al."
She was right, but I could hardly admit it to myself, let alone her.
"No! No, Rachael ... I admit I'm ... I'm, uh ... uh nervous and, well ... but
not ... uh ..."
"No, Al," Rachael interrupted. "There's no use denying it. Look. You're
really scared and yet you're still sitting here. You could've left -- made some
excuse, told me to get fucked -- anything. There are a hundred ways you could
have gotten out of here. But you didn't. You're still sitting here arguing."
I felt a horrible sinking feeling inside of me as the realization hit me
that she had me pegged to the letter.
"No, Al, I'm right," Rachael continued. The idea of me or one of my
girls having sexual power over you excites you -- deep, deep inside of you, Al.
It's something you've desired -- no, something you've _craved_ for a long, long
time. I know I'm right, Al."
I just looked down nervously and then back up at her.
"I've been in the business for 18 years," she continued, "and I couldn't
be successful at it without understanding men, Al. And I'm _very_ successful,
and I'm _very_ good at understanding men. I'm not wrong about a man very
often, and I _know_ I'm not wrong about you."
I started protesting again, although quite feebly.
Once again she cut me off. "Don't fight it, Al. I know what you need.
You need me to take control of you sexually -- to understand your needs so well
that I don't have to ask you what you want -- that distracts you -- I know, Al
-- see, I _do_ understand -- and to take you totally under my control -- under
my sexual power -- to slowly, expertly build up your arousal -- more and more
hotly, deeply, dizzingly overwhelming you with sexual pleasure. You love
sitting here hearing me tell you this, and you'll love it even more when we get
down and start actually doing it. And I _can_ do it, Al. Have no doubt about
that. I'm an expert at it, Al."
I swallowed thickly.
"See, I know what you want, Al. Just hearing me talk about it makes your
mouth water. I know you want to surrender to me. To yield totally to my sexual
expertise. I'll keep you hot, hard, throbbing for a long, long time, Al, with
no pain, no S&M, no 'Mistress' type stuff that I know you don't want. I'll
delay your orgasm so that your ecstacy builds and builds beyond anything you've
even dreamed of -- I can do that, Al -- I assure you. And when I do give you
your release, the pleasure will be indescribable -- you'll be overwhelmed with
the intensity of your sensations. It'll be like no orgasm you've ever
experienced -- so long and deep and overpowering. And you know what, Al?"
All I could do was shake my head feebly..
"I know how to give you an orgasm like that and still keep a lot of your
cum in you. That means I'll be able to give you two -- three -- maybe even
four more orgasms before you're finally spent. Isn't this and everything else
I've just finished describing to you what you really want, Al?"
She was absolutely right about all of that, but all I could do was sigh
and gaze helplessly at her.
"So Al," she continued, her voice deep, husky, and dripping with sexual
invitation, "do we have a deal? Just say the word and the deal is done.
Surrender to me, Al."
She knew I'd agree. "Yes," I murmurred, the words catching in my throat.
"I want ... I want it. It's a deal."
"Good," she said as she smiled faintly and got up from her chair. "Just
stay there. I'm going to call Mary in."
With that she went to the phone and made a quick call, presumably to Mary
in the outer office, although I couldn't hear anything.
After she hung up she returned to her chair. "Now, Al," she said after
she was seated, "get totally nude and stand in front of me," Rachael said
softly. "I want you totally undressed by the time Mary gets here."
I hesitated and then did what Rachael asked. When I was completely naked
I nervously stood up facing Rachael. She just sat there looking at me and my
now soft cock until Mary entered a short while later. She came over to me and
purred, "You're going to love this, Al."
I just nodded.
"Now, Al," Rachael said, "as I'm sure you know, Mary is really good with
penises."
She paused but I just stood there.
"So I want you to see how good she really is, Al. Now we're going to do
a little experiment of sorts. You stand here just like this, and put your
hands on your hips. That's it. Good. Now, you are not to speak and you must
not remove your hands from your hips under any circumstances. Do you
understand?"
"Uh, well ..." I was afraid to make such a promise. What if one of them
started whipping me or something?
Rachael seemed to sense my fear and said, "No one will hurt you, not even
a little bit. Now, no speaking and keep your hands on your hips."
"OK" I acceeded.
"Now, the experiment is this: we're going to see how hard Mary can get
that cock of yours without even touching it. Remember, hands on your hips and
no speaking. Now Mary, let's begin."
With that, Mary came over behind me and kneeled down. I felt her hands
tickling up from my ankles slowly up the insides of my legs. Rachael sat back
in her chair and began to talk to Mary. "So do you think you can do it, Mary?"
"Oh, sure. No problem. I'll have that penis of his really hard."
Mary's fingers slowly snaked their way up the insides my legs and then back
down again.
"Well, if anyone can do it, it's you," Rachael replied. "But I don't
know -- it still looks pretty soft to me."
"Well, I'm barely getting started," Mary replied, her fingers tickling up
a little higher and then down again. "He loves his penis," Mary purred,
continuing her teasing up and down my inner legs. "He likes to play with it
more than anything else."
"Yeah, I figured he did," Rachael replied laconically.
"Oh, he just _loves_ teasing and stroking his penis." Mary continued.
She slid one finger up the inside of my thigh and barely touched the bottom of
one of my balls. An electric spasm shot through me and my cock twitched. As
she slid her finger back down she said, "But, I think you're going to have a
hard time getting him to keep his hands on his hips. Pretty soon I'll have him
so hot that all he'll be able to think about is how much he wants to grab that
long, hard, hot thing and start stroking it."
"Oh, don't worry about that, Mary," Rachael countered. "I'll make sure
he keeps his promise."
"You know, Rachael," Mary said, changing the subject, "penises really
turn him on." She ran her hands up the fronts of my thighs all the way up to
my groin. She caressed me next to my cock without touching it and then rubbed
my stomach. "I think he'd like to see me playing with some nice, big, hard
cocks, don't you?"
"I think you're right, Mary," Rachael agreed. "Let's show him how good
you are at milking the cum out of penises."
Rachael then turned to me and said, "OK, Al, move over closer to the VCR.
We're going to show you a really hot video."
Mary stopped her caresses and I walked over to where Rachael had
indicated. She sat in another chair, facing me, and she said to Mary, "Why
don't you get nude after you load up the tape."
"OK," Mary replied. She went to the bookshelf and located a tape, which
she then put into the VCR after turning it on and dimming the lights. She then
quickly stepped out or her clothes and went back behind me.
As the video started up, Rachael paused it with a remote control as Mary
resumed caressing my legs, thighs, ass, groin, and stomach from behind.
"This is a video of Mary," Rachael suddenly piped in. "I think you'll
really like it." With that she pushed the button and the video began.
On the screen there a shot of a man lying on his back on the ground
suddenly appeared. It was shot at floor level, so that all that could be seen
of him were his feet, his partially spread legs, his balls, and his cock
standing straight up. He appeared to have some sort of cuffs around his
ankles, which led me to believe he was restrained. Mary then walked in,
totally nude, and faced the camera. She straddled his body with one leg on
either side of his hips, and she began to speak. The sound quality wasn't
great, but I could clearly understand her.
Looking right into the camera, she was saying, "I want your big, hard
prick in my cunt." She paused, licking her lips. "Look at my nipples," she
then said as she began to pinch them with her fingers. "They're so hard --
just like your big, long dick."
With that, I felt Mary's breasts rubbing against my ass as she tickled
the area right next to my balls with her fingertips. The Mary on the video
moaned and started slowly sliding her hands down her chest to her stomach and
then to her groin. She squatted slightly and began to rub her pussy with one
hand.
"Oooooh, my pussy is so hot," she whispered as she fingered herself for
the camera. "So wet." Looking down at the erect penis below her, she said,
"Your prick is so long -- so hard -- so hot! I'm gonna sit on it -- I'm gonna
sit right down on that big, hard thing of yours so it slides way up deep into
my wet, hot cunt. Oh yeah!" she moaned as she squatted down so her pussy was
right behind the head of the penis on the screen. She put one hand on the floor
next to the man's hips to support her weight, and with the other one took his
organ in her hand.
Gazing back into the camera she bagan to rub the head of his penis
forward and back along the length of her slit. "What a hot prick." she moaned.
"I love getting your head all wet with my pussy juice -- it slides so well
along my cunt." I heard a male moan coming from the video. "Oh, yeah," she
purred. "You love the way I make your head feel. I can feel all of your long,
hard prick throbbing in my hand."
I felt the real Mary's fingers snaking up my belly to my chest as she
rubbed her breasts against my ass.
I heard another male moan from the video accompanied by an upward thrust
of the man's hips. "Ohhhh, you're so impatient," the video-Mary taunted,
turning her head slightly to the side as if talking to the man, but keeping her
eyes on the camera except for an occasional darting glance back to him.
"Oh, how hot you are," said video-Mary as the man swore and jerked his
hips again. He indeed must have been restrained, because he seemed not to be
able to move too much. She kept sliding the head of his cock up and back along
her pussy and continued, "He didn't believe me when I said I'd have him begging
me to let him slide that hard dick of his up into my sweet, warm, wet cunt."
She looked at him over her shoulder and said, "Right, honey? You didn't
even think I could get you to stay hard while lying on your back here in front
of the camera on the cold floor -- at least not without me stroking it for you.
But see: you were lying there for at least 2 or 3 minutes while we set up --
and your big dick was hard and throbbing the whole time."
Video-Mary stopped rubbing his cock along her pussy and positioned
herself so that it was right at her opening, ready for her to slide it into
her. Still looking over her shoulder at him, she moaned, "So you want me to
sit on it now, baby?"
The man moaned and jerked his hips up, but she just stood up a little so
it didn't go in.
"I can't hear you," video-Mary teased. "Tell me what you want me to do."
The man swore again and thrust his hips once more, this time quite
violently. But it was to no avail, as she moved away once more.
"Now, now, sweetie," she taunted. "You have to tell me what you want, or
I won't do anything but tease your head some more." With that she resumed
sliding his cock head along her pussy.
The man grunted and moaned deeply, and I saw his hips and cock twitching.
Finally, after he apparently couldn't stand it any longer, I heard him say,
amid moans and grunts, "OK ... OK ... I want to put it in you ... I ... I ...
please let me ... let me slide my dick up into you ... please!"
"That's much better, darling," video-Mary replied as she stopped teasing
his head and positioned it once again so it was aimed at her opening. "You
shouldn't doubt my abilities, sweetheart. I told you I'm an expert making that
prick of yours do whatever I want it to do. Now don't move and I'll slowly
take it into my hot, wet cunt."
With that, video-Mary pushed the head into her pussy and leaned forward a
little, supporting her weight by resting her hands on his thighs with her arms
straight. She looked into the camera and slowly lowered herself down on his
cock until it had disappeared inside her all the way down to the root.
While all this was happening on the video, the real Mary had reached my
nipples with her hands and began tweaking and pinching them. She continued
rubbing my ass with her breasts and her now erect nipples as I watched the
screen, and she'd sometimes take one or the other of her hands and tease my
groin, legs, or crotch area without touching my cock. This plus the video
action was getting me really turned on. But my cock was only half hard, since
I'm used to lots of stimulation and I don't usually get an erection without
touching myself.
The scene on the video was similar to scenes in other videos that I'd
jacked off to at home and in porno theaters, and I felt an increasingly strong
desire to grab my cock and stroke it -- especially when video-Mary was taunting
the man. But I did what Rachael told me to do and forced myself to keep my
hands on my hips.
Video-Mary had slowly sat down on the man's cock, and then she began to
raise and lower herself on it. She never took her eyes off the camera as she
continuously and hypnotically chanted in a low, throaty, moaning voice:
"Oooooh, yeah ... so hot ... so wet ... fuck my cunt ... oh yeah ... fuck my
hot, sweet, wet cunt ... in and out ... in and out ... fuck it ... fuck it!
..."
She spoke in exact rhythm with her motions, which slowly became more and
more elaborate as she'd rotate her hips, move them back and forth and from side
to side, squeeze her legs together tightly, and do other hot variations.
Sometimes she'd lightly graze her fingers along his inner thighs, on his balls,
or part way up his shaft if she was on an upstroke.
Video-Mary's monologue continued as I stared raptly at her image on the
screen. I loved the sight of her nude body sexily writhing up and down on the
man's cock -- especially as she seemingly stared and spoke right at me. Her
motions emphasized the sight of his cock sliding in and out of her, and this
really turned me on.
"... in and out ..." she was moaning, "... that big ... long ... hard ...
_prick_! So long ... so hard ... so _hot_! ... ooooh yeah! ... what a hot
dick! ... in and out ... milking it with my cunt! ..."
This went on until the real Mary suddenly stopped her stroking and
caressing. I started to turn around but Rachael stopped me with a sharp
whisper: "Keep watching the video. She'll be back."
I obeyed, and sure enough, a few seconds later I felt her breasts against
my ass again. But then, I felt what seemed to be her slippery finger sliding
up and down the crack of my ass. Apparently she had put some lubricant on her
finger. This caused me to gasp loudly and involuntarily push my ass back
against her finger. She chuckled and said, "Now we're _really_ going to get
going!"
Rachael paused the video and said, "I don't know, Mary. He's only
partially erect."
"Hey, no problem," Mary replied as she slid her finger up and down my
crack again. "He can hardly control himself as it is. He wants to massage and
squeeze his penis really bad. Right, Al?"
I grunted an affirmative sound.
"He loves this, Rachael," Mary purred as she continued sliding her slick
finger up and down my crack. "Start the video. His penis is going to get
_really_ hard now."
With that, Rachael nodded at me with a taunting smile of her own and
started the video going again. Once again, video-Mary was moving up and down
and all around on the man's hard cock. "... big prick ... long prick ...
_hard_ prick ..." she was moaning.
The real Mary began pushing her slippery finger against my anal opening.
She was careful to keep time with the video. Whenever video-Mary would sit down
on the man's cock, the real Mary's finger would push against my anus. When
video-Mary would slide up off his shaft, the real Mary's finger would pull back
from my anus and slide up and down my crack. The real Mary even moved her
finger against my anus in such a way as to mirror video-Mary's side-to-side,
back-and-forth, and circular motions on the man's cock.
"... oooooh, so hot ... so wet ..." video-Mary was moaning. Never
lowering her eyes from the camera, she was clenching her teeth and hissing out
the words in an increasingly intense rhythm, as if a man was watching her and
she was mirroring his growing arousal. "... fuck it ... my hot cunt ... your
long, hard prick ... ooooooh, yeah! ..." Video-Mary kept it up without pause.
As this was going on in the video, the real Mary's fingers were snaking
deeper and deeper into my ass hole. At first, I kept it clenched tightly
closed, but soon Mary's expert touch had me relaxing and allowing her slippery
finger deeper and deeper in me. The sensations were much more pleasurable than
I ever thought they could be -- the hookers who did this to me in the past
apparently weren't very good at it.
Soon, Mary was thrusting deeply in me and pressing against my inner anus
in such a way as to send shivers of pleasure through me. I think I probably
was thrusting my hips back and forth to meet her hot, penetrating strokes,
although I was so overcome with intense sexual pleasure and arousal that I
couldn't think clearly -- the whole memory is a bit of a blur.
All I remember being aware of was the intense pleasure of Mary
finger-fucking my ass hole and the very hot sight of video-Mary moving up and
down on the man's hard penis on the screen -- in perfect synchronization.
"... what a hot prick ..." video-Mary was hissing as her gyrations became
more and more feverish and her expression became more and more intense. "...
yeah ... _yeah_! ... ooooh ... so hard ... hard as steel and really throbbing
... deep inside me ... ooooh, so deep and hot ... yeah! ... fuck me ... yeah!
... I said FUCK me with your hard prick ... in and out ... in and out ..."
By now, the real Mary's stiff finger was thrusting deep in me and then
pulling all the way out. In and out ... in and out ... fucking me hard just
like the man's cock on the video.
All of the sudden, video-Mary slowed down her motions and began once
again to speak teasingly: "So baby ... are you ready? ... huh? ... are you
ready to give me every last drop of your hot, sweet cum? ..." Although she was
obviously speaking to the man in the video, she kept her eyes fixed on the
camera, as if she was really talking to me.
I heard a faint grunt in the background of the video that was
unmistakably an affirmative reply. Real Mary kept fucking me in the ass with
her finger in exact rhythm with video-Mary's slower and less intense motions.
"Oooooh," she taunted, never taking her gaze from the camera. "I bet you
have such a big, hot load of creamy cum in those balls of yours, huh?" I felt
as if she as talking to me, and I suddenly realized that I _did_ want to cum.
Another incoherent male grunt came from the video.
Completely stopping her up and down motions, video-Mary sat down all the
way on the man's cock. Real Mary followed suit and just kept her finger buried
deep in my ass. "You've never even been half this hot before," video-Mary
purred. "You're gonna cum so _much_! ..." she hissed as she gave her hips two
rotations as his cock remained buried deep inside her.
The real Mary rotated her finger in me in exact time with video-Mary's
motions. This caused me to gasp loudly with intense pleasure. I wanted to cum
really badly. It was all I could do to keep from grabbing my cock in my fist
and furiously pumping myself to orgasm. But I obeyed Rachael's instructions,
although I had to clench my fists tightly against my hips to keep from giving
in to my urges.
"... your juice is gonna spurt out ..." video-Mary was saying. "... gobs
of hot cream are gonna shoot out of that long, hot dick ..." she gave her hips
another rotation, with real Mary following suit with her finger. "... flowing
up your shaft ... your creamy wet semen ... ohhhh, you've got so much of it
..." Video-Mary rotated her hips once more, and real Mary did the same with
her finger.
Then, video-Mary suddenly got up off the man's cock, which glistened with
her juices as it stood up, hard as steel and throbbing. A disappointed male
moan came from the video, followed by my own, similar moan as real Mary pulled
her finger all the way out of me.
Video-Mary sat on the floor next to the man, facing the camera. She
lightly took the base of his cock in one hand as the camera zoomed in, framing
the cock in her hand in the bottom-center of the picture. Her face was off
camera, and she was saying, "You said you'd never cum for the camera."
I heard another male groan.
"But you will. And you're gonna cum so good. So hot!" With that, her
other hand appeared on screen. In it was a glob of some kind of thick
lubricant, like KY jelly or something similar. As his organ twitched, she
smeared the thick jelly up and down his shaft and started stroking lightly with
her hand. Real Mary resumed her finger-fucking of my asshole, once again
exactly in time with video-Mary's strokes on the screen.
Video-Mary's head then appeared in the picture. She was behind his cock,
her chin almost resting on his belly. She stared right into the camera as she
expertly jacked him off.
"No ... no! ..." I heard the man moaning behind her, apparently not
wanting to cum on camera but knowing he didn't really have much control over
whether or not he did.
As video-Mary continued to masturbate his cock, she just smiled
devilishly and mercilessly teased him. She never lowered her eyes from the
camera, and in my arousal from watching her stroke that hard cock, and from the
sensations of the real Mary fingering my ass hole, it felt as if video-Mary was
talking directly to me.
"You're gonna cum so good," she taunted, hotly squeezing, caressing, and
pumping on his cock with her hand. "Yeah ... try to hold back ... yeah ...
try to keep me from pumping your creamy, hot jizz out of this big, hard,
_throbbing_ prick ... ooooh yeah ... you know you can't resist ... the
pleasure is growing inside of you ... you feel the semen building up in you ...
burning inside of you ..."
Video-Mary's strokes became faster and more rhythmic. She'd sometimes
run her thumb over the purple head on her upstroke, causing the man to moan,
grunt, and writhe his hips.
The sound of video-Mary's voice, the sight of her hand sliding up and
down the man's cock, and the sensations of the real Mary's finger going in and
out of my asshole were getting me so hot that all I could think about was
cumming. My arms started involuntarily twitching as I fought the now almost
uncontrollable urge to take them from my hips, grab my cock, and furiously jack
myself off to orgasm.
Rachael must have seen my struggles, because I suddenly noticed her
kneeling at my side and tightly holding my arms at my sides. This was slightly
annoying at first, but soon I was lost once again in the sensations of Mary
finger-fucking me as I stared at the video.
"You know you wanna cum," video-Mary was saying on screen, her stroking
of his slippery, hard cock getting faster and harder (and real Mary's
finger-fucking of my ass follwing suit). "You wanna shoot all that creamy
spunk of yours out so we all can see it ... so we can get it on tape."
Another, more desperate-sounding grunt came from the man, but video-Mary
ignored it and kept up her masturbation of him. He was grunting and moaning
now with just about every breath, and he seemed to be fighting her efforts. But
it was obvious that his protestations were futile -- his cock was twitching and
throbbing and it seemed like it was just a matter of moments before his orgasm
would overtake him.
He made a grunt that sounded a lot like "I don't want to!".
"Yes you do, honey," Video-Mary taunted in reply. "You want to shoot it
out for us so badly you can't stand it," she went on. "You _know_ you do. You
feel the hot semen building up in your balls ... and you _want_ it on tape ...
yes you do ... you want all of us to see the sperm coming out of your penis ...
and you want it on tape so _you_ can see it ... oh yes you do ... and you
_know_ it ... you want to see the video yourself ... yes you do ... you want to
see me on camera ... fucking you ... jerking you off ... and especially
making you cum ... you want to see that more than anything ... oh yes you do
... your cock and balls are telling me you do ... you can't deny it ... you're
so close ... so close to giving us all your semen ... you want to see the video
... to see me pumping your dick ... talking real dirty to you on camera ...
showing you your big, hard prick ... and your want to see your hot cum
shooting out ..."
With that, the man couldn't hold back any more. He groaned so loudly it
was almost a yell, and gob after gob of white, creamy sperm began to shoot out
of his spasming penis.
Video-Mary kept pumping him and kept talking directly to the camera:
"Ooooooh, yeah ... such hot cum ... creamy sperm ... yeah, it looks so _good_!
... wait till you see the video ... come on ... give me some more so I can
smear it all over your hard, slippery cock ... oh yeah ... you're gonna _love_
jacking off to this video ... I'm talking to you as you're watching yourself
cum ..." (it felt like she was talking to me as I watched) "... look at all
that creamy cum ... squeeze the shaft of your prick! ... oh yeah ... there's
another creamy gob ... oozing down your shaft ... it looks so hot ... it gets
you so hard ... see how I made you cum against your will ... stroke that hot
shaft ... yeah ... this isn't some porno actor ... this is _your_ penis
that's cumming on this video ... your long, hot, sperm-filled prick ...
squeeze it ... pump it ... I can make you cum any time I want ... cum for me
now ... pump your dick ... harder ... HARDER! ... give me all your sperm NOW
... I'm making you cum now ... cum for me, squeeze it all out! ... your hot,
creamy cum!"
Rachael was holding me apparently with all her strength, because I was
furiously struggling to get free and jack off. The real Mary's finger kept
fucking my ass, and all I could think about was cumming like video-Mary was
commanding. But Rachael kept me from touching myself.
The man had stopped cumming. Video-Mary slowly let go of his cock but
kept looking into the camera, moaning softly in time to his groans in the
background and the twitching of his cock. It was covered with semen, which
slowly dripped down his shaft as he gradually lost his erection.
The real Mary had stopped finger-fucking my ass when video-Mary had let
go of the man's cock. She then helped Rachael by tightly grabbing one of my
arms, thereby allowing Rachael to concetrate her strength on the other.
The video ended as video-Mary moved off camera, and the close-up of the
man's now-limp cock faded off the screen.
I was in a near frenzy of lust, but both women held tight. It was only
then that I looked down at my cock. I hadn't noticed until now that it was
sticking out of me, hard as steel and throbbing with intense arousal. So Mary
was right after all: she had indeed succeeded in giving me a raging hard-on
without once touching my cock.