The New Job Gets Better

Info trailmate
01 Nov. '18
It was Monday, mid-morning. I was out riding a 3-speed bike that Marvin had let me use. My cell phone rang. It was Maureen. “You need to stop by the office right after lunch, say 2PM. Okay?”

After the fun and money date with Denise, what could I say but “okay?”

I walked into the J & B office a little before 2. Jolene’s secretary, Maureen, told me I’d have to wait a few minutes and offered me a cup of coffee. After the first couple sips, Maureen said I should go on in to Jolene.

She got right to the point. “Art, your date for tonight is Audrey. She seems to be a Silicon Valley corporate executive of some importance and is in D.C. for meetings. She’s staying at the Four Seasons here in Baltimore and you need to meet her in the lobby at 8 PM. Don’t be late, she’s apparently a real stickler for punctuality. And according to one of our young bucks who escorted her before, she’s a stickler for performance as well.”

“Performance? How old is she anyway?”

“Don’t worry Art, after what we got from Denise, you’re up to it. How old? Late 30’s, early 40’s. She didn’t complain about the young buck we sent the last time but she picked you off our website.”

I looked surprised because they’d only made my photo on Saturday – and it was on the website already! Jolene noticed my look and continued with “Look Art, we don’t fuck around here. Sorry for the pun but you know what I mean. This is a business operation and I run a tight ship.”

I looked at her expectantly and she continued: “Same drill as last time, introduce yourself as Ralph and give her the J & B card. Oops, I forgot, you need a last name – make it ‘Burton.’ Okay?” Jolene didn’t wait for my answer. Her question okays were orders, not proposals. “So introduce yourself as Ralph Burton and give her the J & B card. She needs to respond by saying she’s Audrey Rogers.”

“How am I supposed to recognize Audrey? With Denise, well she was the only middle aged woman in the lobby.”

“Audrey has golden blond hair, slender, around five-seven and has dark rimmed glasses. Oh yeah, she’ll be wearing a pink dress.”

“That ought to narrow it down quite a bit. So I wear my blue blazer outfit again?”

“No, you need a business suit and a briefcase. And Art, don’t call her ‘Audrey’ until she suggests using first names.”

I looked at her, probably with my mouth open, so she went on: “Part of her cover and her fantasy is that this is a business meeting that turns social – really social if you know what I mean. Now Maureen will take you shopping for a suit, I have a briefcase you can use.”

After the shopping trip with Maureen, my wardrobe had grown by a grey suit, white dress shirt, tie, black shoes and a light grey rain coat. My debt to Jolene had also grown by close to a thousand bucks. I started wondering what kind of clothes I’d be needing for the next sex starved broad and if I’d ever get out of debt.

That evening I took an MTA bus downtown and got off at a stop a couple blocks away from the Four Seasons. I must have looked really good because the doorman tipped his hat and even gave a slight bow. The guy would’ve shit a brick if he’d known I’d been sleeping in a homeless shelter a couple weeks before!

I was early so after glancing at my watch, I took a seat and kept an eye towards the elevators. On the dot, at eight, a slender blonde woman in a knee-length pink dress stepped out of one of the elevators and strutted into the lobby, jacket over one arm, carrying a briefcase with the other. She was striking but not beautiful – smallish dark eyes, full lips with red lipstick, a mouthful of teeth that would’ve put Julia Roberts to shame, moderate breasts and wearing heavy dark rimmed glasses.

The introduction went well. Then Audrey took the lead suggesting that we leave our briefcases with the concierge and go to a restaurant that she had picked out.

After we were seated and had ordered drinks, Audrey said that considering the interesting proposal from my company, dinner would be on her. I thanked her and then put my brain in high gear. Carrying on a business conversation was going to take lots of ad libbing on my part. Fortunately my years on the run had worked to train my brain to do just that.

“Well, Ms. Rogers, we’re in business for profit, but we’re fair and realistic too.”

“I appreciate that Mr. Burton, but what really interests me is how your board members really feel about this. You know mergers always end up causing lost prestige at some level or other and lots of bitterness.”

“Ms. Rogers, my feeling is that the gain in stock price will overcome any damage to the board members egos. All the same, there’s a couple board members that I still have to work on. I hope you can give me lots of good arguments.”

And so the dinner conversation went, I bullshitted and she probably did too. Just before we got back to the hotel, she said “You understand, Mr. Burton, I didn’t want to go into details in the restaurant where someone might overhear. We need to pick up our briefcases from the concierge and go to my room for a private discussion.” While picking up the briefcases, we even exchanged some business talk where the staff could hear - we didn’t want them to remember us as a couple going up to her room to fuck.

Inside her room, or more accurately her suite, she took my suit jacket and got out a bottle of cognac and glasses and we sat down on the sofa. Opening her briefcase, she turned to me and said “Let’s get one item of business out of the way. How much for the rest of the night and until morning?”

I told her and she reached in the briefcase and took out six hundred-dollar bills and stuck them in my briefcase.

We sipped the cognac and continued the business discussion charade. Sitting on the couch, her dress had slipped up well above the knees and she looked down at her now exposed legs, then at me, then down again and so forth until I responded by putting a hand on her leg just above the knee. She let out a breath and quivered slightly. Taking that as an invitation, I ran my hand up further and to the inside of her thigh – about halfway from the knee to her crotch. She let out a quick loud breath, looked at me and parted her lips. We kissed passionately and when I broke off for air, she whispered in my ear that I should call her Audrey.

I told her to call me Ralph and resumed the kissing and moved my hand up further to touch her panties, through which I could feel her pubic hair and dampness. I felt her hand on my thigh and then heard her “Oh!” as she jerked upon finding my erection. Moving my hand up to the waist of her panties, I slid a couple fingers inside the elastic and stroked her abdomen. Then up higher to rub her tummy. Remembering that she did have tits, it was time to pay them some attention so I stroked her breasts through her dress.

“Unzip me Ralph!“

This I did and unsnapped her bra to boot and there for me to enjoy were her pert firm tits with dull red areolas the size of silver dollars. I kissed the nipples and let my hand back down to her crotch, this time direct inside her panties and ran my fingers over her pubic hair. She responded with a moan and a quiver. Then I was in her now very moist slit. Audrey already had a hand inside my boxer shorts and was touching the base of my dick with a couple fingers.

Whispering huskily, “Ralph, as future business partners, we’ve got to be more open with each other.” Audrey shifted her body, leaned forward and pulled her dress off over her head. Clad only in her panties she took off my tie, shirt, undershirt and then shoes and stockings. My hard-on was raging so furiously that I started thinking I might come in my pants.

“Ralph, you know what comes next, don’t you?”

Audrey didn’t wait for my answer. She just unbuckled and unzipped my trousers and had them off in a jiffy. Then she looked at my crotch where my throbbing hard-on was supporting a massive bulge in my boxer shorts. “You’re not going to have a premature ejaculation are you big boy?”

“Never. I’m looking at too many good places for coming.”

“You’re my kind of man.” And then, still dressed in her panties, she pulled down my boxer shorts and tossed them aside. “Now spread your legs for me!” On her knees between my legs she leaned in, held my balls in her right hand and my dick in her left and put her lips to the end and licked lightly. Edging one hand further up on the shaft, she held the skin back as she licked more aggressively, all the while fondling my balls with her other hand, sometimes running a finger down to my asshole.

Backing off with her head, she looked down at my crotch, then up to my face and with the sweetest voice and smile: “Ralph, I love it that you’re not circumcised like so many men. And God, but you’ve got a big one! I couldn’t begin to get it all in my mouth.”

Then back down she had my dick in her mouth and after lots of licking and kissing, Audrey tightened her lips and took to fucking with her mouth, naturally slow at first but then picking up the tempo. I could feel her tense up and I knew she must be getting just as close as I was. Feeling me strain to keep from coming, she stopped and looking up at me and with that husky voice, panted: “Ralph, you’re supposed to come in my mouth!” And come in her mouth is what I did – lots of it. Audrey leaned back and opened her mouth to show me how much before she swallowed and collapsed with her head against my crotch.

After a while we both got our pulses back somewhere closer to normal and she stood up, looked at me and said “Please take off my panties so you can see I’m a real blond!” Sure enough, her pubic hair was pure blond so unless her hairdresser did her head and her crotch, she sure was a real blond. The neatly trimmed triangle was like an invitation and I pulled her close and dove in. Needing better access, I sat her down on the couch and got between her legs. Lots of judicious use of my tongue and fingers brought Audrey to the stage where she was moaning and writhing. Whenever I backed off to look at her face, she gasped out with something like: “Oh, oh, oh, oh, don’t stop, take me all the way to heaven, please! Oh, Oooh, Ooooh! Please, please, it feels so good!” And so it went until finally, she shuddered and pulled my head tight against her pubic area. I felt warm liquid against my lips, cheeks and chin.

Both of us sweated up from the exertion and passion, we lay together on the couch kissing madly with out tongues curling together. Things were so juicy that after awhile, I imagined I was tasting her lipstick, her pussy juice and my own cum all at the same time. Audrey was direct about it: “Ralph I can still taste your cum and I taste it mixed with my own juice.”

We were still both naked and after a while we started cooling off. Audrey thought we ought to shower and then go to bed. In the shower we did lots of soaping and washing each other and rubbing together. I got really hard again and this encouraged her to give my dick a number of extra good washings. Every time she rinsed me off she’d kneel down and give me head, always stopping just short of my orgasm. Audrey was really hot as well, I easily got 4 fingers in her vagina and when I did, her hips just plain rocked. She may have been really hot and worked up, but manager that she was, she was still very much in control because suddenly, she stopped the play, switched the shower to cool and rinsed both of us off. That helped my hard-on subside a little. We dried off and made our way to bed where she quickly let me know what she expected.

We started out face to face on our sides, kissing and grinding our naked bodies together. As things heated up, I took to thrusting my dick along her crotch. Audrey thrust back even more intensely and I could feel her soft and wet pubic hair against my dick as it slithered back and forth. Just when I started worrying that I might shoot my load against her crotch, she rolled over on her back pulling me along.

Taking hold of my dick, she gasped “Ralph, you need to get inside me, now!” With one hand she pulled the head of my dick in between her luscious lips and thrust her hips so that I went right on in to her vagina. My dick felt like it was in heaven and the wild ride began. At times we were locked together, groin to groin with my dick all the way in, thrusting madly without any friction. Then she’d relax a little and I’d pull back and start thrusting. This would get her so worked up she’d lock us together and we went back to the frictionless thrusting.

At some point Audrey must have decided she wasn’t a missionary after all. “Let’s roll over, I want to give you the fucking of your life! And try to stay inside me!” Ever the perfect servant, I managed to avoid slipping out as we rolled over. It’s not easy to do that but it’s easier if you’ve got a long one. At first we stayed locked together chest to chest and kissing while she oscillated her hips to give me a generous fucking. I didn’t thrust back, I just laid there smothering her with kisses and absorbing the pleasure that was entering my body through my dick.

When she slowed down and stopped, I thought maybe she wanted me to fuck from below but she stopped me and gasped: “Ralph, you really know how to enjoy a woman. Stay still and I’m really going to show you something!”

Physiologists say a person can, with practice, control any muscle in his or her body – theoretically at least. There are women who have, to one degree or another, control over muscles around their vaginas. Audrey was definitely one of them. Still locked tight against each other, I felt a massaging sensation on my dick – a massaging like I’d never felt before. Not just little twitches that make you shudder a little, no these were real massaging strokes like in a masterful hand-job.

That was too much. I unloaded. Audrey stayed on top oscillating her hips, I was still inside but try as she might, I couldn’t get hard again. Finally she gave up and withdrew, leaving my limp and slimy dick to flop down. I thought she’d be pissed over my not getting hard again but she just smiled and coyly said “I’m going to the little girls room.”

I was asleep before she got back from peeing or whatever.

Waking up, I found myself lying in massive wet spot, so massive that it could only mean that Audrey had cum too. About the time I realized that I was alone in bed, I became aware of a conversation going on in the living room of the suite. The bedside clock said eleven-twenty something. Outside it was still dark so it sure as hell wasn’t morning. Audrey was raising holy hell about some business matter or other. Occasionally some meek downtrodden male voice would pipe in, only to be browbeaten by a now very angry Audrey. Thinking that she might have business associates in the living room, I crept to the door and peeked in. There was Audrey, fully dressed in a business suit, sitting on the couch facing her laptop. A video conference with her California office where it was only eight thirty in the evening!

One guy made some lame excuse and Audrey really let loose: “Goddammit Brent, you’re fired! Rich, call security to show Brent out the building!”

Then I heard Brent whining that his wife and kid’s pictures were still on his desk.

No sympathy from Audrey. “That’s why you’re such a fuck up, Brent! You’re always thinking personal shit when you’re supposed to be working for me!

The meeting went on for another hour or so. In the meantime, I showered and figuring she was done with me for the night, I got dressed and waited, hoping for an extra tip when she came back to dismiss me. That was not to be.

Audrey was still in the dominant mood. “You going somewhere? I paid you $600 for the whole night. It’s only one in the morning. I want you naked again.” Then she told me what was to take place next.

She stripped again and then we were both stark naked and on all fours on the living room floor. I was to play the stallion and she the mare. Chasing her around the room, nuzzling her flanks and rear end whenever she slowed down long enough, the idea was for me to mount her and then really put it to her. Remembering the tongue lashing she’d given poor Brent, I hoped that I’d recovered enough to breed her properly.

After what seemed like enough chasing, she slowed down and let me catch her. She moaned softly as I kissed her buttocks, sides, back and rubbed her tits. Audrey stuck her rear end out and parted her legs so I could lick her slit. Her now louder moaning and hip wiggling told me she was ready and also got me hard. On my knees and with my arms hanging down past her flanks, I entered her just like I imagined a big stallion would – as fast and deep as possible. That must have been how stallions do it, or at least how she thought they did because it really set her off – really loud moans, even screams when I got to pumping away. Nobody ever told me mares moaned and screamed when they got bred, but I probably never asked either. I departed from the stallion stance slightly and held her hips.

There’s must be something really primal about holding a woman’s hips and thrusting away and hearing her moan and scream because my head tends to get light, sort of like partially losing consciousness. Maybe it’s an adrenalin high, maybe it’s just too much blood stagnating in my dick. In any case I wasn’t fully conscious of the surroundings until I heard a crash like from wood breaking and metal bending and then “Police! Get your hands where we can see ‘em!” That got both our attentions and brought a quick end to the wild passion. Withdrawing and turning my head, I saw what looked like eight or ten big guys - in black, helmets, face masks, body armor and packing M-4’s – surge in over the broken down door. My hard-on evaporated and I froze.

Not Audrey. She got up and walked, stark naked, straight toward the cop with the most stripes on his sleeves. Hands on her hips, no attempt to cover her crotch: “Who the goddamn hell do you think you are? This is my hotel room. If you bastards don’t have a search warrant, get the fuck out – now!”

The cop sergeant, now speaking more softly: “We thought there was a murder being committed.”

Audrey: “You see anybody being murdered here? You see any blood? You see a body?”

Police sergeant: “They told us a murder was going on.”

Audrey: “They were wrong! What kind of cop are you anyway? You believe every goddamn thing people tell you? Now get your fascist asses out of my room.”

By now it began to register with some of the SWAT guys that the noises hadn’t come from a murder or any other crime, just a good wild fuck. I couldn’t help but hear the muffled laughs, almost like giggling from the cops.

The hotel’s night manager peeked in, saw the destroyed door, naked Audrey with her hands on her hips and me with a slimy limp dick. The guy whined to the cop sergeant: “You broke down the door.”

Audrey: “Of course they did. Because you, you needle-dicked wimp, you were too stupid to give them the key!”

Night manager, still whining: “The other guests heard noises.”

Audrey: “That’s because this flop house of a hotel was too cheap to put in real doors and insulation! Another thing, needle dick, if I want to have a friendly fuck with a business associate, that’s my business. Got it?”

Now that Audrey had turned on the night manager, the sergeant started getting his team out of the room.

The night manager, realizing that he ought to be placating a guest who paid over a thousand bucks a night for a hotel suite, put on his best host behavior: “Ms. Rogers, I can’t get the door fixed tonight and I don’t have another suite free, but I can move you to a very nice king room – no charge for tonight at all.”

Audrey: “I don’t want any damn king room. Stand the door in place and put a mattress against it on the hallway side.” Turning to the retreating SWAT sergeant: “Oh, and you there with the kiss-ass shit sown on your sleeves, you post two of your mouth breathers outside the door the rest of the night. They don’t let anybody in, they don’t eavesdrop and they don’t take the mattress away until I say so! Got it? Or should I sue your fucking city to where they can’t pay your miserable wages?”

Audrey got exactly what she wanted. I hadn’t said a word and was still standing there with a sticky limp dick and feeling like a real wimp too. I stammered out a compliment on how well she’d gotten things under control.

“Ralph, I can still smell your fear. You got an unfinished record don’t you? Escape from jail, prison? Jump bail? Skip parole? Don’t answer, I don’t want to know. Let’s shower and go to bed and finish off what we started – like people, you know? I’ve been a mare long enough for today.”

The next morning, dressed in my business suit, neatly combed hair and carrying Jolene’s brief case, I walked out of the hotel to lots of ‘good mornings’ from a hotel staff that was trying very hard to pretend that they weren’t aware of the happenings of the night before.

In between their knowing grins and ‘good mornings’, the hotel staff had offered to call a taxi for me. After politely declining, I walked a few blocks and caught an express bus that would take me pretty close to the strip mall where I lived above the bike shop. In the bus, I started reflecting on the past night. When Jolene had offered me the job, I pictured myself catering to neglected and ignored, overweight wives in their 50’s and 60’s. That’s how it had been with Denise. Last night though, Audrey had been another story. I wondered what Jolene would toss my way next.

Back in my apartment, I hit the bed and didn’t wake up until late afternoon when my cell rang. It was Jolene. “You get tonight off. Come in tomorrow morning around ten. This time, dress medium casual and wear a windbreaker. You’re taking Marilyn on a harbor cruise.”

When you hit 60, regular exercise gets to be a matter of life and death. The exercise I was getting on my new job wasn’t going to fill the bill so again I begged an old clunker 3-speed bike off Marvin and headed out to Gwynns Falls Park. After a couple hours biking and a shower, I felt pretty much alive again. I couldn’t help wondering how Audrey had gotten through the day. With her video conference and all, she’d slept a lot less than I had.

The next morning, Wednesday, after stopping at J & B for a briefing by Jolene, I was on the bus back to the city center. Marilyn was sipping a macchiato at an outside table of a coffee shop in front of the Harborplace and Gallery. Brown hair, late 30’s to early 40’s, light blue dress, dark blue beret, black windbreaker jacket – all in all a fine looking woman, not a pound overweight. Although Jolene had described her very well, I still had a hard time finding her – I guess she just had too much class for me to even begin to think that this woman would need to hire an escort. I handed her the J&B card, “You must be Marilyn? I’m Ralph.” At first, with no sign of emotion, she looked up at me with her head tilted slightly and without a word took the card. After studying the card she looked up again, this time with a slight smile, “Yes, I’m Marilyn. Nice to meet you Ralph. Care for coffee?”

I ordered a latte and we sipped and chatted. The plan was to have lunch on the harbor cruise boat. The two hour cruise from the Inner Harbor and out to the Francis Scott Key bridge lasts around 2 hours, includes lunch and costs $45, the tickets for which Marilyn already had. For a loser like me, long time bail jumper, hobo, itinerant worker, the cruise was a really big deal. Going on a harbor cruise with a classy woman like Marilyn – that would be a treat for any man in his right mind, hobo or CEO.

Boarding the cruise boat I could feel envious eyes on us. It was a weekday and not vacation time, so you can guess there wouldn’t be any families with kids or young working couples. No, the crowd was definitely seniors and there were masses of fat – lots of panting going up the ramp.

Marilyn just exuded class and she did that without flouncing a whole shitload of expensive jewelry and outlandish clothes. Her dress fit perfectly, it didn’t pretend to hide her body by stretching tight over her tits and ass – the dress just let you know there was something there but you still needed some imagination. She didn’t exhibit cleavage or lots of leg – just her manner and soft firm voice alone were enough to generate the beginnings of my hard-on.

After lunch, we stood outside on the deck together, close enough and in a way that we sure didn’t look like father and daughter. The wind was in our faces. Her brown hair got blown about and that just emphasized her femininity even more. The spring wind was cooling us both. Marilyn moved to my right front and put her head against crook between my arm and chest and I began regretting not wearing a longer jacket or looser trousers to hide the growing bulge. I put my arms loosely around her and she leaned harder against me.

Turning her head toward me she said, “This might be a good time for me to negotiate your tip.” That took me by surprise and I must have shown it because she followed up with, “Just kidding. But we do need to talk about what happens when we get back to port, don’t we?”

I couldn’t have agreed more. After catching some of my wits, I asked what she had in mind. Marilyn said she’d really like to take a look at the aquarium and that took me by surprise because I thought she’d say something about some fun and games in a hotel room. There wasn’t much I could do but agree because her deal with J&B was that I’d give her around 4 hours of companionship on a more or less platonic basis and there would still be a little over an hour left of that by the time we got back. After disembarking, we walked the quarter mile or so to the aquarium and she bought two tickets and in we went to see the fish. I was pretty fascinated with the big mean looking stuff like sharks, but I saw right away that wasn’t her thing so I gave her the lead and she headed to the tropical fish tanks. What the hell, she’d paid the $70 for us to get in. Watching the colored tropical fish, Marilyn seemed mesmerized and again like on the boat, stood very close to my front, actually leaning against me, whenever we stopped in front of a tank. I reacted pretty much the same and she seemed to enjoy feeling my bulging reaction against her butt.

After looking at I don’t know how many tanks, we were well over the four hours that she had contracted with J&B so with my half a hard-on poking her in the butt, I asked her if she had something in mind for when we got done looking at the fish. She came right out with it, not with dirty talk, no beating around the bush, but just plain straightforward.  We agreed on the scenario and on $400 for a couple hours of fun in her room at the Hyatt Regency.

Inside her 10th floor room, we hung up our jackets and walked over to the window to enjoy the harbor view. Standing close with my arms around her, my hands on her tummy and my bulge against her back, I nuzzled her ears and cheeks. In response to the soft breaths and faint moans, I ran my hands up and cupped her breasts from below, sort of like lifting them lightly. Her breaths came faster and deeper so leaving my left hand cupping her left breast, I ran the other down to her hip. Getting the expected writhing of her mid-section, I took to feeling very close to her crotch – still through her dress. Reaching way down, I lifted her dress in the rear and ran my right hand up the back of her leg and found her butt, which I rubbed over her panties. Her chest rose and fell against the hand that was cupping her tits and her hips were oscillating more strongly. My right hand went up to the waistband of her panties and then it was inside and was rewarded with a feel of a nice firm rounded ass.

“Ralph, do you like what you feel?”

 “Very much. Do you like me feeling you there?”

Panting slightly, “Yes, but there’s lots more of me to discover.”

Leaving my hand inside her panties, I slid it around her hip and to her crotch where I encountered moist soft pubic hair and then a fleshy slit that was more than moist. My stroking up and down the slit got Marilyn writhing even more and she whispered, “Ralph, there’s a little nubbin at the top that needs attention too.”

 “I think I need more room.” Then I backed up and unzipped her dress and helped her get it off over her head. She stood still as I took off her bra and slid her panties down. Obediently, she lifted one foot after another to let me get the panties clear of her feet. Her pubic hair, blond instead of brown like her scalp hair, caught my eye and surprised me but pubic hair color isn’t a big priority when you’ve got a beautiful naked woman before you and especially one that you know you’re soon going to be fucking.

Now completely nude, Marilyn turned around to face me. “This is not fair, I’m naked and you’re still dressed.” Without waiting for my agreement or objection, she unbuttoned my shirt and helped me get it off. My undershirt was barely off and she was unbuckling my belt. My jeans dropped to the floor and I stepped clear of them.

In a deepened short-of-breath voice, “Now Ralph, I’m going to get to see what’s been poking me in the back all afternoon.” With her thumbs in the waistband, she pulled my boxer shorts down, but didn’t get far because that waistband caught on my erection. “Oooh, you’re really hard!” Reaching in with one hand, she pushed my dick against my gut and with the other worked the shorts down. Bending way down she got the shorts to my ankles and I stepped free. On her way back up, she nuzzled my now very hard dick. Facing me close, left arm over my shoulder, my dick in her right hand, she tossed her head back to invite my kisses.

Our lips locked together and our tongues interacted. I reached down and found her moist pubic hair and then a very wet slit. My finger wallowed in the folds of her labia, her fingers lightly massaged my dick. Both of us were breathing with sharp breaths.

Then Marilyn’s panting whisper, “Ralph, let’s do it on the bed.”

We barely took time to turn back the bed cover and blankets. There was no foreplay, Marilyn just lay on her back, knees apart and raised, I mounted her and went straight in to the hilt. She pulled me towards her and our lips met. Again, our lips were locked together and our tongues rolled around each other and for I don’t know how long our hips rocked in unison without much in and out action.

Then it seemed that we both needed more and I began withdrawing and entering, first slow and rhythmic, then faster and more chaotic. Before too much longer her desperate rocking and thrusting told me there was no need for delaying the inevitable. My first squirt brought a reply in like from Marilyn and we sort of froze our groins together in passion as we humped and drained ourselves.

I would have stayed inside for another go but she let me know that she wanted a break – to talk as it turned out. After I pulled out, we lay close together, groin to groin with my dick along her slit. We began to get cooled off as the sweat dried and Marilyn pulled the blankets back up. One elbow on the bed and hand under her chin, she confessed what I already suspected: “Ralph, it’s been awhile for me. I have to get used to it again.”

What could I say but, “You were just great for me. Anyway lovers aren’t supposed to get used to it.”

Ignoring my compliment and therapeutic advice, she continued, “My husband is gay. We haven’t had sex since before our second child was born – that’s over 4 years now.”

My favorite exclamation just popped out: “Jesus Christ!”

Then came her completely unexpected answer, “He hasn’t been able to help. God knows I’ve prayed so fervently that my husband could be cured.”

 “Look Marilyn, it’s not a disease or a mental condition. You must know that.”

 “I do now. Ralph, but I come from a deeply religious family. I was a naive virgin bride. When he didn’t try to have intercourse with me that first night, I thought he was just being gallant and considerate of my virginity. But it went on. After we got back from our honeymoon, I was still a virgin. Girlfriends asked if it had hurt the first time, if I’d had an orgasm, how many times we were doing it, you know the usual feminine curiosity. I giggled, pretended embarrassment. It was tough.”

I gave her my practiced look of sympathy and she went on: “Then one night I awoke and found myself alone in bed. I went to look for him and found him in the bathroom masturbating.”

I almost let loose with another ‘Jesus Christ!’ but thinking better of it, gave her a questioning look and let her continue.

 “Naive me, I asked him what he was doing.” Marilyn laughed, then went on, “He got all gushy and claimed he hadn’t pushed us toward intercourse because he worshiped me and couldn’t bring himself to spoil me. We then had a strange discussion standing there in the bathroom, me in my pajamas, he naked with a towel hiding his faded erection. In short I insisted that since we were married, there would have to be sexual intercourse, if nothing else to have children that I thought we both wanted. He said that he wouldn’t be able to have intercourse if he was facing me because then he would see me being spoiled. Can you imagine that?”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing but I managed to avoid saying ‘Jesus Christ’ or ‘no’ and answered with a simple “Hard to believe”.

 “So as it turned out, two months after we were married, I lost my virginity on my knees, head down, on our bed.”

 “And after that, from then on?”

 “The same way. We never did it like they say missionaries do. And then not very often either. Oh yeah, for me to get pregnant, we would make love. No, I shouldn’t really say ‘make love’ because it wasn’t really that – more like breeding. After I got pregnant, we stopped doing it altogether. Between pregnancies, maybe once every month or two, and only when I pushed him to it. And always me on my knees, head down.”

We just looked at each other. Lot’s of stuff was going through my head. Hell, a quick calculation, her husband hadn’t fucked Marilyn but maybe a hundred times at most. She must have found someone else – the postman, a trainer at the gym? Why does a gay man marry a woman at all? Actually I knew the answer to that one – family, church, social pressure. After all, Marilyn and her husband were part of a strong religious community.

Marilyn must have read my mind because she continued, “Ralph, I’ve counted up. Jas….., uh my husband penetrated me a total of 47 times in our 8 years of marriage. I’m 33 years old, married 8 years and I’ve only had sexual intercourse 47 times – oops make it 48 thanks to you just now. And only once with the man’s lips against mine – just now with you!”

So she hadn’t had anybody on the side. “But Marilyn, you’re a very good looking woman, surely…?”

 “No, I’ve never taken a lover. Back at home in…, it’s all too transparent. Too many people know us, too many social engagements, appointments to keep. In D.C. you’d think things would be more anonymous, but the circles we’re in make that even harder, at least for me.”

I knew better than to ask what circles she meant.

 “So now you understand why I went to an escort agency?”

I said I did and then my curiosity got the better of me, “When did you find out about the gayness? You must have suspected it at some time early on?”

 “Ralph, you’ve got to understand that in our religion homosexuality is a sin and not a genetic condition. Drinking coffee or alcohol is a sin that one can admit to and be forgiven for. Sex with a person of the same sex, never. So it just sort of doesn’t exist - among us at least.”

I gave Marilyn a look that said she should go on.

 “One time during my second pregnancy, I got together with a high school girlfriend - Connie - one of these people without many taboos as to what they talk about. When she asked me if my arm was getting a good workout yet, I must have just looked at her with a blank face because she went on to say something like, ‘Well after the gynecologist says Richard’s penis should no longer get so close to junior, we need to offer our hand of mercy.’ Never once had my husband asked me to masturbate him, neither during nor outside of pregnancy. At first I was really upset, but after a while I put it aside thinking, ‘well sexual appetites differ’.”

 “After our second one was born, I got another wake up call – actually more a shock. Evenings at home, I usually went to bed first and Jas…., uh my husband would stay up ‘catching up on emails’ on a 27 inch iMac that we shared. One morning I was looking up something on the internet and I happened to click on ‘History’ and almost choked at what was in the dropdown – videos, chats, stories – all gay genre. Confronting him that evening, he claimed he had to know the kind of evil that he was fighting against. He was indeed active in a number of anti-gay rights movements, but this time I just couldn’t quite put this out of mind.”

 “Then one night sometime after we moved to D.C., I overheard him on the phone arranging to meet someone. For some reason, perhaps the tone of voice, made me suspicious. After he left, I took a taxi to the address of the meeting. Seeing him in a café holding hands with a man – I almost screamed on the spot. By that time, I had matured enough that I had lost my old disdain for gayness, but this was my husband! Marrying me had been a deception! The thought that his penis might have had another man’s pooh on it when it entered me almost made me puke.”

I could see that telling all had gotten Marilyn worked up, but at the same time letting it out had been a relief. (As I was to learn in my escort career, most clients felt the need to explain to me why they engaged my services.)

Marilyn was paying me for pleasure, not for pain and painful memories. I needed to get her back in a frolicking mood so I suggested that we take a bath or shower. She wanted the bathtub until she saw that there were shower caps to cover her hair. Under the shower we had a merry time soaping and washing one another. And it was there in the shower that she really started paying attention to my penis and particularly the foreskin, which it seemed like she couldn’t get enough of working back and forth – kind of playing peek-a-boo with the head. It was a real effort for me not to come but I knew she needed and wanted the real thing more than she needed and wanted a hand and face full of semen.

Back in bed I thought to make up for the foreplay that we hadn’t had the first time around. Marilyn didn’t have big breasts but they weren’t tiny either and she reacted nicely to my sucking her nipples. While attending to her nipples, my hand had found its way to her luscious labia. Then as earlier, her soft whisper, “There’s a little nubbin at the top that needs some attention.” Well what did I expect? She’d been fucked only 48 times in her whole life. Of course she had to be a master at masturbation.

At first I kept on sucking her nipples, alternating left and right as I massaged that little clitoral nubbin. Then I backed off her nipples, repositioned myself and proceeded to give Marilyn the first cunnilingus of her life. It must have been exactly what she needed because it wasn’t long until I felt the warm liquid gush over my tongue and chin. I stayed down on her until it was well over and then moved up to her face where she eagerly kissed deeply. It was pretty obvious that Marilyn was one of those women who lick their fingers after they masturbate.

Giving Marilyn head and kissing rejuvenated the erection that had nearly gotten out of control under the shower. One way or another, I was due for a massive ejaculation and I thought it’d be better to do it inside Marilyn than outside Marilyn. I made the move to mount her and she willingly parted her legs and raised her knees. This time, I tried to keep things on a more relaxed and lasting level. As I entered her slowly, she breathed in deeply, smiled and moaned softly. This time, we fucked without the frenzy of the first go around – periods of slow stroking, giggling, small talk, then a bout of frenzied in and out. At one point she stopped and asked me for some more pillows to elevate her head: “Ralph, I want to watch you go in and out of me.” 

After some minutes, she seemed to have gotten enough of watching. Backing down away from me an inch or two, she reached down, grasped my penis and angled it so the head contacted a magic spot in her vagina. “Ralph, fuck me there.” I did and she quickly exploded and collapsed. It didn’t take me long to shoot my load and we collapsed together all sweaty.

The agreed upon couple of hours was long over, but I couldn’t have cared less. Marilyn looked at her watch and exclaimed something about having to get back to D.C. Before I left, she gave me a $100 tip on top of the $400 ‘tip.’

On an overloaded commuter bus back to where I lived, I first daydreamed about beautiful classy Marilyn, hoping she would want to go on another excursion with me and soon. Passing a medical clinic, I was reminded of Karen, the young doctor’s assistant whom I would see on Sunday for brunch at her apartment.

Thursday

The next morning, I had been out on the clunker bike for a couple hours when my cell rang. It was Maureen, Jolene’s secretary. I should come by the office that afternoon. Thinking there was to be another ‘date’, I asked what to wear.

“No date this time, Jolene needs to see you, that’s all.”

Expecting anything from getting fired to getting a raise, I walked into J&B Associates a half hour late. The tax free cash from the dates with Audrey and Marilyn was enough to settle my debt to Jolene. And I had some cash from the date with Denise. At that moment, I couldn’t care less whether Jolene fired me or fucked me. As it turned out, she did neither.

Maureen gave me a sweet smile as I walked in and told me to wait a few minutes until Jolene got off the phone. Maureen, a likable married woman in her mid-forties, always wore a dark skirt and white blouse. The skirt didn’t hide her being some 20 or 25 pounds overweight, it just brought attention to hips that looked like they were built for action. The white blouse fit tightly over a pair of generous breasts, breasts that you couldn’t help but imagining how it’d feel to have your nose or your dick between. We didn’t make any small talk while I was waiting, but whenever I looked up, I’d catch her giving me a sort of anticipatory look – not ominous or threatening, actually more nice. I put all thoughts of being fired out of mind. After 15 or 20 minutes, she hooked a thumb in the direction of Jolene’s office.

Jolene had one of those richly furnished offices that you don’t expect to see in a strip mall office. Mahogany desk, leather upholstered chair, deep plush rug, sofa with coffee table, and a couple nice visitor chairs. In addition to the door connecting to the front office where Maureen worked there two other doors, one led to a bathroom and the other to a small conference room. The walls were painted a light brown/beige and all the trim and doors appeared to be oak. All in all, pretty classy.

Inside, Jolene, dressed as usual in black slacks, blouse and neck scarf, rose from her big leather chair and pointed toward one of the visitor chairs. I barely got seated before she started talking. “Art, about your hair.”

 “You said I wouldn’t have to dye it brown or black.”

 “Shut up and listen. Have you noticed how people talk about how handsome Mitt Romney is?” She didn’t wait for my cynical answer. “Well one thing women really like is the grey frosting on the sides.”

I cut in, “I’ve got grey frosting. It goes all the way over the top of my head.”

Ignoring my humor, she went on: “The truth is women just go crazy about men with grey frosting on the sides. The original hair color on top projects youth and virility and the grey projects experience and solidity.”

To my protest she went on: “Look, we can charge more for you and you can expect bigger tips. Now is that so bad?”

“So how much will turning me into Mitt Romney cost?”

 “Look Art, I’m a business woman. I see the money coming back to me and to you. The hair stylist charges $120. Let’s go 50/50 on this. Your share will be $60. Damn it Art, you’ll get that back on the first date. Afterwards, it’s all gravy.”

Well she had me again so I gave her a grimacing ‘okay.’

 “I knew you’d see it my way. Art you’re stubborn, but you really are smart too.”

I could have smacked her for the patronizing, instead I just grimaced again.

Then mimicking Steve Jobs, she went on: “Oh yes, Art, there’s one more thing.” Not waiting for my groan or grimace she continued: “Body hair is a big topic among women. You know it’s no longer in?”

Being bare chested, I smiled with relief. “At least that’s okay. I thought you were going to want a hair transplant to my chest.”

Jolene: “Oh your bare chest is right on. But I was thinking of other body hair.”

 “No goddamn way am I going shave my groin.”

 “Art, I’m not talking about shaving. Just a trim.”

I knew right away what she meant by a trim. “How do you know my pubic hair is too long?” As soon as I said that, I already knew how she knew. Of course, it was in Dr. Henley’s report along with my dimensions. “So is this trim included in the $120 for the stylist?”

“Art, can’t you accept that I’m looking out for your own good? No it’s not included in the stylist’s price. Actually, Maureen can do it right here. And don’t worry, we won’t charge you.” Without waiting for my answer she called Maureen on the intercom.

I was still sitting in the visitor chair in front of Jolene’s desk when a jolly Maureen walked in with a leather case in one hand. “So it’s a trim today, is it?” Her eyes were shining.

Jolene, not one to waste time with small talk, “Exactly. And Maureen, don’t bother switching over the phone, I’ll take the desk up front. Actually, I’m expecting someone. Oh yeah, turn the lock on the room. Wouldn’t want you to get surprised.”

I thought maybe the trim would be done in Jolene’s private toilet but Maureen motioned me to follow her to the coffee break-kitchen room across the hallway. The break room was one of these typical affairs in strip mall businesses – no windows, simple dining table with a half dozen chairs and mini-kitchen (sink, hot plate, coffee machine, mini-fridge).

As soon as we were inside the break room, Maureen locked the door. I was having trouble fighting an oncoming erection and my curiosity got the better of me so I asked if she did this for all the escorts.

Maureen: “Oh no, the girls in no case. When they come to us, most already shave or wax. With the male escorts it’s different. Men just don’t realize that a jungle down there can be a turnoff for lots of women. But it’s not like I do this everyday, we just don’t have that many male escorts and mostly I do it the first time or two and they catch on and do it themselves. Why I don’t even keep this beard trimmer in the office. Actually, it’s my husband’s.” And she giggled.

“So you trim his groin too?”

Maureen: “Oh no, he uses it for his beard.”

 “And his pubic hair?”

Maureen: “He doesn’t trim and I wouldn’t dare suggest it to him. Jack and I have a fairly conventional marriage. Anyway Art, I’m not like lots of women, I guess I’m flexible that way, or maybe it’s just that I’ve never done it with a guy who trimmed.”

 “And Jack doesn’t know what you do with his beard trimmer?”

Maureen: “Good grief no! Jack doesn’t even know what kind of business J&B is. He thinks it’s a bookkeeping and employment agency for small businesses.”

She put the leather case on the table, pulled a chair out and sat down facing me. “Well Art, we may as well get the job done. I mean you need to take off your jeans and undershorts – the best is completely so we don’t get hair trimmings in your undies.” She giggled again.

I must have hesitated because she continued in a condescending tone of voice: “Look Art, you don’t need to be bashful. After all, you’ve shown yourself to clients and anyway, I’m a married woman. You’re not the first man I’ve seen naked.”

After my jeans and undershorts were lying on one of the chairs, I turned to face her, my erection only partly under control. Maureen was smart enough to see I was trying to control it because in the same consoling tone, she continued, “Art, it’s okay if you get hard. I’ve seen erections before too. If your penis stands up, its fine. Just makes trimming your scrotum easier.”

That did the trick. In nothing flat, I was standing out proudly and it didn’t seem to phase her one bit. She just asked me to take off my shirt too because it was hanging down and would end up getting in the way of her work. It did occur to me then that while the field was clear for her to do my scrotum, my hard dick was now blocking part of the jungle above.

After putting on a pair of surgical gloves, she trimmed along the middle and then holding my bag to the side, trimmed first the left and then the right. Finishing that, she worked her way up on both sides of my hard-on and then getting as close as she dared, stopped and gazed up at me.

Maureen: “Well what should we do now? You could hold it down out of the way but I know that can’t be very comfortable. How would it be if we took care of things the natural way?” As if to emphasize what she meant, she undid the top two buttons of her blouse. Looking down at that deep cleavage made my dick twitch.

I had barely stammered my assent to the natural way and Maureen, still wearing the surgical gloves, already had a pack of  tissues out from the leather case and had her right hand around the shaft of my dick, four fingers above and thumb below. After giving a couple gentle strokes, she stopped and took a little pot of facial cream from the leather case. Looking up at me, “Art, you’re not circumcised, but how about a little lube anyway?”

I could only nod my head in assent. She dabbed a forefinger in the facial cream and with light circular motions, applied it to the head of my dick, beginning at the tip before working her way to the rim. Tiring of that, she decided to go two handed. Right and left hands grasping my shaft, she worked me back and forth slowly - almost teasingly slowly. Apparently a fan of variety, she then held my sack with her left hand, took another dab of cream and worked the cream onto the head of my dick with her index finger. Noting my reaction she asked sweetly, “You liked to be teased, don’t you Art?”

I probably got out a coarse ‘yes’.

 “Art I really like giving you a hand job. You’re big and, well best of all, you’ve got a foreskin. It’s so cute watching the head appear and disappear when I stroke you.” She left go of my sack and grasped the shaft with her left hand – slowly stroking while she continued to tease the head with her right hand index finger. “My husband Jack is circumcised so when I do this for him, I have to lube him up with YES – all over. Actually I don’t have to, it’s just better for him that way and he lasts longer.”

She continued stroking a little faster and then must have felt me twitching and my legs just about buckling, because she took her right hand away and grabbed a bunch of the tissues. “Art, I think you’re going to!” A few frantic strokes and with a fury, I came into her handful of tissues. She hadn’t enough tissues and she had held them too far away because some ran down the heel of her hand and dribbled on the floor. “Oh that’s a lot! Let me get some more tissues.”

She dabbed around on her hand and the floor and then grabbed more tissues to clean me up. I was softening a little. “Oh sorry Art, I shouldn’t have let go so soon. I really want to milk you down, okay?”

My okay was hardly out and Maureen was already massaging me in a milking like manner and she did indeed get a little more out. By then I was hanging. Maureen, a real sex talker, couldn’t resist commenting, “Oh goody, I get to see you soft too! And now I can finish the trim.”

While I got dressed, Maureen was busy cleaning the beard trimmer and making sure there weren’t any spots on the floor or the chair. I told her I wouldn’t mind if she did the trim next time too. After all, I didn’t have a beard trimmer.

 “You know Art, Jolene always has business appointments – I mean she’s gone sometimes for hours. Should I give you a call the next time?”

Out front in the reception area, Maureen gave me the address of the hairdresser and even printed out a one-page Google map. “I’ll give you a call as soon as I get the hairdresser appointment. Oh yeah, we’ll need to do a new photo for the website after you get your hair done.”

Then huskily whispering, “And I’ll give you a call when Jolene is going to be out for a meeting.”

The next day, Friday

The hairdresser wasn’t more than 5 miles from my apartment so I figured I’d leave early on the clunker bike and maybe even have time for a coffee on the way. Marvin, the bike shop owner let me use a better bike this time so I got to the strip mall where the hairdresser was way ahead of the 9:30 appointment. Fortunately there was a coffee shop there – a Starbucks look-a-like with some outside tables. Inside on a wall mounted flat screen TV, CNN was on.

As I waited in line to order my latte, I was running over in my mind the events of yesterday and what it all might lead to. Thinking about getting together next week for a few hours with Maureen and playing with those big tits of hers was enough to start a swelling between my legs. Not wanting to walk around in public with a big bulge at my crotch, I quickly shut off that train of thought. In a way I was still pissed about the trim and the hairdresser appointment, but on the other hand, having the Mitt Romney look, I wouldn’t get recognized so easily – a big plus for a bail jumper.

I was just starting to daydream about the first woman who’d enjoy my newly trimmed crotch when I heard a loud female voice: “That slimy asshole thinks he’s so fucking righteous!” A chorus of assents came from the other shop patrons so I figured that for a change, there must be something worthwhile on CNN. There on the screen was US Senator Jason Edwards, handsome and young (mid-thirties), from a western state, explaining why he was launching an initiative to add a definition-of-marriage amendment to the US Constitution. I’m not gay, not married (at least I don’t think I am anymore) and won’t be getting married again, so personally I don’t give a shit if some idiot senator wants to spend time gay bashing instead of doing stuff that really needs doing. But, for some reason I just couldn’t stop watching. Then the camera zoomed out as the senator introduced his dear wife who had born him two wonderful children and had faithfully stood by him in his business and political careers.

My favorite exclamation came out: “Jesus H. Christ!”

A lady nearby cautioned me quietly “That idiot senator thinks he’s a big friend of Jesus. But I really have to correct you, Jesus is not responsible for the dumb shit that Jason Edwards comes up with.”

I smiled and nodded politely, turned away and ordered my latte. I couldn’t very well tell the lady what had surprised me - the good senator’s wife was Marilyn, whom I’d very recently fucked for a fee of $400 in a hotel room and who had told me her husband was queer as a three-dollar bill. That lady, and no one else for that matter, would believe me anyway.

Sitting down at an outside table with my latte, it struck me that Marilyn, the senator’s wife had blonde hair. The Marilyn whom I’d fucked had dark brown hair. Then it came back to me that Marilyn’s beautiful pussy had blondish hair. I’d wondered about it at the time but then remembered reading that pubic hair color doesn’t always match scalp hair color. Now it was clear, Marilyn, not wanting to be recognized, must have dyed her blonde scalp hair brown for our ‘date.’

 “So you’re upset about the gay bashing too?” It was the lady from inside, mid-fifties, decent figure, brunette turned mostly gray. Just having come outside, she was holding her coffee and standing next to my table.

Shaken out of my musings about Marilyn, I pulled myself together and said “Excuse me.”

The lady repeated her question and I managed some kind of bland answer to show her how tolerant and open minded I am.

 “I’m Rhonda, mind if I sit down?”

In a way, glad for normal company, I gestured a welcome to her and we had a nice conversation during which I managed to give no information about myself except that I was a not very successful actor and I was on my way to get my hair made up for a special part in a training video for some insurance company. We ended up exchanging full names and phone numbers. Then I had to leave for my hairdresser appointment.

After a couple hours and $120 lighter, I walked out brownish hair on top, gray over the ears. I wondered how I’d explain the change to some of my previous clients – in case I’d actually see them again.

Jolene didn’t have any dates for me that night or on Saturday so I had time for some bicycling and took in some movies. Thinking about the Sunday brunch invitation from Karen got my mind off Marilyn and her gay bashing senator husband.

Sunday

Sunday morning around ten, I rang the bell on Karen’s apartment door. Opening up, she looked at me with surprise and then complimented me on my new Mitt Romney look. I wondered what she’d say upon seeing my trimmed pubic hair.

Inside we kissed sort of formally at first, then looked at each other before getting into a really romantic erotic kissing session. I was swelling and thought we might do it right there on the living room floor, but apparently Karen was more intent on serving me brunch so she broke off – halfway apologetically. “Oh Art, I really want to serve you a nice brunch.” And that she did. There wasn’t one thing to complain about. The coffee was rich but not bitter, eggs done just right, bacon crisp but not burnt, English muffins, fried potatoes, homemade fruit salad and I can’t remember what all.

I thought that afterwards we would start the fun by making out on the couch but Karen had other ideas. I was nibbling on the last muffin when she let on what she had in mind. “Art, I’m so glad you came by bicycle. Help me clear the table and then we can get my bike out of the storage room. It’s such a nice day, it’d be a shame to not get out.”

I tried not to show any disappointment. Besides it was indeed a nice day and bicycling might just get her in the mood. Also I knew I needed more exercise and that was sure going to come my way because Karen’s bike was a lot better than even the newer one that Marvin had loaned me, she was 40 years younger than I and she apparently trained regularly. For her, 100-mile bike rides were nothing unusual and she started out riding that way. We headed northwest winding through residential streets and managed to be in real countryside in little more than an hour. Only then she let on to notice that I was struggling to keep up and completely sweated up. Along a country road we stopped and drug our bikes through a small wood and up on a grassy knoll where we sat down to rest.

It was only then that she mentioned my hair – namely the new color. “It looks great, you look lots younger – I don’t think anyone’s going to think you’re my father. That’s what I thought might happen if we’d had brunch in a restaurant.”

I told her I was glad we’d had brunch at her place because it was better than any restaurant could ever be. She warmed up to the compliment and gave me a little kiss. I took that to be an opening and kissed back. Things got more intense and we started really making out. I started getting a boner and rubbed my crotch against Karen’s belly to let her know I was ready. There’s something highly erotic about doing it out under an open sky and I hadn’t done that for quite a while. Unfortunately, it was getting cloudy and with the sun no longer warming us, we started getting cold. Karen broke it off with “Maybe we should start back, it looks like rain.”

I was a little pissed after getting put off for the second time that day. Could it be that Karen was just a little prick teaser? It wouldn’t have been a big surprise. I’d known guys who refused to go out with chicks under 30 - claimed the young ones just weren’t yet comfortable with sex. One real cocksman that I knew said he’d chased and fucked 20 year olds for years and then finally discovered real sex when he happened upon a 34 year old divorcee.

I had to start the ride back being uncomfortable with the remainder of an erection but it dissolved pretty quickly with the exertion of hard bicycling. A half-hour before we got to her place, the drizzle started. By the time we got to her place, it was pouring and we were both soaked to the skin.

 “Art, you can’t go home soaked like that.” We put both bikes in her storage room and went up to her apartment. Inside, she headed straight for the bathroom and started the shower. “Art you have to get out of the wet clothes and under the hot shower. I’ll throw your stuff in the dryer and get you something to put on in the meantime.” She followed me into the bathroom and waited expectantly for me to strip. I hesitated. “Art, I’ve already seen you naked. Remember?”

 “That’d be hard to forget.” I stripped and after taking an extra look at me, she took my clothes and left. It was really a good shower stall – one of those big open ended ones – maybe 36 x 60. No door, just walk in at one end.

I was really warm and relaxed when a naked Karen came around the end of the glass wall and joined me under the hot water. Body contact in 36 inch wide space is unavoidable and we didn’t try to avoid contact either. The result was predictable and Karen couldn’t help noticing my growing erection. In fact she couldn’t resist touching it, alternating between tugging my foreskin over the head and lightly massaging the shaft. Under the flow of water her crotch looked bare, touching it though, the feel of very soft pubic hair surprised and got me even more worked up. I felt her slit and it seemed ready so I made the move to leave the shower and she didn’t resist.

After we dried off I saw how beautiful her pussy was. Very soft blonde hair, thin and not long – her slit clearly visible through it. As much as I wanted to fuck her, kissing a work of art like that was irresistible. I set her on the vanity top and gave her whole slit a good licking before standing up to enter her. “Art, we need to talk. I have to tell you something.”

I probably couldn’t hide how pissed I was to get turned down for the third time that day.

Seeing the look on  my face, she explained: “I have PPA.”

Never having heard of PPA and just having given her head, I started visualizing blisters on my lips and tongue. My face must have shown it because she quickly continued in a soothing voice, “It’s a syndrome, not a disease. And it’s manageable.”

I was still baffled, “Then what’s the problem?”

 “You’ve never heard of PPA? Art, PPA stands for ‘penis penetration anxiety.’ My vagina clenches tight just when I’m about to be entered.”

 “But you said it’s manageable?”

 “Yes, we just need to smoke a joint first. You don’t mind smoking do you?”

She had a stash in a dresser drawer and we got nice and relaxed sitting up on her bed with the covers thrown back. At first we just enjoyed the joint, just taking hits, joking and laughing. Once we got pretty mellow, the groping started. Like a lot of women with small breasts, she apologized: “Art I’m sorry I don’t have big boobies for you to play with. Please don’t be too disappointed in me.”

And like I guess lots of men do when the lady apologizes for not being well endowed, I answered in a soothing voice: “Don’t be sorry because I’m not disappointed in you.” Then I nibbled on her ear and whispered: “I think you’re very pretty and when it comes to sexual attraction, well you got something else that more than makes up for little boobies.”

She knew exactly what that ‘something else’ was. “But wouldn’t you rather I had a big thick bush down there? I mean, it’s so thin, almost like nothing. Or would you rather I’d have a Brazil?”

Deciding to answer with action instead of words, I went down on her and continued the licking I’d started in the bathroom. She was already sopping wet and very loose, but she must have thought she wasn’t because I heard her take another good hit on the joint. I could feel the soft blonde pubic hairs on my cheeks as I licked her labia, all the while massaging her clit with one finger. Extending my tongue, I could feel that her vagina was relaxed enough and she confirmed that: “Art, I’m ready, now, please, let me have it now!”

I didn’t want to give the pot time to wear off and leave me high and dry so I didn’t spend much time wallowing around in her labia. I just went right on in, not too far and not too fast, but in. Karen gasped, caught her breath and then assured me it was okay – meaning go further, go faster. I didn’t need any more encouragement. On every stroke our pubic hair met and ground together. Karen turned out to be very loud and very vocal during sex. “Art, you fill me so nicely, oh Art put it to me harder! Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh! Use me Art, please! Don’t be gentle, fuck me hard! Put that big thing of yours all the way in!” And so forth until we both exploded and then collapsed together.

Karen must have woken before me because we were both under the blanket when I woke. I figured the pot high had worn off and I was curious as hell so I didn’t even try for a second round. Instead I started by trying to find out more about her and her PPA.

 “My mother tried very hard to see that I wouldn’t get pregnant as a teenager – unfortunately she never thought to put me on the pill. Instead, she tried to scare me out of having sex, mainly telling me how painful and bloody the first time would be and I think that made a really big impression. In high school there was peer pressure from other girls to have sex. They even bragged about how big their boyfriends were and how they’d been able to take the pain the first time. Of course we watched porn films together. I guess the ones that made the biggest impression were when a young slim woman has to take a really big one and she’s got this grimace on her face as he puts it to her.”

I couldn’t resist asking how it was for her that first time.

 “When I was a junior, there was a guy named Will – something of a geek, a little overweight, shitty dresser, thin brown hair and all the girls said he had a really little one. I think the other guys must have told them, or maybe they just studied the crotch of his jeans really well. Anyway I really wanted to do it, but I was still afraid of the pain. At one point I even thought I might be lesbian. I didn’t want to be a lesbian and to prove to myself that I wasn’t, I made up my mind to do it. Will, with his little one seemed the ideal candidate to deflower me.”

I saw right away that Karen really wanted to talk so I led her on: “So you seduced Will and made him a happy non-virgin?”

 “I got him to go shopping with me one Saturday morning and afterwards we went to his house. In his room, he showed me his PC and stuff. He really was a geek, even into hacking and of course he had some special videos. Asked if I wanted to see one. After it started I put my hand on his leg, then higher and before long I was massaging his penis through his jeans.”

 “And was it the size like the girls said?”

 “What they meant by big or small was never really clear, but Will was sure a lot smaller than the guys in the porn video so I thought it might work out pretty well and I asked if he wanted to feel me. That got things rolling and pretty soon we were both naked and on the bed. I spread my legs wide and he mounted me.”

Karen stopped to catch her breath so I chimed in: “And his little pecker went right on in?”

 “Not really. Will came as soon as he got the head in between my labia. That premature ejaculation burned up the rest of his already miniscule ego and I was afraid I’d have to go home a virgin unless I did something really special. Really special - suck him like in the video – but I couldn’t bring myself to it because his dick was all sticky from the premature ejaculation. So I just told him I wanted to wash his penis and we went to the bathroom. I used soap and warm water and he got hard again so we went back to the bed and started all over.”

 “And it worked on the second try?”

 “Sort of. He got all the way in but I was so tight you couldn’t really call it fucking. Actually, I was so tight with tension that I didn’t even feel when my cherry broke. I know it broke because there was blood on my crotch afterwards. We had a few more dates and tried again but fucking never really worked. Our dates always just ended up with me using my hand or mouth.”

 “You weren’t into pot then yet?”

 “Just once in a while with the girls. Then once at a party, some of us went outside and shared a joint. Back inside, dancing with a guy, I felt his erection as we came close together. Giddy from the pot, I mentioned it and one thing led to another. Well that was my first real fuck.”

At that point her PPA didn’t seem like such a big deal. “Hell Karen, if more folks were able to deal with their problems by smoking a joint, that’d represent a major step forward for the human race. You’re actually lucky.”

 “The trouble is it takes the spontaneity out of sex. Like when you walked in and we kissed. If I hadn’t broken it off, we could have had sex right there on the living room floor, wouldn’t we? And after our brunch? And on the grassy knoll where we rested?”

I had to agree that it isn’t always convenient to smoke a joint when you get hot and think you might want to screw. Using pot to get rid of inhibitions wasn’t new to me. So far that hadn’t been necessary in my escort activities – luckily so because carrying around a stash of pot isn’t such a good idea for a wanted man.

We ate some warmed up leftovers for supper, smoked another joint and had another real nice fuck before I went home.

0