were pretty little things about ten or twelve, and their brother was fifteen. He could take it in the rear or go down… and he had a cute little thing on him… yeah…
“I always go to the libraries now, see. I sit at a table across from young girls or women with sexy legs like you, then I drop something on the floor and get down to pick it up. These kids… these girls nine or ten or even thirteen… they wear such short skirts you can see everything…
“Yeah… I been caught a couple of times when I get so hot I play with myself… I can't help it. I become obvious then, and they call a cop, but they can't do a damn thing except hold me and talk to me and threaten to get me locked up in a mental institution. Hell, they won't do that because Dad knows the right people… and I'm an A- plus student at the university…”
Bill's parents were socially prominent. I recognized their name right away when he told me. Also, I recalled hearing that they had a son in his late twenties, who was a perpetual student with degrees in about five different majors. Bill was actually an expert on the Russian language and customs and gave speeches at various organizations. Yet in talking to him on a personal and intimate basis, I would never have realized he was so well educated.
“Now… I'm ready again, honey,” he finally explained, unzipping his trousers and producing his half-erect penis, “You just sit right there… right there, Denise. Now… act like I'm not here, see. You're restless, You keep crossing your legs one way and then the other… let the skirt creep up… you didn't wear pants, did you? Good. Just let the dress work up… then spread your legs when…”
I think I must have been as passionate as he was. The sight of his big penis really affected me. It was so terribly long and slim and young looking.
In the bright light of the room, the shaft appeared to have a shine to it, while the head was soft looking and yielding to his touch. His fingers worked it up and down. He seemed to be milking it, then caressing it in different places. He stroked the penis, then his testicles, then fingered himself beneath it.
I was rolling with passion, moving my hips and thighs in a slight rhythmic motion as I let my skirt creep up. When I could look down and see that it was well over the tops of my stockings, I leaned back and spread my thighs widely apart. I was rolling my head from side to side and I was saying things and gasping. I finally touched myself.
“Oh, Bill,” I cried out in utter despair at last, “aren't you ever going to screw me!”
“Who-o-o… E-e-e-e!” he shouted like a maniac suddenly, and he was ejaculating all over his hand and onto the floor, “Oh… oh-oh, that did it… damn! You are the hottest thing, honey. Every… every Saturday, you've got yourself thirty bucks. Say… is… can you give me your phone number? Sometimes I get where I have to… I mean really have to look up a girl's dress or I'll go crazy… or do something anti-social. Thirty bucks any time I call and need to look…”
Never in my life had I had to beg a man for sex in a situation like that. Yet no amount of begging could bring Bill to allowing more than a kiss upon his penis or buttocks. He spread his cheeks and told me I could lick him there, but I was not that sick… not yet. He absolutely refused to touch me otherwise, and I felt as if I were going mad until he pretended to suddenly hit upon an idea.
“I'll call my buddy, Luke!” he said with a snap of his fingers, going to the phone, “Luke will screw you till you'll beg him to stop. Luke is the best cocksman I know, and he'll pay thirty bucks too. Luke always likes something fresh and good like you, honey. And I'll watch. Damn, I love too watch Luke go at a girl…”
“No… I don't need the money, really,” I began to object, “And who is Luke? He may be some sex maniac or something…”
“Ha-ha… ha-ha-ha!” Bill burst into gales of ribald laughter as he dialed a number, “Luke just likes to screw and eat, honey. I'm the sex maniac. Ha-ha… ha-ha-ha!”
Could this be me? I just sat there and laughed with him. Naturally I was no angel. Sex had played a very strong role in my life. I realized that I was unable to control my urges, had always been searching and seeking for more than just a marital relation or boy-girl romance. I had done a lot of things with a lot of men. But I was not a whore. I was not a pervert.
Or was I?
The idea of Luke excited me, what with the terribly passionate mood I was in. I didn't really care what he looked like or what he did, so long as he used my body and brought me to orgasm time after time. Nor did I completely reject the idea of the money. I had never been able to save because I spent far too lavishly for my nice clothes, my expensive apartment, my late model car. I was used to luxury and constantly sought loans from my indulgent mother, who knew they would never be paid back. She had spoiled me that way all her life and father had never objected. Now that he could, really. My mother dominated him completely.
Luke was a big man in every way. He was almost burly. When he arrived, he was half drunk and needed a shave. Bill had me sitting in the chair facing the door, my dress to my hips and legs spread.
“She looks like yer type, kid… heh-heh,” Luke drooled his words as his hard, steely eyes unglued me with their basic erotic appeal, “She's a good bargain for thirty bucks, I'm thinking. Looks like she might enjoy a bit, eh? Heh-heh…”
Luke tossed three ten dollar bills on the dresser and dragged me out of the chair. He was a strong and virile man of about 45, and as rough as he looked. His coarse beard ground into my face and his tongue scorched my mouth with its rapacious thrusts. My body burned with desire. I wanted this man to enter me, and I reached down to envelope the largest penis I had ever felt. It was ramrod stiff and it throbbed hard.
“I… I want it… hard,” I said exactly what I felt.
“Baby… you are going to get the schnitzel! Heh-heh…,” he laughed crudely.
His laugh was the only thing I didn't like. His hands were amazingly gentle as he undressed me. I writhed across the bed and touched myself while I watched him undress, observed the thickness of his penis. That was the primary feature of his build, not the length, but the thickness. I wanted it, yet I wondered about the penetration.
I screamed when he first entered me, but that did not last long. I was thoroughly lubricated. In fact, my dress was wet from where I had been sitting. I have always secreted profusely, so much so that I sometimes wear a sanitary napkin if I feel that I am going to be unduly aroused without having a chance to remove my clothes. Some men like this characteristic a great deal, particularly those who enjoy going down on me. More about all of that later.
I clung hungrily to Luke and worked my pelvis against him in frantic thrusts, thus starting my series of multiple orgasms. At last, I was in the blessed world of interpersonal sex for which I hungered. The three months of my sexual hermitage was over. I was living again.
And thus began the phase of my life that was utterly devoted to erotic pleasures of every shading, deviation and variation that the human animal can envisage. Bill directed me to a hundred or more intrigues over the next few years, and he was always good for at least one appearance each week or month for us to play our charade of the girl exposing herself so he could look up the dress. There were a thousand variations, yet his reaction and masturbation remained almost the same no matter what little drama I acted out.
I was, in effect, a part-time whore. My income from this enterprise ran as high as two hundred dollars a week on occasion. I moved into a lovely town house, and when Kathy came to spend the summer, I was able to treat her as a veritable fairy princess, buying her all kinds of expensive clothes, jewelry and other gifts and lavishing her with a big allowance and a savings account.
It was sometimes difficult to keep her from finding out about the double-life her sexy mother led, what with her there all the time during the summer. I did, however, think that I was quite successful at this. I never had any of my paying clients in the house while she was there.
Even my “quickie” dates, like the man who stayed only five or ten minutes while I went down on him for ten dollars, were not allowed in the house during the summer. Anyone with whom I was involved sexually, whether for money or my own enjoyment, had to provide the place for lovemaking when Kathy was at home.
Among my activities of those years were flings at every kind of perversion and variation known to man. The men Bill had introduced me to, introduced me to others in turn. I could have all the sex I wanted of any kind, and at any time. I became a veritable nymphomaniac.
Some of my dates took me to swap parties, to stag parties. I experienced many threesomes, including one with a man and his German Shepherd. At some of the swinging parties, I discovered that I had an amazing
