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Message-ID: <32555asstr$1000851002@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "aceinthe hole" <aceinthe_hole@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Looking like Claudia Schiffer; M/f M/F m/F F/F by Ace
Date: Tue, 18 Sep 2001 18:10:02 -0400
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The rest of my stories are at;
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/aceinthe_hole/www//
and; http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/aceinthe_hole/ [in plain
text]
This is absolutely non commercial. but I sure do appreciate a
little feedback!

Mail to; Aceinthe_hole@hotmail.com

Looking like Claudia Schiffer; M/f M/F m/F F/F by Ace

It isn't always easy.  I never asked to look like this, and I
don't want the credit or the blame.

I can't pretend that I never enjoyed the power and benefits that
come with the kind of beauty I carry; but I can also say that it
hasn't always made me happy.

My life is dominated by it.  It's impossible to ignore, for me or
for anyone else.



I first became aware of my overwhelming beauty when I was about
15 years old.  That was in 1989, when the real Claudia first made
it big.  When I saw my own face staring at me from the cover of
Elle magazine, I think my heart just stopped for a moment.  After
that, it was impossible to live through a whole day without
someone remarking upon the similarity.

I had the face, that curl of the lips, those cheekbones, the
eyes, and even the hair; and that strange combination of the
strong mature jaw combined with the childish eyes and mouth. By
the time I was 17, I also had the breasts.

I didn't like those big breasts I grew.  I had been on the
gymnastic team, but after I grew those knockers, I had to give it
up. They were ridiculously oversized then, considerably larger
than Claudia's ever were.

Sometimes I hated the attention, other times I loved it.  I
couldn't walk down the street without every head turning.  I
learned not smile back at men; it often led to trouble.

I had them camping outside my door.  Bothering my mother and
stepfather, swearing undying love.  They didn't even know me,
they just knew I looked like Claudia.  Some of them were twice my
age.

My virginity was such a prize that I still had it at 17 years
old; I was probably the only virgin in my school.  I had barely
even had a date; the nice boys were intimidated by me, and I
didn't want to go out with any of the creeps who were constantly
bothering me.

I guess I was frustrated, and I used to get it out of my system
by what I now know to be "Cock teasing". It wasn't like I used to
go flashing my naked breasts around or anything.  I didn't have
to, all I had to do was wear a nice dress, a touch of makeup,
some high heels and stockings, and smile.

I always made sure there were plenty of people around, and lots
of daylight.  Good men would leave me alone, but the creeps were
like flies on shit.

Creeps.  Like Barry.

Barry was one of the men I used to taunt subtly, flashing him a
secret little smile while walking past his house on a Sunday
afternoon.  He lived down the street from us with his wife and
10-year-old son.

He was the kind of creep that thought all females should fall on
their back for him and his late model Porsche.  Just one of many.

Until I had that little fender Bender with the damn Porsche.

I didn't have my license yet, so there was no insurance.  I
wasn't getting along very well with my mother at that time [like
so many adolescent girls], and I had taken her car without
asking.  I was in real trouble.

Naturally, I gave Barry my very best imitation Claudia smile, as
I had learned to do by then.  But there aren't many smiles that
are worth 500 pounds.

"Please," I begged him, "don't tell my parents. I'll make it up
to you, I'll pay for the damage."

Barry looked from me to his damaged car. "That's a serious amount
of damage, Claire.  Do you have that kind of money?"

"How much do you think it is?"

"It could be a  thousand."  He guessed.

The most money I had ever had was about 50 pounds.  He could've
said a million and it wouldn't have seemed like more to me.

"Oh God! a thousand pounds?"

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence while Barry's beady
little eyes enjoyed themselves at my expense.

"Well Claire, I'm really going to have to talk to your parents
about this.  That is, unless."

"What?"

"You know what, Claire."

"What?"

"You can stop with the innocent little girl routine.  You've only
got one thing I want, and we both know what it is."

"Bloody hell."  I said, looking away from him in frustration.

But like I said, I was the only 17-year-old virgin I knew.  I was
going to give it up one of these days, just to get it over with.
I hadn't decided with who yet, that was all.  So what if he was a
creep?  At least he probably would know what he was doing.  And
it would get me out of this trouble I was in.

"When and where?"  I asked him.

"Right here right now."  He said.  We were right outside his
house. "Jane and Julian are away for the weekend at my in-laws."
He explained.

"I have to go park my mother's car."  I told him.

"Go on."  He said, "And then you come straight back here."

I thought about running away.  But where would it get me?  As I
stepped out of my mother's little Ford, he was standing at the
foot of our drive.  He turned and walked back to his house,
making sure that I was following.

It wasn't so bad.

I had wanted my first time to be magical, I wanted to be in love,
I'd even fantasized of a virgin marriage. This was the grotty
reality.

He sat next to me on his couch, and took my hand.

"Now I don't want you to hate me for this, Claire.  You're a very
beautiful girl, and it's not my fault that I want you so badly.
It's not my fault that you smashed my car either.  None the less,
I want this to be nice for you, too.  I know it's not a very
romantic way for a man and a woman to get together, Claire.  But
it doesn't mean we can't be civilized about it all.  Now I want
you to relax, I want you to try to just let all the tension flow
out of you.  Start by relaxing your feet, then your legs, and
then all the way up.  That's the way."

I closed my eyes and did as he instructed, and I found that he
was stroking my hands and forearms.  And I found that I didn't
mind; It was strangely relaxing.

I leaned my head back against the cushion, and closed my eyes.  I
felt Barry's creepy lips touch my virgin mouth.

Of course I had mixed feelings; I was afraid and horrified, but I
was also excited.  He was a man, my first man.  I didn't have to
worry about making the decision about how far I was going to let
him go; it was all already known.

As far as creeps go, Barry was a gentleman.  He didn't pull my
clothes off or go for my young breasts for a while.  He stroked
my face and kissed me for a long time.  I became more and more
relaxed, and despite myself, I have to admit that I was actually
enjoying his touch, at least a little.

He stood after awhile, and taking my hand, led me upstairs to his
bedroom.  I felt some conflict at the sight of his wedding
picture on the bureau.

I stood still as he slowly removed my clothes.  His fingers
traced across my sensitive virgin flesh as he unhooked my bra,
pulling the straps over my shoulders and dropping it to the
carpeted floor.

I watched silently as he undressed himself, waiting nervously for
the first view of a live penis.

I was surprised at how big it was.  Perhaps six inches by 1-1/2,
and as stiff as a piece of wood.

Barry was not an unattractive man; he wasn't much taller than me,
and his hair was a bit thin.  But he was well proportioned and
lean.

Very gently, he embraced me.  Standing in this married man's
bedroom, I knew the naked embrace of a lover for the first time.
His hard penis pushed against the front of my thighs, my hard
nipples ached at the touch of his bare chest.

His confident hands held me behind the shoulder blades and at the
small of my back, and he pulled our two bodies into contact and
kissed me gently.

I was surprised to realize that I was looking forward to feeling
that hard masculine organ inside my young body.  If he had asked
me right then if I wanted him to do it, I believe I would have
actually said "Yes".

He didn't ask, but he did do it.

I lay on his bed passively, at first, as his hands gently roamed
across my body, as he kissed my breasts, my belly, and my legs.
I didn't resist him as he spread my virgin legs; I waited with
excitement as he lowered his head to my crotch.

I can still remember that thrill; the first time a tongue touched
me there.  Barry knew what to do, and soon what few inhibitions I
had had receded into the background.

It was horrible and wonderful for me as I felt a penis slide up
into my body for the first time.  I suddenly had the feeling that
there was meant to be a penis there; my body was made to be
penetrated by a man, to be held and cherished.

"Claire."  Barry whispered, "Claire, Claire, Claire.  You
incredible gorgeous wonderful creature."

And he began.

His confident manly cock slid in out of my virgin body, ensuring
my first experience would not be a negative one.

I had brought myself to orgasm before; I used to masturbate all
the time, to be honest.

So I was surprised at how intense the real thing was.  And was
again.

My lover went stiff as he came, and I felt the hot rush of male
fluid into my body for the first time.

I was very aware of the dangerous nature of that fluid to me; I
was frightened by that danger, disgusted by the slime.

Yet at the same time it was exhilarating; my hormones were
pumping, my juices were flowing, my body had matured, it was time
for this.

I left quickly afterwards, leaving a surprised Barry to figure
out what to do with his blood stained sheet.



I was scared and confused for a while. I was sure everyone would
be able to tell at a glance that I was no longer a virgin. I was
disgusted with myself for what I had done; I should have never
agreed to it, I should have just faced the consequences of the
accident. An older man, married with a child! Disgusting and he.

Yet I wanted that feeling again; to be held and loved, and yes,
to be penetrated, to give and receive those wonderful feelings.

There was a boy whom I'd allowed  take me out a couple of times;
I resolved that after the movie on Friday, he would have me.
After all, He deserved me if anyone did.

But it just didn't seem to work. He was fast where he should have
been slow; slow where he should have been fast. He only just got
it in before he came.

I was left just as conflicted as I had been the first time, but
with frustration added.



Then Barry called me.

"I'm going to drive into London tomorrow, Clair. Would you like
to come along?"

How simple, how innocent. Just a drive into the city. A middle
aged man takes his 17 year old lover for a drive.

"Alright." I told him.

I entered his house through the back door, and sat low in the car
with a hat over my face as we drove off.

"I'm glad you agreed to come with me today." He said.

"I wasn't doing anything." I said,

"I was thinking I'd like to take you for a nice lunch."

"Ok."

We didn't say much for the rest of the drive. But I have to
admit, I did like riding in that Porsche.

Barry took me into a clothes store; but not one like I'd ever
been into. There wasn't much in there, just gorgeous dresses on
mannequins.

"I'm looking for some really nice formal wear for my daughter."
Barry told the saleswoman.

It was like entering a new world for me as I tried one outfit
after another, a world that I'd only ever dreamed of.

In those dresses, I looked like the real Claudia; I was stunning,
a world class beauty. And I knew it, the saleswoman knew it, and
Barry definitely knew it.

Several hours later, the small boot of the Porsche was packed
with several thousand pounds of designer wear, and I was walking
into one of the fanciest restaurants in London on Barry's arm.

I'd never felt like this; so powerful, so wonderful. I was
dressed like a fashion model in a daring summer dress and high
heels that made me taller than my date, and the best looking
woman in the place by a good margin. I was being admired by
class, and I loved it.

We talked and ate as I soaked in the admiration of all who could
see me, throwing smiles about the stuffy old place liberally,
brightening up the day for a few lonely [but wealthy looking] men
seated nearby.

"What do you plan to do, Claire?" Barry asked, "University?"

"I don't know. I was thinking to study modeling. makeup and hair,
you know."

"Where?"

"There's Jocelyn's hair and beauty near my house." I said,
suddenly feeling foolish.

"You should go to the top school here in London."

I felt like a fish that had suddenly discovered water; this was
the life for me, first-class restaurants, designer clothes, and
admiration.

There wasn't a woman there that wasn't dressed at least as well
as I was, but none of them had what I had.  On the other hand,
they were all wearing lots of jewelry.

As I continued to talk with Barry about the possibilities for my
future, I felt it all opening before me; I had been carrying the
burden of this face and figure for a couple of years already.
Now it was time to accept the benefits as well.

That opulent expensive dress we had bought for me left a lot of
leg showing, and my overgrown adolescent breasts could not be
completely contained.  I had never been so attractive, so overtly
sexy, and I was loving it.

When Barry leaned his face close to mine, and asked me quietly if
he should take a room in the hotel upstairs, I couldn't refuse
him.

The way he had gotten me into his bed the first time was utterly
despicable; yet aside from the initial coercion, he had treated
me very well.  There was no coercion now.  Just seduction.

I wasn't seduced by his body, or his face.  It wouldn't be quite
correct to say that I was seduced by his money; but I was seduced
by what his money was buying.  The clothes, the fantasy
lifestyle.

Later, as I relaxed naked on the hotel bed while my lover
worshiped my body as though I were a goddess, I thought; "Yes, I
can do this.  I could live a life like this, and be loved like
this.  So what if his body was not as pretty as it could be?  He
was absolutely mad for me, and he's treating me fine."

He kissed my feet, and sucked my toes.  Sensuously, his tongue
worked its way up my calf, my thigh, and then into my clit.

It was nice, but he didn't linger there for long this time.  He
ran his tongue up my flat young belly, up the curve of my left
breast, and kissed my nipple.  He nuzzled my neck, and caressing
my body with his fingertips, kissed my mouth.

I took his hard cock into my hand, enjoying the feeling of
potency, the complement of its emphatic arousal.

But mostly, I enjoyed the power I had over this man.  I was just
a middle class girl from the suburbs, from a broken home.  Barry
was willing to risk his marriage and spend large sums of money to
impress me, just so I would let his poor old dick inside my body
for a short time.  Just so he could hold me in his arms, loving
me, enjoying the fantasy that he turned me on.

It wasn't completely fantasy; I was turned on, as I said.  He
made me come, and it was wonderful.  The orgasm released me from
my guilt; if he made me come, genuinely made me come, then I was
not a whore. At least, that's what I told myself.



He phoned me again a week later;

"I'm going to New York for a few days on business. I was thinking
you might like to come along."

"What would I tell my mother?"

"That's your decision, Clair. If you want to come, you'll have to
deal with it."

I did want to go. New York! The party city, movers and shakers,
glitz. I told my mother I was going to spend the week in Glasgow
with a girlfriend who'd left our neighborhood the year before.





I didn't quite understand at first what it was, this beauty
thing.  I've put some effort into understanding it now.

While most other mammals respond primarily to scent, Homosapiens
respond primarily to visual input.  A male is kind of block
shaped; a female is curvaceous.  Prominent breasts and slim hips
press a button in the male brain; "Female, fertile."  A smile
from the female presses the second button; "Mating display".  The
male will smile back involuntarily in response, initiating his
own mating display.

The male will attempt to project whatever he thinks will be
attractive to the female; flex his shoulders, show a set of
healthy dentures, display his Porsche, credit card, and wallet.

But with a figure like mine, with my bright blue eyes, perfect
teeth, clear skin and healthy blond hair, those buttons are hit
with a sledgehammer.  The ridiculous breasts I had at 17 coupled
with the incredible small hips [which I'm happy to say I still
have], tiny ass and long legs simply overwhelmed many males.
Most them would just enjoy the release of hormones and
endorphins, and go on about their business.  But an unreasonably
high proportion would just go ga ga.  Those ones would do
anything for me, if they thought there was a reasonable chance of
seducing me, literally almost anything.  Careers, families, civil
law all meant nothing to the poor idiots.

As I said in the beginning of this story, I didn't ask to look
like this.  No one consulted me.  I can't help it if I have an
optimistic outlook on life, I can't help but smile from time to
time.  It isn't necessarily a mating display.  Men please take
note.



We flew Business class. Barry paid for my ticket that first time,
but his company paid for his.

I felt like an American film star as the limo driver held the
door for me and I climbed into that huge American status symbol
on wheels. If only it had been Harrison Ford next to me instead
of Barry the machine tool executive.

Still, I didn't mind his touch, and I enjoyed cuddling and
kissing him during the ride into the city; making out in a
limousine, it was so exotic to me then.

It's difficult to describe the exhilaration of it all; sweeping
into the huge glittering lobby of that hotel as if I owned the
place, the diffidence of the staff adding to the illusion. I was
wearing one of the fabulous outfits Barry had bought me, a padded
aqua blue jacket over a matching skirt that didn't descend too
far.

The room was gorgeous, I was gorgeous, Barry was. well, he was
ok.

He took me in his arms for a minute or two of nice snogging
before heading off to meet whoever it was he had to meet.

It was a hot summer day, and I strolled luxuriously down 5th
avenue, walking boldly into shops that sold clothes and jewelry
an order of magnitude above what my anyone from my family could
have dreamed of owning. Even the women had to admire me, and one
man offered to buy me a diamond. I smiled at him and said no
thanks, as though it would have been no big thing for me; but the
episode left me excited, I admit.

There was something about New York that thrilled me; perhaps it
was just being so far from home for the first time, perhaps it
was my compromised situation, or maybe just that raw American
energy I was feeling; thousands of well dressed men and women,
carrying their briefcases and hurrying about their business.

We had dinner in one of the hotel restaurants with Barry's
customer. It was my job to look pretty as Barry loosened Brian up
before the sales pitch the next day. Looking pretty was no
problem, but I almost died of boredom from their shop-talk.

I regretted flirting with Brian when I felt his hand on my knee;
I really didn't know what I should do, I didn't want to blow the
sale for Barry. I tried to ignore it, and I was glad when Barry
called it a night, as Brian's hand was creeping towards where it
really shouldn't have.

Barry and I were pretty worn out by the time we got upstairs to
our room, and I was glad he didn't insist on sex when I told him
I just wanted to sleep.

Anyway, he screwed me the next morning before heading off for his
meetings. It was just strait sex, and there isn't a lot to say
about it; but I remember that I liked it, and I found myself
happier with my situation afterwards. Barry made me come once or
twice, and I couldn't help but feel warmer towards him when he
was through. It reduced the conflict I felt about being there
with him.



I couldn't resist the famous jewelry stores. Most people in them
were tourists and dreamers like me, admiring what we would never
have. Well, what they would never have. I already suspected I
would have those diamonds and pearls one day, and I wasn't wrong.

A man caught my eye. There was something compelling in his gaze
that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

"My God, you're beautiful." He said, matter-of-factly, not taking
his eyes from my face.

Somehow I appreciated anyone who could ignore my oversized
breasts for more than a few seconds.

"Would you try these for me?" he asked me, indicating a pearl
necklace and matching earrings in a velvet lined box that was
open on the glass counter in front of him. "I want to buy them
for my sister as a wedding gift." He explained.

I couldn't refuse; they were so lovely.

"What's your name?" he asked as he stood behind me fixing the
clasp of the necklace.

"Claire." I told him.

I just had to admire myself in the mirror with those pearls
around my neck and in my ears. It just made that small but huge
difference to my look; suddenly I had class.

"Magnificent." Said my new admirer. "I'll take them." He told the
salesman.

I began to remove the ear studs, when he said;

"Why don't you keep them on while I buy you lunch?"

Kadir held my hand as we walked a short distance to a nice
restaurant down the block. I'd never felt so confident, so sexy
and wonderful as I did in my borrowed pearls.

There was something about him; he was just so amusing. We ate a
light lunch, and three hours slipped past as though they were
minutes. Kadir rarely took his eyes from mine, and often took my
hand for a moment or two; and he talked to me, and he listened to
me, like no one ever had before.

I was quite taken, and with the charm he so obviously possessed
he could have easily had me that very afternoon. But he told me
he had a flight to catch to L.A., and he had to go to the
airport.

When I once more began to remove the ear studs, he stopped me
again.

"No. Please keep them. Please. I want to remember you wearing
them."

"What about your sister?" I asked him.

"There are stores in Los Angeles. Don't worry."

I gave him my phone number in England before he kissed my hand
and jumped in his cab.

The experience left me with a kind of happy glow; Kadir had been
so charming, so nice, and so generous; and he had wanted nothing
from me.  My faith in the goodness of humanity was restored, a
faith that had slipped away after my tits had grown at 15.

My naivet  did not last very long.

We had dinner with Barry's customer at the man's house.

I can't remember his name; but I can remember what he looked
like.  About Barry's age but about twice as heavy.  I remember
that his wife was very attractive for a woman of her age.  Either
she didn't notice that her husband couldn't keep his eyes off of
me, or pretended not to notice.  I was used to it, of course, so
I didn't think much of it.

I wasn't so mad as to let Barry know that a stranger had bought
me pearls, so I was feeling a bit inadequate in my schoolgirl's
costume jewelry.

The house was huge and opulent; I hadn't ever been in a place
like this before, and when our host asked me if I'd like to be
shown around, I took his offer at face value.

As Barry had insisted, I had told my host and hostess and I was
22; Barry said he could just about get away with having a
22-year-old mistress.

Anyway, my host showed me his study; and he offered me some
cocaine.

"You've never tried it?" He asked.

"No."  I replied.

"Well, it's time you did."  He said, "It's what the In crowd
does."

I knew that what he had said was true.  I had never taken
anything stronger than wine before, but I so wanted to be one of
the fancy people.  I decided to try it.

I remember he offered me a small silver tube with a kind of ball
at one end that fitted comfortably into the nostril; the white
crystals burned my nose and made my eyes water.  Then the rush
came.

It wasn't that I couldn't see or hear; it was just that I didn't
care much about what I saw and heard.  I was completely involved
in my own self, at what was happening inside my brain.
Somewhere, I knew that I was being pushed down over the desk, my
dress lifted and my panties lowered.  I just didn't care.

The chubby man pushed penis into me without much ceremony.  That
wasn't right; it was rape or something.  I wasn't sure what I
should do; I knew that this sale was very important to Barry, and
I didn't want to blow it for him.  But then I realized that this
was completely out of order, and I really should start struggling
and complaining.  I wondered if I should scream; or perhaps I
should just quietly resist, and try to disengage without making a
scene.

But while I was still trying to figure things out in my stoned
daze, I felt the pulsing of his orgasm; the sometimes welcome,
sometimes disgusting feeling of being injected with warm slimy
semen.

"Oh yes, oh baby, that was great, Claire!"  He said, pulling out
with a plop and putting away his sticky penis.

I just lay there, still confused as he pulled my panties back up
again, and dropped my dress down over my shame.  He put his arm
around my waist as I stood up, and led me toward the door.

"Now be careful what you say in front of my wife, Claire.  How
long are you going to be in town?  We could get together again
sometime perhaps.  I could keep Barry hanging on for a day or
two."

I was absolutely stunned.  I wasn't sure if I'd been raped, but
my possible rapist didn't even seemed notice the difference
between a willing and an unwilling woman.

The residual effects of the drug didn't leave me for some hours.
I was awake in bed late into the night, trying to make sense of
it all with Barry snoring beside me.

It was a difficult game I played for the next couple of days, one
that I would eventually become good at.  I flirted and stayed
pleasant, while carefully avoiding being alone with my chubby new
devotee.  I managed to hold out until he had agreed to sign; but
the man was clever, I suppose that's why he was where he was.  He
agreed to the deal in his office, and somehow managed to send
Barry back to the hotel for an hour to rewrite the contract,
while I stayed with him.

There was no way to avoid the situation.  I'd been flirting with
him and stringing him along until Barry would be able to make the
sale.  I didn't think it would come to this, but here it was.  I
tried to stay calm as he took my shoulders in his hands, and
kissed me with my back literally and figuratively against the
wall.

Well, I thought, I suppose it's more courteous than just pushing
me over and sticking it in.

I knew this sale was very important to Barry. I didn't love him,
but I felt I owed him some loyalty [although looking back on it
now I don't know why]. And what the hell, I'd already been
polluted by this man, so it didn't seem to make much difference
if I just let it happen again, I told myself as he held me
tightly, fondled my ass, and repeatedly violated by mouth with
his tongue.

"Shall I make us a couple of lines, Claire?"

I almost agreed.  I hadn't been very happy with my first cocaine
experience, but I thought that if I snorted it again I would be
able to let him screw me without much bother. And as a young
English girl, I was brought up to abhor conflict and bother.

"No thank you."  I answered him.

"Really?"  He said, "Most girls just can't resist.  It's really
great for sex you know."

I surrendered myself to his attentions, and let him run his hands
over my body.

He seemed to really enjoy himself, and took his time.  He enjoyed
kissing and biting my neck and shoulders, and of course fondling
my big adolescent tits.  I did nothing to encourage him, but I
didn't resist as he undressed me.

He was fairly well endowed, I remember.  It was really a shame
about his weight, or it might not have been very disagreeable.

He laid me down on his coffee table, face up, and kissed me,
fingered my vagina, and sucked my nipples before he fucked me.
Once more, he didn't seem to notice my lack of passion.

"It's much better like this, don't you think?" he said, "You're
such a pretty girl, Claire."

What an odd position to find myself in, I thought to myself; in a
flash office in New York, perched naked on a desk while a strange
man had his way with me.  And even more odd; how was it that I
didn't mind very much?  Did I really want sex with older married
men?  Perhaps I did, I thought, perhaps that's what this was all
about; perhaps I subconsciously had wanted this to happen.  The
incessant pounding at my almost innocent vagina didn't seem so
abhorrent anymore; my lover's grip on my young body was all
right.  I thought perhaps I might have an orgasm; but then he
came hard, holding me tightly, before I was satisfied.

I had time to touch up my makeup and brush my hair before Barry
returned, and they signed the five million dollar contract.  I
didn't learn until years later that Barry knew damned well what
his customer's intentions were when he left me alone there. And
that Barry earned a 5% commission on the sale. I don't know if
Barry knew that I had actually gone all the way with his customer
for him; but he was willing to ignore anything that would have
compromised his big sale.



My mother didn't make much fuss when I moved out and into a nice
little flat in London that Barry got for me.

I realize now how hard it must've been for her.  My mother had
been a beauty herself, but like nearly every woman alive, she was
inevitably eclipsed by me.  My stepfather's eyes were always on
me when he thought nobody was noticing.  I was used to that, it
was normal to me.  But of course, for my mother it must've been
hell.

The company that Barry worked for sold specialized manufacturing
machinery.  It was a small company that sold small quantities of
a very expensive item.  Barry was one of only two salespeople,
and he had to travel extensively.  I nearly always accompanied
him.

I loved the luxury fantasy life of the hotels we stayed in, the
restaurants that we ate at.

It was my job to flirt with the customers.  I didn't actually
screw any of them again [except once], but by looking gorgeous
and opulent, blasting the poor helpless fellows with my
irresistible appearance, I gave Barry the edge he seemed to need
to gain customer confidence and close the sale.

It's a strange thing, but it's clear that human beings will trust
a beautiful healthy person much more readily than an ugly or
unhealthy person.  If I smiled at a man and told him the Martians
had just landed, I think he would just believe me, remaining
completely unaware that his brain had turned to testosterone
pickled mush.

Sexually, Barry was all right.  He was always attentive, and his
dick never failed.  There was a certain spark that was missing,
but as I had never yet experienced that spark, I was blissfully
unaware of it.

I was very lonely.  There were four other apartments in the
building I was staying in, but somehow I never became very
friendly with my neighbors.  The women were afraid of me, and I
suppose the men were intimidated.  I was a kept woman, the
mistress of an older wealthy man, and I'm sure everyone knew it.
Barry used to turn up in that damned Porsche and spend the night.

But there was one neighbor that I got to know better; a very
handsome young man of East Indian origin.  His name was Alex, and
he was 15 years old.

I don't want you to think that I saw this gorgeous young hunk
walking by and just dragged him into my bed.  We were friends for
at least six months before anything physical went on between the
two of us.

He used to stop by after school, at first for a minute or two,
and then for a cup of tea.

Somehow, I had missed my youth.  I was only 18 years old and I
was only meeting and talking to much older people.  Alex was like
a breath of fresh air.

He had several brothers and sisters, and he liked the peace and
quiet at my place.  He used to do his homework at my desk, and
then we'd watch a little TV or something.  It was completely
innocent, at first.

We had been watching something on TV in which a boy was going to
possibly lose his virginity;

"What about you, Alex?"  I asked my young friend suddenly, before
rational thought would have prevented me. "Has that happened to
you yet?"

"No."  My poor friend stammered, embarrassed.

I had never even thought about it.  He was like a kid brother to
me, someone to care for.  Suddenly I was wondering what he would
look like without his clothes.  What it would be like to hold him
tightly against my body, what his tongue would feel like in my
mouth, what the sensation would be like, what emotions would be
induced by his young black hands against my pale flesh.

It was wicked, so deliciously wicked.  I had never promised any
commitment to Barry.  He was a married man, he didn't deserve
fidelity.

I remembered that fat customer I had let screw me almost a year
earlier.  I had let him do it to me almost for nothing, he had
never deserved me.  He hadn't even been nice.  But Alex. Alex was
sweet, Alex was fine.  Alex's young brown cheek was silky smooth
against my fingertips, his lips called to mine.

His mouth was sweeter than I could have imagined.  His firm grip
on my slim waist spoke of a confidence that didn't seem to appear
on his face.

He was so completely different, so utterly wonderful. and I was
in charge, it was my turn to be dominant.  We proceeded at the
pace that I chose to set.

Indeed, all I really wanted to do was hold him and kiss him at
first.  But then I wanted more, and more.  It goes without saying
that my young friend was more than willing.

Although he was a virgin, although he was so very young, Alex was
already a very sensual person.  His touch was gentle but firm,
the feel of his skin against mine was probably the most agreeable
sensation I had ever experienced in my life.

Alex was black, very black.  It was something that had always
frightened me, but with Alex it just added to the allure.  And
his cock; it was big.  Very big.

It was a strange sight on someone so young.  At the time, I
thought it was because he was black; we've all heard about those
huge black dicks.  But I've been with several black men since
that time, and I'm sorry to say that none of them could measure
up to my young friend Alex.

I took his wonderful young organ in my hand; it was so hot, so
firm, so wonderfully dark in my white fingers.  The wonder and
delight on his face was magnificent to see; it made me hotter and
hotter for him.

We worked together, carefully inserting his wonderful manhood
into my excited body.  It was a moment so wonderfully sensual, so
filled with tension and pleasure; I was sitting on his lap on the
couch in my sitting room, holding his dark face between my palms,
as we shared this wonderful first time together, when my young
lover exploded.

We hadn't even been doing it yet, but I had been on the edge, and
the sensation of that flood of  hot virgin come took me over the
point of no return, and I felt those lovely waves of warm
pleasure caressing my body.

We made love for hours that first time, and it was lovely.  Alex
was insatiable, unstoppable. I remember being pinned below his
powerful thrusting body for what seemed like an eternity; a
blissfully eternity of joy and orgasms, his powerful young black
penis causing shockwaves to ripple upwards through my abdomen. By
the time he came again, I thought I loved him.

I didn't of course, but the illusion was nice.



For the next couple of years I lived like that.  Alex spent most
nights at my flat, unless Barry was in town.  Space was tight
upstairs where Alex lived with his family, and his parents were
very progressive types.  They were happy for their son to spend
time with me, and I made sure he did his homework and got to
school on time in the morning.

I didn't have much to do.  I would've liked to have a job, but
Barry always wanted me to be available to travel with him. We
went on foreign trips at least once a month, usually for a week
or so.

I took lessons in various forms of dance, which I enjoyed.  It
was also very useful when someone [usually a customer] would ask
me to dance in one of those fancy hotels I always stayed in with
Barry. I studied makeup and hair, and I spent as much time as I
could swimming laps at the local pool during "lady's" hours; I
could lose myself then, not feeling the eyes of hungry men or
even the weight of my swollen breasts.

I suppose it sounds like I had all; Barry to pay the bills, and
Alex to satisfy me physically.  But that's not how I felt. I felt
a certain emptiness inside; despite the pleasure of the
first-class hotels and restaurants I was treated to during my
trips with Barry, and the wonderful physique and love that Alex
showered upon me, I didn't feel fulfilled.  There was no
challenge in my life, and ultimately no future in this lifestyle.

I tried to get some modeling work, but I was told that looking
like Claudia Schiffer each didn't make me Claudia Schiffer.  In
fact, looking so much like a specific supermodel was not actually
an advantage.  I would only ever be known as a Claudia look
alike.

I could have gotten some good money posing for men's magazines.
But I didn't want to do that, I felt that I would be betraying
Claudia.  We shared a face, the face she had made famous.
Claudia doesn't do nudes, and as long as that's the case, neither
shall I.

I did once get a job as Claudia's double.  I got to wear her
clothes and get whisked from a hotel in a limousine while she
snuck out the back.

It was completely wonderful; I was in seventh heaven for those
few moments in the lobby, while cameras flashed and I was a star.

I never even got to meet the real Claudia.  I changed out of her
dress, and returned to my wretched life.

My relationship with Barry was a strange one.  Sometimes, I
wasn't sure if he liked me at all.  I turned him on of course,
but I think he was feeling guilty about cheating on his wife.

Still, he always insisted I come with him on his sales trips.  He
said I brought him good luck.  The truth is, it was more than
luck; if I was sitting at the table in one of my designer dresses
and my pearls, smiling at a man from time to time, then he was
happy to sit and listen to Barry's sales pitch.  The product was
a good one, so the sales pitch was usually quite effective.

Then I'd often dance with the customer while Barry pretended to
do something important with the paperwork.  I quite enjoyed it
all, even when they would hold me tight during slow numbers.



I made a party for Alex's 17th birthday at my flat.  He got to
invite all his friends over and show me off; I put on one of my
most expensive outfits that I normally only wore while with Barry
on the sales trips.  A powder blue Dior jacket and short skirt,
heels and stockings, makeup and accessories.  The contrast
between Alex and his school friends and myself was just great
fun, and we all enjoyed it.  I played hostess and served them all
snacks, and then I changed into my belly dancing outfit and gave
them all a great show before sitting down on Alex's lap and
giving him some tongue.

I have to admit that I never did get any good at belly dancing,
but on the rare occasions when I do dance for someone, it never
fails to have an effect!

Naturally, everyone was very impressed that Alex had managed to
land such a prize as me.  I changed back into more casual
clothes, and we all had a great evening chatting and laughing
together.

Most of them were East Indian and black, like Alex; but there
were one or two white people, and an Asian girl.

The Asian girl; her name was Sasha, and she was ethnically
Pakistani.  I couldn't help but notice that her eyes always
seemed to follow me around.  She had very pretty eyes.

I believe that every male has a little female in him; and every
female a little male.  I had been so sexy that evening, more
overtly sexy than I had ever been in my life.  She was turned on
by me somehow.  I didn't know then that she was bisexual; I'm not
sure that she knew herself.

I sat and talked with her for a long time.  I really liked the
girl, she had such a wonderful outlook on life.  And those
wonderful huge dark eyes.

Her hair was short, and very thick and healthy.  Her brown skin
had an extra glow.  I found myself thinking that she would be a
good girl for Alex.  I was here being alluring and sexy for him
for his birthday, but for some time I had wanted to ease out of
our relationship.  Alex was nice boy, and a good lover.  But he
wasn't what I wanted; he wasn't quite on my level somehow.  He
just didn't have the ambition that it would take to get ahead.

The boys started watching a football game, and Sasha and I sat in
the kitchen talking and flirting.  I told her about Alex; what a
fine lover he was, about his endurance, and of course about his
size.

"But you're so beautiful, Claire.  You could have any lover you
want; you could have more than one!"

I didn't want to tell her about Barry.  I did later, but I didn't
want to right then.  I was embarrassed.

We were leaning close together over the corner of the kitchen
table, speaking quietly of our secret little desires, of sex and
boys.  I wasn't even aware at first that our knees were resting
against each other's; not until Sasha's little brown hand brushed
across the back of mine; until I noticed her finger tracing
across my forearm in a way that one girls finger does not
normally trace over another's arm.

The thought of making love with her didn't come to my mind, not
at first.  But I found myself excited by her touch, excited by
the excitement in her young eyes; I stroked her face with my
fingers, and I felt a warm flush pass through my body.  Her lips
were parted, gleaming with a hint of young saliva, inviting me.
Her short boyish hair somehow helped me lean forward, accepting
the invitation, the invitation to try the lips of a girl.

We broke off after a moment, neither of us sure what to do about
it.

"That was. nice."  I said.

My new girlfriend just smiled, unsure what to say.

We continued chatting easily, but something had changed subtly;
the light touch of our knees no longer seemed light.  There was a
certain extra something passing between us.

I liked Sasha a lot; I found her sexy, alluring, and exciting.
But I didn't think of myself as someone who could possibly make
love to another woman.  I had enjoyed our kiss, and I tried to
imagine the two of us together naked; touching, feeling.  The
thought was not unattractive, but then what?  For me, sex without
a penis was like trying to eat without food.  Don't get me wrong,
I love the touchy feely forplay; but then I want a good, hard,
masculine organ to get in there and do what needs doing.  Sasha's
cute little tongue just wasn't going to do the trick.  At least,
that's what I thought.  It turned out that I was wrong.

When their football game ended, the boys went down to the pub.
Sasha and I did the washing up, and then found ourselves cuddling
together on the couch.

I still had this funny idea that I just wanted to set her up with
Alex; I had been telling her of his many virtues.  But before
long, our conversation had ceased as our mouths found other
things to do.

I suppose somewhere in my mind, I must've known what I was doing.
But it was subconscious, below the surface.  In my conscious mind
this was just a little experimental fun; just a kiss, just
another.  Just the gentle caress of Sasha's fingers on my
breasts, just teasing her nipple with my lips.

Slowly, gently, without much bother, we were naked.  Our thighs
ground against each other's groins, our breasts met as our
tongues intertwined.

Her milk coffee breasts were much smaller than mine; but they
were so new, so firm and pleasantly shaped.  We both started
giggling as we toyed with each other, each taking turns suckling
at the other's breasts, enjoying these new sensations.

And yet still, still I didn't suspect how wonderful it would feel
when Sasha's little tongue would find my clitoris.

I suppose it was largely the excitement of a sensation so novel,
so new.  But her eyes shining at me so brightly, her thick black
hair between my fingers, her smooth brown cheeks against my pale
thighs were all so lovely.

It wasn't the hot hard pounding orgasm that Alex provided for me;
not even the reliable but tepid one I could expect from my sugar
daddy, Barry.

It was kind of warm and soft, friendly and without the
anticipation of the satisfying but threatening injection of
fluids that is the pleasure of men.

I'm not very bisexual; just a little, like I suppose most people
are.  It was a pleasant experience, and I had no regrets.  But I
really felt the need of masculinity, the smell and muscles of a
man, the dominant energy and hard penis.

I tried making love with women a couple of times some years
later; I even allowed myself to be picked up by a real dike.  I
thought she had that masculine energy I longed for, and I thought
it would be fun to try my little homosexuality experiment once
again.

She screwed me with a strap on and everything, and it was a
laugh, but I knew afterwards that I'm a lover of men.

I returned Sasha's sweet favor, and I enjoyed making her come.
We were still naked in each other's arms when Alex returned.

It was awkward for a few minutes, Alex had known Sasha since they
were both preadolescent. I invited Alex to join us in bed, an
offer that I doubt any heterosexual male could refuse.

I wasn't really in the mood anymore; but I really wanted Alex to
screw Sasha.  I really liked them both, but I needed to get rid
of them, really.  Not right away, but eventually.

It was great having Alex between the two of us.  He was so black
and strong, so young and vital and masculine.  And of course, his
big hard penis was what we had been missing for the last couple
of hours.

I examined my heart as I watched my boyfriend and my girlfriend
kiss each other.  There was jealously there, but not too much.
And there was joy, and satisfaction as well.  They were both
beautiful, they deserved each other, I thought.  I had no idea
what kind of trouble I was getting us all into.

I was kind of shocked when Sasha opened her mouth, and slowly
lowered it over Alex's big black penis.  I suppose it's all
really passe these days, and it's something I've come to enjoy
now, but I had never done that.  The thought of getting a
mouthful of come had always made me feel queasy.

I held Sasha's pretty face in my hands, and cuddled her while
Alex gently penetrated her; while he made love to her until the
two of them climaxed before my eyes.

Sasha and Alex both left me to sleep in their own beds; Barry was
picking me up early in the morning, we were flying to Cologne for
a trade convention.

Alex knew about Barry, but Barry didn't know about Alex.  I
didn't think he had any right to say anything about it if he had
known, but I preferred to keep my young lover secret from him.

I was 20 years old then, and I really cared very little for
Barry.  I was bored of hearing about his troubles with his wife,
I was pissed off at every reminder of his comfortable life. I
loved flying business class and staying in first-class hotels,
but the rest of the time I lived in relative squalor, unable to
even afford to wear the nice clothes I kept reserved for
traveling.

I didn't particularly mind having sex with him, but I wasn't all
that eager either.  I always got a bit excited by putting on my
"classy" outfits, and playing "Claudia" in airports and hotel
lobbies, so by the time he got me upstairs I'd always be fairly
susceptible to his salesmen's charm.

I had learned to carefully apply makeup, to make myself look
about 10 years older.  Barry was twenty years older than me, and
neither of us enjoyed the reactions we got, especially from
customers.  By making myself look thirtyish, we were at least
semi respectable.  Strangely to me, this didn't reduce the amount
of attention I got from men at all; a 30-year-old woman with a
20-year-old body just seemed to be more attractive to the poor
testosterone powered creeps.

We had one of the machines that we sold set up at our stand at
the convention, and I was going to be handing out brochures and
looking sexy.

I was dressed to attract company executives, with high heels and
sheer stockings, a short skirt and padded jacket that was opened
to show a white blouse that buttoned up to my neck demurely, but
that did nothing to hide the generous size of my breasts.

I was used to being on show while traveling with Barry, and it
came quite naturally to me.  I really enjoyed it, actually.  I
got to play the tease in complete safety, and in those expensive
outfits, I was always treated with respect.

Barry went off to check out the competition, and I was left to
look after the stand.  I walked back and forth and smiled and
handed out brochures; someone started asking me technical
questions.  He looked a bit surprised that I knew the answers.  I
was a bit surprised myself, but then I had been doing this with
Barry for several years.

Soon I had a crowd of admiring men around me, as I sat on our
piece of industrial machinery with my legs crossed and told them
all why it was better than what our competitors were selling.

It was a kind of defining moment for me; I was shining, I was a
star.  I wasn't Claudia, I was me. But I was confident and in
control of myself, I was probably going to sell 5 or $10 million
worth of industrial machinery in the next day or two, and I was
loving it.

And it was a moment that changed my life.  Because Barry's boss
was there.

I had met him once, but I didn't notice him standing on the edge
of my little crowd.

They say sex sells.  It seems to be true, even at the level of
multi-million dollar industrial machinery.  Our product was
excellent, and our price competitive; but my looks definitely
helped us get the attention of the buyers away from the larger
and more diverse companies that were our competition.





I don't think it's my fault that Barry lost his job.  His boss
swore to me that Barry was about to be fired anyway.  I felt
sorry for him at first, but later I didn't regret anything.  The
fact was, I was doing half Barry's work and getting hardly
anything in return, unless you want to count sex as payment.  And
it wasn't even very good sex.



I returned to London feeling triumphant and optimistic.  It was
my job now, I was second salesperson for the firm, right behind
our CEO.  In reality, I would be making most of the sales trips,
and most of the sales.  With the salary and commission, soon it
would be me driving the Porsche.  But first I had a few other
problems to contend with.



Young Alex was in a right state.

"I don't know what to do, Claire.  Sasha's brother Ali is after
me.  He found out somehow that I'd been with her."

"Take it easy, Alex.  I'm sure it's not so bad.  Every girl has a
brother or a dad who's going to get upset when she finds a lover.
Everyone has to learn to deal with it in the end."

"You don't understand, Claire.  Ali is the leader of a gang of
Pakistani guys who dominate this area; they have some kind of
weird racial separatist agenda.  He can't let me get away with
this. Now that he's heard about it, there's no way to stop him
from beating the shit out of me."

"Let's go down to the police station.  We'll figure out
something."

"Forget it, Claire!  Maybe that's what you would do where you
grew up, but around here we don't get the police involved.  They
never do any good for any of us, and besides, if I talk to them
about Ali, I'd been even more trouble."

A Pakistani racial separatist in Britain; if the very notion
hadn't infuriated me, I'd have had to laugh.  But it seemed Ali
was in charge of a group of young thugs who would retaliate
against any racial attacks by the white gangs in the area.  I
thought it was really stupid of them to alienate the black
community; of course, the whole thing was stupid.  But dangerous,
nonetheless.

I went to speak to this Ali myself.  After all, I was the one who
had gotten Alex into this trouble.  I wonder if Sasha's brother
knew that she had made love with me first.  Probably not, Sasha
had confided in one of her girlfriends, who had then told Ali
about Alex; Sasha wouldn't have been so forthcoming about her
homosexual yearnings.

I knocked on the gang leaders door on Sunday morning, correctly
guessing that I would find him alone.

He was about my age, and handsome.  He looked momentarily
surprised to see me; but the whole block knew who I was, the girl
who looks like Claudia Schiffer, and is often picked up by an
older man with a Porsche.  And of course, most people knew that
my young black neighbor, Alex, was keeping me company on lonely
the nights in between.  It was that kind of neighborhood.

Ali couldn't help but return my smile of greeting, and he let me
inside.  But then all of the above went through his mind, and he
did his best to scowl at me.

"What do you want?"  He demanded.

"I've come to talk to you about Alex."  I replied, looking
steadily into his dark eyes.

"There's nothing to discuss.  He has dishonored my family, and
he's going to pay for that."

"Oh come on, Ali!  Your sister is an adult, with her own will.
She wasn't raped."

"How do you know?"

"Did she say she was?"

"No.  But that's not the point, the point is that no man should
dishonor my family, and that goes double for a nigger doing it to
my sister."

He was so livid, I thought smoke would come out of his ears, and
I wasn't feeling totally calm, myself.

"Because he's black, or because it was your sister?"  I asked
him, skating on thin ice.

"He should keep to his own people.  We should all keep to our own
people. Mixing black, brown, and white together brings trouble."
Ali said.

His little racist tirade infuriated me.  Who was he to say who
should love who?  It was bad enough that he was planning to do
violence to a man his sister had chosen of her own free will; but
now he seemed to be saying that my relationship with Alex was
also wrong.  It may have been wrong, or may not have been; but it
was not for this young man to decide.

"So you're saying that if two young people feel attracted to each
other, they should ignore those feelings if they happen to be of
different races?"

"Yes, exactly.  God didn't mean for the races to mix; if he had,
he wouldn't have created us differently."

What a bastard, I thought.  What a despicable asshole racist
bloody twit.

"So for instance," I said, "if I felt that I wanted you, and you
felt you wanted me, you would nonetheless say 'No'."

"That's right."  He replied.

It's hard to explain why I did what I did then.  I think I was so
angry, I wasn't thinking straight.  I wanted to win this
argument, and I suppose I was just used to using my physical
attributes.

We had been sitting on wooden chairs in his small kitchen, and I
stood so that my breasts were inches from his face, I looked down
at him with my irresistible blue eyes, the tangle of my blonde
hair almost touching his upturned brown face.

"You're saying, Ali, that you would say no to me?"

"Yes."  He croaked, the sudden lack of conviction in his voice
revealing the lie.

He was crumbling, and I wanted to obliterate this stupid idea of
his once and for all.  I untucked my blouse from my trousers,
lifting it up over my breasts; I unhooked the front of my bra;
slowly and deliberately, I brushed one of my oversized white tits
against Ali's brown face.  He didn't move, seemingly frozen in
confusion.

I suddenly realized what I was doing; I didn't want to seduce
Ali, I didn't want anything to do with him.  I hated him about as
much as one could hate someone without actually knowing them.
I'd only wanted to demonstrate to him how ridiculous his
convictions were, I wanted to prove to him that he wouldn't be
able to resist every instinct in his being to satisfy his
misplaced ideals.

It was my turn to be frozen in confusion.  What had I'd done, why
had I'd done it?  Ali's lips were brushing against my hardening
nipple.  His tongue circled, causing a chill to run down my
spine.  His strong hands were on my slim hips, pulling me down
onto his lap.  I had gone too far, I was in trouble now.  What
should I do, how could I stop this?  He looked up at me, his dark
face between my white breasts; a look of pure desire clearly
written there.

My mouth was on his, but I don't know how it got there.  Had one
of his hands pulled my head down to his face, or was it at my own
instigation?

A surge of excitement and adrenaline flooded my body and brain.
Ali's powerful hands slid over my back and hips, tested the
weight of my breasts, slid across my ass and down my still
clothed thigh.

A gang leader; dangerous.  The alpha male; desirable.  Violent,
exciting, sexy, inescapable, irresistible, bloody tasty.

I held him by his short thick black hair, by his cute brown ears,
and I pushed my harlots tongue into his lovely mouth.

God, he was so wonderfully masculine.  He wasn't like that white
wimp Barry, all cash and no flash, or even like sweet young Alex,
my little boy toy.

Ali was major.

He sat me on the table, and my blouse was away, followed by my
bra.  Ali's shirt came off, revealing his beautiful muscled brown
torso.  His pants were open, his hard brown penis hot in my
hands.  He kissed my shoulders and arms, my neck and breasts, my
eyes and mouth.  I'd never felt this level of excitement, never.
I wrapped my arms and legs around him, I wanted to crush him with
my desire; he laughed, and lifted me onto his hips.  He carried
me to his bed.

I needed to feel his cock in me, I needed him to mate with me,
dominate me with his overpowering male energy.  I needed to strip
the rough edges from him with my femininity, leave my mark on him
and be marked by him.

And his need for me was equally urgent; yet we managed to resist
for a while, reveling in the intoxicating power of our primal
desire, both of us betraying our ideals in a fit of sheer brutal
sexual need.

It seemed like hours, days, years; finally, after an eternity of
tense excitement, of the most wonderful sensual touch play, Ali
rolled my willing body over; spread my long white legs apart;
placed the tip of his beautiful love tool at my waiting wet
entrance.

I think I was coming before he was all the way inside; the power
of this sex was frightening, unprecedented.

I looked into his handsome dark face, mesmerized by his gorgeous
brown eyes, his even teeth, his proud hook nose.  I hated him, I
hated everything he stood for.  This was horrible, how could I be
so attracted to someone so hateful?  It was shameful,
disgraceful, appalling.  My clitoris was pulsing as Ali's
powerful brown penis penetrated me again and again; I came,
holding him tightly, crying softly in his ear.  And again.  And
again.  I knew I shouldn't be enjoying this, this wasn't the man
for me; my man must be educated and wealthy, or at least have
very good prospects.  I mixed with millionaire industrialists, I
was a big executive myself now; but there was no respite, no
escape from this wonderful feeling as my lover brutally drove me
once more over the edge.

He was a powerful engine; a dynamo of sex, driving, pulsing,
touching, holding, penetrating.  I couldn't resist him, his
strength was too much for me; I wanted it, I wanted him.

When it was over, when my hateful racist lover had finally
flooded my waiting body with his seed, neither of us knew what to
do or say.  We were both shocked at what we had done; not that we
had done it, but we had done it against our better judgment.  We
had both lost control of our senses, succumbed to our baser
instincts.

He didn't say anything to me, he barely looked at me as I dressed
and left.



I've never had sex like that again.  I tried, I tried with Ali;
but it wasn't like it was the first time. I even gave him head,
the first person I ever did that for, but neither of us reached
that level of ecstasy that we had the first time.  I did get him
off that stupid racist trip, though.



I tried black men, Asian men, old and young men.  I tried women;
beautiful women, even ugly women.  I tried to find someone that I
really despised, thinking perhaps that was what had made it so
exciting with Ali;  I let myself get picked up by a biker.  He
was big and bearded and tattooed.  He smelled of beer as he
fucked me, he swore a lot, and he was perfectly hateful.  He
wasn't bad looking as a man, and it was exciting once; but the
second time, he did nothing for me.



Ali made an alliance with the black gang from the next street;
he's a community leader now, and he's thinking of running for
City Council.

Sasha split up with Alex after a few years, and moved in with me.
She cooks and keeps house for me, and I keep trying to fix her up
with perfectly good men that I don't want for myself, but so far
nothing's worked out.

My breasts aren't as big as they were, but they still have
excellent shape. I know it may disappoint a lot of men, but I'm
glad I don't have to carry those damn things around with me
anymore.  I'm still bigger than Claudia, though.



I met Kadir again, the man who bought me my pearls those years
ago. He's nice, he's wealthy, and I like him. But in bed he hasn'
t been able to keep my interest; like the others, he excited to
me greatly the first time we made love, but was unable to excite
me that much again.  I managed to get him into bed with Sasha,
but I don't think it's going to last.

I'm 26 years old.  I have the body and face of a supermodel; last
year I made half a million British pounds in commissions and
salary.

Where on earth will I find a match?  How can I find a man who can
satisfy me and is my equal?

Perhaps you'll meet me one day; you'll know me, I look like
Claudia Schiffer. Perhaps you'll get lucky, and I'll take you
home; Perhaps you'll even be the one. The one who can make me
happy.



I've really enjoyed writing out the story of my life so far.
perhaps I'll write about some of my later love affairs in more
detail someday, if anyone's interested.



The rest of my stories are at;
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/aceinthe_hole/www//
and; http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/aceinthe_hole/   [in plain
text]
This is absolutely non commercial. but I sure do appreciate a
little feedback!

Every week, there are one to two thousand downloads of my
stories; and if I'm lucky, I might receive one letter from a
reader.

Mail to; Aceinthe_hole@hotmail.com



























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