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Message-ID: <47339asstr$1081476606@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Gil Gamesh" <gil04gamesh@cox.net>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Thu, 08 Apr 2004 14:04:42 EDT
Subject: {ASSM} The Measure of Man, Chapter 11
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Date: Thu,  8 Apr 2004 22:10:06 -0400
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The Measure of Man is a story of love and sex in the lives of a husband, a
wife, and their three children. The story spans almost four decades in their
lives and tells of their love for each other and for individuals outside the
primary family. The sexual acts described vary greatly but all are within
the realm of those practiced by normal human beings. The Measure of Man is
an epic adventure and will be told in approximately forty chapters.
Twenty-five chapters (1,449 KB) have been completed. Additional chapters
will be published at no specific schedule.

Codes: MF FF mf Mf mF MM Mult fant rom 1st teen cons het group voy safe oral
anal pett lac preg

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Gil_Gamesh/www/

Feedback is always welcomed. Use your scissors on my e-mail address to send
comments, criticisms, or requests to:

gil04gameshcutthisout@cox.net



THE MEASURE OF MAN

An Epic by Gil Gamesh

11 - Just a Gigolo

As for you, Gilgamesh, fill your belly with good things; day and
night, night and day, dance and be merry, feast and rejoice. Let
your clothes be fresh, bathe yourself in water, cherish the
little child that holds your hand, and make your wife happy in
your embrace; for this too is the measure of man.

<><><>

CAST OF CHARACTERS:
Kieran Stuart, 39 in story, 23-24 in flashback
Sioned Stuart, 38 in story
Clair DeLand, 40 + in flashback
Beth ______, 39 in flashback

TELLING THE STORY:
Kieran Stuart

	The weather forecast called for a cold front to move through on
Saturday, with a likely combination of ice, sleet, and snow. We
decided to stay home, to enjoy two days of peace and quiet, as we
had done many times before. On occasions like this, we stocked
the kitchen with food and wine we both liked, ignored the
television, and pulled out a selection of music to play and books
or magazines to read. We mixed these together with a continuous
feast of sex and, by the beginning of the new week, we felt like
two sane human beings again.

	Kavan, Arial, and Kerry were spending a few days with their
uncle Alan, his wife, and their three children and, as much as we
loved our children, we welcomed the peace of a few days together.

	We spent most of Saturday afternoon trying to decide what sort
of sexual activity combined best with which classical music. You
would never guess what we were doing during Orff's Carmina
Burana.

	With darkness on Saturday night, we closed the drapes against
the cold outside. Still naked, we ate a supper of cheese and
bread and fruit and wine sitting in the middle of the bed.

	"Did you know," my wife asked, "that I'd probably pay very
handsomely for your services, for an afternoon like this one, if
I weren't married to you and getting it for free?"

	I grinned at her. "How much?"

	"I'm not sure I could afford you. With your looks and
personality and your love for the finer things in life, I think
you would be a rather expensive toy for a woman."

	"No," I replied, "I was never a toy. I decided at the beginning
that I would do as I chose, that I couldn't let myself be used in
a way that was destructive to me or to others. When the day came
that I began to seriously question what I was doing, I knew it
was time to quit."

	My wife looked at me with surprise. "Do you mean you've actually
been in a relationship like that, that you've been, what is it,
just a gigolo?"

	"Yes, it started in the year before I met you, in my second year
out of college."

	"Is this going to be another bed-time story?" she asked.

	"If you wish."

	"And you will be truthful with me this time, telling it exactly
as it happened, with no lies, no fantasies, no embellishment."

	"Truth from the lips of a gigolo?"

	"Yes," she answered, "I want you to be totally truthful or else
don't tell me anything."

	"You remember the corporation I worked for my first couple of
years out of college, don't you?  Well, it started when the
president of the corporation and his wife had a summer barbecue
at their home for all of the younger corporate employees. They
had a large pool next to the house and, on the lawn behind that,
a volleyball net set up on the grass. We were invited to come
dressed very casually. The invitation specifically said dress for
volleyball and swimming and appetites for beer and barbecue."

	When I rang the doorbell, a young woman who turned out to be the
one of the president's secretaries opened it. She checked my name
against a guest list and then escorted me to the back of the
house, through open French doors, to the pool area, where
everyone was gathered. She led me to the president, Mr. Deland
and started to introduce me but he interrupted her, calling me by
my first name. I was surprised since I had had relatively little
contact with him. He was a tall, graying man, distinguished
looking even in white shorts and a colorful Hawaiian shirt.

	We talked for a minute or two and then he put his hand on my
shoulder. "Come; let me introduce you to my wife, Claire."

	He introduced us, using just my first name. His wife was a tall,
elegant woman, with long straight hair and classical features. I
guessed that she was probably in her early forties. She was
wearing a bathing suit, separate top and bottom, with a towel
loosely tied around her waist. I tried to avoid looking directly
at her body, more than a little intimidated by such a bounty of
bare flesh. Her figure could only be described as Reubenesque,
with wide bare shoulders, full breasts that seemed to need no
support, a narrow waist, and generous hips.

	Her husband quickly surrendered me to her, while he went to
greet the next arrivals. She smiled at me, a warm, sincere smile,
and then proceeded to do, quite deliberately, what I had been too
shy to do: she slowly looked me up and down.

<><><>

	I was dripping wet with sweat after only one game of volleyball.
I stripped off my knit shirt and wiped my face with it. The pool
looked inviting but I knew I had to find someplace to get rid of
the two beers I had drunk. There was an outdoor shower to the
side of the pool and we had been asked to use it before getting
in the pool, to keep the grass out. As I looked at it spraying
down, the urge to urinate became stronger.

	I went into the house, wondering where the bathrooms were.
Somebody with foresight had posted signs on the wall, pointing
one direction for men and down a hallway for women.

	I went in my direction and found myself in a large library or
office, with jade-green walls, a huge red-leather couch and
matching chair, and an antique desk against one wall. The
bathroom door on one side was conveniently left ajar.

	I shut the door behind me, never thinking to lock it. I quickly
raised the toilet lid, then pulled my shorts down and let them
fall part way down my legs. Underneath, I had worn running
briefs, since I always found them to be more comfortable than a
jockey-strap. I pulled the briefs down just under my testicles,
letting it all hang out. My penis was heavy and hot in my hand,
swollen with the need to find relief from my distended bladder. I
leaned forward with my left hand on the wall in front of me, my
right hand holding my cock. As I started to drill a heavy stream
in the center of the bowl, I shut my eyes and enjoyed the moment.
When I finished, I stood a moment longer and then pulled downward
on my penis, milking out the last drop or two. I even shook it
gently a couple of times before I straightened up and opened my
eyes. When I did, I found I wasn't alone in the bathroom.

	The wife of the president of the corporation was standing just
inside the closed door, leaning back against the wall.

	"That was quite a performance," she said.

	I was speechless. I looked down at my genitals and then back
directly at her. I swallowed a couple of times and determined
that I could be just as nonchalant about it as she was. I brought
my fingers down my cock one more time, sliding the foreskin back
over the head, and shook it gently once or twice. I slowly and
carefully pulled my briefs back up, deliberately taking more time
than necessary to make sure my cock and balls were comfortably
arranged. Just as slowly, I pulled my shorts back on and buttoned
them. Last, I leaned forward and flushed the toilet. Only then
did I reply.

	"I'm glad you enjoyed it," I said, doing my best to smile,
without any sign of embarrassment.

	"Oh, I did," she responded, looking me over carefully from head
to toe. "Now I know exactly what the term cock-sure means. I
think you'll do very nicely."

	I was confused, suddenly unsure of what sort of situation I was
in and what she meant by her last remark.

	She opened the door and motioned for me to follow her. In the
office, she went to the desk, opened a drawer and took out a
card. When she handed it to me, I found it had just a telephone
number on it.

	"Call that number at two o'clock tomorrow afternoon," she said.
"I didn't just walk in on you by accident. I need a young man
like you to do something for me, one who can be very intelligent
and very, very discrete. Do you think you can manage that?"

	I smiled and looked her directly in the eyes before I gave her
an answer. "Yes."

<><><>

	When I called, she answered after the second ring, a deep-voiced
hello.

	"You asked me to call," I said, and she recognized my voice
immediately.

	"Yes. I told you I needed a young man like you for, how should I
put it, a business arrangement that requires certain talents.
I've already looked into your personnel file and you certainly
seem to have the intelligence this calls for. But I want to
emphasize again that this calls for someone with certain social
skills and a great deal of discretion. If we reach an agreement,
I promise you that this will be very rewarding to you. But, if
you let anybody know about it, you will do serious damage to a
number of people, most of all yourself. Are you interested?"

	"I'm intrigued," I answered. "Whatever you have in mind, I want
you to understand up front that I won't do anything criminal. I
don't need money or anything else that bad."

	"It's nothing like that," she said. "I can find plenty of idiots
who would commit any criminal act for money. This is essentially
a business arrangement. Your work for my husband's corporation
shouldn't be affected. You may not know it but I'm also the owner
of a relatively-large corporation. I occasionally have visitors
from out-of-town, here to negotiate contracts with me. I need
someone to act as their escort, to make sure they have no
problems in a strange city."

	"I don't understand why you think I would be good for that sort
of work."

	"Many of these visitors are women, usually here by themselves. I
think they would appreciate having an escort who looks like you,
to drive them around, to take them to dinner, and," she paused
for a few seconds, "to make sure they have whatever they want."

	"That sounds like hard work," I punned.

	"Yes, it might be hard on you at times," she laughed, "but I
believe you would be up to it."

	"Let me make one thing clear. I won't let myself be used by
anybody. I don't intend to do anything that lessens my own
self-respect. If I see that happening, then I'll walk out of the
deal."

	"Agreed," she said. "I don't think that what I have in mind will
succeed unless you can take pride in your work. At any point, you
can take a walk if you don't like what I ask of you."

	"Do you have something specific in mind in the near future?" I
asked.

	"First, you'll be required to take a very thorough physical.
Call your company's medical office and set up an appointment with
Dr. Atkins."

	"I assure you I'm in perfect health."

	"If the doctor's report confirms that, you're going to serve as
my escort next month. You might consider this the job interview,
so that I can determine if you have all the qualities needed. My
husband will be out of town and I want you to take me to a
charity affair, a dinner and dance, in support of one of our arts
organizations. It's black tie. Do you have a tuxedo?"

	"No."

<><><>

	The next night, I followed her instructions and went to the
men's department in a large store. When I asked for the sales
person whose name she had given me, Mr. Ordon, I found that she
had given him specific instructions. The tuxedo had to be very
simple, very masculine, he said. After I made my choice, the
pants were altered while I waited and I walked out an hour later,
with the tuxedo, an assortment of ties and accessories chosen by
Mr. Ordon, six shirts, a box of underwear and another of socks,
and two pair of shoes. I felt strange when I was told that the
charges had been made to her account and I did not even have to
sign my name.

<><><>

	A few weeks later, I dressed and drove to her house precisely on
time. When I rang the doorbell, she opened it within seconds. She
was wearing a long rose-colored evening gown that exposed just
enough of her shoulders and breasts to be provocative. She held
out her hand to mine.

	"Come in," she said, "and let me look at you."

	She led me into the office again, cluttered now with papers on
the desk and I realized that this was her office, not her
husband's. She had evidently been working while waiting for me.

	I stood quietly while she walked around me, looking me up and
down.

	"Do you approve?" I asked.

	"Oh, yes."  She answered and smiled at me. "You look very good,
even in clothes. You might like to know that the doctor's report
confirmed what you told me."

<><><>

	It was well after midnight when I drove her back home. The
evening had been thoroughly enjoyable. The food was excellent,
the entertainment from the arts group superb, and the dancing
afterward pleasant. When she introduced me to her friends as her
nephew, I wondered if they really believed her.

	Her Mercedes was a quiet pleasure to drive and I started humming
the music from one of the opera arias.

	"Do you like opera?" she asked.

	"Some of them. The Italian ones, especially Verdi and Puccini
and Rossini. Some French ones, too. Most of the German stuff is
too heavy for me."

	"Where did you learn about them?"

	"My mother's the music lover in the family. She always
encouraged us to learn to play and enjoy music. My father had
other interests but he supported her in trying to instill a love
of good music in us. I think she succeeded with me more than with
my brother or sister."

	"And how did you learn to dance so well?"

	"My mother and father love ball-room dancing.  They've taken
courses in lots of different kinds of dancing and learned others
on their own.  My mother used to practice with me and with my
brother.  And when my sister developed an interest in the same
area, she practiced with both of us.  I didn't like it when I was
just 13 but as I grew up, I began to enjoy it more.

	"I believe they both succeeded with you in more ways than you
know. I told you this evening was in some ways a job interview. I
wanted to see if you had the social graces to handle yourself
with people like these."

	"And you conclusion is?" I prompted.

	"You certainly have the manners of a cultured young man and the
ability to carry on an interesting conversation. If I'm not
mistaken, you also appreciated the quality of the dinner we had
tonight. And, whether you believe it or not, I've never danced
with anyone else that made me enjoy it as much as you did. But
you're not quite through with the interview yet."

	When I looked at her, I could see a faint smile on her face, as
though she were toying with me.

<><><>

	At her instruction, I parked the car in the garage. As she
unlocked the door into the house, she pushed a button and the
garage door quietly closed.

	"We won't turn on any lights," she said, holding out her hand to
mine.

	She led me through the house into the large living room. The
moonlight though the large windows was just enough to see by. She
kicked off her shoes and reached up under her gown. She fumbled
with something and then pulled downward, first one leg and then
the other. She sat down on the couch, her feet up on the coffee
table in front of her.

	"Take your coat off. Your shoes too. You might as well be
comfortable. I believe we're about to agree on a business deal."

	I took off the tuxedo coat and tie and unloosened the top two
buttons on the shirt. I sat beside her on the couch, pulled off
my shoes, and put my feet up on the coffee table. I wiggled my
toes with a genuine sigh of relief.

	"Never go dancing in new shoes," I said.

	"I agree," she said. "Now, to business. I want you to serve as
an escort for people I do business with. Sometimes it will be
husband and wife and your job will be to pick them up at the
airport, get them comfortably settled in the hotel, take them to
business meetings, things like that. You'll have a business
credit card to take care of all costs. Your job will be to make
their life as pleasant as possible while they're here. Quite
frankly, I find it's much easier to do business with people who
have not had to deal with the frustrations of a strange city."

	"That's going to cause some conflicts with my job for your
husband's corporation, isn't it?"

	"My husband will take care of that. You'll still have to do a
good job for him, but your work schedule will just be more
flexible."

	"I don't believe that's all you have in mind, is it?"

	"No, it isn't. I told you I frequently had women to deal with,
who are in town by themselves. You'll do the same sort of
services for them, except that I expect you to take them to
dinner and make sure they're protected from any problems. Then
there's one additional service where you should excel. Quite
frankly, I want you to fuck their brains out."

	She looked directly at me as she said this. I thought for a
minute or two before I answered.

	"They'll be much easier to deal with, too, if they aren't
sexually frustrated. Is that it?"

	"Let's just say that part of the job is left to your discretion.
I think it would always be best if you're not aggressive. If it
happens, it should always be because she gives you reason to
believe that's what she wants. I don't want any of them to think
that we arranged this. And if you don't think you can honestly
enjoy making love with any of them, you can always pretend to be
gay. You still might not be safe because some of the women I know
would love the challenge of straightening you out."

	"I'm not sure how I'm going to feel about this. If I can't deal
with it, in the way I feel about myself, I'm going to quit. And I
don't want that to get me fired from my job with your husband's
corporation."

	"I agree. You're doing an excellent job for him. Now, I want to
be very clear about your reward for this. There will be no
paycheck, no records of any kind kept, either by me or by you.
You will receive compensation in cash or in other ways, none of
which will leave an audit trail. Is that agreeable?"

	"Yes."

	"Good, now for the last of your job interview. I like to take a
swim at night, before I go to bed. I want you to join me. Now,
unzip this."

	She stood up and turned her back to me. In the faint light, I
could not see the seam down the back of her gown. With my
fingertips, I searched out the zipper and pulled it down. She let
the gown fall to the floor, turned around, and reached out to the
buttons on my shirt. I let her undo them and strip the shirt off
me. I had to help her with the cummerbund but she managed to open
my pants by herself. I pushed them down and stood before her,
wearing only my white briefs and black socks. She quickly
stripped off her slip and stood there in only panties and
brassiere.

	I hesitated, waiting for her, to see how far to go. When she
released the catch on the bra between her breasts, I knew she
intended to swim in the nude. When she peeled her panties down
off her hips, I did the same with my briefs and socks. In the dim
light, I could see little more than the outline of her body. She
led the way outside, through the French doors, to the pool.

	She found a cap in a poolside chair and slowly tucked her long
hair underneath. In the moonlight, I could see her more clearly
now. Her waist was surprisingly narrow, her breasts full and
heavy, with large aureoles, and her hips a perfect complement to
her breasts. She looked at me, appraising my body in the same
way.

	Finally she eased into the pool quietly, without diving, and I
did the same. She started swimming immediately, easily, almost
effortless, and I followed. We swam side by side, from one end of
the pool to the other. The water was a little too cool for
comfort. When she swam to the side of the pool, I was glad to
follow.

	She held on to the side, still hidden by the water except for
her shoulders. I pulled myself up and out of the water, sitting
on the side on the pool, my legs together, feet still in the
water, just a few feet from her. She looked at me for a minute or
two, not saying a word and then moved closer, holding onto my
knees. She tugged on my knees, indicating that she wanted me to
move them apart. I did as she wished, exposing my genitals to
her. My cock was drawn up from the cold water, the foreskin
completely covering the head, my balls pulled up tight against my
body.

	"Is this the same proud warrior I saw a few weeks ago?" she
teased.

	"He's cold," I answered. "He would like to find a warm place.
Would you like to help him?"

	She took my cock in one hand and leaned forward. With her tongue
she licked softly against the wrinkled circle of foreskin at the
end. The effect was like an electric shock. I felt an
instantaneous response deep within me as the warm blood inside me
began to expand into my penis. She kept teasing me with her
tongue, licking, watching as my cock gradually swelled,
elongating toward her, the foreskin retracting by itself,
exposing the head to her. Within a minute or so, it was fully
erect in her hand. I opened my legs wider, inviting her to
continue.

	She opened her mouth wide, taking in the head of my cock. I
leaned back, my head tilted toward the moon, my eyes shut,
letting her have her way. Within a minute or so, I was aware only
of my throbbing cock and her hot mouth around the head of it.

	Suddenly, a strong breeze swept across the pool and I shivered,
involuntarily, either from the cold and wet on my skin or the
pleasure in the last couple of inches of my cock.

	"Are you cold?" she asked. When I nodded yes, she pulled herself
easily up out of the pool.

	"Come, let's go in and find some place warm," she said, holding
out her hand to me.

	As we went back into the house, she carefully locked the French
doors behind us and closed the drapes over them. She held out her
hand to me again and led me through the darkness to her office.
As we entered, she again locked the door behind us.

	"Stand here for a minute until I turn on the light," she said.

	I could hear her closing the shutters on the only window in the
room and then drawing the drapes over the window. She moved
around easily in her familiar surroundings and seconds later a
lamp on her desk was turned on.

	She went first to a thermostat on the wall and then into the
bathroom. When she returned a moment later, she had two large
towels and two large white robes. She tossed one towel to me and
both robes on the couch.

	"Perhaps we'll both be more comfortable if we're warmer," she
teased. She began to dry off, her eyes moving from my face to my
cock and back. I did the same, enjoying the soft warmth of the
towel, enjoying the lush fullness of her body. After a minute she
pulled on one of the robes, leaving it untied, still revealing
her breasts, stomach, and the light brown patch between her
thighs. I could already feel warm air blowing out of some hidden
duct and so I didn't bother with the other robe.

	She sat down in a large leather chair beside her desk, motioning
for me to come closer. "Now let me see what your proud warrior is
like."

	I stood directly in front of her, my cock still hard, pointing
straight and level out toward her. I turned so that she could see
it slightly from the side and then reached down with one hand to
hold it. I suppose it was male vanity but I wanted to present her
with the best image of what she proposed to rent.

	She reached out, letting it rest lightly in the palm of her
hand, her fingertips touching against my scrotum. The head of my
cock first rested just on her wrist and, as we both watched,
began to lift into the air at a steeper angle.

	"You should be proud of this," she said, as she sat back in her
chair. "It's large enough and attractive enough to please any
woman. I think you're going to find it will serve you very well
in the jobs I'll have for you."

	"I appreciate the compliment," I said. "But, at the moment, I'm
not interested in any other woman. I think it's time you stopped
playing with me and got serious. I've been thinking about what
you said earlier tonight about some of the women I'll escort. You
told me you wanted me, to use your words, to fuck their brains
out. I think you should understand how I feel about women. And I
think you should understand clearly what I'm agreeing to."

	"Is there some problem?" she asked.

	"I'm not sure. I'm not a woman hater. In fact, I'm quite the
opposite. I love women. I have a very loving relationship with my
mother and sister. I believe I've loved every woman I've ever had
sex with. I love most of the ones I haven't had sex with. If our
agreement is for me to make love to and with a woman, I can
certainly do that. I won't deliberately hurt them. I won't try to
leave them brainless. If an hour or a night of good sex, lovingly
shared by two willing people serves your purpose, I'll be glad to
provide that service."

	"I understand," she responded. "Perhaps my choice of words was
inappropriate. I believe your approach will be much the wiser
one. Now, do we have an agreement?"

	She held out her hand to me. I shook it once to indicate my
acceptance.

	"Now, it's time for you to make up your mind what's going to
happen tonight. Unless you tell me no, now, emphatically, no, I
want to make love to you. No, that's not the right way to put it.
I want to make love with you."

	She smiled up at me, with no audible response, while her hand
sought out my cock again. She found it still hard, though not
standing at the angle of a minute ago. She cupped my testicles in
her hand. Her fingernails traced a path from behind my testicles,
down and around them, and along the underside of my cock.

	I gave one big sigh of relief, taking her silence and actions
for acquiescence.

	"Perhaps I shouldn't ask," I said, "but I try to be responsible
in situations like this.  Do you want me to use a condom?"

	She smiled at me again before answering.

	"It's not necessary," she said.  "I'm not going to have any more
children.  But I'm glad to know you're careful.  Just remember to
be very careful with all of your clients."

	I kneeled down in front of her and, as she had done earlier to
me, tugged on her knees to get her to part her legs. When she
did, I looked at her vulva for the first time. The lamp on the
desk spilled light down on her and I could see clearly. Her inner
thighs were creamy white with a slight tan, unblemished. The soft
mounds at their juncture were slightly darker and, between them,
I saw a vertical, tightly-closed slit, revealing nothing of the
inner flesh. I realized that she was not as aroused as I was,
perhaps not as confident in her role as she pretended.

	I leaned closer, nestling my head just below her breasts,
against the softness of her stomach.

	"Hold me," I whispered.

	Her hands held my head against her. My hands crept under her
robe, around behind her, pulling her hips closer to me. For a few
minutes, I remained quiet, unmoving against her, my eyes closed,
and conscious only of her breathing and the sound of her heart
beating. At length, I let my hands begin to explore, stroking her
back, her sides, at last moving to her breasts. With my touch, I
could feel the nipples harden.

	Eyes still closed, I turned my face upward, searching for the
nipple on one breast with my lips. I began to suck on it,
forcefully at first, almost like a hungry baby. I heard her gasp
as though I had hurt her and so I changed to a gently sucking,
pulling just the long nipple into my mouth. When I felt her hand
begin to stroke my hair, I began those endless variations of
adoring a woman's breast, teasing with my tongue, opening my
mouth a wide as possible as though to swallow it, gently biting
the nipple.

	After a few minutes, I changed my position, bringing my mouth to
her other breast, caressing the previous one with my hand and
fingers.

	Her hands left my head and found their way to my shoulders. At
first her touch was soft, stroking, but then I felt her strength,
pulling me tighter against her breasts, her fingernails pressing
into my back.

	I brought both my hands around behind her one more time, pulling
her hips forward again, until she was sitting just on the edge of
the chair. I slowly moved my face downward, feeling for the soft
fleece of her pubic hair. At the same time, I caught her legs
behind the knees and lifted them off the floor, curving them over
my shoulders and down my back.

	With my tongue I sought out the lips, closed and cold, that I
had seen earlier. When I came up for air minutes later, I saw a
different picture. She was open to me now, those soft lips
spread, exposing the inner flesh, pink and coral and even red.
Her vagina glistened wetly in the light and I knew from the taste
in my mouth that it was not just from my saliva.

	I stood up and offered her my hand. When she accepted, I pulled
her up out of the chair and asked one questions: "Where?"

	She led me to the large leather couch. I stood waiting for her
cue. She quickly put both hands on my chest and pushed me back
and down to the couch. The light from the desk lamp was directly
behind my head and I knew she could clearly see what awaited her.
I still had a hard-on, aching now from delayed release. I
wondered how long I would be able to last when I got it in her.

	She first straddled my thighs, bringing both hands to my
genitals. She held my testicles with one hand while she began to
stroke slowly up and down the shaft of my cock with the other. As
usual, a drop of two of clear fluid oozed out of the slit at the
end.

	She rubbed the lubricant over the head of my cock with her
finger and then, eagerly, moved over it. With one expert hand,
she quickly held it in the right position and guided the head
into her cunt. She leaned forward then, both hands on my chest,
and slowly began to move up and down, taking more of my cock into
her with each movement.

	I kept my eyes open, watching but lost in the sight and
sensations of her cunt, hot, silky, living flesh, gradually
swallowing every inch of my cock. As more and more of the shaft
disappeared into her, she slowed. When only an inch was left
revealed between my blond and her brown pubic hair, she stopped.

	"You've hit bottom," she whispered. "Can you feel it pressing
against my cervix?"

	I didn't answer, waiting for her to do whatever she wanted. Her
head was tilted back, her eyes shut.

	"I want it all," she whispered, and began a slow rotary grinding
movement, moving her hips around in a circular pattern, pressing
down against my cock. I watched, fascinated, as the last inch
disappeared and I could see her public hair merge with mine, her
soft ass cheeks pressing down now on my balls.

	She reached for my hand and I wondered what she wanted me to do.
She placed my fingers against her cheek and then took my thumb in
her mouth. She began to suck on it at the same time that she
continued the rotary movement with her hips.

	Finally she leaned back and I could again see my cock stretching
open the lips to her cunt. Just where her clitoral shaft
separated into two lips, I could see the engorged button of her
clitoris, with two tiny angel-wing-like tendons extending down.
She took my hand away from her face and, this time, brought it
downward, guiding my thumb to her clitoris.

	I began to stroke it with the faintest of touches, a delicate
touch with the soft pad of my thumb. After a minute, I stuck my
thumb in my own mouth, lubricating it generously with saliva. I
returned to her clitoris, stroking this time in a larger circle,
over the clitoral shaft, down around the soft lips before they
began to encircle my cock, around again, gently, ever so gently,
touching her blood-red engorged clitoris. Her breathing became
faster and she pressed down harder against my cock.

	Suddenly, I felt her reach orgasm, a series of strong
contractions around the base of my cock, pulsing at that same
eight-tenths of a second as my orgasms. I continued my stroking,
even gentler now to her sensitive flesh, waiting for her to
finish. At length she reached down for my hand and held it still
against my stomach. For a minute or so, she sat quietly, eyes
closed, breathing heavily.  Finally, she opened her eyes.

	"It's your turn now," she said.  "I'm glad you can be a
gentleman and let a lady come first."

	"I might want more than one turn," I responded. "It's been too
long since I've made love to a woman."

	"We have the rest of the night.  But it might be good if you
left before dawn. Now, what would you like me to do?  Whisper it
to me and I'll do it."

	"What I want is as old as mankind - and womankind," I whispered.
"First I want to change places with you, to be on top of you, to
feel your stomach against mine, your breasts against my chest;
but I don't want my cock in you then; I want it just there,
between us, so you can feel it on your belly; then I want to feel
your arms wrapped around me, your hands holding my ass, your legs
wrapped around mine; I want you to kiss me, or maybe I should say
I want to kiss you; I've wanted to kiss you since the first
minute I saw you; I want you to hold me until you can't stand it
any longer; and when you begin to move your hips, I'm going to
see if my cock can find your cunt, with no guidance from either
of our hands; and then I'm going to slowly slide my cock into
your cunt until it's buried down to my balls, to stay like that
until I can't stand it any longer; and when I forget everything
else, I'm going to begin to fuck you, slowly at first, savoring
every in and out, short strokes first, gradually getting faster
and faster, with longer strokes, until I'm giving you every inch
of my cock as deep and hard as I can, losing control more and
more, slamming my stomach against yours, bouncing my balls off
your ass-cheeks, all the time keeping my mouth on yours, until
finally I come, my cock buried to the hilt in you, pouring out a
load of semen with about sixty billion sperm directly on the
entrance to your womb."

	She raised up over me, my cock sliding out of her, and then
stood up beside the couch.  She offered me her hand, pulled me up
until I was standing beside her.  Quickly she took my place.

	She smiled up at me.  "If you do that as well as you describe
it, you're going to be hired for a job as a gigolo."

<><><>

	My wife interrupted my story.  "I don't want to hear about all
of the women you fucked.  Let's save some of those stories for
another night.  Just tell me about the first one, and about some
of the payments you received for your services.

	"There's no written record of any payment I received.  It's in
my memory.  Often the payments were in cash, delivered to me at
work in the office mail in an envelope with no return address. 
Other times I was told to go back to Mr. Ordon and my wardrobe
increased with some very expensive clothes.  On one occasion,
there was a Rolex watch.  The one that amazed me the most was the
time I received a letter from the BMW dealer that my car was
ready for delivery."

<><><>

	My first client was Claire's best friend, widowed less then a
year earlier.  Claire said that her friend had been deeply
depressed since the death of her husband and, even though she was
only 39, seemed to have given up on life and refused to consider
thinking of another husband.  Again, Claire made all the plans: 
I was to be her friend's fortieth birthday present.

	She sent me to Mr. Ordon again. This time he outfitted me in a
Navy blazer, three pair of pants, and three mock turtlenecks, all
light and soft feeling on my body.  I was sitting in the dressing
room in my white briefs when he returned with a box of underwear,
silky-looking boxer underwear in varying colors.  "Here, try
these on and let me see how they look."

	I hesitated a moment. He recognized my reluctance.

	He smiled mischievously at me. "I've been a complete
heterosexual all my life, in case you want to know.  I've been
married to the same woman for over forty years and we have three
children and eight grandchildren.  Mrs. Deland has been very
candid with me in all the years I've served her.  I know what
sort of services you're providing for her.  I'm told you have a
certain asset that will serve her purposes very well.  I'm
supposed to enhance the way it's presented.  I will admit I envy
you but let me assure you I'm simply doing my job."

	I stripped off my white briefs and put on burgundy-colored silk
boxer shorts.  It was easy to see the shape of my cock and balls
through the thin material.

	"That should tempt any woman," Mr. Ordon said. "Now put on the
gray pants".

	I did as I was told.

	"Close your eyes, rub your penis a few times, and imagine that
you're dancing, pressed against a woman."

	I did as he suggested.  When I looked down, I could clearly see
the beginning of a hard-on, the rim around the head of my cock
clearly visible through the gray slacks.

	"Perfect," Mr. Ordon said.

<><><>

	On Saturday, when the taxi delivered me to the front entrance of
what I knew was the most expensive hotel in the city, a uniformed
young man held the door for me and carried my one suitcase. As
instructed, I arrived at the front desk a few minutes before
noon.

	An attractive young woman was behind the desk.  I'm sure I was
blushing as I told her, "Mrs. Claire Deland said I should ask for
Kathy."

	"I'm Kathy," she replied, with a smile.  "Mrs. Deland has made
all the arrangements.  "Steve will show you to her room," she
said, handing him a key-card.  "If you need anything before six,
please call down and ask for me.  After six, ask for Roberta. 
Please enjoy you stay with us, sir."

	The room, I discovered, was a suite of rooms, with a large
living area, already set up with a table for lunch for two.  The
drapes were pulled back and the window provided a beautiful view
of the city. The bedroom was huge but the drapes were closed,
only one lamp providing a soft light. The bathroom had a tub
easily large enough for two and the separate shower could have
held three or four.

	I had just finished exploring the suite when I heard a soft
knock, a key card being inserted, and the turning of the door
handle.  I hurried to the center of the large window as I had
been instructed and waited.

Mrs. Deland entered first, followed by a tall, attractive woman,
a slim brunette. The other woman hesitated when she saw me, until
Mrs. Deland caught her hand and pulled her into the room.  She
led her friend over to me and introduced us, first names only.
Her name was Elizabeth but, Mrs. Deland said, always called Beth.

	Beth looked back and forth between the two of us, evidently
confused about my reason for being here.

	"I know I invited you for lunch for two," Mrs. Deland said. 
"But I wasn't quite truthful.  The lunch is for the two of you.
He is the best dancer I've ever known; I hope you think so too. 
And now I'm going to leave.  Just remember that it's your
birthday so unwrap the birthday present I've left for you.  It'll
only have one candle."

	With that, she turned and left the room.  Beth's mouth was open
but she seemed speechless, trying to figure out what this was all
about.

	I took her hand and led her to the couch, making sure that I sat
at the opposite end.  Mrs. Deland had told me of some of Beth's
interests so it was easy to start a conversation with her.

	At 12:30, there was a soft knock on the door.  When I answered
it, a young woman wheeled in a tray with a bottle of champagne in
a silver cooler and a tray of appetizers.  I opened the bottle
and poured two glasses.

	At 1:15, there was another soft knock.  This time, the same
woman wheeled in another tray with our lunch.  I took Beth's
hand, led her to the table and held her chair.  After the woman
served us, she left us.  At 2:00, I called the front desk and
asked Kathy to have the remains of our lunch cleared away.

	We talked for while longer, until I could see that Beth was
finally relaxing with me.  I walked across the room and turned on
a CD player on a table.  The music had a soft sensuous Latin
rhythm.

	"Claire told me you enjoy dancing. Would you do me the honor?" I
walked back across the room to her and held out my hand.

When I first took her in my arms, she held herself distant from
me.  Gradually, as she began to enjoy herself, she began to
relax.  Within a half hour, she offered no resistance when I
pulled her against me, my pelvis against hers.  I had worried
needlessly whether I would respond to her; I could feel my cock
begin to fill and grow, reaching a state of arousal limited only
by the clothing I wore.  As I pressed against her, I was sure she
could feel it too.

	The temperature in the room had been deliberately set a little
on the warm side.  I felt a drop of sweat on my forehead and
wiped it off with my hand.

	"It's warm," I said.  "Would you help me take my coat off?"

	She seemed confused but she did as I asked, tossing the coat on
the couch. As we began to dance again, I held her close pressing
against her with more urgency.  Her hand slid over the silk
turtleneck, over my arm and shoulder and chest. At last she
seemed to yield to me, burying her face in the area just below my
jaw.  We slowed in our dancing, hardly moving now, simply
pressing against each other.

	"Would you like to unwrap your birthday present now?" I
whispered in her ear.

	She looked up at me, indecision in her eyes.  "I can't," she
said.

	"You can choose," I responded.  "Claire said you were her
closest friend.  She wanted to give you a birthday present to
show you how much joy and pleasure there is in life.  I'm that
present and I know you've realized what she meant when she said
that there was only one candle.  That candle is burning now and
can burn many more times this weekend.  The room is reserved
until Monday morning."

	I could see the conflict in her eyes as she stood still in my
arms.  Finally she reached a decision and caught the sides of the
turtleneck and pulled it up and out of my pants.  I ducked my
head while she pulled it off me.  She looked at my bare chest,
put out one hand and ran it slowly over me.  I caught it and
moved it down to my belt.

	She unbuckled it, released the catch on the top of my pants, and
began to pull down the zipper.  I quickly kicked my shoes off
and, when she dropped my pants, I stepped out of them.

	She looked down at the white silk boxer shorts I wore, at the
bulge that my penis made, the rim of the head clearly visible
against the thin fabric.  I guided her hand down against it and
she gasped when she felt it, still held downward but just on the
edge of erection.

	I waited for her to take the final step in unwrapping her
present, trying to give her the choice in what she did.  And then
she did it.  She bent over, caught the bottom of the shorts and
pulled then down slowly, watching as the elastic waist slid down
until my pubic hair was exposed, then the base of my penis, then
the shaft, and, at last, all of her birthday candle.  I stepped
out of the shorts.

	She put both hands one me then, one cupping my balls, the other
wrapping around my cock as it quickly came into full erection,
swelling to full size and lifting until it was pointed up at
almost a forty-five degree angle to my stomach.

	I knew it was my turn then.  I began to undress her and in less
than a minute she stood naked before me.  She was still a
beautiful and desirable woman, with small breasts that hardly
sagged, a flat firm stomach, and a soft tangle of pubic hair that
hid the opening between her thighs.

	I bent down quickly, one arm behind her legs, the other behind
her back, picking her up.  Her eyes locked with mine as I carried
her into the bedroom, to the king-size bed, with the covers
already turned down.  I eased her down on the bed and then walked
back to the foot of the bed, looking at her.  Her legs were
closed, revealing little except the beginning of the cleft
between them. Her eyes were locked now on my erect penis and she
seemed to be trembling in anticipation or perhaps fear.

	I crawled from the foot of the bed toward her on my knees,
gently pulling her legs apart with my hands.  She yielded and lay
before me, surrendering now the most secret part of her body.  I
looked down at the soft mounds of her outer lips, covered with
scant pubic hair and at the closed inner lips, still pale, hiding
the warmth and wetness that I knew I could evoke inside of them.

	I stroked her gently with my hands, her flat, almost concave
stomach, her appropriately-named Mound of Venus, her soft thighs,
gradually moving closer and closer to the center of her.  When I
finally began to stroke the soft inner lips, she gasped and I
looked up to see her eyes closed.

	I stretched out on the bed, between her legs, slowly slid my
hands under her legs, under her buttocks, and lifted her up from
the bed toward my mouth.  When she felt me kiss her vulva, she
moaned and I heard her whisper, "Nobody's ever done that before."

	"Then it's time," I said.  "I wish you could know how much I
like to make love to women in this way."

	I started with my tongue, teasing the inner lips apart, licking
her on first one of the little butterfly-like wings as they
separated, bringing my tongue each time upwards toward where I
knew I would find her clitoris.  After a few minutes I could feel
her clitoral hood retract, as the little pea-size organ grew
engorged.  A few minutes more and she opened to my tongue and
lips.  I used my tongue, pointed, as a substitute for my penis,
and tasted the juices her vagina was beginning to secrete.

	I lowered her back down on the bed and then, lifting her legs
and placing them on my shoulders, I brought my face back down
between her thighs.  Slowly and gently I continued to love her
with my tongue, occasionally opening my eyes to see what changes
were occurring.  Her vulva was completely open now.  Her vagina
was still little more than a potential opening but it glistened
wetly with her secretions and my saliva.  Her vaginal lips were
engorged now, pinker, and her clitoris stood out, uncovered and
red.

	Again I lowered my mouth to her, seeking her clitoris,
encircling it with my lips, gently sucking on it.  I could hear
her breathing become more rapid and she began to softly moan.  At
the same time that I sucked on her tiny clitoris, I began to
flick it with my tongue.  Her hands suddenly grabbed my head and
pulled my face against her.  I could distinctly feel the
contractions of her orgasm.

	I stopped then and rose up, on my knees looking down at her. 
She smiled at me.  I moved closer between her legs and lowered
myself down on her, with no attempt to insert my penis into her,
simply letting it rest on her stomach.  I slid my arms underneath
her shoulders and, holding her head in my hands, lowered my lips
to hers.  She met me with an open mouth.

	I continued to kiss her like that for a few minutes, quiet and
gentle loving, moving from her breasts to her mouth and back,
again and again.  When she began to press upward against me,
against the hardness of my cock, I felt she was ready for the
next step.  For a moment, I started to reach down and hold my
penis until I found the opening into her and inserted it.  But
then I remembered Clair's admonition to let Beth make the choices
and that I should not take charge of the situation.

	Holding her, I rolled over quickly so that I was flat on my back
with her on top of me, her legs still spread, my penis imprisoned
between our bodies.

	"Sit up," I whispered.

	She did as I asked and reached down, as though she intended to
hold my cock upright while she slid down on it.

	"No," I said. "Not yet, just sit on it.  I want to feel you on
my cock while it's still outside.  I call it outercourse, not
intercourse.  I want to feel your lips open up and get wet and I
want you to slide back and forth on it.  See if you can feel your
clitoris touch the head of my cock, then slid back down until you
can feel my balls under your ass."

	I had to use my hands on her hips to make her know what I
wanted. She soon understood and began to move back and forth,
rubbing her vulva, open and exposed, against the underside of my
penis.  She looked up at me and I could see that this was a new
pleasurable discovery for her.

	She enjoyed the game for a few minutes, letting me play with her
breasts.  I could hear her breathing quickening again.  Suddenly,
she raised herself and I quickly reached down between us and held
my cock upright. She slowly lowered herself back down until I
could feel my cock head reach the depths of her and our combined
pubic hair blocked my view.

	I put my hands behind my head and simply watched her.  She had
her eyes shut, lost in her own world of sensation, content to
simply sit still, impaled upon every inch of my cock.  Finally
she leaned forward slightly and put her hands on my chest, at the
same time lifting her hips slightly.  She began a slow movement
up and down.

	After a few minutes, I became aware that I was slowly building
toward an orgasm.  I wanted to wait, to see if she could bring
herself off this way, but I knew I was rapidly losing control of
the situation.  I closed my eyes and tried to think of anything
but what I was feeling in my cock.  Thoughts flew through my
mind, each one fleeting before the onslaught of my impending
orgasm.  Finally I thought of an unpleasant assignment I had been
given at work, one that I dreaded, that filled me with anxiety
because it was going to result in hurting at least one or two
other people.  I must have smiled when I felt the urge subside
because I heard Beth whisper.

	"You're smiling like a Cheshire cat while I do all the work."

	I knew I couldn't sustain the thought so I opened my eyes,
grabbed her waist with both hands and roughly pulled her down on
my cock.  I could feel her pubic bone hit against mine but the
action had the desired effect.  I felt her coming, her vagina
contracting again and again around the base of my cock.  I
pressed her down on me until I felt the ripples die away and her
head fell forward, her hair almost obscuring her face.

	When her breathing slowed and her body relaxed, I put my hands
on her waist and lifted her slightly, to give my hips room to
move.  I deliberately tried to be as slow as possible at first,
savoring the sensation of feeling my cock sliding into her wet
warmth, knowing that she could enjoy the same slow strokes in her
own way. But gradually my too-long-delayed need for release began
to take possession of me.  My deliberate consciousness began to
fade away and I gradually became away of nothing but my hard cock
moving in and out of her.  At some point, I finally lost all
control and began to thrust upward into her as hard and as deep
as I could, desperate to satisfy my sexual hunger.  I could hear
her grunting or moaning, her face beside mine, her mouth on my
shoulder, her teeth fastened on my skin in what would have any
other time been a painful bite.  And then came the rumble, like
thunder, of the impending lightening strike of my ejaculation. 
As I felt the first spurt begin to travel from deep inside me out
of my penis, I pushed her down on my cock as hard as I could,
holding her frozen there.  I could feel each distinct spurt
trying to find room to exit my body, dashing against what I knew
was her cervix, the entrance to her womb.

<><><>

	"That's quite a description," my wife said.  "I think your
story-telling skills are getting better.  I certainly know how
Beth must have felt since you've done me that way more times than
I can count."

	"It's impossible to really describe what I feel when I fuck you.
 You know that.  Words can never convey sensations, no matter how
skillfully they're used."

	"Well, just tell me one more thing," she said, "did Beth succeed
in blowing out her candle?"

	"We didn't leave the hotel until almost noon on Monday.  I don't
know how many orgasms I had or how many she had.  But I know I
went straight home after we parted and went to bed after I had
lunch.  Except for a trip to the bathroom sometime during the
night, I slept for almost eighteen hours."

<><><>

	"Why did you stop working, if I can call it that, for Claire?"
my wife finally asked, just as we were curling up for sleep. "I
know you were getting your sexual appetite satisfied regularly
and being well compensated for it.  If I had done with men the
same thing you did I would have been called an expensive whore or
prostitute or call-girl.  But I might have done it anyway if I'd
had men for clients who were sexually attractive to me.  So I
won't pass judgment on you.  But tell me, why did you quit?"

	"Do you remember when you were hired by the company and when you
were introduced to me a few days later?"

	"Yes, I remember.  You had on that tan suit with a blue shirt
and a red tie.  I would never have thought that color combination
would look good on a man but, I'll admit, you carried it off
quite well."

	"I called Claire the same afternoon.  I told her I wanted to
quit and I told her why."

	"And what was your reason?"

	"I told her I'd just met the woman I wanted to marry."

TO BE CONTINUED:



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