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From: kellis <kellis@dhp.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Johnson's Heaven, Episode 1: The Interview {Kellis} MF oral talk
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Date: Fri, 29 May 2015 08:10:01 -0400
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Johnson's Heaven
by Kellis

Episode 1: The Interview


"What am I going to do, Sherry?"  Clara's voice was strained.  They were
sitting on the balcony of Sherry's apartment, enjoying the cool breeze 
at the eighth floor.

Sherry said sympathetically, "Well, you can certainly stay here tonight.
And longer if you need to."

Clara managed a chuckle.  "You'll let me stay here when your guy shows 
up?"

"_He_ wouldn't mind!"

"But wouldn't you?"

"I might and I might not."  Sherry studied her friend narrowly.  "Did 
you ever share your party partner?"

Clara blinked then sniffed.  "Yeah, but I don't like it if it's a 
woman."

"Then you might not have the right attitude."  Sherry paused 
thoughtfully.  "We can maybe fix that, but first let me understand your
situation.  You gave all your savings to Tommy then he ran off, you lost
your job, they repossessed your car and threw you out of your room.  
Right now you're broke and don't know where to find your next meal.  
Everything you have in the world is in that suitcase.  Does that about 
sum it up?"

Clara's eyes glittered with moisture.  She took a deep breath.  "If you
want to be cruel about it."

"Not cruel, just complete.  All right.  You do have some assets: you're
attractive when made up and you've got the kind of plump body that a lot
of men like: a curvy ass and lots of boob.  I've got a suggestion for 
you."

Clara took a tissue from her bra, wiped her eyes and stared fixedly at 
her friend.  "I know what you're thinking.  I am so not going back to 
that life!"

"What life?"

"I tried it for awhile to stay in college.  Some girls seem to like it,
but I don't.  It scared me."

"What scared you?  If I understand what you mean, men are no problem 
when you give them what they want."

"That wasn't it.  The problem was a frat party.  I found myself liking 
it too much.  That's what scared me."

Sherry chuckled in wonder.  "A frat party?  What was it, too many guys?"

"Not really, though that didn't help."

"Hmm."  Sherry smiled slowly.  "You had multiple orgasms at a frat 
party?"

"After about the fourth party I quit school and went home.  I was afraid
I'd ... totally lose control of myself."

"Really?"

"It happened to a friend of mine.  She was coming so hard she actually 
smothered to death under a pile of boys."

Sherry shook her head.  "That has to be rare.  Maybe you learned the 
wrong lesson.  You just need to stay out of gangbangs."

Clara shook her own head.  "They're worse than heroin."

Sherry sat up.  "But I wasn't suggesting that exactly.  Returning to 
that kind of life might not be so easy for you now.  This town is so 
uptight you'd just about have to find yourself a pimp."

"Forget it!"

"What I had in mind is simpler.  I know a weird guy who's rich and has 
an interesting hobby.  He collects videos of women, videos that he makes
himself."

Clara frowned.  "Artsy stuff?"

"Not exactly.  He interviews them, asking the most personal questions 
you ever heard, then has them strip and give him a blowjob according to
his rules, as he puts it."

Clara's eyes widened.  "You're kidding!"

"Not a bit.  It takes an hour or two.  He gives you nine hundred dollars
split three ways: one third up front and another third before the 
blowjob if you obeyed up till then -- that is, answered his questions 
with what sounded like the truth.  You only get the last third if you 
blow him exactly how wants it."

Clara thought it over without rejecting the idea out of hand, as Sherry
noticed with interest.  At last Clara said, "Almost a grand for a 
blowjob?  It was forty bucks in college."

"The street price today is about a hundred, so I'm told.  But yes, a 
grand for a blowjob and personal conversation.  And squeezing your 
boobs.  Sometimes he wants to look up your twat."

Clara giggled briefly.  "Does he play doctor?"

"Well, I don't recall a speculum."

Clara's eyes narrowed.  "_You_'ve taken his grand, haven't you?"

Sherry shrugged.  "So what?"

"So maybe you're all over the Internet."

"He says his collection is private."

"Does he sign something promising not to publish?"

"No.  What he does is set up the camera so that his face is in some of 
the scenes."  Sherry grinned slowly.  "Maybe it means that he shares the
vids with some of his friends."

Clara sat silently studying her hostess.  She sighed.  "I don't know, 
Sherry."

"Think what you could do with a thou free and clear!  And you can stay 
here awhile, if you like, while you look around."

"Could I ... go back to him for more?"

"If he invites you.  But you have to do more and he doesn't pay as 
much."

"Do more what?"

"More fucking than a blowjob."

Clara thought about it.  "What do you mean, 'a _weird_ guy?'  Sounds 
like all the rest."

Sherry shrugged.  "Long hair and a beard and he lives in a penthouse 
without much decoration, like he never throws parties."  She chuckled.
"At least, not for women he wants to impress.  I suspect his income is 
by EFT dividends.  Now and then he's out of town for a week or two.  I 
don't really know a lot about him."

"I've heard you can tell how pushy a man is by the size of his dick."

Sherry chuckled.  "In direct proportion, eh?  Well, in that case you've
got nothing to worry about.  Johnson's johnson is pretty much average."

"Johnson?"

"That's his name.  And his thing.  Let's make you an appointment."

"I don't know, Sherry ..."  Clara's voice was uncertain.

But Sherry took her cellphone from a pocket, selected a contact and put
the phone to her ear.  After a moment she said, "Johnson?  This is 
Tawney...  Yeah, with the butt-shaped birthmark on her butt...  That's 
right.  Listen, I have a new girl for you.  Her name is, ah, Millie ...
No, not Emily, _Millie_.  She's ready to be interviewed."

Sherry listened for a moment and chuckled reassuringly.  "No, I 
guarantee you'll like her.  She's got a shape and is really willing.  
That's your main requirement, isn't it?

"What?  That's awfully short --  No, never mind.  She'll be there...  
Of course she'll be prompt.  Okay.  I'll talk to you later."

She closed the instrument, returned it to her pocket and said to Clara,
"Your interview starts at three this afternoon."

"Three!"  Clara bit her lip.  "Will you drop me off?"

"Why not?  I don't have to be anywhere till Monday."

Clara took a deep breath.  "He must think a lot of you ... of _Tawney_.
Where'd that come from?"

"You shouldn't tell him your real name and address."

"What if I don't like Millie?"

"Don't you?  What do you like?"

"I had an aunt named Helen.  I've always liked that name."

"Then tell him it's your real one.  He'll be impressed with your 
'honesty.'"

"Oh, god, Sherry, I need to take a shower!  Do I have time?"

"If you don't dally.  Get a fresh towel off the shelf."


* * *


A guard sat at a desk in the high-rise foyer.  Clara stopped before him,
bit her lip and said, "I have an appointment with Johnson at three 
o'clock."

The man punched his keyboard, regarded the monitor and looked up at her.
"What's your name?"

"Uh ... Millie."

"Press P-for-Penthouse in the right-hand elevator."

"Thank you."

The button just below P was marked 19, suggesting the building had 20 
floors -- no, it didn't; 13 was missing.  Pressing the P closed the 
doors.  A fast elevator, it lifted with a heavy whoosh, stopped with the
sensation of floating and opened into the penthouse foyer.  She crossed
to the massive door and pushed the bell button.

"Come in," said an intercom voice.  A buzzer sounded.  She pushed on the
door, which opened inward.

A large room greeted her, sparsely furnished with two couches.  Its 
unadorned walls were papered with a pastel pattern and pierced by 
several doors.  The flooring was a thick blue carpet.  The far wall was
glass, looking out over the city.  A glass door opened onto a balcony.

A very large-screen television was playing on one wall, viewed by a man
sitting alone on the facing couch.  He killed the TV, turned toward her
and gestured.  "Come over here."  He had a baritone voice.

As she approached, she noticed three small cameras mounted on tripods 
widely spaced before the couch, but her attention focused on the man, 
who stood up.  He wore slippers and a bathrobe to the knees.  He was 
slim, of moderate height.  Long black hair was drawn back in a pony 
tail.  His chin was darkly stubbled, apparently unshaven for a day or 
two, but not bearded.  She guessed his age at 40.

He studied her approach.  When she paused several feet away, he said 
with a smile, "I don't bite, not hard, at least.  This is for you, just
for coming."  He took something from a robe pocket and extended it to 
her.

Closing the distance, she took the offering.  It was six bills totaling
$300, which she shoved loosely into her purse.  "Thank you, Mr. Johnson.
I need it."

"Good.  But just call me 'Johnson,' if you don't mind."

"Yes, sir, Johnson."

"Leave off the 'sir.'  You are Millie?"

"Actually not."

His bushy eyebrows rose.  "No?"

"My name is Helen.  But I answer to Millie sometimes."

He smiled.  "I get it.  'Millie' was Tawney's invention, wasn't it?  I'm
pleased to meet you, Helen.  Have a seat."  He gestured at the facing
couch.

When they were both seated, he contemplated her briefly.  "Helen, let's
discuss what that money buys me.  Did Tawney tell you what would happen?"

"She said you would interview me, ask a lot of personal questions.  If
you're satisfied with my answers you'll give me more money.  Then I 
would ... perform a personal service and you'd give me the rest."

The man nodded.  "That's most of it.  You must answer truthfully, 
however embarrassing the questions, and obey all instructions."  He 
gestured around them.  "These three automatic video cameras are state of
the art.  You may have already noticed them following us.  If you're 
interested, they use Doppler differences to locate motions.  They will 
record everything that transpires here this afternoon, picture and 
sound."

Clara smiled defensively.  "I don't know what Doppler means, but I think
I understand."

"And you accept it?"

"Yes, si-- Johnson."

"The money will be forthcoming when you've done what I asked."

She nodded.  "That was the understanding."

"Very well.  Please take off all your clothing."

Her eyes widened.

His smile was impish.  "Does that shock you a little?"

She took a breath.  "Sher-- Tawney mentioned it, but not that you would 
interview me naked.  Where should I put it?"

"When you're nude, you have few places to hide facts.  Put your clothing
on that chair.  And don't worry about getting cold.  I suspect you've 
already noticed that this room is warmer than necessary."

Prepared to depart into the evening cool when finished, she had worn a 
sweater.  Removing it along with blouse, brassiere, slacks and panties,
was a welcome relief.  She added her socks and sneakers atop the folded
clothing in the chair and padded back to the waiting man, arms swinging
at her sides.

He studied her body frankly.  "Very nicely fleshed.  What size are your
tits?"

"36C."

"With small nipples."  He chuckled.  "Which are crinkling nicely.  You 
have never born a child, I take it."

"That's right."

"How old are you, Helen?"

Should she answer truthfully?  Why not?  "28."

"That old?  I'd have guessed you younger.  Curious.  Have we met 
before?"

"I don't think so."

"And your weight?"

"140."

"Your height is about five-six?"

"Good guess."

"Raise your arms high."

When she obeyed, he nodded.  "Lower them.  When did you last shave your
armpits?"

"Today."

"And you were in a hurry, weren't you?  You nicked yourself.  But you 
didn't shave your pubes today.  They suggest you're a natural brunette."

"No, I didn't shave them today."

"Why not?  I doubt Tawney told you I like scratchy pubes."

"No."  Clara hesitated but finally said, "She didn't have the right 
mirror."

"And wouldn't do it for you, eh?  But of course, you were with her when
she called me."

"Yes."

"That didn't leave you much time.  Take a seat, Helen, on this facing 
couch."

She took two steps back and sat down.  Barely audible, at least two 
cameras whirred as they tracked her.  The man sat directly opposite her
on the facing couch.

"Open your legs.  More.  Spread them wide."  The facing camera whirred.
The man said, "It's taking a close-up of your ...  Helen, I know the 
Latin but I'll use Anglo-Saxon.  It sets the tone more accurately.  
Stretch your pussy open."

A white light came on just below the facing camera.  Though it seemed 
rather dim, the strands of pubic hair on the curve of fat above her 
vagina were glowing as if in sunshine.  Apparently it was a tight beam.

"Very good," he admitted when she had held the lips wide apart for 
several seconds.  The extra light died.  "I could actually see your womb
slit.  Now sit back and relax, Helen, and let's get down to brass 
tacks."

"I can't believe your eyesight is that sharp," she declared.

He chuckled.  "Look at the TV."  The bright light returned.

She twisted around to peer over her shoulder.  The screen behind her 
showed a naked woman -- herself -- partly risen on a couch to look 
behind her.  Suddenly the picture changed to show a huge ... vagina, 
fingertips stretching the outer lips, surrounding a corrugated tunnel 
centered on a pink doughnut with a slit instead of a hole, all 
glistening with moisture.

Turning back in time to see him lowering a remote control, she said, "I
understand."

Still grinning, he said, "The camera's eyesight is that sharp."

She shrugged then raised her arms and stretched them upon the back of 
the couch, deliberately elevating her breasts.

He said with an appreciative nod, "I'm interested in your history.  At 
28 that could be extensive.  How old were you when you first had sex?"

"Had sex how?"

"Any-how."

"Um."  She thought back.  It never occurred to her to lie.  "I was 
invited to a Feeling Party when I was eleven."

"A 'Feeling Party.'  Tell me about it."

"The idea was for the girls to ... basically, to frig themselves.  They
learned how to get the sexual feeling."

"How was it taught?"

Clara smiled.  "Well, of course it was very simple.  After everybody got
through the giggles and the blushing, the girl whose house it was let us
watch while she fingered her clit.  She encouraged the bashful girls to
do it too."

"Did anyone rub another girl's clit?"

"Sometimes.  Not at every party."

"How about cunt-licking?"

She shook her head.  "That was too strong for a Feeling Party, though 
some of my friends tried it afterwards."

"Did you lick a cunt, Helen?"

"Um.  Yes."

"When?"

"After one of the parties, when I was about twelve."

"Do you enjoy sex with women?"

She smiled again.  "When they lick _me_."

"But you don't seek it out."

"No.  It's ... incomplete.  It's just too obvious that women were made 
to be with men."

"An interesting point.  When was your cherry broken?"

"I was twelve."

"Who was the boy?"

"No boy.  My hairbrush handle."

"Really?  Did you know what you were doing?"

"I was experimenting.  Trying to make it feel better."

"Was it painful?  Did it bleed?"

She shrugged.  "Just a sting.  And I didn't notice any blood.  I 
compared notes with my friends and decided I was lucky.  I had a thin 
one.  Some of them had a hard time with theirs.  Huh!  Especially if 
they let a boy do it."

"So when did you admit your first boy?"

"I was thirteen."

"Did you suck him off?"

"Yeah.  They'd told me about it but it still was a surprise."

"The jizz?"

"Yeah.  I hardly got his dick in my mouth and _bang_!  It was shooting 
off.  Got all over my blouse.  Marty was always like that."

Johnson laughed.  "Very good.  I can just imagine it.  I'm interested in
one aspect.  How did that first jizz taste?"

She paused, remembering.  "It was odd, I thought -- not much taste at 
all, not even very salty.  Like very thin soup."

"Good, you're articulate.  When did you let the first dick into your 
cunt?"

"The next night."

"Were you on birth-control?"

"Yeah.  Mama had got the pills for me."

"At thirteen?  Why did she?"

"Because she knew I was just like her.  She was a hottie too."

"Did you enjoy your first fuck?"

"Not the first one.  Young guys just can't last.  But I made him put it
back in and I liked what happened then."

"How old was he?"

"Fifteen."

"Was he a jock?"

"Yeah, on the football JV."

"If you liked what happened, you must've gone back for it."

"Are you asking how often?  We fucked like bunnies."

"Were you true to each other?"

"Not a bit.  We had some awful fights about that.  We separated before 
the year was out.  I liked all the boys and they liked me."

"Was your second boy a jock too?"

"No.  He was a neighbor's kid."

"How did you arrange it -- I assume you were curious."

"Yes, I was.  I knew he was a latchkey kid and went to his backdoor 
after school.  It was funny in a way."

"How well do you remember it?"

"Blow-by-blow."  She giggled.

"Was that a pun?"

"Yeah."

"All right.  Tell me blow-by-blow."

She thought a moment.  "He came to the door when I knocked, looked 
embarrassed.  He was wearing shorts and I could tell he had a hard-on.
He goes, 'What do you want?'

"I'm like, 'To talk to you.'

"'What about?'

"'How about letting me in?'

"'I ... I'm busy.'

"I point to his shorts.  'With that?'

"He blushes but stands a little straighter.  'Then Marty was right.'

"'Was he?'

"'He says you like to suck dicks.'

"It was my turn to blush.  I go, 'That son of a bitch!'

"'For lying?'

"'For squealing.'  I pull the door open and step into his kitchen.  'You
gonna let me?'

"He backs up, shivers a little and shoves his shorts and undershorts 
down.  His dick pops right up.

"I go, 'That's a cute one.'  Already knew guys liked to be told that."

Johnson said, "What was cute about it?"

She grinned.  "Most dicks are cute.  This one was about the same as 
Marty, the jock.  You can't tell about a dick from the beef on the guy."

"Circumcised?"

"Like the other ninety percent.  I think it's a style, like women's 
dresses.  Does it feel better without a foreskin?"

"I don't know.  I refuse to endure the mutilation.  Some men claim it's
better, but that may only be sour grapes.  So how did you blow the 
nerd?"

"Kneeling on his kitchen linoleum.  Unlike Marty, Jeff didn't come right
away, even when I thought of squeezing his balls -- which does help, as
I later proved.  So I back off a little and go, 'What's the matter?  
Isn't it any good?'

"He's like, 'It's great, but we're in the kitchen.'

"'So?'

"'You'll make a mess.'

"'No, I won't.  I'll swallow.'

"His eyes light up.  'You will?  Wow!'

"His hips push his dick back into my mouth and he starts pumping.  In no
time I get a mouthful.  He groans and shudders but let's me catch it all
before he pulls out and gives himself a few pumps with his hand.

"He stares at me with a look that's almost scared.  'Open your mouth!'

"When I do, he's like, 'Where'd it go?'

"'Like I said, I swallowed it.'

"'Oh, god.  How'd it taste?'

"I had to laugh.  'Taste it yourself the next time you make some.'

"I brushed off my knees, went home and had a coke."

"Very good.  And well told.  This was in high school?"

"Oh, no.  Middle School.  That was just my second guy."

"And his name was Jeff?  How old were you?"

"Yes, Jeff.  I was fourteen.  He was a year younger -- a year behind me
in school, at least."

"Lucky kid!  Fourteen isn't unusual.  One of my interviews claimed she 
first tasted jizz at age eight."

"I'll bet somebody made her."

"I don't think so.  A neighbor, ah, gave her the opportunity, so to 
speak.  So Marty had bragged, had he?"

She grinned.  "I came to think of it kind of like advertising."

"You wanted them to know you'd do it?"

"Sure.  I liked it."

"I suppose they started pestering you."

"I didn't mind the boys.  But the girls!  They could be downright mean.
I don't think I had a real girlfriend anytime in high school."

"Did they call you names?"

"Slut.  Stinky jizz-mouth.  It got worse from there."

"Jizz does leave an odor on the breath."

"Sometimes, if I ran out of mints."

He laughed.  "How did you get along with Jeff?"

"He was my standby.  And he had nerd friends who'd come over after 
school.  I played video games with them."

"Yes," he said dryly, "I can just imagine your idea of a joystick."

She giggled.

"This was in Middle School?"

"Well, it started there but continued on.  Once you get started ..."

"I understand.  How many boys did you fuck, one way or the other, before
you graduated from high school?"

She blinked and slowly shook her head.  "I have no idea, Johnson."

"Guess."

"You want me to make up a number?"  She looked away briefly.  "Well, my
classes always had lots of boys.  I was willing to try just about 
anybody not too crude who showed an interest, especially the nerds.  
They could be surprisingly hot.  I'd guess ... maybe ... at least a 
hundred."

"Did you catch a disease?"

"Not in high school.  I caught the clap in college but the antibiotics 
still worked then."  She grinned.  "Oops!  Guess I shouldn't've told you
that."

He shrugged.  "It doesn't matter.  As you say, ten years ago the shots 
worked."

She sighed.  "You know, this is a funny experience."

"How willing you are to talk?"

"Yeah.  Like I'm bragging."

"As you said, 'once you get started.'  I suppose you've never talked 
like this to anyone before.  A girlfriend, maybe?"

She shook her head.  "Not like this."

"Hundreds of boys but no disease.  That's quite an achievement."

"Why do you say that?  Where can they catch sex bugs in high school?"

"I guess you have a point -- in all but the big city high schools.  Did 
you experiment with other kinds of fucking?"

"Other kinds?  Not much in high school."

"How old were you when you first took one up the ass?"

"Um.  Nineteen, I guess.  I was in college."

"And is that where you first did two guys together?"

"You mean ..."

"They call it a 'Greek Sandwich.'"

Her chin rose.  "How do you know I did?"

"I don't, but you started out liking to experiment."

"Yeah.  Okay, it was in college."

"Before that it was just one guy per night?"

"Mostly.  But not always.  I hung out with Jeff's friends, four of them,
one semester in high school.  They liked to do me one right after the 
other."

"Did you like that?"

"You know it!"

He chuckled.  "The four nerds were your only gangbangers?"

"Mostly."  Her lip curled.  "You can't get four random guys to agree on
anything, much less the same girl."

"That's been your experience, has it?"

"Pretty much.  Well ...  Until college, at least."

"It sounds like college really broadened you."  He grinned.  "That's 
what college tries to do.  Did you graduate?"

"No.  I quit before the end of my sophomore year."

"Bad grades?"

"Bad finances mainly."

"How many guys did you fuck in less than two years of college?"

She shook her head.  "I don't know."  She shrugged.  "A lot."

"Was your college in the town where you grew up?"

"No.  It was across the state."

He thought a moment.  "It seems your mother made it easy for you -- at 
least didn't discourage you -- in high school.  How did you keep up 
that level of activity away from home?"

"Well, I didn't, in the freshman year.  Everybody around me had a lot 
more money."  She grinned ruefully.  "And the place was full of hot 
girls."

"Did your finances improve for awhile as a sophomore?"

"Yeah.  For awhile."

"What happened?  Did you have a scholarship that you spent too freely?"

Clara took a deep breath.  "Actually I had solved the financial 
problem."

"How?"

She hesitated but raised her chin.  "Whoring."

He smiled.  "Ah, yes.  And that's how you caught the clap."

"That's how.  But I recognized the symptoms and got it cured.  And 
stayed away from that guy and his friends."

"Well, I happen to know a lot of girls pay their way through college 
that way -- on their backs.  Or kneeling or on all-fours, whatever it 
takes, eh?"

"Yeah."

"How did you like fucking for money?"

She shrugged.  "It was fucking.  I liked fucking.  Still do."

"Don't we all!  Did you have a cell phone?"

"That was before they were common."

"How did you solicit the johns?"

"Word got around.  They came on to me in the Student Union."

"I'm surprised you had time to study."

"I went to the union mainly on weekends.  I guess I was popular."

"All your johns were students?"

"Just about.  A few older men who were in charge.  I blew one professor
in his office."  She grinned.  "But that was for an A."

"And you were popping birth-control right along?"

"Religiously."

"So you had the student scene all figured out.  What happened?"

She hesitated again and decided to pass this question off.  She hadn't 
minded telling Sherry the truth, but she doubted any man would ever 
understand. She said, "I got tired of it, I guess."

"Tired of fucking?"

"So much.  They found out where I lived and pestered me there.  The 
landlady complained."

He studied her and seemed to accept it.  "That's unusual.  I never heard
a girl admit to dropping out of college because she was getting laid too
often.  I've been told that ...  Did it make you sore?"

"No.  Nothing like that."  She grinned.  "One of the other girls said I
had a cast-iron twat."

"What made her say that?"

"We serviced the same frat party."

"Ah, yes, a frat party, the Mecca for college whores!  How many boys?"

"A lot.  The largest was about twenty of them, I think.  They traded off
between me and ... Jill was her name.  More of them came to me.  It 
lasted for hours."

"Do you know if anyone filmed it?"

"I doubt it.  These were the sons of important men."

"That should've been lucrative for you."

"It was.  And really great fun!"

"Can a girl enjoy so many cocks in her body?"

Clara thought over her answer.  "If it starts out right, it's heavenly.
But if it's wrong ..."

"When is it wrong?"

"A gangbang rape, like those poor women in Pakistan last week."

"Huh!  Rape accounts for a lot of the sex in that part of the world, 
always has.  Some of the women must enjoy it."

Clara sighed.  "Maybe some of them do.  I've known girls who claimed to
like being forced, though I think they were actually just pretending."

"Pretending to like rape?"

"Yeah, tied to the bed with panty-hose.  Huh!  The professor I mentioned
wanted it that way."

"To tie you up?"

"No, no.  _Him_!"

"What did you do while he was tied?"

"Just gave him a blowjob."

"For which he had to be tied?"

"At the end of it.  I had to ignore his screams and keep sucking hard 
right on past his pop-off."

"Interesting.  He was a brave man."

"I thought he was nuts.  He screamed so loud we had to do it in his 
basement while his wife was at work."

"He wanted that more than once?"

"Every couple weeks."

"Did he explain why he wanted you to do that?"

"I think he was a masochist."

Johnson chuckled.  "Then you understood why, didn't you?"

She shrugged.  "I told another guy about it.  He said a dick gets 
painfully sensitive after coming, like a clit only worse.  He called it
'exquisite torture.'"

"He was right.  For some people.  Not everyone is so sensitive."  
Johnson paused a moment.  "So you really were a hot number, fucked a few
hundred guys before you were 21!"

"I ... guess so."  She shuddered slightly and grinned deprecatingly.  "I
sound like a reverse pincushion."

"Well, weren't you?  Not that I'm complaining.  It obviously didn't hurt
you, at least not physically.  You're a full figured woman who looks 
great, even inside her pussy.  Speaking of which ..."

She was sitting on the edge of the couch, legs still parted as per his 
last instruction.  He rose and came to her, leaned forward and inserted
three fingers into her after wiggling the labia open.

He grinned.  "You look nervous, sitting here, but I'm glad to feel that
you're wet."  His fingers pumped her gently, careful to compress the 
clit.

"I was nervous at first," she said, looking up at him with a smile, "but
when I realized I was bragging, I actually felt proud.  It's a first."

"Really?  Don't girls brag to each other?"

"I never heard them.  Maybe real whores do."

"You weren't real?"

"I didn't think so.  I never had a pimp."

His fingers had kept moving.  She shuddered slightly.

"I see you like this."

The front edges of his robe were overlapped, concealing the possible 
erection.  She thought of parting them to clasp his manhood but before 
she could act he removed his hand from her and resumed his sprawl on the
facing couch.

She felt a mild annoyance.  "Shouldn't I like it?"

Johnson sniffed.  "Of course you should like it.  It's just that I have
a few more questions.  How's your sex life been since college?  Did you
get married?"

"No.  I quit whoring and got a job.  With the boss as my boyfriend.  
When he got tired of me, I got another job and another boyfriend.  I've
had a succession of both.  The last boyfriend ran off with all my 
savings."

"Which probably accounts for you sitting there naked."  He laughed.  
"You lived with them and probably helped support them, I'll bet.  Any 
wild parties?"

"Not really.  I wouldn't talk about ... my past.  I did let one of them
bring his friend a few times."

"For a Greek sandwich?"

"Yeah."

He straightened up with interest.  "And you enjoyed it, didn't you?  
You're an articulate woman, Helen.  Tell me what it's like.  If you're 
convincing I'll give you a bonus."

She licked her lips thoughtfully.  "Well, it's anal sex and regular sex
together but a lot more intense."

"Mmm.  How about the first time you tried it -- was that in college?"

"Yes."

"Of course, I'm sure you tried anal sex by itself first."

"Yes."

"Tell me about the first time.  Did you have any trouble?"

She shook her head.  "In fact I asked for it.  The high school boys 
thought the asshole was too nasty but I had put my faithful hairbrush 
handle in there, then a mop handle, even a cucumber while frigging and 
imagining a dick up me also, so I was ready in college.  When one of my
johns couldn't come, I think because he'd just left another girl, I 
suggested my ass."  She chuckled.  "He was right on it, came in a minute
or two.  When I said it was my first time, he claimed it was his too."

"How did it feel?"

She shrugged.  "It's always just something working in your ass, not 
really sexy by itself."

"How about your first Greek sandwich?  Does one up your ass help the one
in your cunt?"

"You know it!  But it's not just the two dicks.  It's two loving men all
around you, so many legs and arms.  It's hot every way you think of it."

"I agree -- at least with two women.  Did you ever try more than two men
at once?"

"Yes."

"One in each hole, I assume."

"Yes."  She bit her lip, which he noticed.

"Hmm.  Perhaps _more_ than three?"

She giggled.  "You won't believe it."

"How did you arrange it?"

"At a frat party of course.  Two sets of three did me.  They had four 
guys left that hadn't got off, engineering guys.  They arranged it."

"How?"

She hesitated, remembering.  "One laid on his back on the coffee table.
I laid on top of him, boobs up and head thrown back, with his dick up my
ass and my legs held up by the guy I was sucking.  The second guy 
crouched between the first guy's legs, put into my twat and leaned back,
holding on to the third guy, who stood over them with his legs apart.  
That one stuck it in my twat along with the second guy.  I guess that 
sounds confusing.  It's hard to describe."

"I think I get the picture: one up your ass, two in your cunt and one in
your mouth."

"Right."

"Very good.  Damn few women have ever enjoyed that.  Did you enjoy it?"

"I would have if they could have kept it going.  That much men is ... 
oh, god!"

"How are two dicks in a cunt?"

"You need long ones for that operation."

"I'm sure.  But how did they feel?"

She shrugged.  "I was surprised it didn't feel stretched."  She grinned.
"I guess nothing compares to a baby's head."

"Which you haven't tried yet.  How about fisting?"

"That can hurt unless it's done right."

"You've tried it?"

"I let my professor try it."

"What about it -- does a bigger thing in your cunt feel better than a 
smaller one?"

"It stretches the canal more, and that feels better.  I can come 
easier."

"For some reason, few women will admit that."  He chuckled.  "You've had
a very rich experience, Helen, and you describe it very well.  Come 
here."

When she drew near, he put out a closed hand to her.  She took the 
contents, another $300, and hurried away to push the money into her 
purse.

As she returned, he stood up and threw off his robe onto the couch.  
Black hair crinkled on his chest above thick pubes, from the center of 
which a straight penis stood forth, uncut foreskin only slightly pulled
back, exposing the urethral slit.  Hair curled thinly around the uneven
ball sack.  She stood before him, staring frankly and finally raised her
eyes.

He said, "I presume you know what to do."

"Sh-- Tawney implied you like something special."

"I do, but it's not unusual and a girl of your experience should have no
trouble.  Fetch the cushion on that couch and kneel right here."  He 
pointed to the floor.

She got the cushion, dropped it before him and sank to her knees upon 
it.  The unskinned dick head hovered a few inches from her mouth.

"Put your hands behind you; clasp one wrist in the other hand and hold 
it until I come, which probably won't take very long.  Your tale has 
already stimulated me, you see."

"So I see," she said, watching the dick head with crossed eyes.

He chuckled.  "That's only part of it.  Being in total control, knowing
all will happen exactly as I wish -- that's the real stimulant."

Her eyes rounded.  "Tawney said you wouldn't hurt me."

He frowned.  "Not to cause deliberate pain, no.  But I am going to fuck
your mouth."

"Oh."

"As far down your throat as these six and one-half inches will go.  And
I want you to hold still."

Her eyes narrowed, but he thought they twinkled.  She said, "I might 
gag."

"That's all right.  If you do, puke on the floor.  The maid knows what 
to do with it.  Now open up."

He took a step closer and slid half the length of warm meat between her
lips.  Tongue and palate pushed the foreskin back.  He began a slow 
oscillation, penetrating a little deeper on each thrust.  Soon the 
slick, exposed head was parting folds in the back of her throat while 
pubic hair tickled up her nostrils.  She restrained a giggle, deciding 
not to tell him about swallowing the college boy cock that had measured
two inches longer.  Closing her lips, she added suction to the fleshy 
mix.

"By god, Helen, you really know how to give head!"

She giggled nasally.

"Oh, yes, oh, yes!" he declared, increasing the tempo.  Feeling the 
organ pulse, she drew a lung full of air, knowing what was next.

Nose buried in hair while testicles rested on her chin, she felt cool 
liquid spurting in her throat and ceased the suction but swallowed fast.
Hands closed on her head as if she might try to escape.  Loud groans 
penetrated her covered ears.  She suspected he was hamming for the 
cameras.

When the spurts ceased, the penis withdrew from her throat.  She 
reapplied gentle suction while her tongue laved the head.  He groaned 
again and shuddered.

"Oh, god!  That last thrill is good, but I can't stand it."  Out popped
the head, the motion having recovered it with skin.

"Open your mouth.  I want to see that mouthful."

She tilted her head, opened wide and thrust out her tongue.  The camera
looking over his shoulder whirred and something changed in its lens.  
Perhaps it was zooming.

His eyes flashed and he frowned.  "By god, you swallowed every bit of 
that big load!"

"Else it would've strangled me."  She sniffed.  "Do you mean you're 
disappointed?"

The frown faded.  "I guess that's reasonable.  It couldn't have been 
deeper in your throat."

"No, it couldn't."

"Well, it's certainly a neat way to fuck, but neatness isn't everything.
Although I admit nothing beats a chin buried in my balls when I'm 
jizzing."

She nodded.  "And a nose in your belly."

"More like in the pad over the cock.  Still, next time you should 
contrive to pop it out before it finishes."

"Will I have a next time?"

"Oh yes, if you want it.  That was quality head.  Anyone would like more
of it."  He sank back, naked, onto the couch.  She sat back on her 
heels, waiting for further orders.

He said, "Where did you learn to deep throat, in college?"

"Actually my four nerds taught me."  She giggled.  "One of their fathers
was into porn.  The kid passed around a magazine with a sequence of 
pictures, from all the way out to all the way in.  They bugged me to 
practice.  Learning isn't hard if you're determined.  Helps to like 
dicks in your mouth."

"I can imagine, thinking from your end of the cock.  From my end what 
comes to mind is that it's a pity the good part of a blow job passes so
quickly."

"You're kidding!  If it was more than a few seconds, some guys would 
shoot a cup full."

He laughed.  "Not a cup.  But that's not what I'm talking about.  I 
include the buildup to the climax.  Altogether it can last half a 
minute, maybe, from the first faint thrill to the last one.  But that's
a ridiculously short time, considering all the effort required to reach
the start of it."  He sighed.  "Even if you can persuade a woman, one 
way or another, to keep it in her mouth with the occasional suck, 
another climax is out of the question until you take a break."

He continued morosely, "Nature has been unkind to women except in that 
one area.  They are never more ready to come than when they just have.
That is so significant!  If women were honest, they'd admit it makes up
for everything else."

She laughed.  "You remind me of my pet professor.  We discussed it.  
Women usually don't notice it.  They're mostly content after a frig.  
And their men don't know how to encourage them.  The only way most women
would notice it would be if she had lots of hovering men.

"My professor would agree with you about honesty.  And go further.  He 
was like, 'If a woman wants multiple orgasms, all she has to do is take
on several men.'"

He smiled.  "You liked him."

"Yes, I did.  He'd go, 'I'm the fucking father you never had.'  And it 
was true; I helped him with his sex experiments."

"How soon could he get another shot?"

"He never had time to try that."

Johnson slid his buttocks to the edge of the couch, spread his legs and
pointed to his half-flaccid organ.  "Here I am, a new experimenter.  
Let's try it."

"I'll suck if you wish, but it won't work now.  You've already had a 
full climax.  Tom found that for best results you should always wait a 
day."

"_Tom_, eh?  I can't believe he would always wait that long."

"He pretty much had to.  The most time we ever had was a couple hours in
his basement before his wife got home from work."

"You didn't mind helping him cheat on her?"

She shrugged.  "Not a bit."  She grinned.  "Haven't you heard: if you're
with a whore you're not cheating."

"So you did think of yourself as a whore."

"Not really.  Mostly I didn't think of it."

"Not even in the middle of a gangbang?"

"Believe me, you don't _think_ in a gangbang!"

"Did Tom never do anything just for _your_ pleasure?"

"I wasn't the one giving out As."

He nodded.  "I suppose not.  Still, it's better when you try to please 
your woman."  His eyes twinkled.  "Now you think I'm a hypocrite, don't
you."

She shook her head.  "Well, you've certainly pleased me."

He studied her.  "You do need the money."

"Oh, yes!"

"And you don't mind the taste of jizz."

"I don't."

"Nor a dick up your ass."

"With a little K-Y."

"Or just cunt juice."

"Okay."

"And you might even like a Greek sandwich."

"Probably."

"Can you imagine anything men have not done do you?"

"Lots of things, but they hurt.  I won't do anything painful."

"You were willing to cause hurt to your professor."

"If you call that hurt."

"You called it 'exquisite torture.'"

She shrugged.  "Not I; a male friend."

"I take it when you come, you don't let him keep licking."

"I never let anybody tie me down."

He nodded.  "I understand.  Like you, I never trusted anyone that much.
Helen, are you looking for a job?"

"Yes."  She sighed.  "But do you mind if I sit on the couch?"

"Go ahead."

"Do you have a towel?  I'm a bit damp."

He chuckled.  "I think you like sucking a dick.  Don't worry; that couch
is immune to pussy juice.  If you're broke, you must be looking for a 
job."

She took a seat and let her legs splay.  "To tell you the truth, I just
got fired."

"For what reason?"

"My ex-boyfriend decamped with some of my boss's money too and made it 
look like I was the thief."

"I see.  Would you like some help to clear your name?"

She sighed.  "My attitude is, good riddance to both.  I'll get a bad 
reference, but I was tired of accounting anyway."

"So you need a salary.  How much per week?"

Her eyebrows rose.  "What are you saying?  Minimum wage is nine dollars
an hour, about."

"That's 360 a week for 40 hours.  How does double that sound plus room 
and board?"

"Doing what?  Never mind!  I'll take it."

He chuckled.  "Doing what you don't mind plus some more that you'd 
probably like, at least at first."

Her eyes dropped.  "I get it: fucking."

"A very select clientele."

She took a breath and raised her chin.  "Porn stars make a lot more than
720 a week."

He nodded.  "Some of them, plus residuals, but I can't afford that."

"Sher-- Tawney says you're rich."

"Not quite.  Affluent, maybe.  Let's both be frank.  I inherited a big 
trust that I can't touch.  I'm living on the monthly proceeds.  You're 
broke and would consider minimum wage.  If you work for me we'll both 
get something we want."

"A 'select clientele,' you said...  How about medical?"

"I'll include you on my insurance."

"How about taxes and all that?"

"You'll have to work that out with my financial guy."

She sat in thought for a moment.  "'Room and board,' you said.  Where?"

"Right here.  You'll live with me."

"I'll want to see everything."

"Of course."

"How old are you?"

"What do you care?"  He shrugged.  "I'll be 39 in July."

"Are you married?"

"No."

"You do know about marriage and the common law?"

"Yes.  Don't worry, I won't introduce you as my wife."

"I'd be the same as one."

"Two differences: you couldn't skin me on a divorce and I'll tell you 
who else to fuck."

"Suppose I don't want to fuck him?"

"Or her.  Nobody will rape you, Helen, nor take your money and run.  
They're the kind of people you're used to.  But I'm glad you said that.
If you refused to fuck without a good reason, that would be grounds for
dismissal."

"For failing to obey an order."

"As you say."

"Johnson, you can get women all over the city."

"Oh, yes.  Somebody said gold is the great seducer, especially when 
you're broke.  Back in the day when that guy was writing, I imagine 
shiny real gold was even more convincing than paper could ever be."

"Given your situation, why do you want me?"  She spread her hands.  
"Nothing special here."

"What I need, Helen, is an assistant -- a _fucking_ assistant.  Somebody
to keep up with my appointments and videos.  Somebody who loves fucking,
who is fun to fuck and loves to talk about it."

"Doesn't everyone?"

"Not the way you do."

"Can I discuss it with Tawney?"

He frowned.  "What's to discuss?  I want you to be more decisive.  Yes 
or no?"

"When do I start?"

"Do you have a place to stay tonight?"

"I can stay with Tawney."

He hesitated but said at last, "All right, but I want your answer now."

She took a breath.  "I accept.  I don't really have a choice."

His expression lightened.  He stood up.  "Good.  I didn't think you did.
Show up here with your things about ten tomorrow morning.  The bathroom
is over there.  Now get dressed and I'll call a taxi for you."  He found
his robe and took something from the pocket.  "This is yours.  And the 
taxi is already paid."

This time it was $300.


--Kellis
Stories gratis at www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/kellis/www

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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