From: Tommy@f26.n340.z1.fidonet.org
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: THC Adult Text Archive: AL&MARY.TXT
Date: 29 Jun 95 14:35:50 GMT
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The THC Adult Text Archive: AL&MARY.TXT (2315 lines)
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     I'm a freelance consultant in the area of computer software
     development.  Call me Al.  I normally work for large
     corporations on a contract basis for a few months per stint.  I
     recently moved to New York from the San Francisco area, and
     since I was starting in a new city where I had no business
     contacts, I was forced make use of contract placement
     companies, also known as "headhunter agencies".  These are
     middlemen who try to get contracts for people like me in return
     for a cut of the money.  They way this works is that after the
     agency gets me a interview that results in a job, I sign up as
     an employee of the agency, who then bills me out at a higher
     rate to the company where I actually work.  It's a sleazy
     business, but without more contacts here I have to work this
     way.

     I got my current contract through a smallish agency.  While
     working on this contract, another agency called me about
     another position that was somewhat more lucrative.  After
     interviewing at the new company, I was offered a contract.
                                                                               
                                                                                
      Now, my existing contract was a typical one in that it was
     open-ended and could be terminated by either party with
     two-weeks' notice, so, barring any major pay raise from my
     current job, I planned to quit my old job and accept the new
     one.  In keeping with my usual policy in these cases, I told
     the new company I'd sleep on the decision and get back to them
     the next day.

     I then left and called the headhunter agency that currently
     represented me to inform them that I probably was going to take
     the other job.  The headhunter there tried to persuade me to
     stay at my current position.  My early termination would mean a
     loss of revenue for the agency, so her reaction was
     predictable.

     However, I told her that barring an increase in my billing
     rate, I was going to take the new job.  With that she put me on
     hold, and when she came back, she explained that the agency
     couldn't get any more money from the company I was working at,
     but that Rachael, the owner of the agency, would be willing to
     take less of a markup and give me a raise rather than lose the
     contract altogether.  When I asked how much of a markup, the
     headhunter said that Rachael wanted to discuss that with me
     personally.  When I explained that I was going to make my
     decision by early the next day, the headhunter put me on hold
     again and when she got back on she said that Rachael would be
     glad to talk to me later that day, if I could make it after
     work.

     I was willing to do that, and so we set up the meeting between
     Rachael and me 6:00 PM that evening.  Although I'd never
     actually met Rachael, I had spoken to her on the phone a few
     times and remembered her as being businesslike, professional,
     and most important, reasonable.  I was hoping I could get
     enough money out of her to make it worth my while to stay at
     this job, since the new position, though more lucrative, was
     less interesting.  I would never admit that to Rachael, of
     course.

     It was Friday evening, and by the time I was able to show up at
     the agency the door was locked and everyone who worked there
     was gone except Mary the receptionist who let me in when I
     knocked and, presumably, Rachael.

     Now, I was familiar with Mary from all the times I had come by
     to pick up my paycheck.  She was in her early twenties and
     quite attractive, with shoulder-length, stylish blonde hair and
     a very sexy, slim body.  She was about 5 foot 2 or 3 and had
     firm, perfectly sized breasts -- not too large and not too
     small.  She was outgoing and flirtatious, and every time I saw
     her she was wearing very stylish and somewhat revealing
     clothes.

     That day she was wearing a silky, button-down blouse with the
     neckline open low enough to show off a hint of her gorgeous
     cleavage.  Her bra was either quite sheer or non-existent, as I
     could make out the contours of her breasts and nipples through
     her blouse.  She had on a calf-length skirt with a slit halfway
     up her thigh.  It was really tight around her hips and ass and
     was thin enough for me to faintly glimpse her skimpy, dark
     bikini panties underneath.  She had on a pair of high heels
     and, as always, wore little or no makeup.  She looked even
     sexier than usual, which is saying a lot.  As I often did, I
     wondered how she got away dressing that way in an office
     environment.

     Mary buzzed Rachael to tell her I had arrived, and when she got
     off the phone she said that Rachael was on an important phone
     call hoped it would be OK for me to wait 20 or 30 minutes.  I
     said it was, and Mary said that Rachael wanted me to know that
     she really appreciated me coming by and told Mary to do
     whatever she could to make me comfortable.

     She asked if I wanted coffee or soda or anything, but I thanked
     her and said I really didn't need anything.  She smiled and
     raised an eyebrow when I said that.  I ignored that and told
     her that since it was late she didn't have to stay on my
     account.  She thanked me quite nicely but said that she had to
     stay late anyway and work.  I made a sympathetic comment about
     Mary's bad luck at having to work late on a Friday, and this
     led to us making small talk for a few minutes.

     On previous visits I often found myself staring at her sexy
     body.  I'd always try to be discreet, but sometimes she would
     still catch me staring, to which she'd react with a coquettish
     smile.  As we sat there chatting she once again caught me
     staring at her, but this time she raised her eyebrows, licked
     her lips, and languidly turned towards me, slowly pushing her
     chest out as she did.  Although her movements were subtle and
     ambiguous enough for her to deny if confronted, this was still
     more flirty than she ever was with me in the past, and I choked
     on my words for a moment in surprise and arousal.  She just
     laughed sexily and then resumed talking to me as if nothing had
     happened.

     Now, this both turned me on and made me nervous, and I tried to
     hide my confusion and arousal as we spoke.  I doubt I did a
     very good job of it, but if she noticed, she didn't let on.

     After a few minutes of our idle chatter I had more or less
     calmed down again.  Mary finally gave me a fake-sad look and
     said in a deliberately childish, pouty tone of voice that she
     had to get back to work.  As she walked back to her desk, I
     could see her perfect ass straining sexily against the material
     of her tight skirt as she unabashedly swayed her hips.  I'd
     never seen her do that in my presence before, either, but then
     again, I couldn't remember if I had ever seen her doing
     anything other than sitting at her desk.

     Dismissing her sexy antics as insincere, immature flirtation, I
     plopped down on the couch in the reception area to find
     something to read.  This didn't prevent me from continuing to
     stare at her ass until she sat down, however.  The exagerated
     way she moved her hips was turning me on, and I decided to
     enjoy it while I could -- i.e., while her back was turned.

     Despite my intention to not take Mary too seriously, I couldn't
     help but wonder if perhaps she  was  trying to get my sexual
     attention.  For a moment, my mind drifted off into a fantasy of
     her slowly stripping for me as I watched from my vantage point
     on the couch.

     But then I sobered up and reminded myself that she probably had
     dozens of boyfriends and there was no way she'd ever consider a
     37-year-old, slightly flabby, balding guy like me.  I thought
     back to what life was like when I was her age, and I had to
     admit to myself that I'm too shy and nervous around women to
     ever have stood a chance with someone like her even back then.
     A woman as attractive as her could easily afford to be as picky
     as she wanted, and I'm sure she'd have no time for my
     insecurities and shyness.  I sighed and forced myself to stop
     thinking those grim thoughts and to just enjoy her flirting and
     her sexy body while I had the chance.

     And I was getting ample opportunity for that right then.  I
     guess she didn't have to man the phones after hours, and
     instead of sitting at the recetionist's desk she was working at
     one of the headhunters' desks typing on the word processor.
     From my seat in the reception area I had a really nice view of
     her profile as she sat there and worked.  I took advantage of
     the view whenever I thought she wasn't looking.

     Although she was quite a sight, I didn't want to appear too
     lecherous by just staring, so I looked around among the
     magazines nearby and tried to find something worth reading.
     The pickings were rather disappointing, and I was trying to
     figure out which of "Business Week" and "Forbes" would be less
     boring, when suddenly Mary piped in with, "If you want
     something more interesting you can read my 'Cosmopolitan'".

     I laughed and said, "I'm not sure if that would be an
     improvement over this shit."

     She gave me another of her flirty looks and replied, "Oh, c'mon
     now, Al.  Do you mean to say that you'd rather read about the
     stock market than to look at the sexy women in Cosmo?"

     Her comment caught me off guard -- she sure was being flirty.
     Covering up my surprise and embarrassment I answered, "Oh --
     you mean in the ads?  I must admit that I have a hard time
     thinking of a woman as sexy when she's blatantly advertising
     clothes or perfume -- or any product for that matter.  It sort
     of detracts from the whole thing, you know?"

     I was proud of myself for hiding my surprise so well with my
     somewhat glib, and actually quite honest reply, but my pride
     was short lived, as Mary quickly flabbergasted me with her
     reply: "Oh.  I guess I know what you mean.  So how about if I
     go downstairs to the newsstand and get you a 'Penthouse'?
     Those women aren't advertising anything ..."  her smile became
     devilish, "... and besides, they're naked.  I think you'd like
     that a lot better."

     I felt a wave of arousal and surprise.  Although she's a flirt
     and a tease, this was a bit much even for her ... at least
     compared to anything I'd seen her do in the past.  The only
     thing I managed to stammer was "Well ..."  before she turned
     towards me.  She lifted her hands to her blouse as if she was
     about to unbutton it, and she said, "Or do you prefer the real
     thing?  I'm not wearing a bra."  She paused, raising her
     eyebrows, and looked at me with an intensely serious and
     provocative expression and with her hands poised ready to open
     her blouse for me.  She kept that pose and just stared at me as
     wave of anxiety and arousal swept through me.

     I was speechless and must have looked like an idiot with my
     mouth hanging open.  After a few seconds that seemed an
     eternity, she slowly lowered her hands, and still staring at me
     intently, she said, "I'll get you a 'Penthouse'," and got up.

     I shook my head disbelievingly and stammered to her to sit back
     down, but before I could stop her she had sashayed out the
     door, her hips swinging even more blatantly and seductively
     than before.

     I was dumbfounded.  What was going on?  Why was she acting this
     way?  Mary was getting me sexually excited, but I was also
     getting nervous and scared.  I'm quite insecure about sex and I
     always feared beautiful women -- they always seemed to be so
     confident and so sure of their abilities to get men to do what
     they want.  And I have always been especially vulnerable to
     that sort of manipulation due to my sexual insecurities and low
     self-esteem.  What did she want, anyway?  I couldn't imagine
     she would want to be this sexual with me just for her own
     pleasure, and I tried to figure out what might be her ulterior
     motive.

     Could it be that she was working in cahoots with Rachael and
     was somehow trying to seduce me to stay with the agency?  That
     seemed likely, but I couldn't imagine what Mary would get out
     of it.  With Rachael, it was obvious: as the owner of the
     company she would profit from my staying on and continuing to
     generate her percentage of my take.  But what about Mary and
     her paltry receptionist's salary?  Did Rachael offer Mary a
     commission to persuade me to stay?  If so, did she tell her to
     use sex?  Or did she just ask Mary to be charming and is this
     all Mary's idea?

     I figured it was likely that Mary _was_ doing this for the
     agency for some sort of compensation -- probably monetary.  I
     got more than a little bit angry at Mary's manipulation, and I
     decided to give her a piece of my mind when she came back, and
     I started rehearsing what I was going to say to her.  But as I
     did, I began to have second thoughts.  Mary had turned me on a
     lot and part of me -- a _big_ part of me, I grudgingly admitted
     to myself -- wanted more.  I became quite scared as I realized
     how much I wanted her to continue with her manipulative
     seduction despite the fact that it may not necessarily be in my
     best interests.

     I kept trying to convince myself that I wasn't going to let her
     get away with this, but my heart wasn't in it and I finally
     gave up fighting myself.  I decided to just let whatever
     happens, happen.  After all, even if I decided to stay on at
     this agency for my current salary, I still was doing just fine
     financially.  And besides, I knew I wouldn't give up the new
     job just for some cheap flirting -- Mary was going to have work
     for her money.  I at least had enough self-control to hold out
     for that ... or at least I hoped so.

     So I began to get excited about playing hard to get and seeing
     how far Mary would go, and I tried to imagine what might
     transpire once she returned.  But then I had another thought:
     what if she was just going to give me the magazine and then go
     back to work?  What if I was assuming too much about her?
     Maybe she really _was_ trying to be friendly and that was it.
     After all, Rachael _did_ tell her to make me comfortable, and
     perhaps the flirting and the 'Penthouse' were simply a product
     of Mary's overzealous desire to be helpful.

     Or worse yet for me, what if Mary was indeed trying to seduce
     me, but suppose she just gave me the magazine and then waited
     for me to make the next move.  Most men would catch the hint
     and be all over her, but I'm so damn shy and insecure that I'd
     never have enough guts to try anything with her -- even with a
     lot of encouragement.  Making a pass at a woman is the most
     terrifying thing I can imagine.  A psychologist would probably
     say its a phobia with me, as is anything involving my being
     sexually agressive and taking those kinds of risks.  And so I
     feared that if she wasn't extremely aggressive, and I thought
     it quite unlikely that she would be, I would sit there like an
     idiot like I usually do in these situations and blow the whole
     thing.

     So instead of being happy with anticipation and looking forward
     to playing hard to get, my mood deteriorated to one of despair
     and helplessness.  This always seemed to happen with me when I
     had a chance to make it with a woman, and I cursed myself for
     being so neurotic.

     I no longer wanted to be seduced.  I felt so confused and out
     of control that I didn't think I could resist her charms and
     act in my own best interests any more.  I feared succumbing to
     whatever it was that she might offer me, and then agree with
     Rachael to terms decidedly to my disadvantage.  I felt naked
     and scared.  In the back of my mind I realized this was
     illogical, but my fear was so strong and I felt so vulnerable
     that I couldn't make logic prevail.  In a state of near panic I
     vowed to resist everything Mary might do.

     Just then the door opened and Mary flounced back in.  She made
     a point of locking the door behind her and winking at me, and
     then she plopped down on the couch next to me.  She gave me a
     lewd smile and started slowly reaching into a bag she had with
     her.  But before she got very far, I blurted out in panic,
     "Wait, Mary, wait."

     She stopped reaching for the bag and slowly lowered her hands
     to her lap and gave me a questioning look.  She stared at me
     patiently while I struggled with myself.  She didn't seem the
     slightest bit upset or even surprised at my obvious anxiety.
     Finally, under the pressure of her stare I started talking,
     trying to get her to stop flirting with me: "OK, Mary, uh, look
     ..."

     "Yeah?" she queried with a friendly smile.

     I was getting more and more confused and panicked.  All I had
     to do was to become cool, thank her for the magazine, and then
     ignore her.  But that sort of thing takes composure and at
     least some strength and confidence.  I had none of those right
     then, and so I just helplessly pleaded, "Like, uh, why, Mary?
     Uh, why are you doing this?"

     She looked innocently surprised and asked, "'Why'?  I'm not
     sure I know what you're asking.  Why did I get you the
     magazine?"

     "Well, uh ... yeah ... I want to know that, but also ..." it
     was hard to get to the point -- I didn't know how to say I
     suspected her of trying to seduce me.  What if I was wrong --
     what a fool I'd feel like then.  So I lamely continued my
     question: "... I mean, why are you ... are you, you know ...
     being this way with me?"

     "Well first," she replied cheerfully and without hesitation, "I
     got you the magazine because I thought you'd like it ..."
     ('Like hell!' I thought suspiciously.  'You got it to seduce
     me.  And cut out the fake innocence.'  But I didn't have enough
     guts to actually say anything like that to her) "... but I'm
     still not sure about your other question," she was saying.
     "Are you asking why I'm being nice to you?"

     She seemed a little hurt, but I didn't believe it.  I wanted to
     say, "No.  I'm asking why you're being such a slut with me.
     Did Rachael put you up to it?  How much is she giving you for
     this?"  But instead, all I could get up enough courage to say
     was, "Well ... yeah ..." I was whining "... I mean, you've
     never been this ... this nice to me before and ... and, well,
     I'm a little surprised and ... and, well, I guess I'm just
     wondering why."

     Never missing a beat she replied, "I want you to enjoy
     yourself, Al."  She lowered her voice and gave me a provocative
     look and continued, "I'm just trying to help."

     I suddenly noticed that despite my panic and anger, she was
     starting to turn me on.  She looked so sexy there right in
     front of me, and her flirty moves were having their effect.
     But I forced myself to ignore that and snapped back
     sarcastically, "Right.  And this is just all out of your
     altruistic love for your fellow man."

     She was totally unfazed by my anger and her demeanor became
     more serious, although no less provocative.  She calmly
     answered, "Not really.  I'm not a self-sacrificing person and I
     don't do things that aren't in my own best interest."

     I had thought so!  Her true nature just came through: tough and
     self-serving.  I no longer doubted she was in cahoots with
     Rachael.  "So what _is_ your interest here?" I snapped back.
     "Surely it's not because you want ... you want ..."  I started
     choking on my words, because I couldn't bring myself to say
     "want my body", even in the negative context I was trying to
     use it.  That's how deep my phobia about making sexual advances
     is.

     She kept her serious, provocative gaze on me and interrupted,
     "It doesn't matter what I want -- what's important right now is
     what _you_ want."

     Damn it, she was a pro!  I was ambivalent, caught between
     wanting to get out of there and wanting to stay and get swept
     up in Mary's apparent seduction.  If we started focusing on
     what _I_ want, she'd use my ambivalence to twist me around her
     little finger.

     I felt desperate to get off of the subject of what I want and
     said, "But Mary, it _does_ matter what you want, because ..."

     She interrupted again.  "No, it doesn't matter.  I'm _very_
     capable of taking care of myself and of getting what I want.
     You needn't be concerned about that.  All you should think
     about is what _you_ want ..."

     I felt weak and powerless, and I didn't know what to do next.
     I was actually trembling with fear and I'm sure she saw it.  My
     panic increased.

     Mary had only paused a second and then went on, "... and I know
     what you want, Al."  She stared into my eyes for a moment and
     she no doubt saw me weaken.  I felt a wave of despair as she
     said, "You want to see some pictures of naked women," and a
     wave of sexual arousal went through me.  Her expression told me
     that she knew then that I would stay for anything she had to
     dish out.  So much for my vow to resist her.

     She shifted her position on the couch next to me -- she got up
     on her knees and then sat on her calves facing me.  Her skirt
     was bunched up a little bit and it rode up an inch or two above
     her knees.  She reached into the bag, bringing out a 'Club'
     magazine and said, "I thought you'd like this better than
     'Penthouse'."  She tossed it on my lap, saying, "It's much
     sexier."

     I had to admit to myself that she knew what she was talking
     about.  I'd spent many an hour masturbating to the pictures and
     pornographic stories in 'Club'.  This masturbation of mine was
     quite private and quite intense: I would get lost in hot
     fantasies, sometimes for hours while teasing and stroking my
     cock, balls, and body.  I felt quite vulnerable and was
     terrified at the prospect of her finding out how much I loved
     to play with myself that way.  I was glad Mary had tossed the
     magazine on my lap, since I wanted to make sure she couldn't
     see the hard-on that was beginning to rise in my pants.

     On the cover of the magazine was a very sexy, shapely blonde
     woman wearing only a G-string.  Her palms covered the fronts of
     her bare breasts, but only enough to hide her nipples and not
     much more.  The crotch of the G-string was a small, frilly,
     black triangle that barely covered her pussy.  This photo
     turned me on quite a bit, and I made a mental note to get a
     copy of this issue to take back home with me that night.

     Speaking slowly, softly, and deliberately, Mary said, "She
     turns you on, doesn't she?"

     She startled me and I jumped in my seat.  Reflexively I said
     no, but Mary just looked at me like she knew I was lying.  Her
     gaze was strong and unwavering and I broke down and stammered,
     "Well, yeah, I like her."

     "So lets have a sexual fantasy with her, Al."

     I was flabbergasted and I looked up at her with pleading
     confusion in my eyes.

     "Come on, Al," she shrugged with mock non-chalance, "it'll be
     fun."

     I was terrified.  "Well ... I, uh ... I don't know ... maybe I
     shouldn't ..."

     She ignored my protests.  "I love sexual fantasy," she said
     cheerfully and with more wholesome-sounding naivete than I
     could believe.  "Come on, Al, let's have one now.  Rachael
     won't be done for at least 15 minutes."

     "I don't know ... how can you be sure that she ..."

     "I know, Al," she interrupted.  "Rachael won't be free until at
     least 6:30."

     I noticed it was then 6:15.  Mary's certainty about this
     reinforced my suspicion that Rachael and she were in this
     together.  No doubt they arranged for me to be alone with Mary
     until 6:30.

     Despite these thoughts, I still found myself wanting to be
     seduced.  This scared me, as a part of me feared what I was
     letting myself in for.  The conflict was beginning to drive me
     crazy.  "I don't know, Mary," I sighed.  "I mean ... it's nice
     of you to offer ...  _very_ nice of you, as a matter of fact
     ... it's just that ... well ...  right here ... is ... it's so
     ...  so public, and ... uh ..."  I looked down and let my words
     trail off.  I was paralyzed with indecision and fear.

     After letting me sit there like that for a moment, Mary
     suddenly said, "Al ..."  the fake wholesome sweetness was
     completely gone from her voice and she spoke with strength and
     more than a little sexual power.

     I looked up and when our eyes met she continued "... I can tell
     you like to have sexual fantasies when looking at magazines
     like this ..."

     I sighed defeatedly.  I didn't want her to know that.

     "... and I think you'd even like it better with me helping
     you."

     She waited for my reply, but all I did was sigh and gesture
     helplessly.  Finally, she went on, her voice low, sultry, and
     almost threatening: "You want to ... much, much more than
     you're letting on, Al.  We both know you'd love it."

     "Well ... I guess so," I murmurred.

     "I _know_ so, Al."  She paused, boring into me with her gaze.
     I squirmed uncomfortably, but finally decided to acquiece to
     her.  What harm would there be in looking at the magazine, I
     thought to myself as I hesitantly nodded my acceptance.

     "So look at her, Al," Mary said, the matter now settled.  She
     pointed to the sexy woman on the cover of the magazine, still
     on my lap.  "I can tell you like her." Her manner was slow and
     deliberate, and she never lowered her eyes from mine.  "But
     don't you want to see her naked?"

     I smiled sheepishly and nodded.  She saw my reaction but she
     pretended not to have noticed it, and she continued, a bit more
     insistently, "Wouldn't you like to see her naked breasts, Al?
     Don't you want to see her nipples?"  She emphasized the word
     "nipples" and pushed her chest out slightly.  The motion was
     subtle, but she did it slowly without lowering her gaze from
     mine, which made it impossible to ignore.  I couldn't help but
     lower my eyes to Mary's chest, and I then noticed that her
     nipples were erect.  I caught myself and quickly looked back
     into her eyes, hoping in vain that she didn't see me gaze at
     her breasts.  But she was just staring at me with a knowing,
     confident look that made me gasp.

     I suddenly panicked and looked away, down at the magazine, back
     at her, off into space, and back at her again.  As soon as our
     eyes finally met again, she said, always slowly and
     deliberately, "And don't you want to see her pussy, Al?"

     She paused, staring, and then continued, "Wouldn't you like to
     look up between her legs and see her crotch -- her naked cunt?"

     With those words Mary again made a slow, subtle motion, this
     time shifting her weight slightly so that her legs spread apart
     a little bit.  I found myself looking towards her well-covered
     crotch as her hemline rode up maybe a half inch higher on her
     thighs.  But I couldn't see up her skirt, much as I wanted to.

     Again I went into a panic as I realized that she knew I was
     staring.  I was getting quite scared, but also rather aroused.
     After our eyes met again, she said, always slowly and
     deliberately, "I know you want to see her, Al.  Here ..."  she
     picked up the magazine, revealing the bulge in my pants.  She
     made a point of looking down at it and then slowly raised her
     intent gaze back to my eyes.  She said nothing about my
     erection, but her gestures were enough to let me know she was
     aware of it.  She continued, "... let me show you where she's
     posing nude."

     She thumbed through the magazine until she found what she was
     looking for, and then she laid it back down on my lap.  The
     model was in a bedroom setting, totally naked, bending over the
     top of the dresser with her ass pointed out at the camera.
     There was a mirror behind the dresser which showed the model's
     naked breasts.  She was looking in the mirror right into the
     camera with a nasty, lewd expression on her face.  One of her
     hands was on her ass cheek, pulling it open.

     Never ceasing to speak slowly and deliberately, Mary said,
     "Look at her nipples."  She paused a moment and continued, "And
     what an ass she has!  Do you like her ass, Al?"

     Mary looked at me, waiting for a reply.  I was practically
     paralyzed with terror, but I swallowed thickly and managed to
     force myself to say, "Yes, I like ... it."  I couldn't bring
     myself to say the words "her ass".

     "What a hot fantasy woman for you, Al!  Imagine being there
     with her ...  staring at her naked body.  She doesn't mind ...
     she wants you to stare.  She's posing for you ... right there
     in front of you ... naked, spreading her ass for you.  See how
     she's looking at you?  She knows how much she's turning you on.
     She's telling you something, Al.  Do you know what she's
     saying?"

     "Uh ... no, um ... I ... I, uh ..." I stammered, nearly unable
     to speak but realizing that I was starting to enjoy what Mary
     was doing to me -- in spite of my nervousness.

     "She's telling you she wants you to take out that big, long
     cock of yours and jack off for her."

     I sighed nervously.

     "She wants you to, Al.  She knows how much you love to jack off
     and she wants to help you.  She does, Al.  She wants to play
     with her ass ... to fuck her asshole with her finger ...  and
     to look you deeply in the eyes and talk really dirty to you ...
     to tell you what she's doing to her herself ... to tell you to
     keep stroking that hot penis of yours."

     Mary paused.  I looked up at her, the beads of sweat starting
     to drip down my forehead.  She stared right through me.  I
     couldn't hold her gaze and I looked down at the picture and
     then nervously around the room.

     "Look at her, Al," Mary whispered throatily.

     I looked back down at the picture, and she said, "I bet you
     love jacking off to photos like this."

     I gasped and went into a panic, stammering idiotic-sounding
     denials: "No, uh ... not really ...  I mean ... well, it's not
     ... I ..."

     She softly but firmly interrupted me, just saying "Al" and
     staring at me.  I stopped my yammering and she continued, a bit
     more deliberately and intensely, "You love how it feels to
     squeeze and stroke your cock while looking at her, don't you,
     Al?"

     I started my protests again, but before I could say much she
     cut me off: "Don't deny it, Al.  I know you do."  She stared at
     me, waiting for a reply.

     I sighed and tried to deny what she was saying, "Mary ... it's
     not what you think ... really it isn't ... I mean, I guess I
     sometimes ... well ...  Mary, damnit, this is so difficult ...
     don't you understand that ..."

     She cut me off in mid sentence, ignoring everything I was
     trying to say.  "Your long penis feels so good when it hardens
     in your hand, doesn't it, Al?"

     Damn her!  But I was paralyzed with fear.  I hadn't wanted her
     to know about my masturbation, and I felt totally demoralized
     to see how much she was able to infer.  All I could do was
     stare at her with my mouth open, my semi-hard cock twitching
     under the magazine on my lap.  Despite my fear I was intensely
     aroused and mesmerized by her.

     She continued, slowly and deliberately, never lowering her gaze
     from my eyes, "Yeah, you love feeling it get hard as you stroke
     it.  You tickle your balls with the fingers of your other hand.
     You spread your legs wide and you thrust your hips in rhythm
     ... in rhythm to the way you squeeze your prick with your fist.
     It's all covered with oil and you slide your hand up and down
     your burning, hard shaft as you pump your wet, spurting cum all
     over her ass."

     I was trembling and nervously fidgeting under her gaze.  After
     a pause of a couple seconds she continued, "You love to do
     that, Al, don't you?"

     I looked down sheepishly.  She quietly said, "Look at me, Al."
     I looked back up into her eyes and she continued insistently,
     but still slowly: "You love making sperm come out of your
     penis, don't you?"

     I murmurred, barely audibly, "Well, I ..."

     She interrupted, even more insistently, "Yes you do, Al.  You
     love shooting it out all over the place.  And you like to watch
     your penis as your semen spurts out.  You stare at that creamy,
     white, thick sperm all over your penis, slowly, thickly oozing
     down all over it.  Your sweet penis gets so wet and slippery,
     and you love playing with your sperm on you ...  rubbing your
     fingertips in it, smearing it into your soft, slippery penis."
     Another slight pause.  "You do that, don't you, Al?"

     I was almost beyond resisting.  She had me mesmerized and quite
     aroused.  I managed to feebly protest, "Well ... no ... but I
     guess ... well, some of what you said, anyway, but ..."

     "All of it," she corrected.  "Every thing I described.  Don't
     deny it," she said over more of my protests.  "You can hardly
     wait to get home, open up the magazine to this picture, and
     take out your cock and jack off -- just like I just described.
     Don't deny it, Al.  I know you can hardly stop thinking about
     what your sperm is going to look and feel like all over your
     dick when you make yourself cum."

     "Mary, please ..." I protested feebly, the words choking in my
     throat.

     "It's OK, Al.  I understand."  She spoke more softly and
     kindly.  "Really, Al.  Now listen to me."

     She paused and I looked at her to hear what she had to say.
     "You're embarrassed and scared of what I know about you," she
     continued.  "Most men don't like women to know that they like
     to masturbate.  They think it makes them less virile and macho.
     Well, Al, I don't care about any of that.  Whatever you like to
     do to yourself is just fine with me, believe me."

     I nodded, although I was quite skeptical.  She went on, "So Al,
     I understand how nervous you are that I know about your
     masturbation, but I assure you I won't tell anyone.  Not a
     single person, Al.  I promise."

     She seemed sincere, but I didn't trust her.  I'm sure my
     skepticism showed on my face, because she continued, "No, Al.
     Really.  I really mean it.  I give you my most solemn assurance
     that I'll keep my word and never betray you."  Her voice became
     an intimate whisper: "It'll be our secret, Al -- our intimate,
     totally private little secret."

     She leaned forward and touched my arm.  "I'm glad I know some
     of your private pleasures, Al," she whispered.  "It's so
     special, so exciting to have someone with whom you can share
     your forbidden secrets."

     She moved really close and whispered very, very softly while
     staring into my eyes.  "Such sweet secrets, Al: all alone at
     home, nude on your bed, your eyes closed, your penis all
     covered with oil.  It feels _so_ good to slide your fist up and
     down your slippery, hard shaft ...  ohhhhh, so _good_ ...
     imagining that woman in the magazine ... that nude woman ...
     standing over you ... making you jack off for her ... making
     you pump out all your sperm ... such intimate, hot, _nasty_
     secrets, Al."

     All the while I was staring, dumbfounded.  She put her arms
     around my neck and said, "You love your sperm, Al," as she
     slowly brought her lips to mine and kissed me long and deeply.

     After she was finished she breathed, "Yeah, you _do_ love your
     your sperm, Al ... and your penis.  It's OK.  Don't worry,
     baby, it's our secret.  Your sperm ..."  she kissed me "... and
     your _sweet_ penis ..."  she kissed me again "...  are our
     private ..." another kiss "... intimate ..." and another "...
     hot ..."  and still another "... _nasty_ little secret."

     With that she pushed me back down on the couch with her on top
     of me, this time hotly embracing me and squirming on me as she
     pushed her tongue down my throat and passionately kissed me for
     at least a minute or two straight.  At first I resisted,
     however feebly, but soon I was tightly embracing her, fondling
     her ass, and grinding my cock against her willing groin.

     After I was drunk and dizzy with desire she stopped and got up
     off of me.  As I panted and slowly dragged myself up off my
     back, I noticed that Mary seemed totally unfazed.  She was
     quite calm and collected as she said, "Take off your clothes
     and masturbate for me, Al."

     Still recovering my wits, all I could do was feebly grunt an
     incoherent protest, which Mary brushed aside with, "I like
     having a man jack off in front of me."

     She gave me a slight leer and paused to let her words sink in.
     I would willingly masturbate for her, but not here ... not with
     Rachael around.  I was almost started crying.  "But Mary ..." I
     stammered, choking on the words, "... please not here ... I'm
     so ... I'm so ... well, I'm kinda scared and ..."

     "You're more than 'kinda' scared, Al: you're terrified."  I
     swallowed and nodded.  It was all I could do.  She continued,
     "I want you that way."

     I looked up at her, surprised and pained.  "It turns you on
     when you're scared, Al," she went on, ignoring my pleading
     gaze.  "Being scared makes you _more_ turned on.  Right?"  I
     looked down and mumbled that she was probably right.  "Don't
     deny it, Al.  You _want_ this ..."  she paused until I looked
     up into her hard gaze and then she continued, "...  you want
     this very, _very_ badly, Al."

     As she said that she put her hands on her breasts and slowly
     lowered them down the sides of her body, her eyes boring
     through me.  "Feel the fear, Al," she said after her hands
     reached her thighs.  She got up on her knees and leaned a
     little closer to me, saying, "Sex scares you, Al."  She grasped
     each of my shoulders and moved her face closer to mine.  She
     licked her lips lewdly and demonicly, and then said, breathing
     huskily, "I want you terrified, Al."  She cupped my cheeks in
     her hands and moved still closer, licking her lips, breathing
     heavy, moaning, and making facial expressions as if she was
     fucking me or masturbating.  I'd never seen anyone act so lewd
     and intensely arousing.  My cock was hard in my pants.  She
     then said, "So scared ... and so _hot_ Al!  Feel the fear.
     Feel how hot you are."

     She continued for a few more moments with this and then said,
     "I've barely gotten started, Al.  This is just the beginning."
     She sat back and looked down at my lap.  My erect cock bulged
     up in my pants.  "And look how hard I've got you already."

     She looked back into my eyes and said, "Take off your pants and
     jack off for me."

     I really didn't want to do it right there in the office with
     Rachael in the next room.  "But Mary," I pleaded.  "Not here
     ... not with Rachael ..."

     She interrupted, "Rachael won't come in.  She'll buzz me on the
     phone first.  Don't worry.  I meant it when I said I wouldn't
     betray your secret.  She'll call and I'll just tell her you're
     in the bathroom ..."  she paused for emphasis "... pissing."
     She hissed out the word and then licked her lips.

     She paused for a moment, staring, and then continued, "It
     wouldn't be far from the truth, you know."  Another pause.  "I
     mean ... if you _were_ in the bathroom, you'd be holding your
     cock and watching your hot _piss_ stream out -- and that's what
     you're going to be doing here, Al -- except it won't be piss,
     of course."

     She got up and went to the chair across from me and sat in it,
     facing me.  She said, just as slowly and deliberately as ever,
     "Now masturbate for me."  I still did nothing, and she
     continued calmly, "I know you want to."  A short pause.
     "You've been staring at my breasts all night."  Another pause.
     "I'm going to play with them while you jack off."  Always
     staring into my eyes, she slowly unbuttoned her blouse and let
     it hang open.  She raised her hands to her breasts and slowly
     began to caress and tease them.

     "Touch your dick, Al," she said, but I still tried to protest.
     "Tease it ...  tickle it ... come on ... I know you love how it
     feels in your hand.  Don't you want to hold your penis, Al?
     Look at my nipples -- all erect and hard like that hard meat of
     yours.  I know how sensitive your penis gets when its hard like
     this. Come on, Al," she begged mockingly, still squeezing and
     caressing her breasts as she stared into my eyes.  "I know how
     badly you want to slide your hand up and down that rigid prick
     of yours ... milking pleasure into it ...  milking the cum out
     ...  _squeeeeezing_ it so good like you love to do."

     I still was struggling between wanting to run away and hide and
     taking out my cock and furiously stroking it for her, and I did
     nothing.  She stopped rubbing her breasts and said, "Maybe I
     should show you how to do it, Al."  She reached into her purse
     and brought out a rubber, two-headed dildo.  Its color,
     texture, and look were quite lifelike, although it was at least
     a foot long.  She put it down next to her on the chair and then
     unzipped her skirt about halfway up and opened it wide.

     Never lowering her gaze from my eyes, she slowly spread her
     legs, exposing her naked crotch, and she said, "I took my
     panties off when I went out to get you your jack-off book, Al.
     Look at my hairy cunt."  I noticed that she wasn't a real
     blonde, but it didn't matter.  The sight of the dark pubic hair
     covering her moist pussy really turned me on.

     She picked up the dildo and held it out for me to see.  "This
     is _my_ penis," she said in her slow, deliberate manner.
     "Watch me play with it."  With that she grasped it around the
     shaft with her two hands so that both of its heads were
     visible.  She slowly lowered it down her body, rubbing one of
     the heads against her breasts and nipples, and then her
     stomach, groin, and to her pussy.  All this time she kept
     intensely, seductively gazing into my eyes.  I was mesmerized
     by her.

     She then positioned one of its heads between her legs, and
     holding it completely still with the other head pointed out at
     me, she pushed it inside of her by slowly grinding and gyrating
     her hips.  Keeping a firm grasp on it with both hands, she
     began to fuck herself with it solely by moving her body -- not
     the dildo.  Never lowering her gaze from my eyes, she slowly
     and deliberately bumped and grinded, the now moist end of the
     dildo pushing rhythmically, hotly, and hypnotically in and out
     of her grasping pussy.  After a short while, she increased the
     pace of her gyrations, but not too fast and still very
     deliberately so as to maximize the effect she was having on me
     as I watched her.

     All the while she kept her eyes glued to mine, and I found it
     more and more difficult to resist stroking my cock as I watched
     her sexily writhe before me, the dildo sliding in and out of
     her thrusting crotch.  Soon she said, "Look at my cock, Al.
     See it sliding in and out of my cunt."  With that she lifted
     herself up slightly so that only the head of was in her, and
     she rotated her hips, making the dildo bend and squirm.  She
     said, "Oooooooh, _fuck_ me!" and sat back down so that the
     dildo slid way up in her.  She repeated that sequence a few
     times, each time making me less and less able to resist
     touching and squeezing my own cock.

     Then, she stopped and let go of the end.  About half of the
     dildo was in her, leaving about 6 inches or so sticking out.
     The lifelike dildo looked like a cock sticking out of her.  She
     just sat there for a minute so I could stare at her.

     Then, she squirmed out of her blouse and stood up, unzipping
     her skirt the rest of the way and tossing it on the chair
     behind her.  She was totally naked now except for her
     high-heeled shoes and the end of the dildo sticking out of her.
     "Look at my cock, Al," she said, reaching down with one hand
     and lightly tickling the shaft and head of the dildo with her
     fingers.  "It's so sexy, isn't it?"

     It indeed was, but as soon as I realized that, a wave of fear
     shot through me: that penis-like thing turned me on, and I
     suddenly worried about being gay.  This homophobic fear had a
     strange effect on me: it aroused me intensely -- much, much
     more than I could sublimate or deny.  The more I realized how
     much I liked looking at that penis, the more aroused I became
     in my fear.  My cock grew rigid and pushed the front of my
     pants out noticibly.

     Mary seemed to be aware of the effect this was having on me.
     "Look at my penis, Al," she said.  She moved her hips from side
     to side, causing the cock to shake, too.  Watching it wiggle, I
     felt a palpable surge pulsate through my penis and groin.  I'd
     never before experienced such a pronounced reaction in my penis
     without touching it.  It felt as if I could almost cum just
     from watching Mary sexily making her penis-like thing move for
     me.  This homosexual response scared the hell out of me, and my
     arousal grew with my anxiety.

     "Let's touch our cocks together, Al," Mary was saying.  "Come
     on," she said with a seductive, mock-pleading tone, "Don't you
     want to get nude with me and rub our penises together?"

     I was beyond speech by this point.  Besides, I'm sure Mary
     intended it to be a rhetorical question.

     "I want to touch the head of your dick with mine," she
     continued.  "Ohhhh, yeah -- so good, so hot -- right on the tip
     where your sperm comes out ...  yeah!  Just sorta ... _push_
     'em together ..."  She moved her hips to illustrate how she was
     going to push.  Another spasm went through my penis and groin,
     this time causing me to close my eyes and moan sharply with
     pleasure.

     "Oh _yeah_ Al," she panted seductively.  "Feels so damn good
     inside your dick, eh?  Well this ain't nothin', Al.  We've
     barely gotten started."

     I smiled weakly.

     "Now get up and get nude," she demanded suddenly. "_Now_ Al!"
     she ordered, when she saw that I was still hesitating.  I was
     no longer able to do anything but obey her.  As I nervously
     fumbled with my shoes, socks, pants, shirt and finally my
     underwear, Mary was saying, "I want to rub the head of my cock
     down your shaft ... yeah ... to your balls ... oh yeah, it
     feels so good to rub our penises together ... I'll push my head
     right there on the base of your cock ... right there where the
     bottom of your penis meets your balls ... I'll rub it right
     there, right where you first feel your cum flowing up the
     inside of your dick ... push a little there ...  then slide it
     back up the underside of your penis to right under the rim ...
     on the bottom there right where it meets your shaft ...  and
     push on it there a little, too ..."

     She removed the dildo, turned it around, and put it back inside
     of her with the heads reversed.  The one that was previously in
     her was now pointing at me -- I could see it shine with her
     juices.

     "It's all wet now, Al.  My hot penis is all wet and slippery
     for you ...  so slippery against your dick, Al.  Come on, damn
     it!" she said insistently, "Hurry up and take off those
     underpants and come over here," her voice was filled with
     seductive, mock urgency. "I can't stand it any more -- hurry up
     and let me rub my hot, wet dick against yours ... yeah ...  so
     slippery and throbbing ... oh hurry ... rub your cock on mine
     ...  PLEASE!"

     I was finally out of my clothes and I stumbled to her ... I was
     dizzy with lust and couldn't stand well.  "You're too tall for
     me," she hissed, as she stood up on her toes and pretended to
     be surprised that our penises still could barely touch.  "My
     dick won't reach yours, damnit!  Lie down on the floor ... on
     your back ... I want to kneel over you and rub _dicks_", lewdly
     emphasizing the word "dicks" by leeringly licking her lips as
     she hissed out the word.

     I was on my back in a flash and she was soon straddling me on
     all fours, her dildo poised right above my rigid, throbbing
     penis.  Lowering it down against mine, she did pretty much what
     she said she would: first she pushed its head against mine and
     bounced very, very slightly.  The sensations made me gasp so
     loudly it was almost a yell.

     She then just started moving her hips from side to side,
     causing the dildo to rub and glide against my penis.  Our
     shafts would meet and the slippery sensations drove me wild.
     While she did this, she was rhythmically speaking in a low,
     chanting, seductive whisper: "... ohhhhh ... rub it ...  yeah
     ...  so hot ... the shaft ... oh, oh! ... yeah ... slippery hot
     penis against mine ... your big penis ... look at our penises,
     Al ... yeah ...  so hot ... makes you spasm ... yeah ...  penis
     spasm ... yeah ... such a long hard dick, Al ... rub our dicks
     together ... please! ... oh, yeah ... you love dicks so much,
     Al ... oh yeah ... my dick makes you so hot ... so long and
     hard ... throbbing ..."

     She then leaned down and rested her chest on mine, holding my
     arms down with hers.  But she was still kneeling, her ass up in
     the air and her dildo still rubbing against my increasingly
     aroused cock.  Rubbing her breasts against my chest as well,
     and looking me deep in the eye from just a few inches away, she
     said with a mock pout, "Oh baby, my dick is getting dry."  It
     indeed was.  "Make it wet for me, honey.  Please!  Please cum
     on my dick."  She moved so that the head of her dildo was at
     the base of my cock and its shaft was against my balls.  Slowly
     sliding the head of her penis-thing up the length of my shaft,
     she moaned, "I want your _sperm_ all over my big, long, huge,
     throbbing DICK!"

     Just as she said "DICK", the head of her dildo reached that
     spot she described on the underside of my penis, right where
     the shaft meets the rim.  With that, I felt the first hot,
     burning load of semen flowing up my penis and exploding out of
     the head.  As spasm after spasm of cum gushed out of me, Mary
     kept lightly pushing and sliding her dildo all over my penis.

     "Oh yeah!" she was panting in time with my spasms and moans.
     "Gimme your sperm, Al.  All over my hot dick.  Yeah!  Cum all
     over my penis, Al.  Ohhhh, so wet and hot.  Yeah!  More!  Such
     a hot penis ... such a turnon for you to see and feel my penis
     all over yours ... oh yeah ... you love my penis ...  you love
     looking at it ... you love feeling it ... and you really love
     cumming all over it ... oh, what a sweet penis boy you are!"


	As I came, I closed my eyes, arched my back, and tried to push
	my cock up against Mary's dildo.  But she kept wiggling and
	sliding it all over my penis, which teasingly kept me yearning
	for more.  Even after I was spent, I felt like I hadn't really 
	finished.  I yearned to squeeze my cock in my fist and tightly
	pump it to satisfaction as I was accustomed to doing when
	masturbating, but Mary was leaning on my arms and I couldn't
	move them.

	After a while, I had drifted into a pleasant, post-orgasmic
	daze.  In the back of my mind I felt Mary get up off of me, but
	I was half asleep and just lay there.  As I sleepily reflected
	on Mary's expert attentions, I noticed that every time I
	pictured her with the penis-like dildo sticking out of her, I'd
	become aware of a faraway feeling of arousal.  I'd experience
	the same feeling when visualizing my own cock.  Somehow, Mary
	had gotten me to be much more interested in and focused on
	penises than I had ever been before.
                                                      
                                                          
	I still had a homophobic reaction to all this, but I managed to
	rationalize it away by telling myself that being turned on by
	my _own_ penis isn't homosexual, nor is being turned on by a
	woman with a fake penis.

	"Don't fall asleep, Al."

	Mary's voice startled me from my reverie.  I shook myself awake
	and looked up.  She was holding her blouse in her hand and had
	already put her skirt back on, and she stood over me, her naked
	breasts hanging over my head.

	She jiggled them and laughed slightly, as if thinking of a
	private joke, and then asked, "How does your penis feel?"

	I reflexively looked at it, noticing the semen all over it and
	my groin.  The sight of it sent another vague sensation of
	arousal through me, and for a second I just stared at it.  I
	really liked looking at it.  Suddenly, I remembered that Mary
	had asked me a question.  I quickly looked back up at her and
	said, "Oh ... uh, wow!  It feels _really_ good!"

	Although I had only paused a second, Mary must have noticed my
	reaction to seeing my cock, because she ignored my reply and
	said, "See how much it turns you on now, Al?  I doubt that the
	sight of your penis ever got you _this_ hot before."  She
	paused and wiggled her breasts again.  "And don't worry, Al,"
	she continued.  "This'll be our secret.  Our hot, _nasty_
	little secret."

	As she spoke, Mary began to lightly rub and twist her nipples
	with her fingers.  I stared raptly at her as she did this.
	"They'd feel really good on your balls ..." she continued, "...
	and in your ass hole.  I'd like to fuck you in the ass with my
	nipple, Al."

	As I kept staring, she silently continued to play with her
	nipples above me until after a minute or so she suddenly
	stopped and said, "Now you'd better get dressed.  Rachael
	should be off her phone call any minute now.  Here," she said,
	reaching into her purse and tossing me her panties, "wipe your
	cum off of yourself with these."

	I again snapped out of my reverie, dragged myself upright, and
	wiped off my semen as best I could.  She took the panties back
	when I was done, saying with a wink, "I'll keep these for you,
	Al.  Later on we'll have some more fun with them."

	"Uh, oh, OK," I mumbled absently and started dressing.  I felt
	exhausted and quite fuzzy-headed, and I became quite nervous
	about my meeting with Rachael.  I couldn't think clearly enough
	to negotiate well, and I was extremely worried about the likely
	possibility that Rachael put Mary up to her seduction of me.  I
	felt out of control and vulnerable.

	Suddenly, Mary's statements sunk in a little: she seemed to be
	saying that she had more in store for me.  As I buttoned my
	shirt and tied my tie, I asked, "Uh, Mary, uh -- you kind of
	implied that ...  that, well ... that there's more stuff we
	could do ... I mean, I _think_ that's what it sounded like ..."

	She was buttoning her blouse.  "You want more?" she asked,
	sounding cold and detached, but with a hint of invitation in
	her voice -- a bit like a whore fishing for more business.

	"Well ... yeah ... I, uh ... I mean, I'd _like_ to ... to maybe
	do some more with you ... I mean ... I mean if you want to ...
	uh, you seemed to imply that ..."

	"Well, Al," she interrupted, somewhat more warmly but still
	with unmistakable whorishness.  "I'm sure we can work something
	out ...  under the right circumstances I'm willing to do a
	whole lot more with you."  She smiled and her voice became more
	friendly.  "But for now, hurry up and get dressed," she
	continued.  "We can discuss it later -- I'm not going anywhare.
	You should go into the bathroom and clean up a little.  I'll
	tell Rachael you'll be right back if she calls.  Now hurry ...
	and unlock the door so you can get back in."

	I was still too dazed to think very clearly, so I just followed
	Mary's orders and went into the bathroom to wash up.  Once
	there, I noticed that I didn't look as dissheveled as I had
	feared.  My clothes had stayed pretty much unwrinkled because
	I'd taken them off before getting down on the floor, and all I
	had to do was wash my face and comb down my hair before I
	looked more or less normal.

	The cold water on my face helped to get me back to an
	acceptable level of lucidity, and I was then able to reflect on
	everything that had happened since I arrived.  I began to fear
	my meeting with Rachael -- if she and Mary were working
	together on this, I reflected, who knows what she'd lay on me
	in this meeting.

	Actually, I had a way out -- I could just go home right then,
	skipping out on the meeting.  The thought was tempting, but not
	as tempting as Mary, who had seemed to promise further sex with
	me.  Her whorish attitude led me to wonder if perhaps she was
	some sort of hooker.  I actually hoped she was, because I had
	more confidence that I could get what I want from a woman if
	its for money than for any other reason.  The prospect of
	somehow arranging more hot sex with Mary after my meeting with
	Rachael was the only thing that kept me from running away.
	Besides, I was feeling well enough to go through with the
	negotiations -- or so I told myself as I walked back to the
	office to face Rachael.

	Back in the agency, Mary told me that Rachael was done and
	would meet me in the conference room.  She led through the main
	office into a corridor, her hips swaying seductively as usual.
	As I followed her, I pictured the conference room as one of
	those that are typically found in small offices such as this
	one: a room slightly larger than a large office with a table
	and a few chairs, and perhaps an overhead projector or
	something similar.

	So I was quite surprised when Mary unlocked a door at the end
	of the corridor and motioned me to follow her inside.  The
	conference room indeed had a table and chairs, and even an
	overhead projector in a corner, but it was much bigger -- and
	much plusher -- than I expected.  It was more elegantly
	decorated than any conference room I had ever seen, even in the
	biggest of corporations.  If it wasn't for the long table taking up
	maybe half of the room, it would have looked more like a plush
	living room in an expensive home than a conference room.

	I gaped at the thick carpeting, the overstuffed chairs, the
	lamps, the two large couches, the wide-screen TV, and
	especially the bar against one wall.

	"What's the matter?"  Mary asked, a playful expression on her
	face.  "You don't approve?"

	"No, not at all.  Of course I approve," I replied.  "I'm
	actually quite impressed.  I've never seen a conference room --
	or anything in a corporate office -- quite like this.  It's ...
	it's ..."

	"Elegant?"  she offered.

	"Quite so," I replied.

	"Well, Rachael believes in treating her clients right."  Mary
	turned and winked at me, reinforcing my fears that she and
	Rachael were in this thing together.  "Now Rachael will be here
	in a minute, so just sit down and make yourself comfortable."
	She turned and started walking out.

	"Uh, Mary," I called out.  She turned seductively to face me as
	she reached the door.

	"Yeah?" she purred.

	"Well, uh, I'd like to ... to talk to you about ... well, about
	..."  My voice trailed off as my shyness returned.  I wanted to
	discuss the possibility of further sexual adventures with her.
	As usual, I found it nearly impossible to bring the subject up.

	"Don't worry, Al," she interrupted, reassuringly.  "I'm not
	going anywhere, and we'll have plenty of time to talk.  Now
	just make yourself comfortable and Rachael will be right in."
	With that she turned her back to me, pulled her skirt up,
	wiggled her naked ass at me while winking over her shoulder,
	and flounced out the door as her skirt fell back down.

	Although I was sexually spent, at least for the moment, this
	still was able to cause a faraway sexual reaction in me.  I sat
	down and took a few deep breaths.  I didn't want to be
	distracted during my negotiations with Rachael, and I wanted to
	get them over with quickly and get back to Mary.

	A minute later the door opened and in walked Rachael.  Now,
	even though I had spoken to her previously on the phone, I
	wasn't prepared for how young she looked.  From her demeanor
	and the fact that she was the owner of this agency, I expected
	someone maybe in her mid to late 40's, or possibly even older.
	But Rachael looked around 35 or so -- and a very attractive 35
	at that.  She had medium-length, expensively styled red hair, a
	sensuous and attractive face, was maybe 5'6" or 5'7", and had a
	really nice figure.  Her hips and bust were full, but neither
	was too large, and I noticed she had really nice legs.  She
	wore an obviously expensive business suit, but one that showed
	off her body to good advantage.

	I stood up and we shook hands, and she said, "Well, Al.  I'm
	glad you could make it on such short notice.  I really wanted
	to have a chance to try to persuade you to stay with us."

	I liked her forthrightness.  "Well, I'm glad, too.  Although
	the new offer is a really good one, I like my current job ..."
	thoughts of Mary went through my mind and I added, "... and I
	especially like this agency.  I'd like to try to work something
	out so I could stay with you."

	"Well, it looks like we have the same goals tonight," she said
	as she motioned me to be seated.  I sat back where I was
	before: on the couch to the far right against the arm rest.
	She chose the seat next to the couch that was facing at 90
	degrees to it.  This put her left leg about three inches from
	my right one.

	"But before we start, Al," she continued, "Let me tell you a
	little bit about me and about my agency."

	"OK," I replied cheerfully.

	She told me how she built this agency up all by herself into
	what it now is -- a $10 million a year agency that supplies
	temporary office help and high-level consulting services to
	major corporations.  She's the sole owner of the company and
	that there is no debt, and there was well-deserved pride in her
	voice when she told me that.

	I told her how impressed I was at how well she had done, and
	she received the compliment graciously and seemingly gratefully
	as well.  With that, she sat back comfortably and gazed
	pleasantly at me.  I was a bit at a loss for words, so I just
	looked around the room, trying not to let my nervousness show.

	"So, do you like our conference room?" she asked after I had
	begun to get quite uncomfortable with the silence.

	"Yes, I do," I replied, grateful for her converstaional
	opening.  "I've been in lots of companies, but I don't think
	I've ever seen a conference room as elegant as this one."

	"Well, I want my clients to be comfortable," she replied.  "I
	think that the proper atmosphere can really be conducive to
	good business relations.  Don't you think so?"

	"Well, I guess so," I answered.  "I just think this is really
	nice -- and I wish more businesses would take the time to do
	things like this."

	"Well, they used to do that a lot more, say 20 or 30 years ago,"
	she replied.  "But nowadays everyone's in it for the fast buck
	and they don't like to spend money on such niceties.  That's
	why this country is going down the shithole so fast these days,
	I think."

	I was a bit taken aback at her use of the word "shithole," not
	because such language shocks me or because I think it's
	unladylike or anything, but because it seemed a bit out of
	character with the elegant, refined image she had been
	conveying up until then.

	But more than that, I was impressed with her views about
	American business and about the decline of the U.S.A.  I share
	her views and I have a hard time finding people who agree with
	me or are even willing to discuss them.  I guess most Americans
	can't cope with the reality that the good ol' American dream is
	pretty much dead -- or at least in a rather advanced, comatose
	state.

	So, her comment sparked me to start talking about my opinions,
	and pretty soon we were in a rather animated conversation about
	this topic.  As we talked I became more and more comfortable
	with her and started to like her quite a bit.  She was smart,
	perceptive, witty, and quite sexy.  I often found myself
	staring at her legs which were crossed right in front of me,
	and I couldn't help but notice her body, which seemed relaxed
	and loose under her clothes.  Most women in business seemed so
	stiff and uptight, and Rachael's apparent comfortableness with
	her body was a striking change from that.

	As we continued to chat, I began to notice that Rachael was
	acting quite businesslike and I saw no evidence that she had
	any knowledge of Mary's antics.  This made me wonder if perhaps
	I was wrong about Rachael having something to do with Mary's
	behavior.  Maybe Mary's actions had nothing to do with Rachael
	wanting me to stay with the agency.  At any rate, I began to
	feel better about dealing with Rachael as we continued to talk.

	After a few minutes of this, I had all but forgotten about
	Mary.  Those few times she intruded into my consciousness, I
	just dismissed the thought about her with a reminder to myself
	that she would still be there when I was done here.  I found
	myself drawn to Rachael, but in a different way than I was
	drawn to Mary.  She was sexually attractive to me, but in a
	less blatant and more refined manner than Mary was.  She wasn't
	doing anything that could be labelled as flirtatious, and
	didn't seem to be intentionally trying to arouse me -- at least
	not in the way that Mary had done.  Rachael was just behaving
	like a confident, refined woman who knows she's beautiful and
	who always does her best to show off her charms.

	We were long done with the subject of the decline of American
	values, and our conversation had meandered into many related areas:
	art, politics, current events, literature, etc.  Finally, it
	was Rachael who got us back on course.

	"You really are a stimulating conversationalist, Al," she said,
	sending a shiver of arousal through me as I savored the
	compliment.  "But as much as I'd love to continue this with
	you, we have some business to attend to, I'm afraid."

	"Yeah, I know," I sighed.  "I guess we need to see if we can
	reach an agreement about my rates that would allow me to stay
	with your agency."  I vowed that I wasn't going to let her
	charm me into settling for less than what I wanted, although I
	had to admit myself that her ample charms would be hard to
	resist.

	"Uh-huh," she said cheerfully.  "So, Al, what would make you
	want to stay with us?"

	"More money," I smiled.

	She smiled back.  "How much more money, Al?"

	With that, we lept into the negotiations.  The new contract
	paid me $200 a day more than my current one.  Although the
	headhunter had told me that Rachael wouldn't give me that much
	of a raise, I asked her for it anyway.  Sure enough, she
	replied that she couldn't afford that much and offered me much
	less.  I rejected that offer and we fell into some
	old-fashioned horse trading.

	After a while, Rachael gave me what she said was her final
	offer: we'd split the difference, and I'd get a $100/day raise.
	Now, this was enough for me, and I was more or less willing to
	accept.  However, I didn't want to seem to eager, and I really
	wanted to get away from her and think about it alone before I
	made my final decision.  So, I told her I was leaning towards
	accepting, but I wasn't sure.

	With that, she said, "I understand, Al.  You need time.  But I
	want to help you make up your mind."

	This sounded like perhaps she was going to kick in some more
	money, so I smiled and gave her an inquisitive but encouraging
	glance.

	"I know you're having a hard time with this, Al," she said,
	speaking slowly and carefully and watching me very closely.  "I
	realize that money isn't the only thing that's motivating you
	here."

	I'd heard this kind of thing before: my negotiating partner
	would try to use the "money isn't everything" argument to make
	me feel guilty about being greedy and thereby to beat me down
	on price.  I knew how to handle it.

	"You're right, it's not, Rachael," I countered.  "I have to
	weigh the money with all the other intangibles.  It's a
	decision only I can make -- alone.  That's why I need to sleep
	on it."

	"Of course," she replied, unfazed.  "You said you're leaning
	towards accepting my offer of $100 less a day to stay with us.
	You obviously have priorities other than pure greed.  That's
	admirable."

	Always beware of compliments during negotions, I reminded
	myself.  "Thanks," I said politely but looking back at her with
	resolve.  "I'm glad you understand."

	"Oh, I do, Al," she replied calmly.  "But there's one thing I
	still _don't_ quite understand."

	"OK," I replied, wondering what she was up to.  "What's that?"

	"What is it about us that would make you want to give up $100 a
	day?"  she asked, with mock innocence.

	I realized that she had me.  I had to admit to myself that the
	only reason I was even considering her offer was because I
	liked how she and Mary were making me feel.  How could I admit
	that to her?  I tried to come up with a plausible-sounding
	explanation at the spur of the moment.  "Well," I said
	nervously, "I ... uh, I'm just, well ... well, _comfortable_
	with this agency and ... and you've always treated me well and
	... and, well, I guess it's not always easy to make a change.
	The fact that this is a known situation is worth something to
	me, I guess."

	I realized that if I wasn't careful, she'd have me agreeing to
	her terms right there on the spot, so I quickly added, "But you
	know, it's a hard choice.  That's why I need the time tonight
	to sleep on it and think it over."

	"Of course," she replied.  "I understand perfectly why you'd
	need time.  I already told you that I understand that.  But I'm
	still a bit confused, Al.  I hope you don't mind me asking you
	about this.  I don't mean to pry or anything."

	She paused a moment as if wanting a response, so I nervously
	replied, "Oh, no ... it's OK."  It _wasn't_ OK, but the reply
	just came out of me before I could think.

	She nodded and continued.  "I'm still confused.  Would you
	really give up $100 a day just for some familiarity and
	comfort?  I mean, that's more than $25,000 a year."

	"Well, yeah ..." I stammered, feeling trapped.

	She kept on.  "And so there must be something else, Al.  That's
	a lot of money."

	She was taking a big risk with this line of questioning.  I
	could easily say that she was right, that come to think of it,
	$100 a day really _isn't_ enough.  I could then thank her for
	opening my eyes and reject her offer.  But somehow I knew that
	she was aware of that risk and was confident that I wouldn't do
	that.

	"Yes, it is a lot money," I replied, helplessly trying to think
	of a way out and stalling with that non-committal reply.

	"So what is it, Al?  What do we have to offer here for you
	that's worth the money you're considering giving up?"  She was
	outwardly kind but coldly unwavering.

	"Well, Rachael, it's hard to say," I prevaricated.  "It's sort
	of ...  of a feeling I have, I guess.  It's ... it's hard to
	put my finger on ... just a feeling -- you know?"

	"What kind of feeling?"  She kept on pushing.

	"Oh ... I don't know ... just ... just a ... just an intangible
	kind of ...  it's hard to say, Rachael."  I was desperate.

	"That's why I ... I need time to ... need time alone to think
	about it ... you know, to try to understand it better before I
	finally decide.  Sometimes I ... I need to ... well, how can I
	say this? ... uh, sometimes I get feelings that I should do
	something and then later on regret it.  It's a problem with me.
	That's why I need to ...  to think it over some more.  You
	understand, don't you?" I pleaded.

	"Yes, Al, I _do_ understand," she replied kindly.  "I don't
	mean to put you on the spot.  I'll back off."

	"Oh, that's OK," I replied, the words practically gushing out
	of me.  I was off the hook and I felt relieved.  "I'm just sorry
	I can't give you a more timely answer," I continued magnanimously.

	"No, Al, I really do understand, and I couldn't expect a better
	answer from you."  She was all sweetness and friendliness.  "In
	fact, I should apologize to you, as well.  I put you on the
	spot even though I understood perfectly what was motivating
	you.  I sometimes get pushy in spite of what's best for me ...
	and for the situation.  It's a fault I still need to work on."

	"Oh, that's OK, Rachael.  You don't need to apolgize for that."
	I was filled with sweetness myself, partly from relief at being
	let off the hook, partly because Rachael was being so nice, and
	partly because I sensed our discussion was coming to an end and
	I was looking forward to more fun with Mary.  "But if you
	insist on apologizing," I continued, "I certainly accept it."

	"Well, thank you, Al," she replied graciously and seemingly
	with sincere feeling.  "You're most gracious, but that doesn't
	change the fact that my pushing you was still uncalled for.  I
	knew from the beginning that the main reason you were seriously
	considering my offer was because of how sexually turned on I'm
	getting you."

	Shit!  This whole line of discussion was a skillfully laid trap
	for me that Rachael had set, and I had fallen right into it.  I
	was visibly shaken when she sprung it on me, and I swore to
	myself and started to make a feeble protest.

	"Oh, there's no use denying it," she continued, cutting me off.
	"I know I'm a very attractive woman, and I can clearly see the
	reactions I'm having on you."

	"Rachael," I protested, visibly in pain.  "It's really ... I
	mean ...  it's not what you think, and ..."

	"No, Al.  It's exactly what I think."  She was kind but firm.
	"But don't worry.  You have nothing to be ashamed of.  I don't
	think anything's wrong with that.  It's a normal reaction on
	your part ..."  she said, giving me a sly look.  Then she
	continued, "... especially considering that it's exactly the
	reaction I wanted you to have."

	"Oh," I said, sullenly and with a bit of venom.  "Wonderful.
	I'm so glad to know that," I spat.  So perhaps my original
	suspicions were correct after all about her and Mary.

	"Don't take it so hard, Al.  It's nothing personal," she said
	coolly but still with kindness in her voice.  "This is
	business.  I make a lot of money off of you here, and I want
	you to stay."

	"Well," I said, feeling a strange calmness come over me,
	presumably because things were now more out in the open.  "I
	guess I can understand it from your point of view -- sort of.
	But, well, I mean, I'm not used to ...  to, well ..." I was
	resentful and feeling bold "... to someone prostituting
	themselves in this kind of business deal."

	I wanted the words to sting, but to my dismay, Rachael was
	totally unfazed.  "That's no big deal to me, Al.  You see, I
	_am_ a prostitute."

	I assumed that she meant that she acknowledged that she used
	sex to win business deals.  "Well, in that sense, many women are,
	I guess.  But what I was trying to say was ..."

	I was looking to make the insult more pointed, but she cut me
	off.  "No, Al.  I don't think you do understand.  I really _am_
	a prostitute.  You know, a hooker: I make money by performing
	sexual acts."

	I was shocked.  This was totally unexpected.  "But, but ... how
	... ?"  My sentence trailed off into nothingness.

	"I told you how I built this business up.  Well, what I didn't
	tell you was that I've been a hooker since I was 17.  I always
	hated pimps and I managed to always work on my own.  It was
	hard, but I don't give up easily, and by the time I was 21 I
	was pulling in over $5000 a week.  That was quite a bit back
	then.  I'm really good."

	All I could say was, "Uh, you must be."

	"Very, _very_ good, Al.  So after a while I had worked myself
	up to being a very expensive, very high-class call girl.
	Although I was able to stay clear of any pimps, I still had to
	work through escort agencies.  I made a good living, but I
	didn't like the agency getting its big cut.  So three of the
	girls and I started our own agency.  We did quite well, but
	after a few years I wanted more.  Plus, the escort business is
	really a hassle.  It's too visible.  So, I hit upon the idea of
	starting this legitimate business as a front.  I had a lot of
	money in the bank, so I started up this agency as a temporary
	secretarial service.  I sent girls out on straight assignments,
	and I also used it as a front for the other kinds of services
	we provided."

	So that explained Mary, I thought to myself.

	Rachael was going on with her story.  "Pretty soon I was making
	as much on the straight business as I was with the other stuff,
	so I expanded and went big-time, placing consultants like you
	as well as the run-of-the-mill office help.  I now pull in over
	$10 million a year, and most of the people who work through me
	have no idea about the other side of the business.  My contacts
	as a call-girl get me right to the top of most of the major
	corporations, and the men are happy to hire my people -- both
	for office services and for the other services I perform.  I've
	had this business now for over 8 years, and although I keep
	busy running it, I still sometimes will go out on a sexual
	assignment myself.  Needless to say, I'm quite expensive."

	"Of course," I replied with bitterness.

	"So yes, Al," she continued, ignoring my remark, "I _am_ a
	prostitute.  And this gets me back to our little business deal
	here."

	"OK," I murmurred, still depressed, but wondering what she was
	leading up to.  If it was a sex-for-money deal, I might go for
	it.

	"Well, Al, do you know what my markup is on you?" she asked.

	"I don't know," I replied glumly.  "What?  Maybe $200 or $300 a
	day?"

	"How about $600?" she replied calmly.

	"That's a 100 percent markup!"  I exclaimed.  "How do you get
	them to pay for it?"

	She smiled slyly and said, "I don't give away trade secrets."
	I could imagine what kinds of persuasion she used on her
	clients.

	"Actually, I only make $200 on paper if you accept the raise
	I'm offering you," she went on.  "That's $100 a day for me
	after tax and expenses.  The other $400 is tax-free and
	under the table -- that comes to $500 of profit a day, or more
	than $10000 a month free and clear.  You can see why I want you
	to stay with us."

	"Yeah, I certainly can," I answered, suddenly aware of a new
	angle.  "So you can afford to give me a lot more than $100 a
	day, can't you."

	She smiled again.  "Not on paper I can't.  I have to show a
	profit."

	"But it kind of gets under my skin to know that you make so
	much off of me," I shot back.  "If the clients pay, I must be
	worth it to them and I think I should get more of that money
	than you have offered so far.

	"Well, I don't mean to underestimate your considerable
	abilities or the high respect the clients have for you," she
	countered, "but in this case I must point out that the extra
	$400 a day is because of _my_ efforts, and I assure you that
	our clients are very clear on this point."

	"OK," I replied, "I grant you that.  But you mustn't forget
	that no matter whose services the $400 is meant to pay for, it
	still will stop if I take the other contract.  Maybe something
	less than the $400 would be better than nothing.  The way I
	see it, you get the money under the table, and so you can give
	some of it back to me under the table, as well."  I was proud of
	myself and my negotiating skills.

	"Now we're finally getting down to business, Al," she said.
	"Yes, I could do that -- but I'd rather	give it back to you
	in other ways."  She shifted her position on the chair so that
	her leg was pressing against mine.

	"You see, Al," she continued, "I'm willing to give half of the
	$400 a day back to you, but in, well, 'personal services' instead
	of cash.  That comes to $4000 a month in these services from me,
	Mary, or one of my other girls.  Mary normally charges $1200 to
	$1500 a night.  I usually charge at least $2500.  For $4000 a month,
	you can get quit a bit of sex from us Al -- and it'll be the 
	best sex you ever had."

	I felt a twinge in my cock, and I found myself having a harder
	and harder time thinking.  Rachael went on, "You see, Al, Mary
	and I really understand what you need.  With us you don't have
	to bullshit around with trying to satisfy your partner, or with
	'making love', or with trying to stay hard, or with anything
	like that.  I've been in the business for over 18 years, and know
	what men _really_ need.  I know what _you_ really need, Al -- probably
	even better than you do.   Mary, I, and some of my other girls are
	experts, Al.  We'll get you hotter than you've ever been, and
	we'll keep you that way for hours."

	She sat back again in her chair.  My cock was almost totally
	erect, and it twitched and throbbed as it pushed up the front
	of my pants.

	"So what do you say, Al?"  Rachael asked.  "Do we have a deal?"

	I didn't answer immediately.  I needed to think.

	If I accepted her offer I'd be making $100 a day less than if I
	took the new offer (although it's $100 a day _more_ than my
	current rate, I reminded myself).  On the other hand I'd be
	getting two or more nights a month with Rachael or Mary or some
	other experienced woman.  I wanted to say yes, but I started to
	fear that I was going to be ripped off.  If I agreed to this and
	then Rachael welched on me, I didn't have any legal recourse --
	I could hardly take her to court for withholding sexual services.

	If she did rip me off I _could_ just quit, but the good offer I
	would be turning down today in order to take Rachael's offer
	would be long gone, and I couldn't be sure there would be another.
	But as a freelance consultant, I was accustomedd to that kind of
	uncertainty, I reminded myself, and I realized that I was afraid
	of a lot more than being ripped off financially.  I was afraid of
	the power Mary and Rachael would have over me if I gave in.

	While all this was going through my mind, Rachael patiently sat
	there and waited for me to answer.  Finally, I said, "Well,
	Rachael, I'm inclined to accept, but ... but, well, I'm
	worried."

	"About what?" she asked calmly.  "You can always quit if I
	don't keep my side of the bargain."

	"I know," I said, no longer able to refrain from laying my
	cards on the table.  "But that's not really it.  It's that ...
	well, that I'm afraid of being ...  being ... well, being out
	of control and ... and, well, under your ... I mean, I'm afraid
	of the emotional aspects of this kind of arrangement," I
	hedged.

	She smiled to herself and nodded.  "You almost said your afraid
	of being under my power, didn't you, Al?"  she purred, her
	voice taking on a deep, husky, inviting aspect.  "You're afraid
	of the sexual power I can have over you, right?"

	"Well ..." I sighed and then hesitated.  Rachael was absolutely
	correct and I didn't know how to worm out of admitting that to
	her.  "Yes," I finally conceded, "I'm afraid of ... of what you
	said."

	"Hmmmm ..." she said, nodding slowly as she stared deeply into
	my eyes.  "You know what I think, Al?" she suddenly asked.

	"Uh, what's that?"

	"I think that you _want_ me to have sexual power over you.  I
	think it really turns you on, Al."

	She was right, but I could hardly admit it to myself, let alone
	her.  "No!  No, Rachael ... I admit I'm ... I'm, uh ... uh
	nervous and, well ... but not ... uh ..."

	"No, Al," Rachael interrupted.  "There's no use denying it.
	Look.  You're really scared and yet you're still sitting here.
	You could've left -- made some excuse, told me to get fucked --
	anything.  There are a hundred ways you could have gotten out
	of here.  But you didn't.  You're still sitting here arguing."

	I felt a horrible sinking feeling inside of me as the realization
	hit me that she had me pegged to the letter.

	"No, Al, I'm right," Rachael continued.  The idea of me or
	one of my girls having sexual power over you excites you --
	deep, deep inside of you, Al.  It's something you've desired --
	no, something you've _craved_ for a long, long time.  I know
	I'm right, Al."

	I just looked down nervously and then back up at her.

	"I've been in the business for 18 years," she continued, "and I
	couldn't be successful at it without understanding men, Al.
	And I'm _very_ successful, and I'm _very_ good at understanding
	men.  I'm not wrong about a man very often, and I _know_ I'm
	not wrong about you."

	I started protesting again, although quite feebly.

	Once again she cut me off.  "Don't fight it, Al.  I know what
	you need.  You need me to take control of you sexually -- to
	understand your needs so well that I don't have to ask you what
	you want -- that distracts you -- I know, Al -- see, I _do_
	understand -- and to take you totally under my control -- under
	my sexual power -- to slowly, expertly build up your arousal --
	more and more hotly, deeply, dizzingly overwhelming you with
	sexual pleasure.  You love sitting here hearing me tell you this,
	and you'll love it even more when we get down and start actually
	doing it.  And I _can_ do it, Al.  Have no doubt about that.
	I'm an expert at it, Al."

	I swallowed thickly.

	"See, I know what you want, Al.  Just hearing me talk about it
	makes your mouth water.  I know you want to surrender to me.
	To yield totally to my sexual expertise.  I'll keep you hot,
	hard, throbbing for a long, long time, Al, with no pain, no
	S&M, no 'Mistress' type stuff that I know you don't want.  I'll
	delay your orgasm so that your ecstacy builds and builds beyond
	anything you've even dreamed of -- I can do that, Al -- I
	assure you.  And when I do give you your release, the pleasure
	will be indescribable -- you'll be overwhelmed with the
	intensity of your sensations.  It'll be like no orgasm you've
	ever experienced -- so long and deep and overpowering.  And you
	know what, Al?"

	All I could do was shake my head feebly.

	"I know how to give you an orgasm like that and still keep a
	lot of your cum in you.  That means I'll be able to give you
	two -- three -- maybe even four more orgasms before you're
	finally spent.  Isn't this and everything else I've just finished
	describing to you what you really want, Al?"

	She was absolutely right about all of that, but all I could do
	was sigh and gaze helplessly at her.

	"So Al," she continued, her voice deep, husky, and dripping
	with sexual invitation, "do we have a deal?  Just say the word
	and the deal is done.  Surrender to me, Al."

	She knew I'd agree.  "Yes," I murmurred, the words catching in
	my throat.  "I want ... I want it.  It's a deal."

	"Good," she said as she smiled faintly and got up from her
	chair.  "Just stay there.  I'm going to call Mary in."

	With that she went to the phone and made a quick call,
	presumably to Mary in the outer office, although I couldn't
	hear anything.

	After she hung up she returned to her chair.  "Now, Al," she
	said after she was seated, "get totally nude and stand in front
	of me," Rachael said softly.  "I want you totally undressed by
	the time Mary gets here."

	I hesitated and then did what Rachael asked.  When I was
	completely naked I nervously stood up facing Rachael.  She just
	sat there looking at me and my now soft cock until Mary entered
	a short while later.  She came over to me and purred, "You're
	going to love this, Al."

	I just nodded.

	"Now, Al," Rachael said, "as I'm sure you know, Mary is really
	good with penises."

	She paused but I just stood there.

	"So I want you to see how good she really is, Al.  Now we're
	going to do a little experiment of sorts.  You stand here just
	like this, and put your hands on your hips.  That's it.  Good.
	Now, you are not to speak and you must not remove your hands
	from your hips under any circumstances.  Do you understand?"

	"Uh, well ..." I was afraid to make such a promise.  What if
	one of them started whipping me or something?

	Rachael seemed to sense my fear and said, "No one will hurt
	you, not even a little bit.  Now, no speaking and keep your
	hands on your hips."

	"OK" I acceeded.

	"Now, the experiment is this: we're going to see how hard Mary
	can get that cock of yours without even touching it.  Remember,
	hands on your hips and no speaking.  Now Mary, let's begin."

	With that, Mary came over behind me and kneeled down.  I felt
	her hands tickling up from my ankles slowly up the insides of
	my legs.  Rachael sat back in her chair and began to talk to
	Mary.  "So do you think you can do it, Mary?"

	"Oh, sure.  No problem.  I'll have that penis of his really
	hard."  Mary's fingers slowly snaked their way up the insides
	my legs and then back down again.

	"Well, if anyone can do it, it's you," Rachael replied.  "But I
	don't know -- it still looks pretty soft to me."

	"Well, I'm barely getting started," Mary replied, her fingers
	tickling up a little higher and then down again.  "He loves his
	penis," Mary purred, continuing her teasing up and down my
	inner legs.  "He likes to play with it more than anything
	else."

	"Yeah, I figured he did," Rachael replied laconically.

	"Oh, he just _loves_ teasing and stroking his penis."  Mary
	continued.  She slid one finger up the inside of my thigh and
	barely touched the bottom of one of my balls.  An electric spasm
	shot through me and my cock twitched.  As she slid her finger
	back down she said, "But, I think you're going to have a hard
	time getting him to keep his hands on his hips.  Pretty soon
	I'll have him so hot that all he'll be able to think about is
	how much he wants to grab that long, hard, hot thing and start
	stroking it."

	"Oh, don't worry about that, Mary," Rachael countered.  "I'll
	make sure he keeps his promise."

	"You know, Rachael," Mary said, changing the subject, "penises
	really turn him on."  She ran her hands up the fronts of my
	thighs all the way up to my groin.  She caressed me next to my
	cock without touching it and then rubbed my stomach.  "I think
	he'd like to see me playing with some nice, big, hard cocks,
	don't you?"

	"I think you're right, Mary," Rachael agreed.  "Let's show him
	how good you are at milking the cum out of penises."

	Rachael then turned to me and said, "OK, Al, move over closer
	to the VCR.  We're going to show you a really hot video."

	Mary stopped her caresses and I walked over to where Rachael
	had indicated.  She sat in another chair, facing me, and she
	said to Mary, "Why don't you get nude after you load up the
	tape."

	"OK," Mary replied.  She went to the bookshelf and located a
	tape, which she then put into the VCR after turning it on and
	dimming the lights.  She then quickly stepped out or her
	clothes and went back behind me.

	As the video started up, Rachael paused it with a remote
	control as Mary resumed caressing my legs, thighs, ass, groin,
	and stomach from behind.

	"This is a video of Mary," Rachael suddenly piped in.  "I
	think you'll really like it."  With that she pushed the
	button and the video began.

	On the screen there a shot of a man lying on his back on the
	ground suddenly appeared.  It was shot at floor level, so that all
	that could be seen of him were his feet, his partially spread
	legs, his balls, and his cock standing straight up.  He appeared
	to have some sort of cuffs around his ankles, which led me to
	believe he was restrained.  Mary then walked in, totally nude, and
	faced the camera.  She straddled his body with one leg on either
	side of his hips, and she began to speak.  The sound quality
	wasn't great, but I could clearly understand her.

	Looking right into the camera, she was saying, "I want your
	big, hard prick in my cunt."  She paused, licking her lips.
	"Look at my nipples," she then said as she began to pinch them
	with her fingers.  "They're so hard -- just like your big, long
	dick."

	With that, I felt Mary's breasts rubbing against my ass as she
	tickled the area right next to my balls with her fingertips.
	The Mary on the video moaned and started slowly sliding her
	hands down her chest to her stomach and then to her groin.  She
	squatted slightly and began to rub her pussy with one hand.

	"Oooooh, my pussy is so hot," she whispered as she fingered
	herself for the camera.  "So wet."  Looking down at the erect
	penis below her, she said, "Your prick is so long -- so hard --
	so hot!  I'm gonna sit on it -- I'm gonna sit right down on
	that big, hard thing of yours so it slides way up deep into my
	wet, hot cunt.  Oh yeah!"  she moaned as she squatted down so
	her pussy was right behind the head of the penis on the screen.
	She put one hand on the floor next to the man's hips to support
	her weight, and with the other one took his organ in her hand.

	Gazing back into the camera she bagan to rub the head of his
	penis forward and back along the length of her slit.  "What a
	hot prick." she moaned.  "I love getting your head all wet with
	my pussy juice -- it slides so well along my cunt."  I heard a
	male moan coming from the video.  "Oh, yeah," she purred.  "You
	love the way I make your head feel.  I can feel all of your
	long, hard prick throbbing in my hand."

	I felt the real Mary's fingers snaking up my belly to my chest
	as she rubbed her breasts against my ass.

	I heard another male moan from the video accompanied by an
	upward thrust of the man's hips.  "Ohhhh, you're so impatient,"
	the video-Mary taunted, turning her head slightly to the side
	as if talking to the man, but keeping her eyes on the camera
	except for an occasional darting glance back to him.

	"Oh, how hot you are," said video-Mary as the man swore and
	jerked his hips again.  He indeed must have been restrained,
	because he seemed not to be able to move too much.  She
	kept sliding the head of his cock up and back along her pussy
	and continued, "He didn't believe me when I said I'd have him
	begging me to let him slide that hard dick of his up into my
	sweet, warm, wet cunt."

	She looked at him over her shoulder and said, "Right, honey?
	You didn't even think I could get you to stay hard while lying
	on your back here in front of the camera on the cold floor --
	at least not without me stroking it for you.  But see: you were
	lying there for at least 2 or 3 minutes while we set up -- and
	your big dick was hard and throbbing the whole time."

	Video-Mary stopped rubbing his cock along her pussy and
	positioned herself so that it was right at her opening, ready
	for her to slide it into her.  Still looking over her shoulder
	at him, she moaned, "So you want me to sit on it now, baby?"

	The man moaned and jerked his hips up, but she just stood up a
	little so it didn't go in.

	"I can't hear you," video-Mary teased.  "Tell me what you want
	me to do."

	The man swore again and thrust his hips once more, this time
	quite violently.  But it was to no avail, as she moved away
	once more.

	"Now, now, sweetie," she taunted.  "You have to tell me what
	you want, or I won't do anything but tease your head some
	more."  With that she resumed sliding his cock head along her
	pussy.

	The man grunted and moaned deeply, and I saw his hips and cock
	twitching.  Finally, after he apparently couldn't stand it any
	longer, I heard him say, amid moans and grunts, "OK ... OK ...
	I want to put it in you ...  I ... I ... please let me ... let
	me slide my dick up into you ... please!"

	"That's much better, darling," video-Mary replied as she
	stopped teasing his head and positioned it once again so it was
	aimed at her opening.  "You shouldn't doubt my abilities,
	sweetheart.  I told you I'm an expert making that prick of
	yours do whatever I want it to do.  Now don't move and I'll
	slowly take it into my hot, wet cunt."

	With that, video-Mary pushed the head into her pussy and leaned
	forward a little, supporting her weight by resting her hands on
	his thighs with her arms straight.  She looked into the
	camera and slowly lowered herself down on his cock until it had
	disappeared inside her all the way down to the root.

	While all this was happening on the video, the real Mary had
	reached my nipples with her hands and began tweaking and
	pinching them.  She continued rubbing my ass with her breasts
	and her now erect nipples as I watched the screen, and she'd
	sometimes take one or the other of her hands and tease my
	groin, legs, or crotch area without touching my cock.  This
	plus the video action was getting me really turned on.  But my
	cock was only half hard, since I'm used to lots of stimulation
	and I don't usually get an erection without touching myself.

	The scene on the video was similar to scenes in other videos
	that I'd jacked off to at home and in porno theaters, and I
	felt an increasingly strong desire to grab my cock and stroke
	it -- especially when video-Mary was taunting the man.  But I
	did what Rachael told me to do and forced myself to keep my hands
	on my hips.

	Video-Mary had slowly sat down on the man's cock, and then she
	began to raise and lower herself on it.  She never took her
	eyes off the camera as she continuously and hypnotically
	chanted in a low, throaty, moaning voice: "Oooooh, yeah ... so
	hot ... so wet ... fuck my cunt ... oh yeah ... fuck my hot,
	sweet, wet cunt ... in and out ... in and out ... fuck it ...
	fuck it! ..."

	She spoke in exact rhythm with her motions, which slowly became
	more and more elaborate as she'd rotate her hips, move them
	back and forth and from side to side, squeeze her legs together
	tightly, and do other hot variations.  Sometimes she'd lightly
	graze her fingers along his inner thighs, on his balls, or
	part way up his shaft if she was on an upstroke.

	Video-Mary's monologue continued as I stared raptly at her
	image on the screen.  I loved the sight of her nude body sexily
	writhing up and down on the man's cock -- especially as she
	seemingly stared and spoke right at me.  Her motions emphasized
	the sight of his cock sliding in and out of her, and this
	really turned me on.

	"... in and out ..." she was moaning, "... that big ... long
	... hard ...  _prick_!  So long ... so hard ... so _hot_! ...
	ooooh yeah! ...  what a hot dick! ... in and out ... milking it
	with my cunt! ..."

	This went on until the real Mary suddenly stopped her stroking
	and caressing.  I started to turn around but Rachael stopped me
	with a sharp whisper: "Keep watching the video.  She'll be
	back."

	I obeyed, and sure enough, a few seconds later I felt her
	breasts against my ass again.  But then, I felt what seemed to
	be her slippery finger sliding up and down the crack of my ass.
	Apparently she had put some lubricant on her finger.  This
	caused me to gasp loudly and involuntarily push my ass back
	against her finger.  She chuckled and said, "Now we're _really_
	going to get going!"

	Rachael paused the video and said, "I don't know, Mary.  He's
	only partially erect."

	"Hey, no problem," Mary replied as she slid her finger up and
	down my crack again.  "He can hardly control himself as it is.
	He wants to massage and squeeze his penis really bad.  Right, Al?"

	I grunted an affirmative sound.

	"He loves this, Rachael," Mary purred as she continued sliding
	her slick finger up and down my crack.  "Start the video.  His
	penis is going to get _really_ hard now."

	With that, Rachael nodded at me with a taunting smile of her
	own and started the video going again.  Once again, video-Mary
	was moving up and down and all around on the man's hard cock.  "...
	big prick ... long prick ...  _hard_ prick ..."  she was
	moaning.

	The real Mary began pushing her slippery finger against my anal
	opening.  She was careful to keep time with the video.
	Whenever video-Mary would sit down on the man's cock, the real
	Mary's finger would push against my anus.  When video-Mary
	would slide up off his shaft, the real Mary's finger would pull
	back from my anus and slide up and down my crack.  The real
	Mary even moved her finger against my anus in such a way as to
	mirror video-Mary's side-to-side, back-and-forth, and circular
	motions on the man's cock.

	"... oooooh, so hot ... so wet ..." video-Mary was moaning.
	Never lowering her eyes from the camera, she was clenching her
	teeth and hissing out the words in an increasingly intense
	rhythm, as if a man was watching her and she was mirroring his
	growing arousal.  "... fuck it ... my hot cunt ...  your long,
	hard prick ... ooooooh, yeah! ..."  Video-Mary kept it up
	without pause.

	As this was going on in the video, the real Mary's fingers were
	snaking deeper and deeper into my ass hole.  At first, I kept
	it clenched tightly closed, but soon Mary's expert touch had me
	relaxing and allowing her slippery finger deeper and deeper in
	me.  The sensations were much more pleasurable than I ever
	thought they could be -- the hookers who did this to me in the
	past apparently weren't very good at it.

	Soon, Mary was thrusting deeply in me and pressing against my
	inner anus in such a way as to send shivers of pleasure through
	me.  I think I probably was thrusting my hips back and forth to
	meet her hot, penetrating strokes, although I was so overcome
	with intense sexual pleasure and arousal that I couldn't think
	clearly -- the whole memory is a bit of a blur.

	All I remember being aware of was the intense pleasure of Mary
	finger-fucking my ass hole and the very hot sight of video-Mary
	moving up and down on the man's hard penis on the screen -- in
	perfect synchronization.

	"... what a hot prick ..." video-Mary was hissing as her
	gyrations became more and more feverish and her expression
	became more and more intense.  "... yeah ... _yeah_!  ...
	ooooh ... so hard ... hard as steel and really throbbing ...
	deep inside me ...  ooooh, so deep and hot ... yeah! ...  fuck
	me ... yeah!  ... I said FUCK me with your hard prick ... in
	and out ... in and out ..."

	By now, the real Mary's stiff finger was thrusting deep in me
	and then pulling all the way out.  In and out ... in and out
	... fucking me hard just like the man's cock on the video.

	All of the sudden, video-Mary slowed down her motions and began
	once again to speak teasingly: "So baby ... are you ready? ...
	huh? ... are you ready to give me every last drop of your hot,
	sweet cum? ..."  Although she was obviously speaking to the man
	in the video, she kept her eyes fixed on the camera, as if she was
	really talking to me.

	I heard a faint grunt in the background of the video that was
	unmistakably an affirmative reply.  Real Mary kept fucking me
	in the ass with her finger in exact rhythm with video-Mary's
	slower and less intense motions.

	"Oooooh," she taunted, never taking her gaze from the camera.
	"I bet you have such a big, hot load of creamy cum in those
	balls of yours, huh?"  I felt as if she as talking to me, and I
	suddenly realized that I _did_ want to cum.

	Another incoherent male grunt came from the video.

	Completely stopping her up and down motions, video-Mary sat
	down all the way on the man's cock.  Real Mary followed suit
	and just kept her finger buried deep in my ass.  "You've never
	even been half this hot before," video-Mary purred.  "You're
	gonna cum so _much_! ..." she hissed as she gave her hips two
	rotations as his cock remained buried deep inside her.

	The real Mary rotated her finger in me in exact time with
	video-Mary's motions.  This caused me to gasp loudly with
	intense pleasure.  I wanted to cum really badly.  It was all I
	could do to keep from grabbing my cock in my fist and furiously
	pumping myself to orgasm.  But I obeyed Rachael's instructions,
	although I had to clench my fists tightly against my hips to
	keep from giving in to my urges.

	"... your juice is gonna spurt out ..." video-Mary was saying.
	"...  gobs of hot cream are gonna shoot out of that long, hot
	dick ..." she gave her hips another rotation, with real
	Mary following suit with her finger.  "... flowing up your
	shaft ... your creamy wet semen ... ohhhh, you've got so much
	of it ..."  Video-Mary rotated her hips once more, and real
	Mary did the same with her finger.

	Then, video-Mary suddenly got up off the man's cock, which
	glistened with her juices as it stood up, hard as steel and
	throbbing.  A disappointed male moan came from the video,
	followed by my own, similar moan as real Mary pulled her finger
	all the way out of me.

	Video-Mary sat on the floor next to the man, facing the camera.
	She lightly took the base of his cock in one hand as the camera
	zoomed in, framing the cock in her hand in the bottom-center of
	the picture.  Her face was off camera, and she was saying, "You
	said you'd never cum for the camera."

	I heard another male groan.

	"But you will.  And you're gonna cum so good.  So hot!"  With
	that, her other hand appeared on screen.  In it was a glob of
	some kind of thick lubricant, like KY jelly or something
	similar.  As his organ twitched, she smeared the thick jelly up
	and down his shaft and started stroking lightly with her hand.
	Real Mary resumed her finger-fucking of my asshole, once again
	exactly in time with video-Mary's strokes on the screen.

	Video-Mary's head then appeared in the picture.  She was behind
	his cock, her chin almost resting on his belly.  She stared
	right into the camera as she expertly jacked him off.

	"No ... no! ..." I heard the man moaning behind her, apparently
	not wanting to cum on camera but knowing he didn't really have
	much control over whether or not he did.

	As video-Mary continued to masturbate his cock, she just smiled
	devilishly and mercilessly teased him.  She never lowered her
	eyes from the camera, and in my arousal from watching her
	stroke that hard cock, and from the sensations of the real Mary
	fingering my ass hole, it felt as if video-Mary was talking
	directly to me.

	"You're gonna cum so good," she taunted, hotly squeezing,
	caressing, and pumping on his cock with her hand.  "Yeah ...
	try to hold back ...  yeah ... try to keep me from pumping your
	creamy, hot jizz out of this big, hard, _throbbing_ prick ...
	ooooh yeah ...  you know you can't resist ...  the pleasure is
	growing inside of you ... you feel the semen building up in you
	... burning inside of you ..."

	Video-Mary's strokes became faster and more rhythmic.  She'd
	sometimes run her thumb over the purple head on her upstroke,
	causing the man to moan, grunt, and writhe his hips.

	The sound of video-Mary's voice, the sight of her hand sliding
	up and down the man's cock, and the sensations of the real
	Mary's finger going in and out of my asshole were getting me so
	hot that all I could think about was cumming.  My arms started
	involuntarily twitching as I fought the now almost
	uncontrollable urge to take them from my hips, grab my cock,
	and furiously jack myself off to orgasm.

	Rachael must have seen my struggles, because I suddenly noticed
	her kneeling at my side and tightly holding my arms at my
	sides.  This was slightly annoying at first, but soon I was
	lost once again in the sensations of Mary finger-fucking me as
	I stared at the video.

	"You know you wanna cum," video-Mary was saying on screen, her
	stroking of his slippery, hard cock getting faster and harder
	(and real Mary's finger-fucking of my ass follwing suit).  "You
	wanna shoot all that creamy spunk of yours out so we all can
	see it ... so we can get it on tape."

	Another, more desperate-sounding grunt came from the man, but
	video-Mary ignored it and kept up her masturbation of him.  He
	was grunting and moaning now with just about every breath, and
	he seemed to be fighting her efforts.  But it was obvious that
	his protestations were futile -- his cock was twitching and
	throbbing and it seemed like it was just a matter of moments
	before his orgasm would overtake him.

	He made a grunt that sounded a lot like "I don't want to!".

	"Yes you do, honey," Video-Mary taunted in reply.  "You want to
	shoot it out for us so badly you can't stand it," she went on.
	"You _know_ you do.  You feel the hot semen building up in your
	balls ... and you _want_ it on tape ... yes you do ... you want
	all of us to see the sperm coming out of your penis ... and you
	want it on tape so _you_ can see it ... oh yes you do ... and
	you _know_ it ... you want to see the video yourself ... yes
	you do ... you want to see me on camera ...  fucking you ...
	jerking you off ...  and especially making you cum ...  you
	want to see that more than anything ... oh yes you do ... your
	cock and balls are telling me you do ...  you can't deny it ...
	you're so close ... so close to giving us all your semen ...
	you want to see the video ... to see me pumping your dick ...
	talking real dirty to you on camera ... showing you your big,
	hard prick ...  and your want to see your hot cum shooting out
	..."

	With that, the man couldn't hold back any more.  He groaned so
	loudly it was almost a yell, and gob after gob of white, creamy
	sperm began to shoot out of his spasming penis.

	Video-Mary kept pumping him and kept talking directly to the
	camera: "Ooooooh, yeah ...  such hot cum ... creamy sperm ...
	yeah, it looks so _good_! ... wait till you see the video ...
	come on ... give me some more so I can smear it all over your
	hard, slippery cock ... oh yeah ... you're gonna _love_ jacking
	off to this video ... I'm talking to you as you're watching
	yourself cum ..." (it felt like she was talking to me as I
	watched) "...  look at all that creamy cum ... squeeze the
	shaft of your prick! ... oh yeah ... there's another creamy gob
	...  oozing down your shaft ... it looks so hot ... it gets you
	so hard ...  see how I made you cum against your will ...
	stroke that hot shaft ...  yeah ... this isn't some porno actor
	...  this is _your_ penis that's cumming on this video ...
	your long, hot, sperm-filled prick ...  squeeze it ... pump it
	... I can make you cum any time I want ... cum for me now ...
	pump your dick ...  harder ...  HARDER! ... give me all your
	sperm NOW ... I'm making you cum now ...  cum for me, squeeze
	it all out! ... your hot, creamy cum!"

	Rachael was holding me apparently with all her strength,
	because I was furiously struggling to get free and jack off.
	The real Mary's finger kept fucking my ass, and all I could
	think about was cumming like video-Mary was commanding.  But
	Rachael kept me from touching myself.

	The man had stopped cumming.  Video-Mary slowly let go of his
	cock but kept looking into the camera, moaning softly in time
	to his groans in the background and the twitching of his cock.
	It was covered with semen, which slowly dripped down his shaft
	as he gradually lost his erection.

	The real Mary had stopped finger-fucking my ass when video-Mary
	had let go of the man's cock.  She then helped Rachael by tightly
	grabbing one of my arms, thereby allowing Rachael to concetrate
	her strength on the other.

	The video ended as video-Mary moved off camera, and the
	close-up of the man's now-limp cock faded off the screen.

	I was in a near frenzy of lust, but both women held tight.
	It was only then that I looked down at my cock.  I hadn't
	noticed until now that it was sticking out of me, hard as
	steel and throbbing with intense arousal.  So Mary was
	right after all: she had indeed succeeded in giving me a
	raging hard-on without once touching my cock.


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                                                        -=( Tommy )=-


