by Donna M.

 

 

The entire conversation was surreal.  My long-time friend, Mike, hesitantly approached me in the gym locker-room after we worked out.

 

"Hey, Phil," he said, "I�er�have a proposition for you.  You're always talking about looking for a second income, and let's just say I heard about an opportunity that is right up your alley."

 

"Okay, I'm listening."

 

"Ah�have you ever heard anyone talk about the V-Club?"

 

"What's that, a new driver?"

 

He laughed. "No, it's not a golf club, though maybe 'driver' is a good word."  He laughed again, though it was more of a nervous laugh than a mirthful one.  "It's an exclusive nightclub.  Only the richest can be members.  They could use someone of your�er�build�to work evenings."

 

Since moving to the city, I was having a hard time making ends meet, and Mike knew it, for he was in the same unfortunate boat.  "Sounds like a bouncer job.  Why don't you go for it?" I asked.

 

"No, they're not looking for a bouncer, nothing like that.  And I've already applied, and got rejected."

 

"Do you know why?  I mean, you�re about as buff as I am."

 

"I don't have the right equipment, but you do."  My expression must have mirrored my puzzlement, for he added, "Look down."

 

Since stepping out of the gym shower, I hadn't dressed yet, so I got his drift, saying "Oh."

 

"Jesus Christ, you're hung like a fucking horse.  That's the equipment they're looking for, Phil."

 

�What the fuck kind of job is it?  Are they making porn or something?�

 

�No, not porn in the movie sense, but it is performance art�

 

�Okay, you�re losing me.  I still don�t get what you�re talking about.�

 

Mike explained, and eventually I got the picture. The �V� in its name stood for Voyeur.  Very rich men (I assumed men�Mike didn�t say anything about women) paid big bucks to watch men jerk off, and the occasional sex act; all in private, the only audience being the one who paid.  The prerequisite being you had to be good looking, be in superb shape and be well endowed.  As Mike put it, �Ron Jeremy qualifies to one but not the other two.�

 

When he told me the pay range, I flipped.  It was great money, but what of the risks?  �You hear anything about potential cop raids?� I asked.  �What about a mob connection�if there�s so much money being made in this?�

 

�Who knows?  I heard that many of the clients were rich Saudis and other Muslim men who don�t want the world to know about their peccadilloes. You�d think those guys pay enough there�s gotta be some protection from the law.�

 

The money overwhelmed all caution except one. �It�s strictly hands off, right?  And no filming?�

 

Mike said, �Oh yeah, the manager told me the clients are strictly watch-only, and no electronics are allowed in the viewing booth.  Guaranteed.�

 

I still had lots of questions, but Mike said to go down and ask about the job.  He gave me a richly embossed business card with the V-Club logo and a phone number.  No address.  I asked where it was and he chuckled and said to just call the number and everything would be explained.

 

All the next day I had trouble concentrating on work, thinking about this potential part-time job.  Could I even get it up knowing some perverted fat dude was watching me, and probably jerking off?  I called the number.

 

A woman answered, said her name was Camille.  In a buttery voice that conjured up several exotic images, she asked me some questions, such as who gave me the referral, along with soliciting the basic body metrics.  When she asked me how long my dick was, I wasn�t quite sure how to answer.  Of course I knew its length and girth, both flaccid and erect, but the question struck me as something of a test.  I told her I didn�t know but threw out the number nine.

 

She said, �I would wager that you are being modest, Mister Franklin.  From your tone, I imagine you have more than nine inches, and I find your modesty refreshing.  Please e-mail me a photo of yourself, shirtless, from the waist up only.  I assure you the photo will remain private and confidential.�  She recited the e-mail address and I wrote it down.

 

I dug out my digital camera and took the picture.  The e-mail reply came a day later, setting up an appointment at a downtown address.  I noted that it was in a rather upscale neighborhood.  I wasn�t quite sure what to wear to the interview, as I supposed I�d be taking my clothes off anyway as part of the �audition.�  I chose to go business casual, with my best sport coat.

 

The taxi dropped me off at a nondescript yet clean doorway.  The fact that a Bentley was parked on the street out front was duly noted.  I pushed the only button by the unidentified door and was quickly buzzed in.  The woman greeting me was one of the most beautiful women I�d ever seen.  Raven-haired and full figured, she was the epitome of exotic, old-world loveliness.

 

�Hello, I am Camille,� she said, her tone all business-like even as she closed the gap between us and took my hand in hers.  �I�m so happy to have you here; and please let me say that your photo did not do you justice, Mister Franklin.  May I call you Phillip?�

 

�Phil, please.�

 

�Very well, Phil, let us proceed to my office.� 

 

I followed her through a maze, though a rather ostentatiously ornate maze, until we arrived at her posh office.  I thought of an old British gentlemen�s club, with all its dark wood and leather.  She directed me to a rich, dark leather sofa.  I thought �casting couch� as I sat down and she sat next to me.  Maintaining the business-like tone, she explained the intricacies of the job, some of which were omitted by my buddy, Mike.  While she spoke, I tried not to look down, as her skirt had ridden high on her thighs.  She had gorgeous legs.  I tried really hard.

 

�Phil, as I just explained, our clientele pays well, and we share that generously with our performers, but the one thing they have not purchased is the right to, shall we say, participate.  Frankly speaking, they cannot touch, only watch.  What they choose to do while watching is up to them, though we allow no recording of the performances.�

 

�My friend implied that the�er�performances were solo.  Is that true?�

 

�I�m sorry, but it is not. The nature of the performance is dictated by the client, of course, and our clientele often request couples. Your partner in every case would primarily be someone selected by the client.  Since many request that no protection be used, it will be necessary for you to submit to a blood test and examination prior to working for us. All participants are checked beforehand.�  She paused for a few moments, and then asked, �If the client requested you perform with another man, would you be willing to do that?�

 

�I never even thought about that.  Wow, I�m not sure.  If I didn�t, would that mean I couldn�t have the job?�

 

�No, but it may limit your earning potential.�

 

�Okay, but I�ll have to think about it, and hope that my hesitation doesn�t jeopardize my chances for the position.�

 

�Not in the least, Phil.  So far I�m impressed with what I see.  So far�� I noticed that her skirt had ridden up higher still, exposing the top of her hose and a glimpse of black lace panties.  �Now, let�s see the entire package.  Please disrobe�and remember, first and foremost you are a performer.�

 

I stood, slipped off my sport coat, and began unbuttoning my shirt.  Keeping in mind what she said, I stripped as slowly and seductively as I could imagine doing.  Her expression of clinical detachment slipped a bit when I dropped my pants, as I supposed the profile of my cock could be seen within the leg of my boxers.  When I slid them down, she gasped.

 

�As I suspected, Phil, you were much too modest when we first spoke.  Nine�huh!�  She placed her palm behind my hanging cock and lifted it a little, as if assessing its weight.  �It hangs rather nicely while flaccid; most impressive, indeed.  But is it equally impressive in action; that is the question?�  She saw me sneak another look at her exposed thighs, and said, �I am flattered that you look at me that way.  You are an extremely handsome man, with magnificent physical equipment.  I am greatly aroused to be near you, and that indicates to me that you would be a valued performer.  Let me show you the stage.�

 

Standing there before her, naked, with my cock beginning to respond, I thought she�d audition me there on her sofa.  Instead, hand-in-hand she walked me out of her office, down two corridors and through a large door.  On the other side of the door was an anteroom of sorts and opposite the door was a black curtain.  Camille threw on two wall switches and walked me through the slit in the curtain, and onto a small, well lighted stage; small for a theater perhaps, but a stage nonetheless.

 

�This is the performance area.  I do not like referring to this area as a stage, but so be it.  The lighting is such that those of you performing cannot see the client as he or she�and yes, we do have women clients�views the performance.�

 

I stared at the area beyond the aura of the stage lighting but only perceived what appeared to be a booth, much like a small theater loge.  I looked back at Camille and found her undressing, down to panties, bra and stockings.

 

�To be a successful performer here,� she said, �You must be able to forget you are being watched, withstand the heat from all of this lighting, and concentrate only on your performance.  Shall we see if you can do this?�  She walked closer to me, and whispered, �Can you take me, make your performance real and arousing?�

 

I moved behind her, pushed her hair aside and kissed the nape of her neck, while unfastening her bra.  I reached around and cupped her breasts, which were large, firm, and heaving.  I felt her nipples stiffen.  Her perfume was intoxicating, probably very expensive.  She reached behind herself to grasp my cock, but her touch had not been required.  I was growing erect.

 

She moaned and uttered, �Oh my!�

 

I moved around to be in front of her, kissed both taut nipples in turn, and fell to my knees.  I slipped my fingers under the elastic of her panties and slowly slid them down her legs.  She was freshly shaved smooth.  I smelled her musk and felt the moisture of her panties on my fingers as I took them off.  I rolled down one stocking and then the other until she was now as naked as I was.  I slid the tip of my tongue between her labia and tasted her sweet nectar of arousal.  She thrust her pelvis out and held my head firmly to her.  I probed until I found her clitoris and darted my tongue-tip against the little nub of flesh.

 

�God, yes, you do know what to do,� she said, hoarsely.

 

I pulled my mouth away and looked upward.  �How should we proceed with the performance?�

 

She answered, �Let�s pretend the client wished to see you take me from behind.�  After a few shallow breaths, she added, �Remember, someone is watching.�

 

For the first time I wondered if there were indeed people watching us.  I doubted that in her management role she�d allow anyone to watch, though perhaps she got off on the exhibitionism.  It didn�t matter to me; I had a job to audition for.  I lifted her into my arms, moved my face toward hers and whispered, �Wouldn�t a kiss enhance the performance?�

 

Glassy-eyed, she nodded slightly and our lips came together.  I kissed her deeply as I moved to center stage.  I then lowered her onto hands and knees and knelt behind her.  The hardwood flooring was tough on the knees, so I figured they usually had a mat or something like it here during performances, though we�d have to suffer through it for my �audition.�

 

As I placed the head of my cock between the folds of her well-lubricated labia, I said, �Is it customary to speak during performances, like acting out a pretend relationship?�  I slid my cock in several inches.

 

�Oh�yes�and�don�t�worry� about�making�noises,� she said between halting gasps.

 

I buried my cock as far as I could go.  She made noises.

 

�OH GODDDDDDDDDD!� she cried out.  �Don�t�I can�t��

 

I understood.  I�ve been there before; the indecision the first time my cock hits their cervix head on, the first time my girth stretches the walls deep in their vaginas that have never been stretched.  Regardless of protestations, they didn�t want me to stop, and I never did.  I fucked Camille slowly and sensuously as I imagined a voyeur would appreciate, thrusting my full length in and drawing it out so only my cock-head remained between her pussy lips.

 

Camille appreciated it too.  Besides the little �Ugh� she uttered every time I hit bottom, she kept up a low moan that eventually increased in volume to a keening wail.  When she cried out �Faster,� I obliged.  I felt her orgasmic contractions before her voice acknowledged it was happening.

 

I groaned and asked, �Do they like cumshots?�

 

She popped forward off my cock, spun around on the floor, saying �Oh yes! They love facials.  Show me what you�ve got!�  Her eyes were closed and her mouth was open.  I grasped my cock and with a couple more jerks, spewed all over her face.  A few ropes filled her mouth.  It was a good cum.

 

She hired me.

 

We sat together on the hardwood and discussed money and other particulars we hadn�t already discussed.  The money was fantastic, even with the risks.  She said that her orgasm had been one of her best, and even if she said that to all her recruits, her afterglow confirmed it.

 

When we stood to walk back to her office, I asked, �Was anyone watching us?�

 

She smiled.  �Not this time, Phil, not this time,� she said while slipping back into her panties and bra.

 

We returned to her office.  I was pleased with the ease with which I walked around naked� and getting the job, of course.  I knew I had to be self-confident to handle the exhibitionist sex.  She reached into a desk drawer and extracted a cell phone.  The phone was part of the job requirement; being able to be reached quickly when a client made an appointment.  I hardly liked the idea of carrying two phones but I would have to live with the inconvenience.

 

As I dressed, Camille said, �As your first time, I know a client who would appreciate your talents, sight unseen.  Why don�t I set it up, okay?�

 

�What does this client want for a�ah�performance?�

 

�You�ll fuck his wife.�

 

�Really? His wife?� I said rather incredulously.  I didn�t see that coming, but I should have.  Thinking about it, I could now see the possibility that a rich old coot with a trophy wife may want to experience the vicarious thrill of seeing his wife in action, even in this new Viagra world.  To filthy rich dudes, it was all about power, and making your wife fuck a stranger in a public setting, even if the viewing itself was private, would be the ultimate show of power.

 

Camille said, �Don�t worry about it.  She�ll explain the requirements before you begin.�  She paused for a moment, gazed into my eyes, and added �She�ll like you.�

 

I worked out on the day of my first �performance,� as much to ease tensions than anything else.  Mike asked me how the interview went, and although I told him I got the job I was reluctant to dish out details on my audition with hot Camille.  He figured it out anyway.

 

�You fucked the boss lady, didn�t you?  Damn you lucky son of a bitch!  You made her cream, right?  I imagine that got you the job.�

 

�I�m not talking,� I said with what I hoped was a deflecting smile.  He got the message.

 

I showed up as scheduled but was met by another woman, not Camille.  She was a large woman who introduced herself as Camille�s assistant, Helen.  She ushered me to the big door that led to the stage�s anteroom, saying, �Your performance partner is already in there.  I believe you already know that she is the client�s wife.  Camille said that you know how to handle this.  Don�t disappoint.�

 

I entered to find a petite brunette sitting on a chair, wearing only a robe that she left open.  She rose to greet me.  Her hair was a short, dark helmet that framed her face.  Pretty, but not gorgeous, I guessed her to be in her mid-thirties.  Her breasts were about the size of small tangerines, with nice nipples and no droop. We introduced ourselves to each other, first names only.  She was Melanie.

 

�Call me Mel.  You�re new, right?�

 

I didn�t answer, instead asking, �Are you?�

 

�No, shit no, this isn�t my first time on that stage, and it probably won�t be my last.�

 

�You won�t get any value judgments from me, and that�s even if I wasn�t working here.  I suppose I should get undressed.�

 

�Through that door�s a shower,� she said, pointing to a smaller side door in the anteroom.  �We�ve got time.  I took one.�  I guessed she was letting me know she cared about hygiene.  That was okay by me.  While undressing, I asked some questions about performance details; how do we enter the stage, what positions, how did she want me to finish?  She said that her husband enjoyed the illusion of force, and that she would go on first and I would follow soon afterward.  After that, it was up to me.

 

�What do you want?� I asked.

 

She laughed.  �This has nothing to do with what I want.�  That�s when I dropped my boxers.  �Oh�my�Lord� You�re huge!  I don�t know if I can take that.�

 

Now naked, I walked over to her, kissed her on the forehead, and said, �Yes you can, Mel, yes you can.  And it can be all about you out there, not just him.�  Her expression was a mix of fear, wonder, and maybe expectation.  I took a quick shower.  When I came back out, she was holding a pair of teal green scrub pants like doctors wear, telling me that�s what I should be wearing when I go through the curtain.  I put them on.  She took one last look at my swinging cock before walking through the curtained entrance.

 

I waited about a minute, and then entered through the curtain.  The stage was lit up more than it had been when I auditioned for Camille.  It was hotter, too.  Center stage held a platform, sheeted to look like a bed, but I was certain there was no mattress under those sheets.  Mel was sitting on the edge of the makeshift bed, still in her robe.  As I walked towards her, she said in a loud, stage voice, �What are you doing here?  You�re not supposed to be here.�

 

I wasn�t sure what to say; nobody had given me a script.  Silently I walked to her, lifted her into my arms and kissed her.  Her eyes flew open in surprise.  My right hand was under the robe and cradling her buttocks.  I shifted her slightly so I could pull off her robe with my left hand.  Our lips stayed together, our tongues danced, she moaned softly.

 

I broke off the kiss and whispered, �How low do I have to talk so he can�t hear me?�

 

She nodded, and whispered back, �No way can he hear this level of whispering.�

 

�That�s good.  Does he like things acrobatic?�

 

Mel was puzzled.  �Acrobatic?  He just wants me to look like it hurts.�

 

My turn to be puzzled.  �You mean like rape?�

 

She nodded again, then whispered �We�d better start or he�ll get pissed.�

 

�Okay.�

 

Still standing, I spun her around in my arms until she was upside down, facing me, her thighs on either side of my head.  I buried my tongue in her pussy and ate greedily.  She moaned again and at the same time pulled the scrub pants down and let them fall to my ankles.  She wasn�t quite at the right level to suck me, but she palmed my cock in both hands and began stroking.

 

I swear I heard a gruff voice say �Fucking hung,� but I wasn�t sure.  Mel played, I dined; she was wet, I was hard.  I easily lifted her upright, turned her around, and without her feet ever touching the stage floor, I kissed her again.

 

She said aloud, �Take me�take me NOW!�  Part of the script or not, it was the thing to do.

 

I kicked the pants off the rest of the way.  I held her basically with a hand on each ass cheek; her legs wrapped around my midsection.  I wriggled her around until I got the head of my cock in the right place, and lowered her a little bit.  Our eyes were locked together as I entered her a couple of inches.  She groaned, �God, oh God, oh God,� as I kept lowering her onto me.

 

She whimpered, �Please don�t drop me, it�ll hurt, I can�t��

 

Just then an off-stage voice yelled �Yes, drop her.�

 

I whispered, �I won�t hurt you,� pretending to let go, dropping her onto my full length, though I really didn�t.  I turned us slightly so her husband couldn�t see, hoping he thought it was by chance.

 

Mel played along, shouting, �OH FUCK!  YOU�RE TOO BIG!  I CAN�T!  YOU�RE IN MY WOMB!  I CAN�T!�

 

I whispered �Sure you can,� as I began fucking her.  I slid my arms up to hold her back, as she reclined on them as if they were the back of a lounge chair.  Suspended like that, I swung her away and back, fucking her in long, slow strokes I was sure her husband would enjoy.  I imagined how my cock would shine under the intense lighting, slicked by her copious pussy-juice.  I smiled; all for the performance.  Was her husband jerking off?  Could he even get it up?

 

She soon began screaming, and it wasn�t from pain.  Her body shook to the point I had difficulty holding on to her, and besides, my legs were about ready to give out anyway.  Whether that should have been the end of the performance didn�t matter to me.  I got no signal, no direction, so I lowered her onto the bed, climbed between her legs, and pounded her in the missionary position.  My guess was correct.  The �bed� was only a plywood platform covered in sheets.  Not easy on the knees, but I persevered.  I looked to get non-verbal cues from her, but her eyes were glazed and rolled back somewhat.  I was on my own.  After a while I figured he�d seen enough of my ass, so I straightened up, placed her ankles on my shoulders, and thrust into her that way, again holding her quivering ass cheeks while I did so.

 

She may still have had that faraway look in her eyes, but her mouth was working.  She kept up a litany of pre-orgasmic chatter, saying things like �Fuck me hard!� and �Oh, Yes!� and �Do me, baby!�  How much was real and how much was faked I couldn�t tell.  I just kept on sliding in and sliding out.

 

Suddenly her eyes re-focused, looking at me as she cried, �Oh, oh, I�m cummmmmming againnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!�

 

This one was real.

 

I whispered �Where?�

 

She replied aloud, �Facial!  Give me a big facial!�

 

I pulled out, stroked my cock to conclusion as she sat up on the pallet.  My aim was excellent.  One after another I spewed my load; on her face and chin, in her hair, and the last good rope on her heaving tits.  She exaggeratingly licked a gob that was on her chin with her tongue.

 

She whispered, �You�re supposed to carry me off stage.�  As I lifted her into my arms once more, she loudly said, �Oh, baby, you fucked me good!�  I carried her through the curtain.  Back in the anteroom, she told me I was the best.  �It�s not just that cock of yours, you know,� she said, �You�re a natural.  Other guys here try to be porn stars, like get all macho, physical, but you got physical without really trying.  I�ll want you again next time.�  With a kiss on the cheek, she was gone.

 

As Mel walked out, Helen walked in.  She couldn�t hide the fact she was scoping out my cock, and was suitably impressed.  �Mmmm, I spoke with the client, and he enjoyed the show tremendously.  You are a rather energetic fucker, aren�t you?�  She walked right up to me and rubbed her large bosom against my bare chest, saying, If I wasn�t so heavy I�d have you fuck me standing up like that.  That was way hot!�  I was thankful that at least one of us had clothes on.

 

I got dressed, eschewing another shower.  The smell of Mel was still on me, but that wasn�t such a bad thing.  I�d ponder later what was �wrong� with her husband that he watched another man screw his obviously hot wife.  Obviously, he paid for the privilege, so the whole thing was their business, not mine.

 

The next day I got a call from Camille, again congratulating me on a good showing.  She told me of two more booked performances.  �Word got around fast,� she said.

 

The following Friday evening, I showed up at the club and once again was met by Helen.  While walking toward the anteroom door, she explained that tonight�s partner would be a younger woman and that the client was her father.

 

�She�s not underage, is she?  I�m not gonna do it if she is,� I declared.

 

Helen said the daughter was eighteen or nineteen, and that everything was on the up-and-up.  I shook my head in amazement; her father, Jesus!  Oh well, I�d give him a show and fuck the girl like she�s never been fucked before.  I hoped she wasn�t ugly.

 

I entered the anteroom to find it empty.  I got undressed and took a quick shower to freshen up.  When I exited the bathroom I hadn�t bothered with a towel.  She was there, gasping when she saw me.  She looked younger than eighteen, still holding on to some baby fat, though not pudgy.  Her blond hair was rather obviously dyed.  Not pretty, but cute enough.  She had just removed jeans and was in a tee-shirt and white cotton panties.  Did girls her age wear cotton panties?  Maybe it was part of the show�Daddy�s little girl, perhaps.

 

�Oh my God!  You�re a fuckin� stud!  Look at that fuckin� cock!�

 

�And my name is Phil.  Nice to meet you,� I said, and then chuckled.

 

�Mine�s Heather,� she answered, not getting the joke.  As if she�d read my mind a moment ago, she added, �I�m eighteen.�

 

�How do we play this?�

 

She looked at me quizzically, and said, �What do you mean.�  Okay, maybe she wasn�t the brightest bulb in the light fixtures.

 

�How do we do the sex�for Daddy�make him go home happy, getting his money�s worth?�

 

�Oh.  Like regular sex.  I mean, like first we do oral and then you fuck me.�

 

�Positions?�

 

�Oh.  Like my dad prefers I get it doggie, I guess.�

 

I asked, �What do you prefer?�

 

�Whatever, let�s just, like, do it and get it over with.�

 

She turned to head toward the curtain, but I caught her arm and pulled her back.  �Shouldn�t you enjoy it at least as much as your father does?�

 

Heather glanced down at my cock, reconsidered, and said, �Like, sure, but I really don�t want to suck it, like deep.  It�s too big and I always gag anyway.  And you�re so big it might hurt, like, my vagina.�

 

�Then let�s make it fun.  Screw Daddy, I�m gonna screw YOU.  You�re a pretty girl, so why can�t I make love to you the way it should be.  Forget Daddy�s out there.  Enjoy it for a change, and I promise I won�t hurt you.�

 

I wasn�t sure if it was the �pretty girl� line or �make love,� but my little speech sank in.  She turned and pressed her body against mine.  �Oh yeah, I think I can get into that,� she said.  With no bra under the tee-shirt, I felt her breasts press against me.  Ah, the firmness of youth!

 

I spent thirty seconds or so spelling out a script of sorts for her.  She seemed to like it.  I lifted her up over my shoulder, gave her panty-covered ass a little spank, which made her squirm and laugh, and carried her through the curtain and onto the stage.  I thought I heard an epithet shouted; perhaps her father�s reaction to seeing my size.  I laid her on the pallet and tickled her, getting her laughing some more.  Then I leaned down and kissed her.  My tongue was met fiercely by hers.  Her physical reaction indicated to me that tongue kissing was effective foreplay.  I couldn�t wait to see what cunnilingus would do.

 

After our lips parted, I said aloud in what I now thought of as my stage voice, �Finally, you�re father�s not home, so I�m going to make love to you as I�ve always wanted.�  Heather was breathing harder.  She grabbed my cock and stroked its length while I rubbed her pussy through the crotch of her panties.  The fabric was wet.  I smiled.

 

I urged her to a sitting position and pulled the tee-shirt over her head and off.  I leaned down and sucked first on one nipple and then the other.  I whispered to her, �Do you like that?�  She nodded slightly.  I played with her tits for a while, her nipples darkening and stiffening nicely.  She moaned.  Soon, I slipped my hand under the waistband of her panties and fingered her clit.  She shaved her pubic hair, though her pubis did exhibit some stubble.  Her labia were very puffy and well pronounced for a teenager�and extremely well lubricated.

 

She stroked my cock as I finger-fucked her.  After a few minutes of that, I said loudly, �I�ve got to taste that sweet young pussy of yours, girl.�  I pulled down her panties and tossed then aside.  Lying down beside her, I rolled her atop me in a sixty-nine position and buried my tongue within the labial folds of her wet cunt.  I hadn�t expected it, so I was surprised when she mouthed the head of my cock as I licked her clit.  She probably figured she�d give fellatio a try, gagging or no gagging, though I sensed she couldn�t concentrate very well on the task while her clit was being assaulted.

 

The little nubbin of flesh grew taut as I licked and sucked on it.  She was moaning and groaning louder by now, her mouth not doing much with my cock even as her hands worked harder.  I was harder too.  As I ate her, she squeezed her thighs together, though not tight enough to hurt my ears in any way. 

 

After about a minute or so of this, she tensed up and screamed �Bay�beeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!�  A veritable river of cum-juice flowed from her and all over my mouth.

 

I reckoned that this was as good a time as any to get to fucking.  I almost automatically began positioning her for doggie-style fucking, but thought as I did earlier, Screw Daddy, and instead swung her around on top of me.  I said, �Ride me baby!  Sit right down on my big man-pole, girl!�

 

She was still a little dazed from the orgasm, but not so dazed that she didn�t understand what was coming next.  Straddling me, up high on her knees, she tentatively lowered herself onto my shaft.  I�d only slid in about half way when she stopped, a look of panic on her face.  My cockhead had met her cervix�nice to meet you.  I whispered, �Don�t force it, just do what�s natural.�

 

She was a natural.  The first few ups-and-downs remained tentative, but she got with it fast and soon was bucking like any good cowgirl would.  She was extremely tight, so I took to amusing myself by watching her tits bounce and sway instead of letting her velvet tightness bring me to climax too rapidly.  I�m not up on anatomy, but with my size and the experiences that have come with it I am always amazed at the way a woman�s body accommodates my cock.  The portal to Heather�s womb must have receded to take all of me, as I�ve experienced with other women.  I didn�t know how that worked but I didn�t question it either.  I lay back and enjoyed the fucking, especially enjoying the transition of her facial expressions from exertion to ecstasy.

 

With a few last violent bounces, she threw her head back and screamed louder than she had before.  As her orgasmic squeal echoed around the stage, her clamping vagina walls did the trick; I was about to cum.  I whispered, �Creampie,� and lifted her up until just the head of my cock was at her labia.  As I came, the ejaculate squirted out every which way, making a splendid shower.  I hoped her dad enjoyed that last part.

 

Off stage, she said, �Man, you were right about everything.  I had a good cum.  You didn�t hurt me with the big guy.  I just hope Daddy liked it that way, especially the end.�

 

�I�m sure he did.�  I didn�t tell her that out of the darkness I thought I saw cum flying.  Yes, Daddy liked the show, I was certain of it.

 

Between the time Heather left and Helen returned, I sat and pondered the human drama of this whole V-Club thing.  Being filthy rich didn�t make any man immune from being cuckolded or from incestuous urges; it just gave him a �safe� outlet.  Did that make it okay?  I showered, dressed, and spoke to Helen before I left.  Evidently, Heather�s dad loved the performance.  Yes, I had a great lay, yet that didn�t assuage my guilt.

 

My next performance came quickly.  Camille didn�t get too specific, but she told me the client was a loaded Saudi oilman, and my performance partner would be his wife.  When I arrived at the club, the wife was already in the anteroom, and she didn�t look at all pleased about being there.  She wasn�t wearing one of those all over Arab wraps but she wasn�t undressed either.

 

She said something in Arabic that sounded to me like a swear, then she said, �Another new one!  I must tell Hassan to try a different place.�

 

Since I�d entered alone, without Helen or Camille as a buffer, I had to deal with whatever her problem was all by myself.  �What�s wrong with a new man?� I asked.

 

�Argh, you men have all big muscles but nothing up here,� she said, pointing to her head.  �I try to make everyone understand what my husband wants, but�,� she finished with another swear.

 

�What do you want?� I began to strip.

 

�What I want is meaningless.  It is all for Hassan.�

 

�Okay, then what does he want?  Obviously, since you don�t wish to be happy, we shall at least make him happy, right?�  She shook her head yet remained silent.  That was until the boxers came off and she saw my package.  She tried to appear nonchalant, but I could tell she noticed.  I wasn�t going to make a show.  I simply wanted to know what I was doing.  �Please let me know what your husband wants so I know what to do out there.�

 

She stood and began disrobing.  �What you do is treat me like a dog.  Humiliate me, debase me, that is what you do.�  She stared at my cock, and added, �Hassan wishes to see me sodomized, yet I know that penis of yours will tear me apart.  Please do not do it.  Perhaps you can pretend�how do you say that in English�simulate it?�

 

�I have no intention of hurting you, or debasing you, regardless of what your husband wants.  We will put on a good show for him, and that is it, okay?�

 

She nodded.  �My name is Alima.  What is yours?�  I told her, and then watched her undress. Her bra and panties were conservative yet modern.  She was a dark-skinned woman with equally dark hair that cascaded wildly over her shoulders.  She continued to strip mechanically, and after the bra and panties came off I saw she had a full pubic thatch, and bullet-shaped tits topped by large, ruddy areolas and nipples. Her bottom was a little on the broad side, but she was well-proportioned.  I liked what I saw.  She was a pretty woman.

 

�Should I shower first?� I asked.  She said I didn�t have to. 

 

That�s when I made my proposition.  At first she panicked, then she blushed, and then she giggled.  I stuck my head out the big door and called for Helen.  I gave Helen the requirements and she took off to get everything, but not before giving me a perfectly puzzled look.

 

While we waited for Helen, Alima said, �I do not have any idea on how Hassan will react to what you propose, but if you do this and in some way use it as if to humiliate me I believe he will enjoy it.  Perhaps he will enjoy it afterwards as well, no?�

 

�Maybe he will.  I know I would if I was your husband,� I said, smiling.

 

Helen arrived with the basin, scissors, a razor, shaving foam, a couple of small gem clips, and a large, white silken handkerchief.  I went into the bathroom and filled the basin with hot water and as stealthily as I could, slid the whole makeshift shaving kit through the curtain and onto the stage rear.

 

�Time to put on the burka,� I said, but she corrected me.

 

�No, the veil itself is a purdah, or sometimes we say niqâb depending on how much of the face it covers.�  She clipped the impromptu veil to her hair on both sides so only her eyes were uncovered.  �You are a very clever man, Phillip.  I am changing my mind about you.�  It was her turn to smile.

 

�Are you ready?� I asked before lifting her up into my arms.  I chuckled to myself, thinking how carrying the woman onstage was becoming my trademark.  Going through the curtain, I used the thumb of the hand under her buttocks to toy with her pussy.  I saw the smile through the flimsy veil.

 

I heard an epithet from the darkness.  Alima�s husband must have reacted to the size of my swinging dick.  �You are mine now, Alima,� I said very loudly as we moved to the pallet at center stage.  �But first you need to be cleaned up for me.�  I added an anti-Semitic reference which I was ashamed of, though I knew it would greatly tickle Hassan.  Setting Alima down on the edge of the pallet, I spread her legs and began my chore.  Retrieving the kit and bringing it to bedside, I started with the scissors to cut away most of her pubic hair length, before lathering her up and shaving her.  I did it slowly, taking every opportunity to intimately touch her special places as I shaved, making eye contact as much as I dared.

 

Finished, I rinsed her off, not worrying about getting water on the stage.  That was someone else�s problem.  �You are clean and delicious looking,� I said.  �I believe you are delicious enough to eat.�  I went down on her, ignoring the lingering soapy taste.  It was soon supplanted by another taste�her.  She squirmed and moaned as I worked on her clit.  Her clit was more pronounced than others I�ve been intimate with; like a little dick, it seemed to have a head, and some length to it.  It was stiff too.

 

�Oh, you are too good, Phillip,� she muttered.  �I could have you do that for hours��  After a few more seconds, she whispered, �But it will not take hours��

 

Her orgasm was quite extraordinary.  It seemed that every muscle in her body contracted at once.  However no body part twitched and convulsed more than her pussy.  She was a quiet cummer, yet she left no doubt as to what just occurred.  She reached down, grabbed my arm, and urged me up to lay atop her still twitching body.  Pulling the makeshift veil aside, she planted her lips on mine and her tongue practically to my tonsils.  It appeared that all ideas of humiliation and debasement had been forgotten.  Now, it was about sex, and I couldn�t be happier.  Would Hassan be as happy?

 

One way I did stay on script was to fuck her in the doggie position.  I got us situated at such an angle that her husband could see my cock but not quite detect which hole I was in.  Unlike with Heather (and other sex partners) Alima�s vagina couldn�t easily adapt to my size, so I didn�t fully penetrate her; not pushing it, so to speak.

 

Nor did I push to climax.  We were both bathed in sweat from the hot stage lights.  I glanced at my cock-shaft to see that it shone from the coating of her lubrication.  I bet we looked good�porn quality good.  As I thrust, I detached my mind from the action to keep from cumming.  This was her show, and I would let her get there on her own schedule, not her husband�s, and certainly not mine.

 

Throughout, her head was back, bouncing slightly from our movements.  Suddenly she turned to look at me.  Her expression was difficult to interpret; it could�ve been she was debating the repercussions of not going anal, or maybe she was perplexed at me for being different from the other male performers.  She turned her head back and put it down on the sheets.  I glanced down and marveled how nice her ass looked in that position, and after all, I loved booty; skinny asses didn�t appeal to me aesthetically as they did to some of my buddies, based on how they always talked.  I kept up the slow and steady rhythm.  Long way in, long way out, on and on, I figured I could go on forever, but I was wrong.

 

I couldn�t hold it off.  I stifled my usual groan as I unloaded into her.  She knew I was cumming; I felt the subtle difference in the way her body moved.  My cock remained rigid enough that I kept going.  How can a man really know what finally triggers a woman�s orgasm?  People say that it�s as much in their head as in their vagina or clit.  Did my orgasm trigger Alima�s?  I�d lost track of how long I�d been fucking her up on that stage �bed� but she climaxed seconds after I spewed my last rope.

 

�Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh, Aliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!� she screamed out.

 

I thought, Ali?  When she was done climaxing, I leaned down and whispered that question.

 

She was aghast.  �I said that aloud?  Hassan will kill me now!�  She seemed truly scared.

 

�Why?  Who is Ali?�

 

�Ali was my lover long ago.�

 

�Shit, that�s not good,� I said.  �Can I do anything?�

 

�No,� she answered, losing some of the fear, her expression softening a bit.  �Phillip, you are a very fine young man and a superb love maker.  I know you would care to protect me, and for that I am grateful.  Thank you for making this�show�something that I will remember always.�

 

She got off the pallet and unceremoniously ran through the curtain.  I stared into the darkness, wondering if her husband was still there watching me.  I wanted to display my middle finger, but that wouldn�t have accomplished anything.  By the time I stood and walked off stage, Alima was gone.  I hoped she was okay.

 

Helen was quiet.  No praise this time, which probably meant Hassan had not been pleased by the performance.  I went home both physically and emotionally drained, and ended up having unsettling dreams of Alima where nothing worked out well for her in the end.

 

No matter how bad Hassan�s �reviews� must have been, I still got booked for performances.  I fucked wives of all ages and made a lot of money doing it.  I didn�t really feel like a prostitute or a gigolo.  This gig was different, like making porn.  Maybe I was rationalizing, but the distinction helped me live with it.

 

My first repeat was the lady of my first performance, Melanie.  She was eager, much more so than the first time.  I thought, I guess I made a good impression, and chuckled at my own pun, since perhaps I�d made quite an impression on her cervix last time, too.

 

�Hi Mel, back for more?� I teased.

 

Her answer was to practically rip my clothes off and drag me out on stage.  She fell to her knees and sucked me as best she could.  She valiantly tried me deep, but she couldn�t overcome the gag reflex.  That was okay, since I got sufficiently hard.  She jumped into my arms and I dropped her onto my cock as I�d done the first time.  We spoke in hushed tones as we fucked.

 

�So, hubby must have got off last time.  He want this as much as you?�

 

�Yes, but maybe I wanted it a bit more and convinced him to cough up the fee.�  After more up-down action, she whispered, �He bragged that he came more than he ever did when he jerked off�to�us.  He never cums much with me.�

 

I whispered back, �That�s why you wanted the facial.�

 

Her head bobbed in agreement.  Mel�s first orgasm hit quickly while making all the appropriate noises to satisfy her husband.  She�d cum so liquidly that I felt several rivulets running down my cock and around my balls.  It felt good.  I switched her to doggie and kept fucking her until she screamed again.  I loved her orgasms because they were whole-body occurrences; every part of her shook and shivered as she came, inside and out.  I kept it going for a few moments more before pulling out, settling my cock between her ass cheeks, and letting go several cum-fountains into the air that landed all over her back and backside.

 

While I came, I heard a loud groan float out of the off-stage darkness.  Her husband must have had a good cum as well.

 

Repeat customers are happy customers.

 

One of my most interesting evenings was the time I showed up but the client had cancelled at the last moment.  Camille was there, and she and Helen apologized profusely.  I wasn�t sure which woman made the first move, but before I knew it I was naked on Camille�s office couch and they were taking BJ turns.  Helen was a big girl with EE tits, and those things smothered me while she climbed on top and fucked me good, pinning me to the couch.  She was a madwoman.  Several times the frantic fucking hurt her, with my long cock solidly striking the bottom of her love canal.  She moaned, but it didn�t stop her.

 

I don�t know how she managed it, but Camille had climbed up on the sofa back, and straddling my head, forced her pussy to my mouth.  I lost track of time.  I could hardly breathe.  I couldn�t tell you who came first or last.  It just happened.

 

They thanked me, promising more clients and more paydays.

 

One of my favorites was an older woman named Donna.  Maybe in her fifties, a girlish figure was only a long-lost memory.  I didn�t mind because she was a friendly sort who knew what she wanted, demanded it, and made sure I delivered.  For an older woman, she sure could move, and we fucked in some amazing positions.  As I did with all the anonymous clients, I wondered what was the matter with her husband that he couldn�t get his thrills the old-fashioned way�by fucking her himself instead of watching me do it.  I knew it wasn�t always about my endowment.

 

The appointment with Alima came as a surprise.  She saw the shocked look when I entered the anteroom to find her sitting there.  She said, �Yes, I am still alive, in spite of my foolishness in shouting out Ali�s name, Hassan only struck me a few times.  The bruises have healed.�

 

�I�m glad to see you�re okay�I�m glad to see you.�

 

She was already naked.  I glimpsed that she kept up on shaving; her pubis was bald, and quite appealing.  She helped me undress.  �Carry me out there as you did before, I loved that.�

 

I did just that, carrying her like before, and like before using my thumb to tweak her clit.  We didn�t fuck.  I mean, to me we made love.  I forgot about being watched, and I thought she did too. We went slow, first oral, then penetration.  Ending up in the doggie position, her head down and her impressive ass up, she climaxed nicely.  As she was still twitching from that one, she whispered for me to take her anally, as her husband wanted.

 

I said, �Are you sure?  You said before��

 

�Yes.  Now I am ready.  I used saliva to lubricate her anus, massaging it into her with two fingers.  Then I �massaged� my cock-head into her.  She gasped loudly, and I knew it wasn�t simply for show.  I slid into her slowly, a couple of inches at a time, not wanting to hurt her.  I shouldn�t have worried since it was obvious to me she had an experienced sphincter.  Her fingers worked her clit while my cock worked her ass.

 

She cried out, �Hassan, Hassan, please help me!  I will never be able to sit again!�

 

That was for his benefit.

 

She whimpered, �I am cumming.  Cumming for you, Phillip.�

 

That was not as loud, and was of course for my benefit.

 

She must have known I was about to cum, for at the penultimate moment, she pulled away from me, slipping my cock from her ass with an almost perceptible pop, and spun to face me.  �Cum on my breasts, Phillip,� she murmured.  �For me, not Hassan.�

 

I gave her a good showering.  She rubbed my ejaculate all over her breasts, tweaking her taut nipples as she went, and moaning softly.  It indeed had been for her, not her husband.  I picked her up and carried her from the stage.  Without a word, I carried her into the bathroom and started the shower spray.

 

�You will shower with me?� she asked.  I answered her with a yes.

 

I couldn�t say for certain why, but I was falling for this woman.  She coaxed me back to semi-hardness, and we fucked again in the shower.  She knew her husband was waiting but for a few moments she let that go out of her mind.  Another trembling orgasm helped.

 

After Alima left, Helen said that �the client� enjoyed this performance better than the last one, though she said something appeared to be still �troubling� him.  Maybe the �trouble� was watching his wife enjoy it for a change.

 

And that summarized my mission:  If the woman was to be on display like some zoo animal, expected to have sex for the viewing pleasure of her male, then I would allow her to enjoy the experience.  Some of the women immediately saw my cock as an indulgence, yet others, as with Alima, had been humiliated by the process, and therefore needed to be treated delicately in order to transcend the ignominy and enjoy the ride.

 

About a month later, I entered the anteroom to find Alima waiting for me again.  She was ebullient in her greeting, jumping into my arms and kissing me.  And she was nude, of course.  Fucking her, I lost all connection to time and space.  I can honestly say that this was the first time in my life I truly made love to a woman without either of us thinking about my equipment and what it could do.  We didn�t plan out our positions, we simply loved each other.  Damn, this was special!

 

�Oh, Phillip, you make me feel like no other has, even my lost Ali,� she said aloud.

 

�Should you say that?� I whispered.

 

�Hassan will not hear me.�

 

I wasn�t so sure, but got lost in the moment.

 

�Oh���.I�mmmmm�cummingggggggg, Phillippppppp!� she cried.

 

�Me toooooooooooo!�  I filled her up, and she squirted a good portion back out.

 

Later, while lying together on the pallet, spent from our lovemaking, I asked how she was so sure Hassan had not heard her earlier.

 

She said matter-of-factly, �He is not here.�

 

�What?!?!�

 

�I had saved much money to be with you again.  Camille said it was unusual but she would allow it.  I wanted to be with you again so badly.�

 

�Oh, Alima.  We can arrange to see each other outside of this place.  It will not be for money, but for love.�

 

The look in her eyes when I said that was priceless.  I�d have to ponder what I said later, and what I meant by it, but for now I knew this woman was special to me.  I needed to see her again, and we planned to do that.  She was fearful of her husband, but imagined a few ways for her to get away and see me.  On our dates I got to know her even better, and I believed it was love that was blossoming within me.

 

And boy did we have great sex!

 

I kept working my evening job.  One night after performing with a man whose wife (I guessed she wore the proverbial pants in the family�translation: she brought home the big bucks) wanted to see him sodomized, things changed for me. 

 

First let me tell you about this man.  His nervousness only made an appearance on stage.  Undressing in the anteroom, he was amazed at my cock, and maybe a little anticipatory.  While I fucked him, he whispered to me that he was secretly gay, had been bottomed many times before, and loved my cock.  He said he thought that his wife had no clue.  �And isn�t that irony,� were his words as I came in his ass at the same time I jerked him off to completion.

 

Later, when I stepped out the club�s door to the sidewalk, two very large men were there.  The Arabic looking men were waiting for me, it seemed.  Goons, sent to give me a message; from Hassan, no doubt.

 

Before the first blow was struck, I thought, please no broken bones or disfigurement.  Don�t mess me up too badly.  I have a return engagement with young Heather in three nights.  Why I thought of Heather at that moment and not Alima I�ll leave for all you amateur Freudians to assess.  Oh shit, this is gonna hurt!

 

The End

 

Wow, another story from a man�s point-of-view!  It�s a challenge, but one that�s been very interesting and enlightening to me.  As with �The Sweetest Revenge,� �Escape from Passionville� and most recently �Too Hot,� I trust that all you men out there will give me feedback on what I did well and what I did poorly with the man�s POV.  I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope I didn�t offend anyone, lest I have two gentlemen waiting for me outside my home. J

 

Donna M.

© 2011

 

You can e-mail me at boredbutstillhot@yahoo.com

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