What he’s thinking – ch 3

Introduction:
Entry Three: — the club – Donald recruits Hilda
After we’d been intimate for a few days, I realized there was something Hilda was hiding from me. It was something she considered important, but she never thought about it directly while I was reading her. I got many references to a club, but no more. As I now considered her my friend, I tried to avoid snooping, which included asking leading questions. So I was still a little surprised when she explained it to me.
“Karen, have you ever wanted to totally yield your body to a man?”
“You mean, let him use me any way he wants?”
“Yes. I mean like bend over, present him your crotch and wait to be surprised at what he does next. Maybe he’ll stick his finger in your pussy, maybe his dick up your fanny. Maybe he’ll spank you or nibble on your clit.”
“Or maybe all of the above. Hilda, at some point, I let just about every lover have that kind of freedom. Not giving him such freedom is like not giving myself to him. It might still be sex, but hardly love or even lust to just lie there and say, put your dick in my pussy but don’t do anything else without my permission. As much as I don’t like having my tits pawed before I’m ready, I’d rather go through it than have to tell my lover not to touch them. Many girls might stop at anal sex, but that doesn’t bother me much. Not at all if he takes his time. Sometimes I really even like it a lot. So short of causing me an injury, there isn’t much a lover would want to do to a female that I wouldn’t like. Have you ever done bondage?”
“Yes. That’s sort of what I was leading up to. Ok. How about assuming the position, but for a man who wasn’t yet your lover, maybe a man you didn’t even know? How about allowing yourself to be tied up in various compromising positions and not only not knowing how you’d be used but not even by whom or how many men? But gladly accepting any number of pricks anywhere as long as they promised that at least one man would fuck you?”
“Sounds awful dangerous.”
“It could be. But I believe the health issue is not a problem in the club I go to. I guess I should say, work at, since they pay me. They insist on paying, and I don’t have the income you have, so I don’t mind taking money. I guess that makes me a prostitute. Funny, I’ve always known I was a slut. A girl who doesn’t like sex for the fun of it is a prude, in my book. So I guess I’m proud to be a slut. Getting paid just seems to make me think of myself as sort of sexy. Anyway, I didn’t start doing it for the pay but because it sounded like fun.”
“How’s that again?” In answer Hilda began the following story:
————-> Hilda:
Well, I met this guy. I should have known it wouldn’t amount to a romantic interest. He was much too rich and upper class. The only thing I have is looks. No family, not enough education. And I’m not really smart either. I’m not the type of girl Donald would ever take home to meet his parents. But, though he was wearing an expensive suit, I didn’t clue in on his status immediately. We met at a banquet, where I was helping a friend with arrangements. The lady who ran the place told us that they’d had cancellations and had far too few women coming. She needed some more decorative females to mix in. Francine and I had to change into party dresses, but that was no problem. Frankly I thought the idea sounded like fun. At worst I’d have to put up with some dull conversation. I’ve always thought that the way to not sound dull myself was to look stupendous. Make sure the guys are too busy looking down my dress to notice my lack of inspired conversation.
Any way, I was hardly the only girl falling out of her dress. You couldn’t tell which girls were rich from those there just for decoration. Not by looking anyway. The rich girls seemed to welcome the event as an opportunity to more than let their hair down. When Donald singled me out for several dances, at first I was afraid he’d mistaken me for a socialite. He was a perfect gentleman. I even accepted a date with him to go boating later that night. At the time I should have realized that by being there he was probably a multi-millionaire. He wasn’t there to be decorative like myself!
The “boat” was not the twenty footer tied to the dock that was waiting for us. But even that had a skipper so that we only had to sit in the back and cuddle while the man at the controls took us out to the “boat”. My dad says a boat is, according to the navy, anything that can be put on the deck of a battleship. So a 90 foot PT boat is a boat. I’m sure this was much bigger than that. It had three decks and parallel hallways.
You know, when I go out with a guy, I sort of know I’ll make love to him sooner or later, so I never worry about him raping me. But the second I got in the back of the speed boat, the launch, I’d never felt so helpless. I knew that this Donald would use me in any way he wanted, and the hired help would only help. Needless to say, I loved it! When we arrived on board, Donald simply escorted me to a fabulous stateroom. No tour, no introductions, no questions about my willingness. I almost think he wanted me to resist. But by the time he closed the door, I couldn’t have had a wetter pussy!
Donald was only an average lover. Not even particularly imaginative. I don’t know why I should have expected anything special. And anyhow, he was good. Most men are. It’s just that I’d never been so overwhelming seduced before, and I sort of expected to be overwhelmingly fucked as well. But why should rich men be above average lovers? When he was done with me, he put something in my pocketbook. I’m always a little nervous when someone goes through my pocketbook, even a lover. I guess I consider the inside of my purse more private than the inside of my pussy. So naturally, as soon as I finished getting dressed, I checked. There was five hundred dollars inside it!”
He noticed my consternation. “Isn’t that enough? I admit you were one of the best girls I’ve ever had. Tell you what, give me your home phone number and I’ll add another five.”
“Donald, I’m not a prostitute. I’ve never had sex for money before. And why would I be charging you when you gave me so much pleasure? At least until now.”
“Why were you at the benefit then? I know all the socialites. And Mrs. Jansen always hires escort girls to match up the numbers. I didn’t know there was such a thing as a girl who really only did escorting. The girls I’ve picked up before were always more interested in making the big bucks afterwards in bed than the nominal sum she pays them to be there.”
“Donald, the woman, Mrs. Jensen I suppose, didn’t pay me and my friend anything to be there. We were just delivering the flowers and she said she was short several girls. We thought it sounded like fun so we agreed to come. She never told us that it was professional escorts that she was short of. No wonder everyone sort of accepted us. They just all assumed Francine and I were whores. I guess that’s why the guys were all so delightfully uninhibited about looking at my tits. You know, in some situations, I think I’d like being a prostitute.”
“My god! I’m glad you’re a sport about it. I’ve insulted you and here you’re laughing about it. I never asked even if you wanted to do it. I suppose I pretty much raped you.”
“Don’t be silly. From the time you invited me out this evening, I knew I’d do it with you. Being talken for granted is sort of, I don’t know, exciting maybe? Girls who like sex like to be used in some ways. Anyway, is five hundred the going rate? If I keep it, you won’t have to feel guilty about offering it to me.”
“Hilda, ah.. listen. You can still have the other five hundred, if you give me your phone number. In fact, since I probably can’t get it from Mrs. Jensen, it would be easier and cheaper than trying to track you down.”
“Donald, you don’t date girls like me, do you? No, listen. I know I’m not rich or cultured. When you asked me here, I knew you only wanted me for sex, and that was alright. I can’t see why it makes it any worse that you intended to pay me for it. Actually, it makes you seem a little nicer. I was thinking that you were awfully arrogant earlier. Not that you aren’t. You’re just less arrogant than I thought. Anyway, I was going to tell you that you can have my phone number for free, and sex for free if you want to see me again. But I can tell you’d rather pay me than be indebted to me. So I’ll tell you what. Pay me as much as you think you should. And call me as often as you want. We both like the sex, so why shouldn’t we enjoy it without either of us feeling guilty? Donald, I work as a receptionist for four hundred a week. If you want to equalize the wealth a little I certainly don’t mind.”
So you can imagine what happened. Donald likes variety, so he didn’t call me for a month. His driver picked me up and brought me to a fancy hotel, giving me the key to a prepaid room. Well, if I was getting paid, I couldn’t complain I supposed. But it made me feel much more like a whore than just being paid. Until then I liked the arrangement. Not being escorted, though, bothered me. I’d dressed up like I was going on a date. In fact, I had on the same low cut dress. I thought he might like it. But in a bedroom, it seemed pointless, so I got naked and waited for him.
Fortunately, not only did he arrive quickly, but he also apologized for not picking me up himself. Then he said he missed seeing me in the dress, so I put it back on for him and let him take it off me again. In a lot of ways, it was better the second time. Maybe because I was more than just a body for sale. I was still a body for sale, but I was also a person to go with the body. I think he found the rest of me more interesting than a regular prostitute. Oh gosh. I guess I could go on for a while about that session. How good he was at licking my pussy lips. But some other time, perhaps. You like hearing those kinds of details don’t you? Well, the important thing was what he proposed later when he took me home. He drove a big sports car, which didn’t impress my parents nearly as much as the limo that picked me up. I didn’t dare invite him in because even my mom would realize that a man like Donald would have only one interest in a poor girl like me. So we sat out front in his car and talked for a while.
The gist was that he and a group of friends all liked being playboys. They were limited not by available women, all being rich, but by the risks involved. So they had formed a club that met about once a month, usually at a different estate each time. Each man had to have an AIDS test the day before, and each girl that morning. Only male guests are allowed. Any female present is paid decoration and fair game for whatever the men want to use her for. With their money I would have expected three of us for each male. But not so. They generally have about thirty men and half that many women. Apparently, fifteen pussies is more than enough to satisfy any male desire for variety, and sloopy seconds is everyone’s goal. These guys love to stick it into a pussy oozing cume from previous ejaculations. In fact, before the first time you get fucked, someone always sticks a squirter dildo up both you orfices, and from then on you ass and cunt leak nice smelling and nice tasting lube. If wet thighs embarrasses a girl, as far as their concerned, so much the better. Most of the skits seem to have primarily that purpose.
I’ve gone to three of these now. They’re always on a Saturday night and I get paid a thousand dollar each time. Of course I have to go get AIDS tested in the afternoon, then go directly to the place. The results don’t come back immediately, but they finish well before the party begins. During the afternoon, the other girls and I rehearse skits, some made up during the day, others from suggestions some of the men may have contributed. Generally there are three or four men around, keeping an eye on us, sometimes directing us in skits. It’s ok to flirt with these guys, but there’s no sex until all the blood tests are finished. Even then, the guys usually want to wait until party time.
I guess the idea in the evening is that with the guys outnumbering the girls we’re supposed to be intimidated by the number of pricks lined up to fuck us. But I don’t think a single girl there wanted less than the average of two men fucking her. While most of the pussies are regular professionals, I think the group has been pretty well selected for toush that likes being fucked over throughly, and likes the idea of being sampled by a lot of pricks during the course of the evening. I think few of these guys come more than once during the party, but I’ve always had at least two ejaculate inside me each night.
————–
“So, Karen. I’m not sure if they want any more pussies. But they might like new ones. Would you be interested?”
I told Hilda I might. But there were two problems. First, this was an invite only thing. A girl didn’t get hired just because she wanted to put out for a bunch of guys all together in the same night. Not when they were paying the girls a thousand dollars each. Men usually find me attractive, but not as much as Hilda thinks. I can get most men I know to fuck me with Lola’s “a little this-a and that-a”. That and telling them I was available and free. But for the type of money Hilda was talking about, the club could hire plenty of big breasted Playmate types. Hilda seems to think my tiny tits are no hinderance, but I know men like her’s a lot better.
There were other reasons this Donald and his friends would probably never ask me to bare my pussy for them. What they were doing was either illegal or only qusi-legal. Some places prostitutes are presecuted when the local police need something. Other places “escort” services freely advertise in the yellow pages. Still, technically it’s illegal almost everywhere in the United States. And this isn’t Nevada. I had a feeling the men running this private sex party didn’t want any women involved who weren’t doing it for the money. Hilda was probably marginal, though Donald had already paid her twice for pussy. If they knew I was a well paid engineer, they wouldn’t want me for that reason also. Actually, the fact that I’d probably never have the opportunity to put my ass on the block in such a delightfully kinky way, made me envious of Hilda’s adventure. The setup allowing a safe sex orgy was the situation a slut can usually only dream about in this post AIDS society. I wanted to hear more so I asked Hilda to describe her first time.
————-> Hilda:
Well, that was the most memorable of the three. First of all, I really didn’t know what to expect, although things turned out pretty much as I’d been told they would. For one thing, on a date, especially if it will involve sex, I always trust my boyfriend to look after me. You hear about a guy sharing his girl with friends of his. That’s never happened to me, but if it did, I would trust him to not give away my pussy to any friends with anything contagious. What made me nervous was that Donald wasn’t there ahead of time. He had even pointedly told me that he might not make it at all. So my body would be in the hands of complete strangers. As it turned out, Donald was there, though I only found out toward the end. And while my pussy got impaled by more than a dozen men, I don’t thing he was one of them. Since he liked variety and had spent an evening with me just a week earlier, probably he was more interested in the other pussies.
Ok, the reason I didn’t know whether he was there or not was because the men all start out disguised. The girls all start out in negligees. Everyone wears black eventhough our outfits are mostly transparent. The guys with good figures tend to wear body suits that exaggerate their manhood. Donald was so dressed, but so were a dozen other men. They all wore face masks. Some started out with capes and big black hats like Zorro. Towards the end all the men are naked below the waist for obvious reasons, but some never shed their masks. Perhaps they don’t want the girls to be able to recognize them. I’m pretty sure the men all know each other, even in costume.
I was involved in one skit where I had to bend over this vaulting horse that was set waist high off the floor. My ankles and wrists were secured with leather straps. I couldn’t move my head enough to see what was going on behind me. And the obvious thing happened there. In this position I received the two traditional dildo squirts. They injected me with so much KY that I could feel it running out of both my anus and vagina and down onto the vaulting horse. In both places the guy took his time squirting my insides like a lover ejaculating, except that it was much more liquid than the cume any man had ever blessed me with in either place.
The first guy slowly forced his manhood into my lube filled rectum. No vaginal sex for my horny pussy! He wasn’t very big and didn’t hurt me at all. Each man who so used me felt hardly any bigger and sometimes smaller than the previous man. By the time I started feeling really big pricks inside my anus, it was more than stretched sufficiently.
I lost track of the number of times I got reamed, I assume by different men. But even that I had no way of knowing. Three or four men could have been taking turns after the initial few and I wouldn’t have known. But if they were all different pricks I felt in my fanny, then I’d guess practically all thirty men must have made a quick exploration of the inside of my fanny with their members. I suppose being new ass, I was sort of an attraction. During all this, I was hardly the only attraction. The men were not so patient that all thirty would wait a turn to ream my ass hole. At the start, my fanny was the featured skit. But before the fourth man fucked me I could hear them gathering around another girl for similar treatment.
During the afternoon, I was given only a light snack. Twice, when I first arrived and later, I was told to take an enema. A half hour before the party a man came around, lightly lubed both my holes and felt around with a couple of fingers inside my fanny. Shit! Actually, shit was exactly what he did not find, so he was satisfied. I found the whole thing somewhat degrading. Maybe it was supposed to be another test or just compliance training. A girl who couldn’t smile while letting a man give her fanny an internal was not supposed to be there.
By the time the group was done with my fanny, I’d missed seeing most of the planned entertainment. It hardly ever lasts two hours, and the improptu fucking starts well before it ends. Most of the night there’s no one wanting to fuck you with only that average of two guys per gal, so you circulate, kiss a lot, give blow jobs to semi-erect phaluses, and try to look decorative. When I’m naked with a man who might fuck me or is about to, I’m always horny. I was horny all night inspite of my sore ass. My pussy wanted dick in the worst way. Being decorative can mean sticking your legs up in the air and spreading your legs. But you only did that when asked to do it. Otherwise we’d all be doing it too much. So the trick seems to be to look shy and vulnerable, then deliver on demand. I learned quickly that there was more hot pussy there than this number of men could hope to satisfy. The ratio of one girl for every two guys is probably a good one.

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