Erotica: No Limits

by BREANNA BENSON

  The room was wooden and smelled like earth and rose petals. Dorian took my hand as I entered and closed the door behind me. We walked to the bed together.

  We sat, side by side, staring into one another’s eyes for a moment. Then Dorian reached up and cupped me with his large hand. I clasped his hand in both of mine, kissing his fingers one by one, tremulously. He was breathing deeply, stroking my face with his thumb as I kissed up his arm and then reached his lips.

  He suddenly managed to pull me onto his lap, in a swift effortless motion. He now held my head gently, looking at my face with an intense admiration before kissing me on my lips, gently.

  Before we knew it we were kissing deeply, passionately, him holding my head on either side, me pulling him to me by the collar of his shirt, wanting more and more of him. He held me so close, cupping my back, my buttocks, roving around to cup my breast with one hand, diving down to reach into my panties from underneath my leg, stroking the slick lips of my vagina before plunging in. I felt my hips move on and off of his fingers unconsciously, moving on their own, as though they had been waiting for this moment impatiently for ages.

  Dorian laid me down on the bed and hovered over me, kissing me lightly only to admire me for a moment and then kiss me again. He pulled the straps of my dress off my breasts and then rose, a sigh of relief coming over him as he pulled his shirt off to reveal a perfect, glistening mahogany chest. I sat up so that I could open his jeans myself and then I saw a thick, firm rod escape his boxers eagerly.

  At the sight of it I felt my eyes begin to pop out of my head and my mouth fell open. It would have to be now.

  “Dorian,” I said, still transfixed by the enormous erection before my eyes. “I’m a virgin.”

  “Wait… what?” he asked, disconcerted.

  “I’m a-a virgin. I don’t know… if I can…”

  “Oh…” he said, understanding hitting him. “Ok. Unexpected turn off events. But. Ok. Do you want me to get you a room?”

  “No!” I exclaimed, suddenly terribly frightened. I had scared him off! He didn’t want me anymore! But I needed to have him! Every cell in my body cried out for him. “No!” I said once more, climbing to my feet, pressing my bare breasts against his bare chest, feeling the sensation of my nipples rubbing against the hard yet supple granite of his chest and body. I kissed him, pulling his head down toward me. “I want you,” I said between breaths and kisses. “I want you.”

  “Ok,” he said calmly, pulling back to his full height so that I could not kiss him. “No problem. You have me. You have me, sweet Melanie.”

  “Ok. So. We don’t have to do… that climb right away, do we?” I asked, pointing at his still prominent erection. “Let’s start with some novice stuff.” Dorian chuckled.

  “As much as I appreciate you dumbing down the language to something I can understand, I just feel… strange.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t,” I said simply. “It’s like you said. This is a line I never wanted to cross before. But I’m practically being dragged across by my desire for you. I want to be here. With you. I just needed to let you know about my lack of experience. That’s all. So where were we?”

  Dorian smiled.

  “I think we were here,” he said, nibbling on my ear before trailing his lips across my jawline and then to my mouth. We kissed, deeply, falling back to the bed, Dorian’s naked body against my bare breasts and pulled down dress.

  “Wait a minute,” I said, breathlessly. I stood up and shook out of my dress and panties before climbing onto Dorian’s lap. “Can we try the thing with your fingers again, please,” I breathed against his ears. A deep moan ripped through him at my words.

  “Stand up,” he growled, barely able to speak above a whisper. I saw his erection twitching against him with what looked like barely controlled desire. I stood. He turned me around and then pulled me onto his lap. His penis arched along my back, and I felt it pressed between the two of our bodies. I moistened at the thought of him entering me with it instead of his fingers.

  But when the long-fingered dark hand descended between my legs, entering me gently while I sat cradled in Dorian’s other arm, I felt myself arch and writhe against his fingers as he began to touch a part of me that issued a new sensation from within. I gasped and moaned as he played me like a cello, one hand on my breast, his lips on my neck, his hands inside of me, all of them moving, all of them skilled.

  I felt myself melt as though into a puddle with a burst of intense pleasure that caused my stomach to clench, over and over, in orgasm. I lay back against his shoulder exhausted but, by the look of this three fingers, also dilated enough to accommodate three of his fingers, plunging into me.

  I knew I could take it, but even more, I knew that I wanted it. I turned around to face him and climbed back into his lap. He was breathing heavily, leaning back from me as though he did not trust himself with me. I reached down, tentatively, stroking the long, thick girth of his stiffened manhood. I angled it toward me and tried to sit on his erection, and fit it inside of me.

  It felt as though my body was tight tube that refused to give way. I looked at the lust in Dorian’s eyes as he watched me try to fit him in and a new sudden wetness made him slide in the rest of the way, painfully but successfully.

  A deep sigh of contentment escaped us both. I lifted my hand and saw a small speck of blood but other than that I felt elated. Nothing but arousal coursed through me as Dorian guided my waist onto him, to take in more of him. He taught me how to ride him, his eyes shaded with desire as he did, his hips undulating to meet mine and to guide me further onto him. We made slow, deliberate movements, our passions curved by our desire to be careful and not cause any further tearing.

  I felt the creeping of another orgasm spread through me and Dorian’s breathing turned completely ragged as he moved me on his just a little faster.

  We climaxed together before collapsing back onto the bed, delirious from the effort.

  I soon began to feel all the work I had put my body through all day. I felt pleasantly sore, even where I knew I had suffered tearing and bruising, like I would feel after a good day out on the rocks. And my, if this wasn’t the best Sunday Climbing Club adventure ever.

  Chapter One

  The ad was shocking. I read it over and over in amazement. But it was more than that. It was in calculation. It had been making the rounds on social media and plenty of people debated it – saying it was fake, saying it was illegal, but many saying they would do it if they could.

  Male, 45, fit, wealthy. Seeking female 25 or older. Virgin. 1 Million Dollars for your virginity. Must be willing to earn this payment. Applicant will come to no harm but must be willing to dress as instructed, perform specific sex acts and spend 3 days in an undisclosed location with the client. Application will be followed by a videochat interview and then a follow-up interview in person. Applicants will receive $50 giftcard for applying and compensation for the interviews that follow.

  There was a one-page website screen-capped in the article. It was an application form. I felt my finger hover over the link and began thinking of all the ways in which I could spend a million dollars. That research grant my colleagues and I had been chasing… what wouldn’t we give to have a million dollars available to study the healing properties of certain sea creatures. Wouldn’t it be nice if money could just fall out of the sky like that.

  I would have never entertained the idea at all until I saw friends, hackers and geniuses, all confirming that it was legitimate. People were claiming their gift cards, the source issuing the cards traced back to a very well-respected law firm in the Netherlands where it is legal to buy sexual favors, who handled huge clients like oil companies and diamond mining companies and much more. It was a legal transaction with a binding and fair contract that skewed in the applicant’s favor. It was legitimate and legal and that was why it was causing such a buzz in online circles.

  So I thought of throwing my hat in the ring. That was why I was so transfixe
d, staring at my screen, finger hovering over the link to the application. I felt myself curl up in fear, wondering what I would have to do for that million. And how could I even be certain that the money was real, the promise was real? Even when friends and far off experts insisted that it was as legitimate as such a proposition could get, my mind could not grasp it. It had to be a scam – right?

  I was 26 and a virgin. It had happened, almost as if overnight, where no one I dated ever made me feel ready to give myself to them. And now, here I was, a teacher’s assistant at my university, constantly focused on my research, applying for grants and hoping to pursue my doctorate in a fascinating new field of medicine. I barely ever looked at men. Aside from a few professors who stirred my interest, I had kept to myself and it did not quite bother me. I was not sure what the whole fuss about sex was. But a million dollars. Well. There was something to fuss about.

  Something pushed me. I opened the link.

  The application started out normally enough. First it was just normal information – name, date of birth, city and state I lived in. Nothing too intrusive, nothing to scare off someone afraid they were literally inviting a sexual predator to stalk them.

  Then it got more specific and medical. Level of education, field of work or study, full time work or not. Then allergies, mental health issues, family history of certain diseases, drinking and smoking habits, drug use. I admitted to having tried marijuana. Criminal record – none.

  The next section was unlike others I had seen before though. It began to ask questions like:

  Did you have a religious upbringing? No.

  Are you now or were you ever religiously persuaded to save your virginity? Again, no.

  Have you ever felt strong sexual desire for anyone? I answered honestly: No.

  Do you wrestle with your orientation at times? No again.

  While no one had ever really made me get hot and bothered, I had felt myself begin to feel something around very impressive professors when we worked closely.

  What do you find attractive? I knew this one. I wrote: Intelligence.

  Have you ever had an orgasm? Yes. (It had been small and unimpressive but I could see the appeal to someone with less going on in their life.)

  How often do you masturbate? Almost never.

  Do you have a complicated relationship with your body? Yes. I am a woman in a media-driven world. Impossible not to.

  Do you think a particular moment in your past holds you back from exploring your sexuality fully? No.

  Are you afraid of the idea of sexual contact? No.

  What would you say has made you wait as long as you have? This one had a long answer. I wrote: I have been focused on my work for a long time. I was raised in a household where we did not really talk about sex – not for any moral reason, simply due to a lack of interest, and I was not exposed to any media that encouraged sexualized views of women and men. It was a purely academic household and my parents, as I think back on it, might have been asexuals who found each other and found that their daughter did not need entertainment and romantic stories. Instead I was provided academic materials and given a very biological understanding of reproduction. This has probably had a profound effect on the way I interact with others. I see people interacting with the intention of initiating sexual contact. I am unable to really perceive it when it is directed at me because it is simply not a priority or a prominent thought in my mind.

  This was as honestly as I had ever put it before. I remembered when I had started trying to watch movies and tv shows once I was living on my own. The emphasis on sex and romance in every plot and every story was constant and began to grate on my nerves. There were so many more interesting things to invest one’s time in. So many important discoveries needed to advance humanity. The means by which we propagated the species could not take the frontseat for me and so I got rid of the TV and went back to my parents’ rule. Only consume that which edifies.

  The application form stretched on. A camera app asked for permission to use my laptop’s mic and camera and the page read: This is to see what you look like on an average day. I clicked “Allow”. It snapped a picture of me immediately. I was not given an option to change the image or take the picture again or upload one of my own choosing. Instead the application moved on. It asked me to step back for a full body photo. I did as instructed while the timer went off on the camera and it took a picture of me standing in a plain shirt and sweatpants combo. Had not planned for that but I did not feel self conscious. I was either attractive or unattractive to whomever was looking over the application. I could not control that.

  The application was finished then. I made sure to revoke the access the website had to my camera and mic and covered my laptop camera with a sticker just in case. The website could have been a front for pervs to watch women through their webcam.

  I was not sure how I felt but I had done it and I got a $50 giftcard and bought a few books with two-day shipping for my trouble.

  Chapter Two

  A few days passed and then suddenly I received an email requesting my username on a videochat app as well as my availability. I sat patiently that evening waiting for the call at the time of the appointment, now wearing a nice dress and a little bit of mascara and eyeliner as well as lip gloss. I felt a little absurd but when the call started, I saw a woman in her late thirties, sitting at a desk, holding a clipboard and looking very business-like.

  We spoke for about an hour as she asked me some follow-up questions from the application, especially about what had led me to hold back from having sex up until this point. It felt like a therapy session and I realized soon that this really was a psych evaluation.

  It was not overly invasive but we spoke frankly about my drives and motivations in life, my past relationships, my view of sex and sexuality, my willingness to explore and so on, but also about my work, my hobbies, my relationships with family and friends. It was actually quite an illuminating conversation as I thought more about my view of sex and relationships than I ever had and searched my feelings on romantic partners and what I wanted from one. It all came back to an intellect I respected and someone who challenged the way I viewed the world. She encouraged me and told me I seemed to have a very healthy, if rigid, outlook for someone who had not really been interested in sex up until this point. That seemed to indicate that I was on to the “next round.”

  She informed me that a background check was being run on me and that no one would be informed as to why. I was not sure what this meant but before I could ask, she gave me a curt smile and wished me well, ending the call.

  A few more days passed and I got an email, indicating the in-person interview was to take place at a doctor’s office. I was informed that I would be compensated with 2,000 dollars in cash at the end of the in-person interview and I would be getting a very thorough physical examination. I was given the name and address and I looked up the doctor in a trusted index of physicians that the university had on file. It was a gynaecologist, Dr. Tera Logan.

  I made my way over to the doctor’s office for the appointment and found myself in a normal waiting room with a couple pregnant women, two women who looked to be on the verge of menopause and a couple other young women. The young women were quite beautiful and, at least seemingly, not pregnant. I began to wonder if they, too, were interviewing.

  When I went into the doctor’s office, signed a contract giving permission for her to perform a physical. I read it briefly but knew that they could not perform anything illegal on me, even in a contract. There was a non-disclosure clause that indicated I would forfeit the money and owe the contractor a fee of $200,000 should I go blabbing.

  I was weighed, asked about my lifestyle habits, put on a treadmill with my heartrate monitored, asked some more about my family history which had obviously been passed on from the application form. Dr. Logan was friendly and professional and I had a hard time imagining that she knew why she was working up a physical for me.

  However,
this illusion melted away when she asked me to disrobe and put on the patient robe while she excused herself. She came back and began putting on her gloves.

  “I am sure you know that the requirements for this call for proposals involves a very rigid virginity clause,” she said. “It is difficult to really assess a woman’s virginity, no real way to be sure – the hymen is no surefire test either way. However, I’ve been informed that a background check of an unusual kind was run in order to investigate your claim, investigating your past ‘suitors’ and they seem persuaded that you are what you say you are. I’m just going to have a look down there to see if I can provide any further evidence to that fact.”

  This was quite surprising. In any case, the rest that followed seemed like any other gynaecological visit. Toward the end, however, I was asked if I could disrobe completely and have a few photographs taken.

  Here, I hesitated.

  “I know you might feel nervous about this,” said Dr. Logan. “But this will be 100% confidential between me, you, and Mr. Gallager.”

  “Mr…”

  “Gallager. He is the one who is sourcing the contract. Here is a photograph of Mr. Gallager’s physique.”

  She handed me a photograph of a naked man, his face blurred, stood against a blank white wall. He was tall and fit, with a broad chest, lightly dusted with brown hair. He had about 5 inches of manhood fully exposed and flaccid. From what I could tell from the blurred face, he had a head full of hair and lean, square-jawed face.

  “We would like to get one of yours should you approve of his,” she continued. I nodded quietly, the realness of this whole thing suddenly beginning to hit me. “If you would stand against that wall, please,” said the doctor, pulling out a camera from her coat.

  I took off my robes feeling quite nervous suddenly and stood against the wall. She took a picture of me from every side and then took a close up of my face.

  “Thank you, Ms. Calhoun,” said Dr. Logan. “That will be all. Here is your cash.”