by Joyner, GP
“Well, of course I would need your practical expertise, but mostly, yes, talking.”
“Boy, I have had a lot of weird customers, but so far, you seem to be the most unique.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“I guess we will have to find out. When do we start?”
“Right now?”
“Okay. Do you know the first thing that a woman notices in a man?”
“Appearance? Clothes?”
“No! Bullshit! That is what the fashion and cosmetics industry wants you to think so that you buy more stuff.”
“What is it, then?”
Your eyes. More specifically, your look. You can tell a lot about a man from the way he looks at the world.”
“And how do I train that?”
She thought for a second before saying, “Well, you don’t. But you got the potential. You are charming, but you still lack the confidence. A woman doesn’t want a man who thinks he is great. We want a man that knows for sure that he is great—but without mistreating people because of that.”
“That is starting to get a little complicated.”
“Women are complicated. In fact, all human beings are. If you don’t want complications, we shouldn’t even start this. But I thought that you wanted to be challenged…” She left it hanging there, almost an accusation.
“Yes, I do want to be challenged. Let’s continue.”
“Nowadays, people tend to think that women want to do the entire ‘search and destroy’ process by themselves. That is not true. We don’t like when preposterous douchebags approach us when we are just trying to have a fun night out dancing with our friends. But when the right guy approaches us in the right way at the right time, then it is heaven.”
“And how can a man do all these right things?”
“First, the look. You have to look a girl in the eyes in a way that she feels like blushing but not embarrassed.”
“Just for teasing?” It seemed like there should be more to it.
“Sort of. A girl wants to feel desired. She wants to feel special. She wants to know that you chose her among all the other options at that moment. That is also something very important: focus!”
“I can only have one girl per night?”
“It is not that. But one at a time. At least for now. Women tend to be very proud.”
“But what if I choose a woman and she rejects me?”
“Then you can go and try for another one. But I don’t understand why men nowadays are so insecure. Why would she reject you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she is committed. Maybe I am not her type.”
“There is no such thing as a ‘type,’” she said, sketching quotes in the air. “My type is always the most attractive man available. I have no interest in a man that isn’t interested in me. But if a guy can make me feel like a goddess, he can win me even if he is not exactly the most handsome.”
“Okay, I am looking. I find a girl that I like, she appears to be interested in me, and she knows I am interested in her. But I am still far from her. How do I get close?”
“Wait. Linger for a little while. Look at her and smile shyly. She will probably smile back at you and look down. The moment she looks up, that is when you make a move.”
“Do I go talk to her?”
“More or less. You go next to her. Maybe order a drink. And casually stay there as if you were just minding your own business.”
“What if she gets tired of waiting?”
“Perhaps that will happen. But I think she will be more likely to get intrigued.”
“And then what?”
“Then you start a conversation. But not a cliché flirty one. Don’t offer to buy her a drink, and don’t compliment her hair. Ask something unexpected and that you really want to know. You can talk about movies, music, literature… anything you want! Just pretend she is a friend of yours already.”
I was unimpressed. “That sounds easy and obvious.”
“But it is not. Most people, boys and girls, try to impress during these first conversations. So they tend to act like somebody that they are not, and that is artificial and boring. I know that it is not surprising, but just be yourself. Isn’t it more pleasant to have a chat when the other person is actually interested in what you are saying?”
“Yes, indeed. But how do I become different than just a friend?”
“You look for the signs and you pay attention to them.”
“What signs?”
“If the girl is touching her hair. If she is accidentally touching your arm. If she places her hand in your thigh while she talks. If she whispers in your ear.”
“And what do I do?”
“You touch her back. Touch, not grab. Lightly make your hand meet her. Put her hair behind her ear in order to confess something to her. By now, she is already yours. If she wasn’t interested, she would have already walked away.”
“So now can I kiss her?”
“Almost. You go close enough so that she thinks you are leaning over for a kiss, but you invite her to dance or to go somewhere else.”
“What if she thinks I am just playing her and gets bored?”
“You are playing her. But in a different way from what she is used to be played. And you are keeping her interested by just being interested, by being yourself.”
“Now can I kiss the girl?”
“Yes, but before, you have to practice.”
“Practice?”
“Yes, I don’t believe in theory without practice.”
And so I did. For almost one entire month, I practiced with the girls in the cabaret. Without the pressure of real life, knowing it was just part of my training, I was able to really connect with all these women. They were many singular individuals with impressive stories to tell, and our conversations made me laugh and cry on a daily basis. My family was really proud of me; they thought I was a really naughty bear man enjoying my youth to the utmost. I was really comfortable giving them this impression while I was having the ultimate female anthropology course. Then, one day, Shantala told me I was ready for the next step.
“Okay, Mike, congratulations! You did really well in this first part, better than I expected. Now, we can move on to the next one.”
“What is the next one?” I asked.
“Kissing, of course! Now relax and give me your best shot.”
“Shall I kiss you?”
“Yes, my lord. Don’t be scared.”
And so I did. I swear I tried my best, but that apparently wasn’t enough.
She pulled away and said, “Be careful, Mike. I don’t want to feel your teeth, and you don’t want to feel mine. Your tongue has to be soft but firm at the same time. Don’t forget to use your lips. I don’t want your saliva either. We will keep practicing until your jaw hurts.”
I wasn’t exactly new at this. I had already kissed some girls that I had met in school, and I considered myself quite good in kissing. But according to her, I was doing everything wrong. We needed a lot of time, but eventually, I mastered the art of kissing. But by then, I was a guy practically living in a brothel for two months and still a virgin. I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed some real action. So when Shantala came to introduce me to the third part of the training, I decided that I would be the conductor from now on.
“Mike, today we start the next part of the training.”
“Thank you, Shantala. But can I control things a little more from now on?”
“Yes, of course. You are the boss, after all.”
“As you know, I am still a virgin. But I would like to change that today, and I would like to have the honor of doing it with you if you are okay with that.”
“Of course I am. That is what you are paying me to do in the first place.”
“I know, but I want it to be pleasant for you. I want you to guide me through it so that I can give you the night you deserve, the night of your dreams.”
“You are such a sweet boy. You don’t have to worr
y about me. But I accept to do it as part of your training.”
“Perfect, thank you very much.”
So we went to her bed and we started making out. Things were getting really hot very fast, but I had to focus. She was in her early thirties, and her body was the embodiment of perfection. She had curves in the right places, and her nipples and aureoles were several tones darker than her caramel skin. Her touch was soft, and touching her was tender.
As I caressed her face, she reached down and slipped her left hand into my pants and grasped my already hard cock. I gasped; it was the first time anyone had touched me down there, and it felt electric. Shantala began stroking my shaft, making my hips move instinctually. She grinded her palm slowly against the head of my penis, which made me bite my lip to keep from crying out. It was almost too much, but her expert touch kept me feeling pure bliss.
I was already feeling in heaven when she took my penis and put it in her mouth. It was the first time I received a blow job, and I was amazed with how easily she could fit my whole dick in her mouth. I mean, I always considered myself a man with a huge dick. But I have to admit that she was an excellent professional. The problem is that, after only a few minutes of that, I came. She swallowed everything and seemed pleased and happy to do so. Then the lesson actually began.
“Did you like it, Mike?”
“Of course I did. But I am sorry for not lasting very long.”
“It is okay. You are young, and you will be ready for another try in a few minutes. But while we wait, I want you to learn how to reciprocate.”
“You mean by licking you?”
“Yes, my dear. Have you ever done it before?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“I personally prefer good old dick-pussy fucking. But most girls nowadays don’t spread their legs unless you suck them until they come. Maybe it has to do with woman empowerment. So that is a skill you will have to master.”
“Okay, I am up for the task.”
“First, I will lie down and open my legs. I want you to take a good look and analyze it before doing anything.”
“Okay,” I said, already looking between her toned thighs.
“What do you see?”
“The clitoris, the inner lips, the outer lips, the opening…”
“Okay, you know your biology. What would you do?”
“I have heard I should focus on the clitoris…”
“More or less. The first thing is to get the girl wet. How do you do that?”
“Maybe I could tease you a little bit.”
“How?”
Then I just went for it. I started gently licking her inner and outer lips, and I could see from her facial expressions and way of breathing that I was doing something right. When I noticed she was getting wet, I gently placed one finger inside her and softly licked her clitoris. It was really hard for her to talk at this point, but she was still able to instruct me by saying up or down and stronger or softer and faster or slower. Then she started pulsing in my mouth, and I knew she was coming, and so did everybody else in the building because she was screaming very loud.
After that, we both forgot about the rules and the training, and we just indulged in some wild animal sex. All this foreplay was driving me nuts, so I fucked her really hard in any possible way we could. I had a lot of respect for her by now. She was a great mentor and friend, but in bed, she wanted to be treated like a real whore. She would ask me to fuck her in the ass and even spank her sometimes. This became our new routine and, in a way, a new part of my training. One day, she invited another girl from the cabaret to join us, and that is how I spent one year of my life, living in a brothel and constantly fucking all the girls in there.
It may seem like a boy’s dream, and it, in fact, was. But not only because of the sex. The girls in there were really special and still are much esteemed friends to me. We had meaningful conversations and deep hangovers. We had amazing sex but bills to pay and clients to satisfy. I was responsible for making sure the girls were well treated and well paid, but I never asked anything in return. In fact, I kept paying them like a regular costumer because I didn’t think it was fair for them to lose money when they were spending time with me. That was definitely a fantastic year, and I still keep in touch with them and visit when I can. But life is harder than that, and one day, the fun had to stop.
When I was old enough, my family commanded that I finish high school and enter college. Since I had already spent enough time with booze and alcohol, even my inner bear was bored with the university parties. After spending that much time talking with people that had real problems and real lives, it was really hard to empathize with my colleagues or to have any real interest for the girls I met. Therefore, I was a little antisocial at university and really focused on my studies.
I learned about philosophy and economics, and I even played a little in the field of industrial design. These were some fun years as well, where I made a lot of geek friends and taught them a lot about girls and sex. They couldn’t really understand why such an athletic rich guy would want to hang out with them, but I wanted company for book clubs, and I thought that I should pass on the knowledge that I acquired from Shantala to people that would make a good and honest use of it. Most of my friends met incredible girls that they ended up marrying. As for me, I became a little skeptical about humanity and used my abilities only in a cynical way in order to relieve the sexual tension that appeared inside me from time to time. I couldn’t accept the fact that girls that wanted and expected me to pay for dinners, gifts, and trips to be with them considered themselves more respectable than my friends that clearly stipulated their price and who wouldn’t bother me when I needed to be alone or demand impossible dedication and effort.
When I graduated, I hoped that the old relatives would let me join the company business, considering I was really prepared for that and enthusiastic about finally having a real job. But it was not that simple. First, they wanted to test my loyalty to the family traditions, and they needed to check if I would be willing to do anything for the health of our kind. That is when they designated me as their new artificial shifters exterminator. I learned that there were some ancient families that had been cursed some centuries ago by a sorceress directly related to our family. Since we were natural shifters, we could control our power and our transformations really well. We had a long-lasting partnership with the bears that made us proud. For us, it was a gift, not a curse. We were not a threat to anyone.
But these artificial shifters were. They were basically a bunch of arrogant, stubborn, vain women that were punished for being too much into their own looks. The sorceress cast a spell that would make them grow a lot of body hair if they didn’t have frequent sex, and they ultimately would become bear women in an unpredictable way. It also would be a problem if these women wanted to have children, so the main idea of the sorceress was to force these women to become extinct. I don’t know a lot about femininity or fertility, but these girls were getting in our way. They would travel around pulling stupid stunts and using their beauty to attract trouble. Therefore, we needed to eliminate them. We didn’t want to become another feared urban legend, especially when it was not our fault. These girls didn’t have manners, but we focused on controlling our sprout since the earliest age. I wouldn’t let my people suffer due to somebody else’s extravagances. I became really committed to the task, and I wanted to hunt every single one of them. And that is how I met Sara.
When I first engaged in the family tradition of hunting artificial bear shifters, I thought that it would be fun. I would meet a lot of beautiful woman, and when they started to get boring, I just had to get rid of them. I had never killed anyone, but I wasn’t planning too. All the time I spent with Shantala and the other girls in the cabaret had taught me a lot about the women’s world and the feminine mind.
I would make these arrogant chicks taste their own medicine. They would feel what it was like to be rejected, and I would make their question their o
wn beauty until they lost it. After all, beauty is a lot more related with how you feel than with how you look. My first prey was studying in the same university that I had studied before, so I knew the campus like the back of my hand, and it was really easy for me to infiltrate any parties. She was the “Queen Bee” in a famous sorority, and I knew this kind of girl very well. Not all of them, of course, but most of them were vain and shallow and used their power and beauty to make other girls’ lives miserable. But not today and not tonight. I wouldn’t let this happen here anymore. They were having a huge party, and I would make my spectacle there.
Firstly, I had to keep in mind that I was there in a business venture. It would be something very different than when I went to this kind of party in my own personal time back in college. The goals were not the same. For instance, I would never go for the Queen Bee. I probably would be more interested in this punk rock girl going crazy on the dance floor, waving her purple hair, showing that she simply doesn’t care. But I had to focus. So I used all Shantala’s techniques to approach the Queen Bee. The looks, the lingering, the charm… everything worked perfectly. Of course, she was delighted to be courted by an elegant older guy, apparently rich, affluent, and successful so that she could show to all her friends why she was the boss.