The Life of a Prostitute

by Doris Joe

  Turning back to his shivering wife, he finally placed a hand on her shoulder. A deep instinctive part of her recognized her husband's touch and she clasped her hand over his. They say every cloud has a silver lining. That night on the swingers’ floor, Mr. and Mrs. Lancaster found new depth in their love for one another. Neither said anything as Jared knelt there next to his wife, both naked as the day they were born and both physically spent. Somehow, that hand on her shoulder seemed to feed new warmth into Stacy’s body. She found within herself that she felt no resentment at all towards her husband for what had happened. She could have blamed him... but didn’t. In truth, she only blamed Helen a little bit... what had happened seemed like some kind of inevitable natural force. But what was important to Stacy at that moment was the absolute certainty that her husband loved her and would never willingly hurt her. It was a certainty more of faith than of reason... and it struck all the deeper because of that.

  And for Jared, the gentle way his wife stroked the back of his hand was enormously reassuring. A semblance of peace took over her features and her breathing eased. Nothing terrible had happened. Stacy hadn’t actually been injured just... pushed a little too far.

  Stacy got shakily to her feet. Jared rose with her and she kissed him gently on the cheek. Her hand lingered on his arm for a moment as she stepped away from him and looked down at Helen. "I think Jared and I should probably head home." She said, her voice steady.

  Stacy extended a hand to Helen, offering to help her to her feet. Helen took it, an uncertain smile of concern pulling at her face. "I’m so sorry Stacy. You’re okay, aren’t you?"

  Stacy shrugged. "I’m fine. But I think that’s enough for one night." Betty and Frank approached. Betty held Stacy’s shoulder and examined her. Her short hair stuck out in spikes and tangles. Splotches of pink heat marred her pale complexion. Betty let her eyes travel down the young woman’s body, examining her frankly. Stacy’s nipples had gone flat, the sea-shell pink coloring of her areola disappearing into the blemishes and nascent bruising covering her chest. Stacy’s knees were spread slightly making her stance awkward. Her feet shifted and she suppressed a wince. Her beaver was a matted mess. She made a conscious effort to keep her hands away from her aching parts.

  Frank blew out his cheeks with a sigh. "Stacy, I really hope..." His voice faded away. He didn’t know what to say.

  Stacy smiled up at him. "It was fun. Really. I’m not mad or anything, it’s just time to call it a night." She looked down at herself. "I should probably shower first..."

  Jared raised a hand and then rushed to retrieve the bag he had brought. He opened it up to show Stacy. "I brought you a change of clothes." He raised his eyebrows at her.

  Stacy’s smile grew broader. "Oh, thank god." She said. Stuffed into the bag were a pair of comfortable jeans, a T-shirt and a pair of panties.

  Betty showed her to the bathroom. When she emerged fifteen minutes later, she looked comfortable and calm. Her hair was clean and controlled though still damp and her face wore a distracted but content expression. The other four had gotten dressed, Helen back in her casual after-work clothes and Frank still wearing a robe. Betty was back in what she had worn too. She made a face as Stacy walked in, plucking at her wrinkled dress. "I never plan these things through right."

  Stacy wanted to keep things as pleasant and as social as possible. She asked courteously, "Betty, do you have a way to get home?"

  The big woman nodded. "Sure, I drove over here before dinner and rode with Frank. My car’s right outside." Stacy turned to Helen and Frank, taking a deep calming breath. Her husband came to her side, resting his hand on her arm in support. She gave him a grateful smile, which then turned into a mock sneer. "By the way, you didn’t pack a bra."

  He smirked and overtly cast his eyes down to her breasts. "You don’t think that was an accident, do you?" His voice was playful is a slightly desperate sort of way. She returned her attention to the Pollards. She visibly hesitated... she couldn’t help it... but she was able to embrace Helen and give her a sisterly peck on the mouth. "It was fun. I guess I have some things to think about." Helen nodded blankly and Stacy turned to the big man standing next to her. She raised her arms in invitation, a more or less sincere smile on her lips. Frank lifted her in his arms and exchanged a quick kiss. His hand squeezed her ass through the denim... she neither objected nor signaled any pleasure from the quick groping. Frank set her down, his face set in a determined grin. "We’ll have to do this again real soon."

  Helen hit him. "Stacy, hun... if you want to give me a call in a few days to talk or something..." Betty piped up, "Yeah, please, give one of us a call. It would be a shame if your first swing were your last." Everyone looked at her askance. "What? Hey, she had a ball. There’s no reason to let a few bruises spoil the fun. Helen will promise to be more careful next time, right?"

  Frank was shaking his head and Helen hid behind a hand across her brow. Stacy laughed. "Betty, I promise I’ll give you a call. We can probably figure something out."

  The drive home for the Lancasters proceeded in silence. Jared opened his mouth a few times as if to say something but couldn’t bring himself to break the silence. Yes, Stacy had a lot to think about. As time passed, the less and less she blamed Helen for hurting her and the more she knew she had let herself get into that situation because she wanted it. It bothered her deeply but also excited her. She had never thought of herself as inhibited, but tonight she had gotten a glimpse of what it was like for Stacy Lancaster to really free her lust. She had been shocked by the hunger she had felt. Damn it, she already knew her sex drive, once ignited, was too much for ninety-nine percent of the men in the world. Was she such a horny slut that even her own body wasn’t safe?

  They settled into bed quietly that night. Jared was still feeling secure in the revelation of the trust and love they shared... he was content to let his wife sort out her thoughts on her own. She was too smart and sensible to get freaked out.

  The air reeks of anticipation and testosterone as I descend the staircase into the basement level. It looks like there will be no stampede, but I sense a slight increase in the walking pace of those leading the way. I follow suit, clutching that fresh condom in my palm and wondering if it’s presumptuous of me to have one at the ready. I haven’t noticed anybody else dipping into the protection pot yet - is it bad to look too keen at a gangbang?

  Oh, come on - this isn’t a high school dance! These women aren’t here to play dating games. They’re here to be fucked. You do NOT have to play it cool! I’m already thinking it would be terrific to be the first guy to get into one of those two beauties present tonight. I don’t seriously think that’s going to happen, considering there are others ahead of me who’ve done this before. They’ll be drawing lots according to some time-honoured gang-banging tradition I’ve yet to discover, right? But breaking in one of the women for the evening is a magical thought anyway.

  When I get to the basement, I have to take in unfamiliar surroundings and try to decide where to begin, all at the same time. The stairs lead down onto a central reception room, where our smiling hostess has already set up shop. It’s tiled with polished terracotta - clearly this basement is no mouldy storehouse. Directly opposite the stairs is a round table with a long, curved wooden bench surrounding it - big enough for eight or so people. It nestles in an alcove behind a makeshift bar area. This consists of a small fridge and a wall unit with plenty of glasses awaiting a splash of liquid.

  But nobody is stopping for a drink right now. I cannot see the girls just yet but assume they are in one or both of the darker rooms on either side of the bar room. Which women are where? I don’t know the lay of the land and want to nose around. But much as I would love to get my bearings and know my options, I don’t want to fall into the trap of FOMO-riddled indecisiveness. I need to pick one door and go for it.

  I choose the right-hand door. The light is lower and bluer here - it turns out to be the indoor pool room I’ve heard about in
conversations upstairs. The turquoise waters of the small, square pool take up the right half of the room as you enter. A tiled wall separates the pool from the other half, a bench running along the near side. There’s a wooden door to my left, which looks like it leads into the sauna we definitely don’t need on such a hot night. The remainder of the room wraps around the sauna - and this is the corner where that wicked schoolgirl is to be found.

  It’s a blur of white-shirted men and excitement. I’m overwhelmed, wanting to do everything and be everywhere as more men arrive and the room begins to fill. Do we wait for a bugle call announcing that it’s time to begin the pillage? A drum roll, perhaps? I sense I’m not the only one who is uncertain. One thing I know is that I’m not going to get stage fright when the right time comes. I’m not afraid to go first, even with the audience at what is probably going to be the peak of its size and curiosity. They can do what they like: I know I’ll stay as hard as I am right now. I just have to know that the right time has in fact arrived.

  There’s no drum roll. No announcement. The schoolgirl’s escort is helping her out of her skirt and onto a broad massage table covered with towels. They’re chatting and smiling, as though they’re unpacking the shopping together in their kitchen. I step closer to the table, deeper into the alcove this girl appears to be claiming. As several hungry men and I watch on for a few respectful moments, I become aware that the buxom blonde is already bent over the poolside wall. She’s receiving the kind of attention that confirms once and for all that this is no genteel drinks gathering.

  While somebody obviously didn’t want to wait, it’s clear that more of us are intent on getting our shot with the strawberry-blonde. She’s still got her white blouse buttoned over her breasts as she lies back. She looks decidedly ready, and her partner nods in our general direction.

  Most hang back - myself included - but a couple of men who seem to know the ropes make a move towards her. I’m surprised that neither of them makes a beeline for her open legs. Instead, they stand on either side of her head, which on this table is at perfect cock-height. The moment she has a dick within reach, she lunges her mouth at it and begins to suck.

  Okay, this is really happening. Another guy - they are all a blur to me for the moment - stops at her waist and begins to unbutton her blouse. In an instant, her plump breasts are free. He begins to massage the right one with his hand. The left one’s free. I decide I’m done waiting. It’s fantastically warm to the touch, that left boob of hers. I think her passion is already igniting her. I knead the flesh and play with her taut nipple. She doesn’t flinch - she’s too busy alternating greedily between the two cocks on either side of her face. I revel in the gift of her body. Breasts, nipples, anything. Open invitation. Free to use. I have never known carte blanche quite like this before.

  After a minute of enjoying her soft breast, during which time I grow rapidly more comfortable with the situation, I notice that there is still a gaping vacancy between her bent knees. Her pussy is on wideopen display. And there doesn’t appear to be an immediate candidate to fill it.

  Fuck it, I’m going in. I step away from her torso, drop my boxers and throw away my shirt. I keep a beady eye out for someone jumping ahead of me as I slide the condom onto my erection. I’m not going to fight anyone, but it would be a shame to have to give way when I’m so close. The condom is a fiddle, but I get it on the right way around first time, thank God.

  One guy steps forward, but he’s only interested in taking my place at the head of the table. I still cannot believe nobody is pounding her yet. This moaning sex queen has been on that table for two minutes already and counting.

  I shrug, look around for one last sign that I’m supposed to wait - I don’t see one - and crawl up onto the table. I kneel in the prime spot between her lovely white knees. It seems polite to test her out for wetness, so I slip two fingers cautiously into her vagina. Oh, she’s wet alright. Hot, too. It’s like molten lava in there.

  There hasn’t been a word of reproach. No reprimanding hand on my shoulder. No awkward coughs. Why should there be? Of course there shouldn’t. Not at this party. But that fact is just too surreal to believe.

  I bend my mind around that reality one last time - the muffled cries coming from her cock-stuffed mouth help with that - and then shove my penis into her sopping cunt. I’m her first shaft of the evening. It’s like taking a virgin - sort of. But it’s me who’s the real virgin here. I’ll never have another first gangbang fuck, will I?

  It’s utterly pornographic to see this wanton slut taking a succession of cocks in her mouth while I pound her. I’m not hugely keen on having to dodge all these tit-groping men and their members as I try to fuck - in my mind this was going to be more of a one-by-one kind of arrangement - but I guess it wouldn’t be the same without them. It’s the way she welcomes all and sundry at the same time that makes this what it is.

  Mostly her eyes are closed, but I see her sneak the occasional peek at me and the others showering her body with their touches. She’s not afraid for this whole thing to be real to her, I note with satisfaction.

  Then the thoughts begin. Should I come already? How often can I come in a night? If I only have one load, should I save it for the brunette, whom I assume to be in the other room? If I come now, how long do I need? What if there’s a line behind me now? Is there an etiquette around how long you’re allowed to occupy a given pussy? My cock is hard and I’m enjoying my ride on the kinky schoolgirl, whose blouse has pretty much been swallowed up by the white towels underneath her body, leaving her all but naked. It’s not the easiest position and it’s fucking hot, but I think I could come if I pushed for it. But then, why push? There’s no rush. I can come back, right? Nobody’s ticking my name off on a list you’ve had your turn, Sonny! as far as I can see.

  I decide that I’m happy to have declared her open for business, and pull out after a minute or two. I’m not sure if restraint is admirable at these events, but I’ve shown it anyway. I assume that someone will take my place right away now that the ice has been broken, but nobody steps up. I feel a twinge of guilt at leaving the panting, heroic woman with a void.

  What’s wrong with these guys? Here I am, considerately stepping aside for you, and you’re standing around playing with your dicks! I take off the condom, throw it in the bin and take a quick, cold rinse at the shower wedged next to the pool. Even that short burst had raised a sweat. As I dry myself, I note that some other faceless male has finally followed my example and rammed his meat into this less-than-shy creature. Still aroused, I walk over to watch proceedings from near her right shoulder. It’s not my intention to get involved again - I’m without condom for the moment - but after a short while, the latest guy to get a blowjob from her steps away.

  Before I know what’s happening, she has reached out and grabbed my penis, gently tugging me closer by its rapidly re-hardening length. She turns her head sideways and plunges it into her ravenous mouth. I thought the other guys had protection when she did that to them, but maybe I was mistaken. Maybe it’s only Amsterdam prostitutes that do oral sex with condoms? Anyway, she’s really going for it, looping the loop around my shaft with her tongue. Well, if she doesn’t care for rubber, then it’s fine with me.

  I run my hand through her hair as she sucks. It’s already dishevelled and moist with perspiration. She’s got me fully turned-on again, the minx! Hmm, there’s no shortage of condoms in here. If she’s made me horny once more, why not jump on her again? I can’t think of a compelling reason not to. This is not real life, after all. This is a sex buffet. You can go back.

  I yank out of her mouth and walk as casually as I can to the tub of condoms on the shelf near the foot of her massage bed. I get set to go once more, wait for her current suitor to finish and then jump back in exactly where I was a few minutes ago. Kneeling and ramming, that is to say. I sense most of the keenest men have had at least one ride on her by now, so I feel a little less pressure about taking my time. I shove harder and fast
er into her, shaking her body so much that she struggles to hold her current cock in her mouth without losing control. Watching that takes me close to the edge, and when I see her eyes open to take a look at me, then close in apparent satisfaction, I shoot out a heavy load.

  Slowly I pull out, taking care that the condom comes with me. I give her one free tit a playful slap as I dismount the table. I love how insatiable this girl is and I know I will be back for more action if she keeps going for as long as it looks like she might - she’s the one who takes cum in her mouth, isn’t she? - but now my curiosity about the other room gets the better of me. Is grass-is-greener syndrome more powerful any time than when sex is involved? I cannot let the brunette get away!

  I slip past the blonde, who is now getting fucked over the pool wall, and through the bar area. The other room is a straightforward square affair with minimal frills or furniture. Without the cool of the water, it is significantly steamier in here. Adding to the heat is the fact that there are three women fucking, not two. One is on all fours on another massage table and another is on her back on a mattress on the floor in the far corner. But I have eyes only for the cute, tanned little thing on the mattress just to the right of the door as I come in. It looks a lot like the nervous brunette’s nerves are gone.

  Apart from the dress that’s been yanked from both ends to form little more than a belt around her belly-button, she is naked. Her bronzed skin is glistening with sweat. Her partner sits near her head, watching his girlfriend getting fucked hard by a succession of men - young, old, European, Asian. The party is in full swing now and if there was any shyness in this room in the beginning, it’s a distant memory now. There isn’t exactly a formal line waiting to get into the dark, petite stunner, but two or three men are always standing at the side of the mattress, patiently waiting for their turn. Our brunette is not as expressive as the girl in the pool room, but there’s a sexy enough soundtrack coming from the other two women in this room. Groans of pleasure fill the air, adding to the lustful ambience.