"When did you get here?" said Bobby.
"Not long ago," I replied, lighting a cigarette and leaning into the couch.
It was May and the sun coming in the window raised the temperature in the room to stuffy. It was a small room with high ceilings into which opened four private offices. Bobby had promised me work, but I had to meet his partner, Jeff. The theater building was old, but the club was new and the floorshow was a hit. Drag was popular again like it had been in the late 90s and they wanted the show to move from the stage to the tables. Waiters in drag, was what they told people they wanted, but everybody knew better.
"What you been doing," he asked.
"Working at the library," I said and put my cigarette in the ashtray on the side table.
He smiled. "Lots of books to check out?"
I reached into my purse and handed him a folder of 8x10 photos.
"Fashion?" he asked, with unmistakable surprise when he opened it.
"It pays better than anything I've shot before," I replied. "The people are nice," I added, which he took note of.
"But it must not pay very often or you wouldn't be here," he said.
I shrugged. "Is the chit chat out of the way now? Can we get to the point? How much are you paying?"
He looked steadily at me and smiled. "$750 a week plus a $50 a month wardrobe allowance. All the tips are yours and the shifts start at 5,7 and 9. First hires get the first pick."
I knew what that meant too. Starting earlier than 9 would doom you to hours on your feet serving the timid queers. The ones that slipped out on their wives to sip a beer and see a man in stockings. The liquor and money didn't start flowing until the floorshow started at 9 and if you wanted that start time there were ways to become first in line.
"$100 for wardrobe," I replied. "Shoes alone on this job will cost that every month."
He smiled "You've got tips."
It was true. A hot club could produce $100 in tips on a weekend night, but I didn't let on. "Who else have you called?"
"You were the first Stevie," he said in an obvious lie. Vickie had told me that Bobby called at 5, but he didn't call me until nearly 9. "You're our favorite, you know."
Here it was. I knew it wouldn't take Bobby long. He walked over to the couch and stubbed out my cigarette in the ashtray and in a single motion sat on the arm of the couch and pulled me to his lips. I pulled away after a brief kiss. His eyes met and held mine in the narrow distance between us.
"Come on Stevie. We both know you need this," he said, then smirked. "I need this."
He took my left hand in his and placed it on his pant leg as he pulled my lips back to his.
Bastard. More than I hated the scared middle-aged men and their sticky money, more than the sissies on their knees while their wives watched, or the bullies that pulled my hair then insisted I spank them, I hated the hustlers and their wheeler-dealer cocks. Their politically connected cocks. Their money in the bank cocks. Their constantly needing to be sucked cocks.
I resisted his hand at first, then relented. He pulled away from my lips and I looked down and watched my red nails travel over the knee of his jeans.
"What about Jeff?" I asked. My hand under his continued its way along the seam of the jeans. The red nails against the blue fabric looked brighter, garish.
"What about him?" Bobby replied.
His hand guided mine to his fly and the pressure eased.
"I thought he was going to be here," I said looking up again. "You said he wanted to talk."
"He won't be here until 4," said Bobby. "Didn't I tell you that?"
He was a bastard. We both knew it and it didn't matter. As much as I wanted out I knew I would be in. Into hustling boozy conventioneers, letting them think they could get more after closing, more for another $200, more if they would stop at the ATM on the way to the hotel room. The fact was the money was easy and so was I. I watched my nails pull down the zipper.
"I want the 9 o'clock and $100 clothing allowance," I said as his cock rose out of his jeans.
"Sure baby," he replied as he sighed into ecstasy between my lips.
"So did you see that guy Jeff?" Vickie asked as I sat down at the table. The restaurant was a favorite of ours and I waved to a couple at a corner table.
"No. Did you?"
"No," she said. "There was somebody that came up the stairs while I was there, but he never came in. Didn't even touch the doorknob. Must have been a sign up, 'interview in process,' " she said laughing.
I smiled. "Well, what'd you get?"
"Same as you," she replied.
I titled my head slightly and smiled.
"Ok, the 9 o-clock and $150 for clothing."
"Fucker," I whispered pounding the table lightly with my fist.
"You didn't take the $50 did you?" Vickie gasped.
"No, I should have asked for $200," I said to myself more than to Vickie. The scene rolled over in my mind again. "I got $100."
"Sorry," Vickie said. "I'll split my extra $50 with you," she added scooting her hand across the table to give mine a squeeze. "But he didn't ask for a cut of the tips, so hey."
"He started me Tuesday," I said. "Two crappy nights of tables before the weekend."
"Same," said Vickie.
"What are you wearing?" I asked.
"The same I always do," she replied. "Leather mini and a white blouse. Want to go shoe shopping with me tomorrow?""
The waiter took our order. Two glasses of wine and a stir-fry after that. We agreed that Capizio dance pumps would be the best shoes for those floors. Everyone had to be in heels. We would shop tomorrow.
Then the old waiter came solemnly to our table with the bill and whispered "Those two men at the table in the window paid for your dinner," he said and smiled. "They asked me to invite you to sit with them."
Vickie craned over my shoulder to look at them in the least subtle gesture you could imagine. "Geez sister, why don't you flash them some leg," I complained.
"Oh lighten up," Vickie retorted.
We had a second glass of wine with the men, who it turned out were in a finance business. Vickie and I slipped away to the bathroom after what seemed like hours of chatter, but probably was only 20 minutes.
"They don't get it," I said freshening my lips at the mirror. "I'm outta here. Good-byes at the table and I'm going home."
Vickie shrugged in apparent agreement.
They were sweet and followed us onto the sidewalk outside the restaurant. They would be in town for the week and hoped they could meet us again, said the tall one. They really wanted to meet a couple of girls like us, said the other.
"And what kind of girls would that be," said Vickie.
"Transsexuals," said the tall one.
I rolled my eyes up to the lights above the sidewalk and followed the line of neon marching down the street into the New York night. I found myself laughing, not sure why, and turned on my heels and began walking slowly away.
"What's wrong with you girl," said Vickie when she caught up with me in the next block. "They were nice enough. The tall one, his name is Rich."
"Swell," I said through my laughter.
"What's so wrong," she protested. "The other guy, Mike is pretty cool. I bet Rich is too. Anyway, what's so funny?"
"I don't know Vickie. Three months ago I swore this off and now I've sucked off my pimp and set up a trick in a couple of hours. I mean, doesn't that strike you as hilarious?"
"What," Vickie said. "What's hilarious?"
"To think that I could stop," I replied.
"No I don't think we've met," I told the man as I sat down the scotch and soda. "You seem pretty sure we have, but I don't think so," I smiled.
He had been at his table a long time before I started work and he looked it. The drink I had just served was soda with a splash of color. I smiled and made change for his $20, keeping an extra dollar for myself. He was a lousy tipper.
"They're here," said Vickie as I walked back up to the bar. "They're at your table in the corner."
The music was really loud now. A black transsexual in a glittery body stocking was lip synching a too-loud Janet Jackson song. The previous performer, a stripper, had left with cash stuffed in her garters after gliding through the laps of half the people in the audience, including women of which there were several. By the time I made it to their table, the emcee was introducing a Madonna in a corset.
"Hi, glad to see you could make it," I said.
"Thanks for the invitation," said the tall one, "or your friend's invitation."
I let that slide.
"Your name is Rich isn't it," I said, "and Mike," I said looking to the other. They brightened visibly.
"So you've cheered up since last night," Rich said.
I smiled. "What can I get you."
"He can't take his eyes off your ass," Vickie said as I returned to the bar. A beer and Chevis rocks was the order. "Rich got the Chevis," I said, nodding.
"You ever dress like that," Rich asked gesturing to the Madonna on stage as I returned to the table with the drinks.
I huffed at him in mock disgust, set my hand on a cocked hip and said: "What's wrong with this honey?"
"Nothing baby," he said, obviously pleased.
I leaned down to his ear and whispered: "I've got better than that sweet heart."
After I delivered their second round of drinks Rich stood and walked a short distance with me.
"What time do you get done here?"
"Two," I replied. "We might get done a little early," I added raising my eyebrows a bit.
"How early?" he asked.
"About $400 early for the two of us."
He smiled and nodded.
I smiled back and said to meet us at the curb in 20 minutes.
At first in his hotel room, he was reluctant to touch me, almost virginal, wanting me to corrupt him. He poured wine and brought it. Sipping he fixed my eyes. I finished a sip and took his glass firmly and set them on the top of the television where he had turned on some porn. I pulled his arms around my waist and leaned back into the wall of the room to feel his weight on me. He buried his face in my neck and quickly slid his hands onto my ass and gripped it through the leather skirt, pulling me to him. Our legs were straight and our bodies met in an oddly neutral way except for his hands tightening on my buttocks.
He released quickly and slid his hands up my back lifting my knit top and feeling my shoulders. He pulled his left hand cautiously around to my breast and cupped it gently like I could imagine he did with is wife. I quickly lifted the top over my head and threw it to the chair, which sat across from a coffee table and a couch against the other wall of the hotel room. A small desk attached to a low counter holding the television were the only other furnishings in the room besides the bed and nightstands. His right hand slid to the waist of my skirt, searching in the back then the side for the closure. He found it and fumbled a moment with the button, then the zipper. It fell with a whisper. He stood back, pinning my shoulders to the wall.
I had worn a black satin waist cincher with pantyhose that were sheer to the waist. A matching black thong and bra finished the ensemble. I wore the thong over my hose to sculpt the nylon around my hips and derrière. "I'm not going to bight," I said with a faint squirm against his outstretched arms. "We'll I might," I added as his eyes met mine. He said nothing. He let up slowly and stepped backward reaching with a hand behind him to find the back of the chair he knew was there and then resting his weight on it. The chair back held his six feet of muscular body at an odd angle that I found appealing. His eyes traveled up and down my body in a calculating way. I turned and got our wine from the top of the television doing so slowly to give him ample view of the thong carving the film of nylon through my ass. I turned back and handed his glass to him and sipped, holding his eyes with mine. "Were you expecting lumpy and hairy?" I asked with a smile as I walked around his outstretched legs and came beside him. His hand rose to embrace my hip, fingers cupped into the crevasse. The touch was gentle, tentative. I held the wineglass to my lips and looked at my watch as I tipped it. Manage this right, I thought, and I'd end the first $200-hour with his cock still in his pants, an automatic second hour for sure. My left hand stroked down the front of his shirt then up to his neck. I took another sip of wine and stepped around behind him and sat my glass down and began messaging his shoulders. He eased into the motion of my hands. I slowed as he took a drink, then rubbed hard with my thumbs when he had swallowed. We repeated the cycle twice and I put a knee up on the seat of the chair and reached over his shoulders with my hands embracing him from behind, kissing his neck and ears. The swelling in his trousers measured my effect. I kissed his cheek and slowly his lips turned to mine. I reached my hand further down his chest and up. It was muscled and smooth and with each stroke my hand reached lower to his belt and past, brushing his swelling hard on. "You're being wicked," he whispered. "That was the idea," I replied. "How wicked are you?" he asked. "Depends," I said. "Depends on what?" "Depends on how much you want to spend?" With that he took me by the elbow and led me firmly around the chair and backed me against the wall beside the television where we had been earlier. He set his wine clumsily on the TV and lifted my right leg putting my foot on the edge of the counter holding the television and felt the length of my thigh to my waist. He kissed me hard thrusting his tongue into my mouth and holding the back of my head. His other hand continued its path up and down my thigh and with each pass moved onto my sex, which responded to every touch. Firmly his hand began stroking it alone. "How much is it going to cost me to fuck you," he whispered. "How much for a fuck Stevie, because that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to fuck you." He left off his rubbing and quickly undid his belt and fly. He pulled back and pushed me to my knees and onto his ample dick. "You wanted wicked baby," he whispered. It was wicked, seven inches, maybe eight. I guided it into my cheek and pulled back, kissing the shaft and slathering it with my tongue. He was eager for more. One hand on the back of my head the other on my shoulder he guided his dick into my mouth and out, deeper with each motion until the glans filled the back of my throat with every thrust. I gulped air between strokes and gripped his legs for balance. I looked up at him looking down. He was no longer tentative. I pushed back on his legs hard. "Is this wicked enough stud?" His cock plunged back into my mouth, once, twice more, while I held his eyes with mine. "You're wicked alright," he hissed. He rocked into me again. I pushed back firmly and reached for my purse beside the television. I pulled out a condom and tossed the purse back onto the counter, spilling his wine. I turned up to his face as I quickly ripped the package open, pulled out the condom, put it in my mouth and pulled him back to me taking him into my mouth and unrolling the condom onto his dick in a single motion. A few more thrusts and I had it unrolled the length of his phallus. He pulled away. And took my hands leading me over to the chair back and bending me at the waist and pulling down my thong and pantyhose in a single motion. "Geez aren't we even going to use a bed?" I taunted him over my shoulder. He laughed and shook his head. "Hand me my purse," I said pointing to it on the counter. He swung it into my waiting hand. I pulled out a bottle of lubricant and squeezed some into my crack. He stood watching, slowly stroking his phallus. "Go easy baby," I said looking up. "I'm wicked, but I'm still human." He smiled, spread my legs apart with his own, put his cock to my anus and gently leaned. You couldn't tell me this guy hadn't ass fucked before. Maybe a hundred times, a hundred transsexuals, a hundred men, a hundred women. Who knew? God it felt good slow. Real slow. I wasn't sure how much time had passed. One of his arms reached around me onto the arm of the chair and the other flicked my breasts out of my bra and began twisting the nipples, first one, then the other. Slowly, deeper he went and I grimaced as the pressure reached the edge of my experience. Then he pulled away just as slowly to the edge of my anus. Slowly he pushed again and with each pass the pressure eased and the pleasure mounted. "Geez" I whispered softening the "g" into an "s" with each repetition of the sound until it lost all expression and turned to a hiss. Over my shoulder the porn was playing on the television. The camera shot down on a woman in corset and fishnet stockings on a bed. Her heavily rouged and mascara'd face was pouting. I looked over my shoulder at Rich, whose eyes were on mine. "This wicked enough baby?" he asked with an intentionally deep thrust. I responded by slapping my ass, then walking my nails up and down his chest. His pace quickened. I spread my legs further and relaxed into his trusts, adjusting my body so the chair back put pressure on my sex. On the television a black man stood over the whore in the corset who rose with open lips to the big Negro's cock. I rocked back and forth on the chair back with every thrust. The friction was turning into pure heat in my ass and groin and I felt Rich swelling inside me. His hands on either side of my hips pulling as he pushed. Faster now, his breathing shallow. He slapped my ass. He slowed and time slipped away, then quickened and the thrusts grew urgent. "Cum with me Stevie," he said, crowding the words with is breathing. "Stevie's going to cum isn't she? Isn't she?" I nodded in jerky rhythm with his cock. He slapped my ass again as he pulled back. I couldn't turn my head side to side any longer, only up and down, my hair flying. An earring tumbled from one of my ears to the seat of the chair. Heat washed up my thighs from the strain of rocking; rocking, rocking and then he froze and pulsed deep in my ass and a flood opened inside me. I was confused, almost panicky. Had the condom broken? Was Rich still in me? I had lost all sensation without movement. I couldn't tell if his cock was still in me, even though his weight was still on my hips. Then another flood and another and I recognized my own moist orgasm creating a film of cum in my pantyhose. "Tap, tap," came the sound from the door. Rich turned and then looked back at me with apprehension. "Stevie. It's Bobby. You Ok?" Rich looked down at me as I craned over my shoulder to see him and the door. "It's Ok. Bobby," I called. "It's my driver," I whispered to Rich. "He's just looking after me." Rich nodded. "Give me a few" I said loud enough for Bobby to hear as I smiled over my shoulder at Rich. I came out of the bathroom a few minutes later in dry pantyhose, adjusting my skirt. Rich was propped up on the bed in boxers, legs crossed, watching the TV. The woman in the black corset was against the wall, her arms out. The black man was kneeling in front of her, bare to the waist, feeling with open hands her breasts over her corset. She caught his head in both hands and pressed it to her sex. "Oh," I said crawling across the bed to Rich's lips. His hand stroked the outside of my thigh and pushed something into the waistband of my skirt. The kiss lingered, then I pulled away, looked to my waist. I counted the bills. $400. There was more tapping at the door. "Right there," I said. "Think the big stud is gonna fuck her?" Rich asked gesturing to the screen. "I sure hope so," I said giving him a final peck. "For her sake."
After we had driven a block or two, Bobby threw his arm over the driver's seat. "How much we got girls," he said. Vickie and I had become use to his tactless way of business. I pushed $200 into his hand. Vickie rolled her eyes at me and did the same. "Good," Bobby mused after he surveyed the bills in his fist. "It's early yet," he said. "This couple uptown is interested in a little company this evening. Two guys, nothing out of the ordinary," he said offhandedly. After a pause, he added. "And they're good tippers." Vickie and I looked at one another in silence. The stop light changed and Bobby crept with the traffic to the next light. Vickie shrugged as the car came to a stop. "I'm Ok with it Stevie," she said to me. "How 'bout you?" "Great," said Bobby, before I could get out a word, but he knew what I would say. "We'll have to stop at your apartment for a quick change. This is a finicky couple." Vickie and I shared a concerned glance.
The door opened onto a stylish upper eastside apartment. A man about 50 in a maroon robe swung it wide the moment I knocked. "Oh, come in," he said immediately, with obvious pleasure in his voice. We had changed into evening dresses and heels at Bobby's insistence. "They work in fashion," he had said, "so you gotta dress for the occasion," he advised as Vickie and I stepped out of his car for our apartment. Thirty minutes later we were back, I in a Nicole Miller lace and taffeta dress. Vickie had on a strapless dress in dusty pink by Laundry with a sweetheart neckline and shimmery ribbons at the hem.
"God, Mickey come here. She's wearing that Nicole Miller dress you hate," said the man who opened the door. Around the corner appeared a smaller man in a silk sweater and slacks. His face was screwed into a mockery of shock and fear has he looked down my dress from the lace bodice to the attached bronze taffeta skirt. "Turn around," said the man. So far, no one had introduced anyone. I looked at Vickie with a small shrug and turned. "Oh god, it has the silly bustle in the back and that tulle peaking out under the hem. Jeez, that dress is a mess. Get out of it," the person commanded. "What," I said. "You heard me," said the man walking up to me with a noticeable change in tone in his voice. "Take it off. I don't like that dress." Over his shoulder I caught Vickie's eye. Bobby's words, "two older guys. Nothing out of the ordinary" turned in my mind. "Besides," said the man taking my hand and turning me back to face him. "You'll look nice without it." He took my other hand and held them out slightly and to my sides. His eyes followed the arch of my shoulder, to my face and smiled. "Here, let me help," he said turning me slowly and expertly sliding a hand to my back and quickly zipping the dress to the waist. It fell slack on my shoulders and as he pulled his hand back around my waist it made the bodice askew on my shoulders and loser still. The heavier taffeta began pulling the lace from my shoulders and he let go of my other hand just as the dress fell with a rush to my feet. Beneath, I was wearing a Nicole Miller bustier laced tight and low across my back. It gave my hips a curve unlike any other garment I owned. It was satin and narrowly boned which gave the shinny fabric a striped look. My breasts blossomed out of the top of the corset. The bottom came to my hips and matched a satin thong. I'd worn long stockings that rode high on my thighs so as not to be seen below the hem of the short dress. "Mickey, this is Stevie," said the man who had opened the door gesturing to me. "And this is Vickie," he said turning to Vickie. Vickie had a disgusted look on her face. I gave a little rise to my eyebrows in acknowledgement. "And I'm Joseph," said the man taking Vickie's hand and turning into what looked like a living room. "Let's get comfortable." "Yes, lets," said Mickey turning to follow the two, leaving me in the foyer with my dress at my feet. I stood there a minute letting my mind catch up. When I walked into the room, Vickie had taken a seat on the couch and Joseph was mixing drinks. Mickey was nowhere to be seen. I caught Vickie's eye and turned my palms up in a small gesture of questioning. She shook her head in tight quick shakes. "Beats me," her lips said without a sound. I took a seat in my lingerie. "Your friend is having a scotch," said Joseph over the clatter of ice into a glass. "What may I get you Stevie," he said with self-conscious attention to the grammar. "That would be nice," I replied in like fashion. Vickie rolled her eyes. Joseph served the drinks and sat on the couch next to Vickie. "You girls are stunning," he said. "And your friend Bobby is so accommodating," he added, which got our attention. "And what accommodation did he promise," Vickie said quickly. "That you could come on such short notice. We just had an urge to have company a few hours ago and he was certain you would be perfect and you are." We smiled, wary. He turned to Vickie and ran a hand over her knee as his drink hand went across the back of the couch and pulled her to his lips. For the next 20 minutes I watched as the two became entwined, removing clothing, kissing lips, breasts and cocks. Joseph seemed to barely know I was there until Vickie slid onto her knees in front of him and she took his cock into her mouth. He looked up at me and said: "masturbate." Said like an order, I just looked at the man as Vickie's head bobbed, stopped, and then resumed bobbing. I smiled and I'm sure I had a stunned look about me. "Go ahead, jack off," he said again as he lifted his drink to his lips. One hand went to the back of Vickie's head and slowed her motion, pushing her farther onto his cock. I reached tentatively into my thong and roused my sex. He watched intently. "Don't you girls use dildos too?" he asked watching as I pushed my panties lower with one hand as the other began the familiar motion. "Your friend is in need," said Joseph pulling Vickie off of him. "Turn around," he told her. Her breasts were already out of the strapless top. He unzipped the dress and it gaped quickly away from her bosom. "Go over there and suck your girl friend," said Joseph. Vickie turned to him and then to me where she gave a quick roll of her eyes as she got to her feet, slowly stepping out of her dress. She emerged from the pink dress in a taupe corset, with matching thong and nude stockings. Joseph took a small quick breath at the sight as she stepped around a coffee table and glided to her knees again this time in front of me. We held one another's eyes the entire distance and she smiled gently as she went down. The familiar lips brought a rush of warmth to my body. "Well aren't these the perfect love birds," said a voice from behind me. Vickie looked up and I looked over my shoulder and we were both too surprised to say anything. Mickey stood in a richly broachade corset in red, black and gold, with garters, black stockings and exquisite rhinestone and patent leather pumps. The short hair was layered with mouse closely to her scalp. Her eyes and lips were made up to perfection and small breasts rose from the top of the corset. She wore no panties and to our surprise, she was a woman. The masculine performance when we entered gave way to a petite lady. But we were deceived again. From behind her back came a strap on with a large black phallus. "Vickie dear, give your friend Stevie a licking please. Get her ass nice and wet for me please," said the woman with the authority she had used earlier. "Get it nice and wet," she repeated. Vickie and I exchanged glances and timid smiles. It's not that we hadn't enjoyed oral to anal sex together. We did it often. The night before as a matter of fact. And it's not like we hadn't been watched performing in the past. We rather enjoyed it. It was just the peculiarity of it. A dyke and her husband watching transsexuals. Slowly Vickie lifted my legs rolling my ass to the edge of the chair and smiling as she leaned into me. "No, no, on your knees," barked the woman. "I want you out here on your knees Stevie." And she pointed with the phallus to the carpet at her feet. Vickie smirked as she rose and took my hand. As I knelt she pulled my thong below my knees. On the floor now, she tugged the thong over my shoes and I eased my knees apart as her tongue traced a line over my hips and into my anus. The flicking sent waves of heat through my hips. "They are sweet aren't they," said the woman as she stood over us. Joseph was beside her now helping her fasten the strapon in place. "And let her suck you Joseph," she said. In the corner of my eye I caught a gesture toward me. Joseph knelt and his cock rudely slapped the side of my face. "That's it dear," came the woman's voice. "She's a good cocksucker I'm sure. Anybody who would wear that kind of dress would be," she tittered to herself. "It has a bustle and a lace bodice for god's sake," she said. "How garish can you get." Joseph rested his hips on the floor and my mouth fell over his moist cock. I could taste Vickie's saliva as I slid my lips over the shaft. He sighed and eased back against an ottoman. Vickie's tongue at my anus and Joseph's cock in my mouth sent my passion higher. With every thrust of Vickie's tongue I dove onto the cock. "You two are energetic," said the woman, now on her knees beside Vickie. "Let me see," she said and I felt Vickie pull away and the phallus at my anus. It was big. Bigger than Rich's cock of earlier in the evening. I felt Vickie's gentle hands pulling my cheeks apart as the woman began pressing into me. Then I felt the chilly drops of a lubricant, which Vickie must have applied. Deeper it rode into my body. My ass widened to accept the glans on the rubber dildo then closed around the shaft as it moved deeper. She pulled back slightly, then moved deeper. "Let her fuck you now dear," said the woman. Joseph pushed my head off of him. I was momentarily confused as he rolled dutifully onto his knees beside me and crawled toward Vickie. "That's right," came the woman's voice. The dildo was riding smoothly into me now. After the fucking of earlier in the evening my ass was lose and I rocked onto the phallus hard. Then I came to the stunning realization that she wanted Vickie to fuck her husband. Glancing over my shoulder I saw Vickie rise to her feet as Joseph, on his knees now, took her in his mouth. He eagerly sucked Vickie's cock hard in minutes and the woman ordered him onto his hands and knees. "Back up dear," came her command as Joseph inched back toward a kneeling Vickie. "Don't spare him," I heard the woman instruct Vickie. "He loves it hard." With that, Joseph whimpered beside me as Vickie leaned into him. I knew that moment well and Vickie, I could tell, was not being gentle. The pace quickened as the woman drove hard into me and Vickie matched the pace. Joseph whimpered beside me and I blew softly on the side of his face. He looked over at me. "Oh, they are rough tonight," he said in mock protest, obviously enjoying the treatment. The strapon driving back against her clit was having a powerful effect on the woman. I thrust back hard as she thrust forward and the pressure on her sex was apparently intense. "You are quite a tart," she bellowed behind me. Harder and harder came the thrusts until she came in a series of squeals, throwing one of her legs up beside my hips and grinding into me. My own sex was hot and tender. Vickie came too in her familiar whimper and Joseph struggled to get his robe beneath him to protect the carpet from his cum. Quickly the woman pulled away and went to the couch. Joseph rolled onto his hips and leaned back against the ottoman with his silk robe gathered around his crotch. He extended a finger and motioned Vickie toward him. She moved tentatively on her knees and when she was within reach he pulled her hips toward him. He shucked off the condom and took her in his mouth, cleaning her sperm from her phallus and balls. "Joseph is so nice, isn't he," the woman said from the couch. I watched as he gently licked and sucked Vickie's sex. He relished the softness of a spent lover. He caught a glimpse of me watching and snaked a finger out motioning me toward him as well. With Vickie and I kneeling on either side of him he alternated one to the other. My sore cock responded instantly after the ass pounding I'd received. Lips together, he pushed himself onto me, pulling my hips to him at the same time. Looking down, his head appeared nearly motionless but the sensation flowing through me was like tumbling head over heels in a rush and he moaned with every pulse of my ejaculation.
"Sorry about Mickey and the dress," said Joseph as he opened the door for us to go. "She can be a bit of a snob," he said as he toyed with the bustle at the back of my dress. At the same time he ran a hand down the taunt fabric covering Vickie's ass. "You know she makes the models crazy with the same behavior," he said reaching into his pocket and producing 10 crisp $100s. "We'll look forward to seeing you again," he said, swinging the door open to the hall. Vickie and I held one another around the waist as we waited for the elevator. "Hard to believe I've been out of this game for three months," I sighed. "Seems like I never left." "I was afraid she was going to demand I lick his ass too," said Vickie with an exhausted tone. "Pretty weird," I replied, too tired to really engage the topic. "Although your tongue felt really good to me," I said turning her to me and giving her a kiss that ended by snaking my tongue along her lower lip. "I'll be sure to return the favor," I whispered as the elevator opened and we stepped in.