WARNING: This story is an act of fiction that contains graphic sexual descriptions and language. If you are a minor (under 21) or if you are offended by this kind of material then you should stop reading now. Any resemblance between this story and a real event is coincidental. The participants are imaginary; their actions have no negative consequences other than those portrayed in the story. The story is intended for entertainment and should not be emulated in the real world.
I KNEW JEN VERY WELL. After all, I was her friendly lover for over five years, with two or three times a week fuck session. She was, in the real world of usual turmoil, one of the flower children, a believer in free love, and totally irresponsible. She lived for today and screw tomorrow. Planning ahead wasn't in her general makeup. This attitude of hers served her well in most circumstances, as long as nothing of importance was involved.
Her greatest asset, I'm sad and happy to say at the same time, was her ability in bed. She excelled on a mattress. At other aspects of life, such as day-to-living, she was a dismal failure. She had no concerns for the future, even her own. Plan ahead? She never heard of the concept. Balance a checkbook? Ditto.
Most times, the amount of money involved was irrelevant to her basic survival, and all she had to do was put in a few extra hours as a temp typist to make up the difference. Or borrow a fiver or a ten spot from me... just until payday. You know how that goes.
While I haven't seen her in a dog's age, I'll bet she has no idea she still owes me well over a hundred bucks. But Jen was Jen, so I take it with a grain of salt. I was only too glad to help her. And I certainly would have helped her if she had come to me first on that time she, in essence, robbed a bank. That's what it's called when you knowingly write a check without funds to cover it. A lawyer might refer to it as kiting a check.
Except Jen didn't kite just one check. She wrote nine! But unknowingly, as if the law would excuse that alibi, Jen being Jen holding no water with jurisprudence. And, from what I heard later on, she really was innocent, though foolishly naive. As usual.
IT WAS NEAR the end of November, and Jen wanted to do some early Christmas shopping. So, she called the bank's self-service answer line and when she heard, whoopee, the mechanical voice say that she had over $500 in her account, she went shopping, a checkbook clutched in her hot little hand.
It never dawned on her that possibly, just possibly, the mechanical voice didn't take any outstanding checks into account. Like the $400 rent check she had given, merely a week ago, to her landlady.
Well, long story short, nine checks bounced and the bank charged her $180 bucks in penalties. Which left her mighty short in the financial column. And, to make matters worse, one of the nine was her rent check. She was in a bind of a bind. But, instead of telling me first, she told Curtis.
Now Curtis is a real nice guy, if you don't count his fooling around with hookers behind his wife's back. He said he just does it for the excitement and seeks no love affair to take him away from his wife, whom he swears he loves up and down. As he does his three kids.
Well, Curtis listened to her plight and offered her a simple way out.
Curtis worked for a large plastics company, the kind that extrudes everything plastic you can think of, such as phones, computer keyboards, and lamp bases, to name a few. And this large corporation, like most, holds many seminars and conventions. And Curtis told Jen a new one was coming the very next day, and right here in midtown Manhattan.
I found out later that Curtis, and nine other guys at the firm, would chip in and rent a suite at each convention. In many of the contiguous states and some foreign ones, too, such as The Bahamas, Puerto Rico, Canada, and even Hawaii. They called this suite their hospitality suite, and all it needed was a willing hooker to provide the hospitality. Which, to hear Curtis tell it, they never failed to find.
Curtis, knowing how much Jen loved to suck and fuck, and how bad her situation was, told her she could pick up a quick two hundred bucks for a few hours hustle. He was upfront with her, I'll give him that, and told her, real early, that she'd have to suck and fuck ten guys for the money. Curtis was not the cagey type.
Jen told me later she took him up on the offer because she didn't want to borrow money, and worse, have to pay it back. That's probably why she didn't come to me. She thought I would, ha ha, expect to be paid back.
She told Curtis she would do it, but... "No funny stuff! No handcuffs or anal. And definitely no peeing in my mouth or ass licking!" He assured her there would be none of that crap, but he did tell her the boys always insisted on having their balls sucked. And it was non-negotiable. Take it or leave it.
She took it. She didn't mind sucking on balls, rather liked it, if I'm any judge of her likes and dislikes.
Well, he gave her the address of the hotel and told her to be there at 6:30, with the main event to start at 7 pm. He told her to bring a see-through Teddy, one he knew she owned, and give the boys a half hour show before getting down to the nitty-gritty. She saw no problem with that little requirement. In fact, she told me later, she was turned on by the idea of exhibiting herself to the group of men.
However, Curtis still had two more stipulations to make before the deal was finalized. The first was, the men wanted to audio tape the entire proceedings, if that set all right with her. She said it was okay by her, but... "No fucking cameras!" He assured her there wouldn't be any, and, from what she told me, there wasn't. But, there were six portable tape recorders going at the same time, in the suite's bedroom arena.
Jen was even given a copy, which I listened to a few times, and now use the memory of that to jog my memory as I write this. And my memory, I dare say, is close to being a photographic one. I sure can picture Jen's face in my mind at this very moment.
The second request by Curtis was, she had to douche between fucking the guys. No prob, she told him. He then said the douche was to be nothing more than water. Seems, so he told her, some of the guys had pussy eating and 69ing in mind. Still no prob to Jen. Besides, water costs zip.
At 29, Jen was quite pretty. She stood 5' 5" tall, although a tad overweight, perhaps ten or fifteen pounds over the norm for the height. She had very curly, brownish-blond hair that just hit her shoulders, with those funny little corkscrew ringlets cascading down both sides of her face.
Pale gray-green eyes gave her a strange, exotic look, perhaps animalistic even. She also had soft breasts to die for, with mouth-watering pea-sized nipples, and a pair of legs that looked made for screwing. You know, with those soft thighs and slightly muscular calves that taper nicely down to slim ankles. The kind of legs that look simply scrumptious on high heels. Or wrapped around a man's neck. Or his back.
Her ass was a tad plumpish, the belly, too, if you get the picture, but I can't imagine any man fretting enough about it to complain. I know I never did. Hey, those extra pounds have to go somewhere, right, old sock? And, anyway, men love Rubenesque gals. Don't I?
She also had a slightly oversized mouth, with a pillowy bottom lip, that flashed brilliant white, perfect teeth, even when just talking. Many times, I would fine myself transfixed on that puffy lower lip and the way it moved while she was chatting away. I'll bet many a guy, upon first meeting her for the first time, would get a gander at the luscious lower lip and picture the naughty things he could do with it.
I'm not saying I thought like that, mind you, but I do slightly remember an image of someone's lips and my cock, in a flashing thought on our first meeting. I think. It's been a while! Selective memory is great, ain't it?
When Jen told her neighbor, an elderly, retired hooker, about her upcoming gangbang plans, the lady told her to bring along a washcloth and a small basin. It was for washing the men's cocks before anything took place, most especially, oral.
"These men, honey," She said. "Will have worked all day long and their dicks are gonna smell a bit." That's what Jen told me she said. When I asked Jen, much later, if the old woman had mentioned soap at all, she said, "No, but I brought some, anyway." See? She can think ahead...
THE FOLLOWING comes not only from those tapes I listened to, but from Jen and me lying in bed, after the fact, discussing the whole ordeal.
While it's been far too many years for even my keen old memory to accurately depict, I will resist the urge to overstate or embellish. But I will take an author's prerogative by putting it down as if it's a story I'm concocting and not simply lay it out as a blow-by-blow description. This way it will be more fun for me in the remembering...
JEN ARRIVED right on time for her hotel gangbang, a few minutes early, in fact. And, she told me; she had never been so sexually excited and charged up in her entire life. The idea of sucking and fucking, not just ten men, but ten strange men, really turned her on. She would, in effect, be just like her elderly neighbor, the hooker, who once told her, "... I just loved fucking a new man! It's like opening a surprise package." It was, to her way of thinking, much more exciting than the repeaters.
.... There is more of this story ...