She appeared to be in her fifties, with a figure that was not slim, but not conspicuously overweight, either. With wide hips, a modest waistline, and a generous bosom, she was what some men might describe as "on the solid side." She was dressed in a white blouse, gray skirt, nylons, and sensible flats. Her jewelry was not ostentatious, and she wore a minimum of make-up: a little lipstick, some nail polish. There was nothing to call attention to her except a quick smile and an expression in her eyes that she knew something you didn't. Her name was Alice.
We were two members of a reading club of six women, all of a similar age, which would meet to discuss a book that we'd all read. After a couple of bottles of wine, our tongues got a little looser, and somehow the discussion veered off into our sex lives, and how many lovers we'd had. I confessed to six of them, of which my late husband had been the last, and another woman named Gladys claimed to have had over twenty. Then we asked Alice.
"Do you really want to know? I bet you won't believe me!"
"Try us!" Gladys said, the challenge heavy in her voice.
"Let me see..." Alice leaned back and did a quick mental calculation. "About ... two thousand, I think."
We were thunderstruck.
"Two thousand men?" I finally managed to ask.
"Maybe more. Maybe not as many. I never counted, really."
"No way! We're talking about penetration, not just making out."
"That's what I meant. I've had around two thousand cocks inside me. Most of them more than once. And I'd say that well over a thousand of them were virgins." She smiled. "I told you that you wouldn't believe me!"
"Were you ... a prostitute?"
"No. I never took money. Gifts, sometimes. Things like jewelry, perfume, theater tickets, that sort of thing. But never money."
Gladys scoffed. "I don't see how you could have a track record like that and still keep a job!"
"Well, in a way, it was my job. I was a dorm mother. My husband and I were resident assistants for one of the underclass dorms at a private college in New England. I won't name it, but you'd recognize it. We had that job for twenty-five years."
"You had a husband? Did he know about it?"
"Of course he did. He even suggested it. Do you want to know the whole story? I've never told it before, but now that my husband has passed on, it really doesn't matter any more."
The room fell silent. Alice took a sip of her wine, paused for a moment to put her recollections in order, and then told us this story:
"We got the job shortly after we were married. Jerry was a graduate student at the college, and I was a college dropout waitressing at a nearby diner where all the students ate when they needed something besides dorm food. That's where I met him. I loved Jerry, and Jerry loved me. The only thing about him that bothered me was that he'd never give me anything more than a kiss and a hug, but I figured that he was 'saving himself for marriage.' When he said that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me, I said 'Yes.' What else could I say? I was in love.
"But I found out on our honeymoon that he was gay. We made clumsy love, and it took forever to get him hard. When I did, he told me that it was he was thinking about guys, not me. When he finally came in me, he was out of me in a flash, his body in full panic mode. We tried a few more times, but it never got any better.
"I have to say he tried really hard to 'go straight" for me, but it just didn't work out. He said that I couldn't arouse him sexually, and that he needed other men for sex, but swore that he loved me for who I was and would never leave me. And I loved him, too, even after he told me he wouldn't sleep with me. And we stayed married for twenty-six years. In most ways, he was the ideal husband. He never brought problems home. He helped with the housework. He cheered me up when I was down, never forgot our anniversaries. He was always my best friend, the one constant in my life. He was my rock.
"I told him that if he wanted to sleep with other men from time to time, then that was all right with me. But I also him that I wasn't going to be resigned to a sexless marriage, and he agreed that I could take sexual partners as I pleased, that he'd never get jealous of them. But I made a promise to him that I'd always use condoms, so as not to bring any diseases home, and so that I wouldn't get pregnant. I never broke that promise.
"Anyway, we saw the job offered for the resident assistant. They were looking for a married couple, and we were perfect. They gave us a suite with a kitchen, living room, dining room, bathroom, bedroom and a large study. We simply used the study as a second bedroom. We ate together, watched TV together, chatted together, all that stuff. But we didn't sleep together.
"It didn't take us long to get to know the students, and it became apparent to me that some of them were very lonely. They were far from home and they didn't have steady girlfriends. Most of these young men were what we'd call "nerds" today, with no social life outside their studies. And they were very, very horny. I'd catch them staring at my boobs instead of looking me in the eye. I started to dress more provocatively, but always within the bounds of propriety. I'd flirt with them and occasionally stole a kiss that was more than maternal, and when I reached down to caress a crotch, I could feel a penis swelling and thickening under the denim of their jeans.
"Well, I discussed it with Jerry, and he suggested that I ask them to make love to me. He told me about a dorm room down at the end of the hall, across from our suite, which had been vacated by a student who had been in a car accident a couple of weeks into the term, and wouldn't be back. I will remember the number of that room until the day I die; it was 244.
"It seemed to be the ideal solution for a horny young wife: a whole dorm filled with horny young men. So I agreed, and the next day, I found myself talking to a shy young man named John, I think ... it's been so long, but I think it was John ... and he was the perfect candidate. I told him to meet me at two o'clock in room 244. When he got there, I pulled him inside and started stripping. I'll never forget the expression on his face when I took my bra off! He'd never seen a woman's naked tits before, and I swear he was this close to bolting out of the room! But then I started undressing him, telling him that everything was all right, that my husband didn't mind, that we were going to have a lot of fun together. Soon he was naked, and he was sucking my nipples as I rolled a condom onto his hard dick. And then I pulled down my panties, grabbed his hand, and pressed it against my bush. His hand was shaking.
"It turned out that he was a virgin, and when we finally got into bed, he came as soon as he was inside me. I didn't care. It was my first cock in months, and the sensation alone was pleasurable. I spent the next hour teasing him back to hardness and telling him how handsome and kind he was, and explaining what a woman needs in a lover. When he was hard again, I gave him another rubber and showed him how to use it. Then I guided him into me and told him to take it slow and gentle. He lasted a bit longer this time, and I actually climaxed before he did. Then, as he softened and slipped out of me, I told him that this was a wonderful thing for me, but that it probably wouldn't happen again, and that he wouldn't have any trouble finding and pleasing a girl if he put his mind to it and treated her with kindness and respect. That was really all he needed to know. There's something that happens to a boy after he loses his cherry: he becomes more self-confident, and finds it easier to get dates. I've seen it hundreds of times.
"I took my next partner a few days later, a friend of John's. He was a sophomore from Angola. He was a fine black man, and he wasn't a virgin, but he hadn't had a woman since he arrived in the States over a year ago. I fucked him two or three times that year, until I convinced him that he should be looking for his own dates. The girls would make fun of his English, which was more British than American, but after a while he became fluent enough to keep up small talk, and he was a wonderful boy, and an attentive lover. He actually ended up marrying an American woman and took her home to Africa, I think. And since you ladies are probably dying to know, his cock was big when it was soft, but about the same size as most men's when it was hard.
"I guess you should know about that, too. I've had two thousand cocks in me, as I've said, and there were a few that were really small, and a few that were really large, but most of them were around five to seven inches, more or less. My hand span is seven inches, and I'd do a quick measurement when their cocks were hard to see if I had to be careful about my cervix. Other than that, they were pretty much all the same to me, except that I tended to like the thick ones more than the thin ones. It really depended on the guy, though, and how sensitive I was that day.
"The only thing these cocks had in common were that they were all dying for release, and for most of them, that meant in my pussy. But there were quite a few men that didn't respond to my caresses. Most of them turned out to be gay, and I explained to them that being gay was perfectly all right, and that if they wanted gay sex, all they had to do was ask Jerry. And they did. We had it arranged that some days room 244 would be for him and his trysts. That was all right with me, since I needed a day off once in a while.
.... There is more of this story ...