Chapter 2

Fannie’s twin daughters, Jackie and Jill, had attempted to live up to their mother’s expectations but they were unable to plow new ground in the sexual entertainment industry and they were resigned to merely backing up their notorious parent in those situations where multiple female sources of pleasure were required to properly tend to group projects of a dodgy nature.

It was the long-awaited visit of the delegation from Istanbul that caused Fannie to call on her daughters hoping they would find monetary rewards beyond their dreams because the entire country was reputed to be notoriously generous in compensating the blond haired, blue eyed girls in the London region with jewels and funds fit for upper class whores with university degrees and a submissive attitude.

Some devious bitch at the riverside flesh market had spread the rumor that the girls were actually clones and not ordinary humans after all. Strangely, it was a time when the alien aspects of such non-human origins were in high demand by certain parties and both Jackie and Jill became hugely popular with the fetish-minded crowd that loved to delve into the depths of abnormal. If there had been a “Circus of the Dammed”, they could have joined up with a bonus for signing on.

The two girls were just turning twenty when their marketplace popularity peaked and they were both still bright-eyed and bushy tailed in a breathless, compulsive search of the ultimate tingle deep down in their feminine core. Clients were hard-pressed to choose which one was the most daring, the most adventurous; but there was no doubt that they represented the cutting edge of sexual pleasure.

Jill had a tendency to swing both ways.

She imitated her mother in that respect, but when push came to shove, she was inconsolable unless her current beau was able to finalize the interaction with a minimum of six inches of good, old-fashioned hard meat buried like a salami in her temple of worship. Some of her special close friends of the female gender were wise enough to deploy a facsimile of generous length and girth to explore her juicy cave. A gaping maw always ready, willing, and able to entertain expeditions of exploratory design providing they were rough enough to emulate masculine dominance. At some point in her formative years, Jill had been exposed to the control of a strong male in full authority over her need to obey commands without question. In her case, it was her Uncle George with his phony pipe and silly attitude of fake superiority in all matters that required cognitive decisions. She mounted his spanking table on a daily basis spreading her perfect curves for the touch of his stinging hands or the kiss of the whip that dangled from his belt with a threat of sweet surrender. Her sister Jackie was scornful of her loyalty to Uncle George making fun of her submissive ankle-grabbing on command and told her,

“You are crazy to let that old man stick his business up your pretty bottom whenever he wants to get a thrill. Let my Andre or even little Billy give you a good hump to get you thinking about hard cock and forget all this crap about fetishes and other weird shit. An hour with Andre with your ass up and your head buried in a pillow and you will forget all about this jerk George.”

Jill had to smile at her sister’s bluntness.

Sometimes, Jackie cut right through all the bull and got right to the issue at hand. Jill realized that it had been some time since she had a gut-wrenching orgasm that made her so brimming over with emotion that she had to keep her legs crossed just to think straight. Maybe it was time to dump Uncle George and get back to the basics with some butcher or laborer from the docks that reduced it all to simple slapping of the meat to an empty hole and draining oodles of juicy man-cream way deep inside where she like it stay forever and a day. She knew all she had to do was to smile and ask for help in her “Oh my, I’m a shy little thing and I need a man to show me the way” act and just wait for him to take the lead and take advantage of her in a way that she needed to get back on track.

Just such an opportunity came up only a few minutes later and before she knew it, she was flat on her back on top of a pile of wooden crates on the dock out of sight of the men working around them and her new friend Rusty was showing her his technique for scratching an itch where the sun don’t shine. She did her best to stifle her moans of appreciation because she certainly didn’t want any audience for her submissive acceptance of hard dick in the middle of the day like one of those girls that tried to get cash from the workmen for services performed on their lunch-hour.

Rusty filled her up with expert ease and he quickly flipped her over to show her his anal tricks before she could muster an objection to his need for complete carnal knowledge of her intimate feminine secrets. It seemed so natural that she almost didn’t feel his still-aroused shaft slide past her sphincter with barely a hint of difficulty. After that, she was in a fully-stuffed state of illicit passion and she naughtily played with her own clit covertly as the dock worker pounded her buttocks with the passion of a consummately talented ass-fucker unable to pass-up an opportunity seldom achieved without some sort of plan of attack on a female’s nether regions.

Jackie and Jill attended the party paid for by the generosity of the party in power in local politics.

The gala event was well attended by local merchants and other men of substance in matters of financial standing. Jackie was the one that researched the resources of the available male sperm pool to determine where the best leverage was optimal in selecting a playmate with close carnal intentions. She graded the selectees more on their disposable cash position rather than if they were happily married or how many children they had, if they had taken vows of chastity or had a mistress safely tucked away in a hidden location for instantaneous call-up to duty when other arrangements were destroyed by chance or specific intent. Wives generally were more highly regarded than mistresses providing they were relatively free of other entanglements such as lovers of their own well hidden from the well-heeled target. The men would tend to fall into line with wifely duties when the comfortable status of long-term hump patterns presented a stable program for repeated pleasure. Mistresses were directly under the wives, but still more preferable than the randomness of strange urges for new feminine territory to explore with all the risk involved in full scale field operations to establish coital beachheads with unknown outcomes.