anilingus

On Wednesday afternoon, Camilla, with blonde hair and blue eyes again, was in her class, ‘Literature: Forms and Approaches.’ Her teacher, Dr. Martin, a handsome, silver-haired Englishman in his late fifties, both attracted and repelled her–he looked and sounded a lot like Richard Dawkins, the advocate of atheism, a man whose lack of religious faith offended her Catholic sensibilities, but whose erudition, suave English accent, and obvious intelligence excited her. Though she didn’t know anything about Dr. Martin’s personal beliefs, he reminded her enough about Dawkins, both physically and intellectually, to give her the same jolts of attraction and repulsion; thus she’d been undecided whether to seduce or not to seduce. After a month of attending his lectures, she was now leaning toward the former.



During this Wednesday’s lecture, he spoke of psychoanalytic readings of literature, introducing Freud’s theories. “According to Freud,” Dr. Martin said, “children go through a phase in their relationship with their parents called the ‘Oedipus complex’; they have sexual feelings for the parent of the opposite sex, while having feelings of hostility for the parent of the same sex, who is the child’s rival for the love of the former parent. Jung provided the term ‘Electra complex’ for girls’ version of this Oedipal conflict, since in Greek myth, Electra deeply loved her father, Agamemnon, and hated her mother, Clytemnestra, for plotting his murder with her lover, Aegisthus.”



That’s my life he’s talking about, Camilla thought. Those are my desires he’s describing: Dr. Martin’s brilliant. She put her hand under her miniskirt, slipped it in her panties, and started fingering her clitoris.



“With the Electra complex,” Dr. Martin continued, “the daughter begins to envy the penis…her father’s penis. She wants it; this theory, perhaps more than any other, is why Freud has been marginalized in psychology–perhaps more through the opposition of the vast majority of feminists than through that of all the other critics of psychoanalysis. His ideas, however, still have some influence in the humanities, as in the writings of feminist Camille Paglia.”



“Right again,” Camilla whispered. Now her finger was flickering inside her cunt. I don’t know about most women, she thought; but I sure want my daddy’s cock; if I had one attached to my body, I wouldn’t stop playing with it. “Dr. Martin, you’re so hot.” Sitting beside her at the front row of desks was a young man; he couldn’t help looking down and watching what she was doing between her legs.



“As the girl grows up, she replaces her desire for her father with a desire for men in general,” Martin said.



Or she supplements Daddy with men in general, she thought; men like you. She stuck her finger in deeper, reaching for her A-spot. Her panties were getting damp from her pussy’s moisture.



“And desire for his penis, his ‘little one’, as Freud called it,…”



You’re wrong there, Sigmund, she thought; Daddy’s got a great big one. Her hand was jerking faster in her panties. The young man was really hoping her miniskirt would flip up so he could see more.



“…is replaced with a desire for a different ‘little one’, a baby,” the prof said.



Wrong again, Freud, she thought; I don’t want a baby…well, not yet, anyway. “Oh!” She blushed to think that anyone might have heard her; the young man beside her only smiled.



Dr. Martin then discussed Freud’s views on religion: “Freud saw God as an illusion, based on the infantile need for a powerful father figure.”



Oh, no, she thought; he’s sounding like Dawkins again. Still, Dawkins is hot. Trying her best to keep her sighs as soft as possible, she was approaching orgasm.



“Freud also said that in religion man yearns for ‘a sensation of eternity, a feeling as of something limitless, unbounded–as it were, oceanic.”



“Agreed,” she whispered. She tried to disguise her moaning with coughs as she came, as it were, an ocean, in her panties.



“Freud himself, however, never knew that oceanic feeling,” Dr. Martin said.



I know it, she thought. Getting a small plastic bag out of her purse, she pulled off her soaking panties, trying her best not to make a mess on the floor, and put them in the bag.



The young man beside her was getting bold. “Next time,” he said, ogling her, “if you need a helping hand, just let me know.”



She looked in his eyes intensely, her eyes temporarily turning black. “You don’t want to pursue me,” she said with a hypnotic hum to her voice.



“I don’t want to pursue you,” he said in a zombie-like way.



“I’m not the kind of girl you’re looking for.” She quickly cooled the lust in his pants.



“You’re not the kind of girl I’m looking for.”



“You’d rather chase after other girls.”



“I’d rather chase after other girls.”



“This gift will inspire you to look elsewhere.” She gave him her come-soaked panties.



“This gift will inspire me to look elsewhere.” He put her panties in his book-bag, oblivious to the mess they would make. The lecture had just ended.



“Now run along,” she said, taking a cloth out of her purse and cleaning her hands, as well as any come that got on the floor.



“I’ll run along now,” he said mechanically, then got up and walked out of the classroom.



“Nigrovum made me a Jedi,” she said to herself, giggling. She got up and tried to get near Dr. Martin, but a flood of students was crowding him, asking him questions. Waiting for the students to finish with him, she decided to give him a psychic scan: he was divorced, and essentially an agnostic. As for his sexual proclivities, she found nothing unpleasant. He fantasized about anal sex, having never tried it before; he also had a lingerie fetish, and a shit fetish, like Leroy and Holland. He thought Slavic accents sounded sexy on women, blondes being his preference; and he had a thing for old Marilyn Monroe movies. Now she knew what persona to play when with him, the breathless one appropriately named ‘Marilyn’. You may be skeptical about God, Dr. Martin, she thought; but I’ll bet you have a devout faith in sex goddesses, and you can idolize my poop any day.



A mob of students walked with Dr. Martin out of the classroom and all the way to his office, so Camilla gave up hope of having a chance to be alone with him. Instead, she looked past the crowd of students at him, now sitting at his desk, and eyed him with pursed lips, in her ‘Marilyn’ persona. Her eyes summoned his to look up from the other students and look at her; when he did look up at her, she pushed out her chest to draw his attention to how her large breasts pushed out of her tight-fitting black sweater. Her whore-bright makeup, including dark blue eye shadow, thick black mascara, pink blush and dark red lipstick, also got him excited. Though he tried to focus on his students’ questions, he could ‘feel’ her psychically telling him, Come see me–every inch of me–at Club Ritz on Friday.



She tried to use Nigrovum to make the other students go away, but she felt a barrier stopping her psychic energy from reaching them; obviously, Father Josiah had set up another force field around her to make her ‘behave herself’.



Fine, she thought; when I stop coming to church and start ignoring you, Father, then you’ll regret placing these restrictions on me.



*****************



That night in her bedroom, Camilla got out her lap-top and chatted online with Dr. Singh.



“Do you know any more about Nigrovum, Ravinder?” she typed. “Any new discoveries in your research?”



“Not so much with my scientific colleagues, who still dismiss my ‘pseudo-scientific’ insights as mere religious hogwash,” he typed. “But ironically, it’s been in my meditations that I’ve come to learn much. I now can communicate directly with these microscopic black beings in our blood.”



“Really? What do they ‘say’? Why do they make our desires stronger? Why do they fulfill our wishes?”



“They feed on energy,” he explained. “They prefer the energy of thoughts, feelings, and wishes; these forms of energy are like delicious food to Nigrovum. When they feed, instead of crushing and digesting food, as we do, they expand their ‘food’. By expanding the energy of your thoughts and desires, Nigrovum makes them grow into reality, thus fulfilling your wishes. This expansion also intensifies emotion.”



“I see. That makes a lot of sense. That’s how it feels inside my body, when I make my wishes come true–expansion.”



“Yes. After these expansions, the tiny black beings reproduce, thus expanding the energy of your urges even more. And thus I urge you, Camilla, desire only what’s right and good.”



“Sometimes I run out of power. Why is that?”



“When you’ve eaten enough, you’re full. When Nigrovum has expanded enough energy, the ovoid beings are sated, too. They don’t need any more energy, they don’t want any more, and they won’t expand any more. If you stuff yourself with food, you feel uncomfortable; if you stuff Nigrovum with an excess of desires, you become spiritually uncomfortable. Don’t stuff them, Camilla: it’s dangerous. Don’t will things too much, especially not selfish will, which is addictive. Passive, peaceful thoughts are less ‘filling’ for Nigrovum, so it will feed on them longer; such thoughts are better for you, too, as all religions have taught us.”



“Yes. There’s truth in religion, too. Not just science, as the atheists think.”



“There is no conflict between my Hindu faith and science.”



“Nor between my Catholic faith and science.”



“Good,” Dr. Singh typed. “Practice your faith, and Nigrovum will give you peace. Don’t use your power selfishly, I urge you; that will lead you to destruction.”



They finished their chat, and not even a minute had passed by before she totally disregarded all of his advice. She went on to Facebook, wanting to chat with Marcel. He’d made no recent posts, as, oddly, he hadn’t in about two weeks.



*****************



On Thursday night in her bedroom, Camilla had been trying to use Nigrovum to lure Alex into bed with her, since her father was at Carrie’s home for the night. Camilla hadn’t made even a nudge in the direction of success. The psychic barrier that Father Josiah had put up around her was an especially thick and strong one. She meditated, focusing as intensely as she could to know the dimensions and strength of the force field. She sensed that he’d sent her a message with the wall: ‘THIS IS FOR YOUR OWN GOOD.’



*****************



In his home, Father Josiah, with his growing new abilities, psychically monitored what Camilla had been trying to do. You must value monogamy, Camilla, he thought; I won’t have you with any men…unless it’s with me.



*****************



She was so mad at Josiah that she felt Nigrovum firing up inside her head and making her shake with rage. Knowing the danger of negative emotions, she slowly calmed down and tried to think of a solution to her recent sexual frustrations. She resolved to break through the barrier: she ‘chiselled away’ at it for the longest time, correctly sensing that this would take a long time. Indeed, the barrier was like a brick wall that was ten feet thick!



As she slowly but surely cut her way through much of it, she thought about her Wednesday class with Alex, the man she so badly wanted to fuck that night. His lecture the day before had been a particularly stimulating one for her, given her proclivities.



He’d lectured about myths of incest, beginning by reminding the class about Zeus marrying his sister, Hera. He also spoke of Uranus, the sky god who married his mother, Gaia, the earth goddess. Another mother/son marriage Alex spoke of was that of Oedipus and Iocasta. This last story reminded her of her lecture with Dr. Martin, and his discussion of the father/daughter relationship that so intrigued her.



Alex also discussed the story of King Cinyras and his daughter, Myrrha, who fell incestuously in love with him. “She, with the aid of her nurse, got him drunk night after night,” Alex explained. “Then she lay with him in the dark, and conceived a child by him. Finally, he realized what she’d done, and chased her with a sword. He chased her for nine months, then she was changed into a myrrh tree after praying to the gods to save her. When her baby was due, the tree cracked open, and Adonis was born.”



Because of her obvious identification with Myrrha, Camilla had loved this myth best of all. With the alcohol, marijuana, and ecstasy pills, how closely Camilla was imitating Myrrha’s schemes, too! Camilla just had to avoid a parallel of the story’s unhappy ending, though she wouldn’t have minded bearing Agape’s child. She was sure Nigrovum could correct any birth defects, as long as Father Josiah didn’t interfere.



Yet another myth Alex had discussed in his Wednesday lecture was that of an incestuous relationship between the Hindu creator god, Brahma, and his daughter, Sandhya. “Ashamed of thinking lustful thoughts, Brahma began to sweat,” Alex said.



This reminded Camilla of how she’d often seen Agape sweating in recent days, especially after innocently hugging her and pecking her on the cheek. Was there more to those hugs and kisses than mere affection? Oh, how she hoped so! She also thought about Dr. Martin’s lecture, in relation to Brahma’s sweating. “The unconscious mind houses many taboo, unacceptable thoughts that rarely surface,” he said. “There are, indeed, many dark thoughts we all secretly harbour in the deepest recesses of our minds.”



She remembered something Candice had once said back in high school, about Camilla’s thing for older men, that it was part of an Electra complex. How prophetic Candice’s words had been! Nigrovum had made Camilla’s unconscious desires surface; maybe Nigrovum could reveal unconscious, incestuous feelings in Agape! Did she dare to make such hopes a reality?



After having chiselled away at that force field for a half hour or so, she assessed her progress: she’d cut only about half way through! She tried again to lure Alex, suggesting he come to her home, but with no success. Then she tried to lure Dr. Lee and Dr. Abruzzi into bed with her–still, no success. That psychic barrier was simply too strong, and she was getting tired. Instead, she turned her thoughts to Agape.



*******************



Her father was at that time making love with Carrie, with her on top of him in the cowgirl position. As she felt his huge cock sliding in and out of her ecstatic MILF pussy, she sighed softly–a far ‘cry’ from Camilla’s screams.



He looked up at Carrie as she bounced up and down on him, noting that she was loving the sex, but without the wildness he’d seen in his living room, or in that ‘heavenly mansion’, for that matter. Indeed, his own ability to enjoy the sex was somewhat stifled by his concerns about hearing Camilla’s screams of pleasure on the night she’d fucked Ted. The real Carrie sighed softly during sex, while the Carrie in his ‘dreams’ squealed like Camilla!



Was Camilla committing incest with him while he was too drunk and stoned to realize it? Is that why she dyed her hair black, and wore black contact lenses? he wondered. No, it couldn’t have been her on top of me; Camilla couldn’t do such a thing to her father. She may be messed up, but surely she isn’t that messed up. These thoughts, unfortunately, gave him little more than partial reassurance.



*******************



Camilla, in her increasing jealousy, had been psychically scanning their lovemaking all the way from her bedroom. Since she’d had no plans to fuck Agape that night, Josiah’s barrier wasn’t blocking her now. Wanting to make her lovemaking more comparable to Carrie’s–to ease Agape into accepting incest with her–Camilla used Nigrovum to make Carrie scream and squeal more; she also caused Carrie’s body–thinner, and with smaller, sagging breasts–to look more like Camilla’s, young and full-figured.



*******************



In Carrie’s dim bedroom, the temporary metamorphosis of her body from forty-something to teenaged was less abrupt, less surprising, and thus more acceptable to Agape’s eyes. If Camilla could make him associate her body more with Carrie’s during sex, maybe she could get her father’s ‘unconscious incestuous feelings’ (assuming hopefully that they even existed) to surface.



Carrie bounced faster, and screamed and squealed louder. The sight of this sexually more aggressive version of Carrie indeed eased Agape’s worries about Camilla, and now he could enjoy the sex more. He fucked more aggressively, and faster. Though Carrie had quite experienced insides, his large cock filled up her vagina in a way reminiscent of Quentin Tarantino’s interpretation of Madonna’s song, ‘Like a Virgin’, though without the pain. Both lovers were nearing orgasm.



“Oh, yes! Yes!” Carrie screamed. “Ah!”



“Unh! Oh!” Agape grunted.



Finally, he came inside her. (He’d had a vasectomy a few years after his divorce from Collette, so she didn’t worry about getting pregnant.) He and Carrie lay next to each other, cuddling, as they caught their breath. Camilla removed her psychic alterations to Carrie.



“I love you,” he panted.



“I…love you, too,” she said. “But I…didn’t come yet.”



“Oh, sorry,” he said. He began rubbing his finger against her hard clitoris.



“Oh,” she softly sighed. Her pussy was soaking wet, and after a minute of his tickling, her orgasm oozed onto his fingers. “Oh!…”



“How was that?” he asked.



“Much better,” she sighed. “You’ve grown…so much more passionate…in recent weeks. You used…to be…so uptight about sex. Even afraid of it. Why the change?”



“I’m not sure. I guess I am ‘such stuff as dreams are made on.’”



********************



On Friday night, Dr. Martin found himself walking into Club Ritz, not at all understanding what urge was pushing him into the strip joint. Looking around, he saw, at the other side of the bar, a curvaceous sexy blonde: she was like a magnet pulling him to her.



She, of course, was Camilla, standing by a table and chatting with Candice. Camilla was wearing a pink bra and panties, and white high heels that matched some cross-garters she had on, which climbed up from her ankles to her upper legs in sexy Xs, deliberately drawing lecherous attention to her legs. Her face was in her usual colourfully harlot-like makeup.



“Thanks again for shaving my pussy,” she said to Candice. “You’ll get some good loving tonight for that. I can’t wait for my prof to get here. I finally broke through that barrier Josiah had me trapped in. That bastard! He’s gonna pay for not letting me get laid.”



Silently sympathizing more with Josiah’s jealousies than with Camilla’s nymphomania, Candice said nothing.



“I put a psychic barrier of my own around him, even thicker than the one he’d put around me, and giving him far less room to use Nigrovum in. That’ll teach him to mess with a goddess.”



Dr. Martin came up to the girls, and Camilla, feeling his presence, turned around.



“Hi, Dr. Martin,” Camilla said in the sexiest voice she could muster, a combination of her breathy ‘Marilyn’ persona with a reasonably good imitation of Calina’s lilting Russian accent and ungrammatical English.



“Hello,” he said. “You are a goddess indeed. Aren’t you a student of mine?”



“Yes, sir, I am,” she purred, looking at him with warm eyes and an inviting smile. “I so enjoyed your lecture on Wednesday.”



“Thank you,” he said, his huge penis already starting to bulge out of his pants as he ogled her as politely as he could. “You’re very beautiful.”

In Pattaya Beach, Thailand, Polly, a short, pretty young Thai prostitute, was chatting with her ladyboy friend Anchali. They were sitting on the steps of the entrance to an eatery owned by Polly’s older brother. As the two friends were chatting, Polly watched the white male tourists as they walked by; she smiled at the better-looking ones. Anchali frowned.



“Hey, Polly,” Anchali said in Thai. “Don’t be so eager to get in bed with these guys. Some of them are creeps.”



“Maybe, but they have money, which I need for my family,” Polly said in Thai. “I’m a prostitute; that’s what I do.”



“You know what some of the farangs (Thai for ‘Westerners’) do?” Anchali asked. “Some like to beat girls, as some Japanese men do. Others like to humiliate girls, like showing them off naked in public. Others want rough anal; As a gay tranny, I like anal from men, but I doubt you, or most girls, do. Some farangs like to rape their prostitutes. And then there are the ones who like the really young, little girls…or boys.”



“I’ve had five farangs so far, and they all treated me OK. No diseases, either. I can take care of myself, and I can tell the creeps from the nice men.”



“That’s what you think, Polly. You’re only 18 years old. And as sexy and desirable as you are, it’s only a matter of time before a nasty man gets his hands on you.”



“Anchali, I can’t do anything else. I never got a good education, and my mother is old and sick. She really needs the best medical care I can afford, which right now isn’t much. If I don’t get the money for her, she could die.” Just then, Polly saw a tall, thin, handsome blond-haired man walk by. He looked to be in his late 20s. “Hello, strong handsome man,” she called out to him in English, grinning flirtatiously.



He walked up to her, smiling back. “My name’s Tory, Tory Wright,” he said to her in an English accent. “What’s your name?”



“Polly,” she said, reaching out to shake his hand. He shook hers.



“Hi, Polly,” he said, his accent pronouncing the words, “Hoi, Polligh.” He looked up and down at her short, curvaceous, dark-skinned body, delighted at how delicious she looked. She was wearing a blue and grey sleeveless top (no bra), dark blue denim shorts, and flip flops. She wore no makeup, but she didn’t need it, for she had the prettiest, most kissable of faces. “Let’s go in and find ourselves a table, shall we?”



“OK,” Polly said. “Bye, Anchali.” She got up.



“Bye,” Anchali said, frowning. “Be careful.”



Polly went in the eatery with Tory, who sat at a chair and tapped his left thigh, signalling for her to sit on his lap, which she did, facing him. She put her arms around his neck and, always grinning, pressed her forehead and nose against his.



“Let’s get to business,” he whispered. “How much for one night?”



“1,000 baht for a long time,” she said. “The more you pay, the more I do for you.”



“I like the sound of that,” he said, his hard-on bulging in his shorts. Its length and thickness, which she could clearly feel under her ass, were impressing and exciting her. “I have lots and lots of money, and the more you do for me, the more generous I’ll be with you.”



She giggled and stroked his hair.



“Is there somewhere private back there, where we can go?” he asked.



“Yes,” she said. “My brother owns this restaurant. There’s a room back there with a bed, toilet, and shower that I sometimes use.”



“Perfect. Let’s go there now.”



“OK.” They got up, and she led him to the back room. He was anxious of anyone seeing him go with her, since he didn’t want anyone interrupting them; but everyone else in the eatery minded his own business. They went into the room and locked the door.



He sat on a wooden chair by the bed, and she stood before him, facing him. She put her knees on the chair between his legs, pushing against his erection.



“What do you want me to do?” she asked.



“No sex for now,” he said, ogling her. “I just want to know what product you’re selling, so take all your clothes off. I want to see every inch of you. Everything.”



“OK,” she said with a slight hint of nervousness. She undid the button on her shorts and began unzipping them.



“Dance slowly as you undress.”



“OK.” She swayed her hips left to right as she pulled down her shorts, revealing an ornately designed, pretty pink thong. The shorts fell to her ankles, and she took her feet out of the flip-flops and kicked them and the shorts to the side.



“Very nice,” he said, ogling her thong, legs, and feet. “Off with your top.”



She pulled off her shirt, revealing two large, perfectly shaped, brown breasts with darker brown nipples the diameter of quarters.



“What beautiful tits you have, Polly.” He cupped them in his hands, caressed them, and gently squeezed them. His fingers tickled her nipples, making them point out.



Getting wet, she was sighing her appreciation for his sensitive touching. She now pulled down the thong, revealing her black pubic hair: not too much, not too little–just right. She pulled her feet through the leg holes of the thong and kicked it aside. She now stood fully naked in front of him.



He looked up and down at her, studying her skin. “What a beautiful bird you are, Polly,” he said with lustful joy. “You haven’t got a flaw. Turn around for me, love. Lemme see your bum.”



She turned around, showing him her perfectly sculpted, round, callipygian behind. He gently patted it, and rubbed his fingers along the smooth anal cleft, wondering what treasures were hiding between those brown buns.



“Perfect arse,” he grunted. “Sit on my lap.”



She did, rubbing her buttocks against the rock-hard cock pointing a bulge in his shorts. He put his hands on her breasts and gently squeezed them while giving her soft pecks on her right cheek. She sighed softly as he moaned and kissed her.



“Alright,” he said. “Get up, spread your legs and bend over so I can see your arsehole and cunt.”



She didn’t like hearing such vulgar language, but she did as she was told. She may have been a prostitute, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t at least try to treat her like a lady. Upside-down and from between her spread legs, she looked back up at him fearfully as he examined her anus, vulva, and vagina.



“Do you really need to look at my private places like that?” she asked tensely.



“Yes, baby,” he said, stretching her anus open. “I have to check for herpes, anal warts, that kind of thing. You can’t be too careful with girls like you.”



Girls like me? she thought; Yeah, Tory, I’m just a whore. I’m not a human being. Still, I have a sick mother and a poor family. I’ll just have to put up with all this. I hope I can get as much money as he promised I’d get.



“Those two holes are so pretty looking,” he said, licking his lips at the sight of her puckered black anus and purple liquorice labia. “Unfortunately, though, you smell pretty bad down there. Let’s go to the shower and clean you up.”



Biting her lip at his continuing rudeness, she went with him to the shower stall. He lathered up the soap in his hands as she let the warm water pour on her body. He smeared the lather on her breasts, her armpits, and her torso. Despite her resentment at ‘needing’ to bathe again (she’d had a shower an hour before meeting Tory, and only used the toilet for a shit once since the shower), she comforted herself with enjoying his gentle, caressing fingers.



He rinsed her off, then said, “OK, love. Squat down and spread your legs so I can see your pussy. I wanna clean that stinky beauty.”



Frowning, she squatted for him. His soapy finger slid in and out of her vagina, tickling her G-spot. She closed her eyes and, sighing, enjoyed his sensitive finger, wishing his mouth and thoughts could have been equally so. His still well-lathered hand smeared the soap all over her vulva, massaging her hardening clitoris and swelling labia.



He rinsed her off, then said, “OK, turn around, spread your legs, and bend over. I’m gonna clean your arsehole.”



Her heart beat a painfully strong thud when she heard that vulgarity. He seemed particularly interested in her anus; indeed, his soapy finger poked deep inside her rectum, feeling all over the walls to clean out every last bit of shit that may have still been residing there. Would she have to endure anal sex that night in his hotel? She kept reminding herself of that money he’d promised: if it was anywhere near as much as she imagined she might get, her mother would be saved, and her family might live comfortably, for at least a while, anyway.



He rinsed her asshole out, then soaped up her buttocks, legs and feet. He was meticulous in getting every inch of her body clean, not just due to a dislike of her body odour (of which she’d hardly had any to begin with), but also out of a wish to fetish and go over all of her, leaving not a millimetre untouched. He rinsed her, then dried her with a nearby towel. They went back to the main area of the room.



He sat on the chair again, and she stood in front of him. He put his hand between her legs and fingered her clit, getting it hard again. He wrapped his lips around her right nipple and sucked on it while sliding his finger inside her moistening pussy. She moaned softly.



His left hand gently squeezed her right buttock. Then he took his finger out of her wet cunt and put that hand on her left buttock. He opened her ass and began fingering her anus. Again, this bothered her, but she was willing put up with it for that money.



His lips pulled back on the nipple, let it go, and he smiled to see her tit bounce back with a wiggle. He took his right hand off her ass and took his wallet out of his pants. He took his other hand off her ass, pulled out a wad of baht, and thumbed through the bills.



Her eyes lit up: he had thousands and thousands!



“Here’s 5,000 baht, sweetheart,” he said, giving her the money. “There’ll be a lot more where that came from if you do the right things with me tonight.”



“OK,” she said, grinning as she counted the money. “We gonna fuck now?”



“Not now,” he said, having her sit on his cock and grind on it while he fondled her breasts. “Tonight’s when we’ll fuck. I have some things to do in a few minutes.”



“You’re giving me 5,000 baht just to be naked for you?”



“Yep. And you’ll get over twice that amount tonight if you do what I want to you do.” He put his right hand on her pussy again, fingering her wet vaginal orifice.



Wow, she thought as she continued rubbing her ass against his hard-on; I’m getting a total of 15,000 baht–maybe more, much more!–if I can put up with whatever he wants. He touches me gently; his fingers get me horny; he’s good-looking and has a big dick. I’m sure the sex will be fun. I just have to put up with his rudeness. This night’s earnings could pay for all my mother’s medical needs: yes, he can have his way with me!



“OK,” he said, having her get up, but still fingering her cunt and now fondling her ass. “I have to go, but I’ll see you at the front of this restaurant at, say, 9 o’clock, alright?”



“OK,” she said, happily allowing him to keep feeling up her naked body.



He wrapped his lips around her left nipple and sucked on it a while as he put his pussy-fingering hand on her ass, opened her buttocks, and fingered her asshole, sliding his finger in an inch or two. She winced and put up with it.



His lips let go of her tit, he watched it bounce back, he pulled his finger out of her ass, and he got up. He walked out of the room without saying goodbye.



She didn’t care. Still naked, she counted her money again.



*********



That night at 9 o’clock, she waited at the front of the eatery as planned. She was wearing a black sleeveless top, tight yellow pants, and black high heels. He arrived a few minutes later.



“Hi Polly,” he said, reaching to take her by the hands. “Let me take you to dinner.”



“Let me ride piggy-back on you,” she said, grinning playfully.



“OK,” he said, bent down, and let her climb on his back. As she was short, she was light and easy to bear. He carried her that way to a restaurant owned by a French expatriate. They sat at a table and he ordered some beef borguignon and red wine for both of them.



“So, what do you do, Tory?” she asked.



“Well, my father owns a textile manufacturing company not too far from Pattaya Beach,” he said. “That’s why I live here in Thailand. I’m a senior manager for the company now, learning how to run the business. I’m rising quickly in the company. Dad’s going to retire in a few years, and then I’ll take over.”



“Is your family rich?” she asked.



“We sure are; you’ll see just how rich soon enough, if you play your cards right with me,” he said. “Wealth is the proper reward for hard work. My family works hard, we make sacrifices of our time, and we’re rich. If you work hard for me tonight, you’ll get a lot of money, too.”



“Oh, I plan to work hard for you.”



The waiter served the wine.



“Working hard is the only way to success,” Tory continued. “Not getting welfare hand-outs from the government. That’s why I hate socialism, which makes people dependent and encourages idleness. Oh, those awful unions we have in the West, making one demand after another. It’s nice here in the Orient, where unions aren’t so strong, if they even exist at all. Here we don’t have to pay the women who make the textiles as much as we’d have to in the UK. It’s nice.”



Not so nice for my aunt, who works in a textile manufacturing area, Polly thought with no small amount of resentment.



“I’m proud of my name, Tory,” he said. “I don’t even have to tell my fellow English I’m a Conservative.” He laughed.



Their meal arrived, and they ate.



After that, they left the restaurant and walked on a street near the beach, holding hands. Sometimes he, in his rudeness, would touch her behind, grope at a tit, or even feel up her groin, right there in public, with lots of people watching. Thinking of that money she’d make, she ignored her annoyance and put up with him.



He took her into a sex shop and found a tube of anal lube. She shuddered.



“You wanna buy that?” she asked nervously.



“Of course,” he said. “You and I will have fun with this, no doubt.”



She tried to ease her anxiety by remembering his money. He bought the lube, and they left.



Then he took her into his swank, five star hotel. The concierge and hotel manager addressed him by his first name, as if they were all old friends. She thrilled to the sight of such a luxurious lobby, fully confident she’d get tens of thousands of baht if she put up with whatever perversions he had.



He took her up to his room, and as soon as they went inside, he said, “OK, Polly, off with your clothes.”



He sat on the bed, smiling with her there standing before him. Remembering how he liked to watch her dance as she stripped, she swayed her hips slowly as she pulled off her top. Again, she was wearing no bra, so he got to see those beautiful, large breasts right away.



“Oh, yeah,” he grunted lustfully. “I remember those two brown beauties.”



She unzipped and pulled down her pants, showing off a black thong this time. She kicked off her high heels, pulled her feet out of the pant legs, and pulled down the thong, letting it settle on her ankles. She pulled her feet out of the leg holes, and stood completely nude before him.



“There’s my beautiful brown girl,” he said, looking up and down at her body and grinning lewdly.



“I have to use the bathroom,” she said.



“To pee, or to poo?” he asked.



“To pee,” she said, sneering slightly at his disregard for her privacy.



“OK,” he said, getting up and taking her by the hand. “The bathroom’s over here. Leave the door unlocked, for I’ll be coming in in a minute to bathe you again.” She went in the bathroom, nervous about the door being ajar.



While she was in there, he went back to get her clothes. He picked them all up and hid them deep among his own clothes in his luggage, where she’d never find them. First of all, he did this out of fear that she’d steal his money while he was sleeping, then get dressed and leave the hotel. Second, it amused him to have her not have access to any clothing. He didn’t want to see her wearing anything ever again, anyway.



He quickly went back to the bathroom, hoping she hadn’t finished her piss yet. He was lucky, for she hadn’t even started: she was just sitting nervously on the toilet, unable to start peeing, knowing she’d have no privacy.



When she saw him come in to see her, she was doubly nervous, embarrassed at the thought of him seeing her peeing.



He stood before her, looking down at her frowning face. “I thought you had to pee.”



“I can’t, with you watching,” she said.



“Oh, don’t be shy, sweetheart,” he said. “Pee for me.”



“I thought you hated the smell.”



“Oh, I just hated how your arsehole smelt of shit this afternoon, and how your cunt stank of sweat and old piss. But this will be a fresh piss, so I’ll like it. Come on, love: pee it out.”



“I can’t with you watching. I’m too nervous.”



“You want to pee, don’t you? You need to pee, don’t you?”



“Yeah, but in private.”



“Private, shmivate. You’re a whore: there’s no such thing as private for you. You said you were willing to work hard for me tonight, eh? For all that money?”



“Yeah.”



“Well, just concentrate on that lovely apple juice pouring through your piss-hole, and it’ll come out, OK?”



“OK.” She breathed heavily and tried to relax. She had an unusually weak heart, even for her young age, and all the stress he was putting her through was already giving her chest pains.



Soon enough, the piss came pouring out. He had her open her legs so he could see clearly. She looked up at him, frowning, embarrassed, and afraid of whatever other perversions he might have had. She thought she could tell the normal men from the weirdos: she was wrong. Anchali had tried to warn her.



Looking down at her with a lascivious grin, he enjoyed watching the golden water pour out of her and into the toilet bowl. Indeed, he even liked the smell.



She’s an animal, he thought. A naked animal, and my servant for hire.



She finished, ripped off some toilet paper from the roll and wiped herself, annoyed and embarrassed from his ever ogling eyes. She got up, and he had her step aside so he could see her piss in the toilet bowl. She sneered in contempt at his bizarre fetish.



He flushed the toilet and led her to the shower stall. “OK,” he said as she stepped in the tub. “Time to clean your cunt and arsehole again.” He did, his soapy fingers once again feeling all over her anal and vaginal walls, then rinsing her just as thoroughly. Then he dried her off with a towel and led her out of the bathroom and back to the bedroom area. He had her sit on the bed, leaning back, and spreading her legs out wide.



She kept frowning with embarrassment. Why do I always have to be the naked one? she thought; when’s he going to take off his clothes?



He got down on his knees by the bed and brought his face and hands up close to her pussy, opening the labia and looking in the wide-open hole. He pushed her legs up so he could see her asshole. He opened it as wide as he could and checked it out, too.



She grew more and more uneasy. Isn’t he gonna get undressed and fuck me? she thought; How many times does he have to check me out? The vulnerability of being naked, with her legs spread before him, was driving her crazy.



Finally, after all that seemingly pointless looking, he started licking her pussy. He sucked on her clit, which began to harden. She took a deep breath, enjoyed his mouth, and began to relax.



It’s about time, she thought; at last, we’re gonna get this over with.



Next, he sucked on each labium, the right one, then the left. He put his tongue as deep inside her vagina as he could reach. Then he started licking her asshole, his tongue rolling over every wrinkle.



What a pervert! she thought; I hope he doesn’t wanna kiss me on the lips later on.

He gave her wet pussy a few more licks, and slowly moved up her body, rubbing his nose in her pubic hair and chuckling. Then he started kissing her belly, and went up with a trail of kisses to her breasts.



He slid his finger in her dripping wet cunt as he sucked on her left breast for a few seconds, then her right. After that, he got her to turn around and be on all fours and the bed. He spread her legs and pulled her butt back so both her pussy and asshole were showing. Then he started taking long licks so his tongue would taste both holes.



She got wetter from his tongue licking her pussy, but uneasy when his tongue tickled her asshole. She dreaded the coming anal sex.



After a few more licks of her butt, he finally unzipped his pants and pulled out his hard cock. He put a condom on it, and aimed for her pussy. When she felt the knob poke at her wet vaginal opening, she felt a mixture of excitement and relief…that he was putting his cock in the right hole.



Finally, she thought, the sex is going to happen.



She squealed as she felt his cock slide in her cunt a few inches. She loved the tasty thickness of his member. He grunted as he pushed in further, now three-quarters of the way. One last thrust and he was all the way in. He groaned and she screamed in pleasure at the same time.



He reached over and grabbed her tits as he poked away inside her. His long, thick cock was driving her wild; for the moment, she’d totally forgotten how creepy he was.



He was pinching her nipples as his fucking got faster and faster, and more and more forceful. Then he straightened up and put his hands on her ass, opening her buttocks so he could see her pretty black asshole again, the next hole he would fuck.



Their moaning and squealing grew louder, faster, and higher-pitched as she came closer to orgasm.



“Oh!” she screamed as she climaxed. “I’m coming! Ah!”



“Good,” he grunted, pulling his cock out. “I was…getting tired…of fucking…your cunt…anyway.”



“Want to…go to sleep?” she asked in sighs. “We do it…again tomorrow.”



“No, I haven’t come yet,” he said, taking off the used condom and putting on a new one. He then took the anal lube from his shirt pocket. “I wanna…fuck your arse now.”



Her eyes widened with fear, especially when looking back at his eyes, which ogled her asshole while he took the cap off the lube.



“I’m scared,” she said. “Won’t it hurt?”



“Not with the lube, it won’t,” he said, getting some lube on his fingers. “Don’t worry.” He smeared some on his cock, then wiped some on her asshole.



“I don’t know about this.”



“Do you want only a little money, or a lot?” he asked, sliding his lube-covered finger an inch or so inside her rectum. “To make money in this world, you have to work hard.” His finger went in deeper.



She groaned in discomfort and worry, but she acquiesced, for she so badly needed that money for her mom.



He aimed his cock for her asshole and pushed the tip against the anal orifice. She took deep breaths to prepare herself, and closed her eyes. He slid in slowly.



“Aaah!” she groaned in discomfort.



“Unh!” he grunted with pleasure when he got halfway in.



Her eyes welled up with tears as he pushed in deeper, screaming when he was all the way in.



Oh, how delightfully the tightness of that anal ring hugged his thick, hard shaft! Having the time of his life, he shoved in and out vigorously.



The lube had mitigated her pain somewhat, but not enough. All she could do was groan and sob.



He admired how her pretty round brown buttocks framed her black anus flawlessly as he went in and out of it.



Beautiful brown girl, he thought as he sodomized her. Beautiful brown girl.



After a few minutes of ass-fucking, he came, then pulled his cock out. He took off the condom and stared at her gaping asshole, too busy admiring it to notice her incessant weeping. He put his spent dick back in his pants, zipped them up, and lay beside her, still with all his clothes on. He hadn’t even taken his shoes off. He fell asleep within minutes. He dreamed of owning her as his permanent sex-slave.



She lay beside him, her naked body in the fetal position. Her chest pains were more acute now, with considerable tightness and squeezing. She gradually calmed down, the pain and tightness subsided for the moment, and she slowly cried herself to sleep. She dreamed of being paid a fortune by Tory, giving her mother the best medical care available, marrying a local Thai man she had a crush on, and never having to hook again.



***********



She woke up before he did the next morning, looking around for her clothes. Where were they? They should have been on the floor by the bed, where she’d left them. What had that bastard pervert done with her clothes?



Her asshole still hurt, but not as bad. He woke up. “Hi Polly,” he said, as if they were just good friends.



“Where are my clothes?’ she demanded angrily. “And what about my money?”



“Here it is,” he said, taking out another wad of baht from his wallet and counting the bills. He handed her a large sum. “This is for last night.”



She counted it eagerly. “20,000 baht?”



“Yes, that’s all yours, lovey. And there’s more where that came from, if you’re a good girl today, and do as I wish.” He sat on the side of the bed.



“What do you want me to do?” she asked, already reconciled with him.



He unzipped his pants. “Suck my cock.”



“OK,” she said, kneeling between his legs and taking his hardening cock in her hands. She looked up in his eyes, smirking lewdly, and began kissing and licking the tip of his dick.



He looked down at her pretty face and grinned. “Good girl,” he sighed. “Good girl.” He adored the sweet submission in her eyes as she, always looking up at him with wide-open eyes, took his cock half-way in her salivating mouth.



Her wet lips slid up and down his hard shaft. Always looking down at her, he held her head in his hands and stroked her hair. Her tongue tickled the underside of his dick, and she gently shook his balls in her hand.



“That’s it,” he groaned. “Play with my balls. Oh!”



He took her head and force-fed his cock all the way down her throat, making her gag. Forced to adapt to this deep-throating, she learned to control her gag reflex surprisingly quickly.



He was going to come. “Oh!” he groaned, and pulled his cock out of her mouth just in time for his jizz to splatter all over her face. Disgusted by his ejaculating, she tried to move her head away, but he held her head always in the line of fire. Wanting more of that money, she decided to put up with each splash of come on her forehead, in her eyes, and on her nose, her lips, and her cheeks.



He grinned as he saw the goo all dripping down her face. Her eyes too drenched in come even to open them, she could only frown. Still smiling, he put his spent dick in his pants and zipped them up.



He stood up. “OK, darling,” he said. “Go wash your face and we’ll go out and eat something.”



She went into the bathroom and washed her face. When she was finished in there, she came out seeing Tory sitting on the bed, counting from his huge wad of baht. Her purse was on the desk opposite the bed, with the money he’d paid her lying next to the purse.



“Oh, my purse,” she said, happily putting her money in it. “And where are my clothes?”



“You have makeup in your purse, right?” he asked.



“Yeah, but where are my cl–?”



“Put on your makeup,” he commanded. “You’re a whore: tart yourself up like one.”



“OK.” She got out her lipstick, mascara, and compact, and started painting up her face. When she was finished, she had bright red lips, blue eyelids, thick black eyelashes, and pink cheeks. She turned around so he could see.



“Perfect,” he said, grinning.



“And my clothes?” she asked, increasingly nervous that he wouldn’t tell her.



“See this money?” He waved the wad of money in front of her tempted eyes. He then counted the bills. “It’s 30,000 baht, and it’ll be all yours…if you do as I say.”



“What’s that?” She was licking her lips, knowing how all that money could really help her family.



“Come outside with me for a walk on the beach, for about a half hour, that’s all.”



“That’s all?”



“That’s all.”



“OK, just let me put on my clothes–”



“No: come out with me, as you are.”



“But, but I-I’m naked.”



“Exactly.” He grinned with an evil lasciviousness.



“But it’s i-indecent exposure. It’s illegal.”



“Polly, prostitution is illegal in Thailand. People here do it all the time, openly. You do.”



“But this is different. You can hide what we do in hotels. I can’t hide my nakedness.” She was on the verge of tears, and the tightness in her chest was coming back.



“I don’t want you to hide your nakedness,” he said, still grinning. “I want everyone to see your beautiful brown body.”



“B-but we’ll get in trouble,” she said in sobs.



“My family is friends with the Pattaya mayor and the police department. All I’ll have to do is make a few calls on my cell-phone. Problem quickly solved. Don’t worry.”



“But my family and friends live here. What if they see me?”



“So?”



“So?! I’ll be humiliated! Shamed!”



“Humiliated? Shmumiliated. With all the money you’ll make, who cares? Anyway, you’re a prostitute: you should be used to shame by now. Besides, I can make you and your family well-off. You’d never have to hook again. The shame will fade away in time. Instead, you’ll be a hero to your family and friends, sacrificing yourself for their betterment. You don’t want your family to be poor forever, do you?”



She thought about it: yes, he could definitely save her family, and her mother, with all that money. And just for a brief public flash.



“What do you say?” he asked. “Come on, I don’t want to wait anymore. No more tears. Grin and bear it. You have a beautiful body. You should be proud of it. Showing yourself off will be good for attracting future customers, too. Come on, dearie.”



“OK, I’ll do it on one condition,” she said, stopping her crying.



“Alright. What’s that?”



“As soon as we walk by a clothing store, we go in and you buy me a dress.”



“OK,” he said, exasperated and annoyed. “But it’s coming out of this 30,000 baht. Let’s go. Leave your purse here: we’ll come back for it when I pay you.”



She took a deep breath and ever-so-reluctantly followed him to the door. She was shaking with fear. He opened the door, and she went out into the hall. She gulped and twitched.



Already there were a number of people in the hall, male and female, young and old, all looking at her body in disbelief…and lust.



She bit her lip and tried not to cry. She put one hand over her tits and the other over her pubic hair.



“No,” he said, pulling her hands out to her sides. “Don’t cover yourself. Let everyone see.”



Tory and Polly went over to the elevator, hearing a few men whistle at what they saw. Polly tried her best to ignore the ogling eyes in the hall. Tory pushed the button for their floor, and the elevator quickly arrived. But when the doors opened, the elevator was crowded with people, mostly men.



As they went in, Polly again had to endure the eyes of female shock and male lust looking up and down at her breasts, pubic hair, and buttocks. As they all went down in the elevator, she felt one or two hands gently caress her behind. Another hand pinched her ass hard. None of these hands were Tory’s: his hands were at his sides; he just stood there, smiling.



Please, let me die, she thought. Quickly. Her breath was getting short. She thought she might throw up, but luckily, she didn’t.



They went through the lobby and to the front doors, with lots more shocked and lustful eyes staring at her nakedness. She fought back her tears. They went outside.



She knew there was a clothing store very close to the hotel on their left; but Tory, also knowing about the store, deliberately took her to the right, in the direction of the beach. No clothing stores were anywhere in sight.



As they approached the beach, a train of lustful men, foreigner and Thai, young and old, were following Polly and Tory and ogling her. Pornographic remarks were being made about her body in Thai, English, Japanese, and German. A tear ran down her cheek.



Finally, her worst fears were realized as they passed the eatery where she met Tory: her brother saw her, as did two of her cousins. They felt her shame infect their whole family.



Worse, her close neighbours, also near the eatery, saw every inch of her, including some very rowdy young Thai men she’d known since childhood. Another Thai man, the one on whom she had a crush, also saw her. She wouldn’t have minded him seeing her, only he–being of stricter morals than most–merely grunted, “Slut,” in Thai, in disgust at her exhibitionism. She heard him, and his words made her already hurting heart sting all the more.



The rowdy Thai men, hollering and cat-calling, raced after her, shouting more lewd remarks in Thai. No longer able to take it, she screamed and ran from Tory.



“Hey, Polly!” Tory shouted. “Where are you going? If you want that money, you’d better come back, now!”



Some police arrived on the scene and stopped the Thai men. Another cop chased her, heading for an alley.



“What’s the big idea, bringing a naked girl out in public?” one of the cops said to Tory.



“Don’t worry about us,” Tory said, flashing some money and giving a generous amount of it to the cop. “I’m friends with Mayor Sanitwong. I’ll call him and prove it to you.”



“OK, but hurry up,” the cop said.



Polly ran into the alley. In the darkness, she hid behind tall piles of boxes. She sobbed as quietly as she could, and waited for the cop to stop his search and leave the alley.



Anchali warned me, Polly thought; I should’ve listened.



Some other men, lusting after that delicious naked body they’d seen, were also looking for her. Polly’s heart was pounding faster with painful throbs. Sweating profusely, even for such a hot day in Thailand, she was wheezing for breath.



Just then, a woman in her mid-20s came up the stairs from the basement of one of the buildings between which Polly was hiding.



“Hey, what’s wrong?” the woman asked in a British accent. “Why don’t you have any clothes on?”



“Please help me,” Polly begged, still sobbing.



“Come here, love,” the woman said. Polly went down the stairs to her. They went into the basement. “I live here. My name’s Libby, Libby Rawls. I teach English here. What’s your name?”



“I’m Polly,” she said, calming down. Her chest pains were easing, and she was getting more and more able to breathe easily.



“Hi, Polly,” Libby said (like Tory, her UK accent pronounced it ‘Hoi Polligh’). “Let’s go upstairs to my bedroom,” Libby lead Polly up there. “I can give you some of my clothes there. They’ll be a little too big for you, but at least they’ll cover you up. Why are you naked?”



“I’m a prostitute,” Polly said. “My pervert john wanted me to go out naked in public. He promised to pay me a lot for it.”



“Oh, that’s awful,” Libby said, sitting on her bed and having Polly sit next to her. “Men are such creeps. Always trying to exploit women, dominate them, and humiliate them.”



“He’s rich,” Polly said. “He said being rich is the reward for hard work.”



“Whose hard work? His, or that of his underpaid workers under him? I know all about Western companies doing outsourcing in southeast Asia, where there are few, if any, unions to fight for workers’ rights. It’s despicable. I don’t have any admiration for the rich; my admiration is for the poor, and how they have to struggle to survive, like you.”



“Really?”



“Really. I don’t believe anyone is better than anyone else. I believe in equality. I have high hopes that socialism can spread throughout Asia, real socialism, not the Stalinism in China. A socialist government can redistribute the wealth around here, unlike the UK’s current Conservative government; what’s worse, the Labour Party doesn’t seem to be any better. In England, the left and right seem to be pals. Awful. That’s why I live here in Thailand as an expat: I despise what’s happening in my country, with its preferential treatment for the rich, who prey on poor people like you.”



“Really?” Polly asked. “You care about what we go through?”



“Oh, yes,” Libby said, putting her arm around Polly. “It’s awful how you people get exploited. It’s so wrong. I won’t do that to you. In fact, I’m friends with some of the government officials here. I’m hoping to use my influence to spread socialism here, to help the poor.”



“Really?”



“Really. I’m here to help.” Libby started stroking Polly’s hair.



“Thank you,” Polly said, hugging Libby and sobbing again. Her teary face was buried in Libby’s chest. “I need help. I can’t take it anymore. Having to sell my body, being treated like a whore, just to get money for my family, for my sick mother. I hate it.”



“I know. I care, Polly. And you’re so beautiful, too, Polly,” Libby said, kissing her on the cheek.



“Huh?” Polly asked, confused by the look of desire she saw in Libby’s eyes. Libby’s hand was on Polly’s knee now.



“Your body. It’s beautiful. It should be worshipped, not exploited.” Libby kept looking up and down at Polly’s body, admiring her breasts and soft, smooth brown skin. She slid her hand along Polly’s upper leg.



“Oh.” Polly didn’t know what else to say.



“OK, Polly. Lie on the bed here, and spread your legs.”



“What?” Polly said, increasingly uneasy. Her chest pains were coming back, slightly.



“Haven’t you ever had lesbians for clients?”



“No.” Polly said with a twitch. Her homophobia was making her body shake. Her breath was getting shorter.



“Well, there’s a first time for everything, I guess,” Libby said. “Come on, don’t worry, love. I’ll pay you well, and I have an electric tongue that’ll drive you wild.” She licked her lips, grinning lewdly.



“Oh, OK.” Polly reluctantly lay on the bed and spread her legs, afraid to offend Libby and not get any clothes.



“As I said, I’m in good with some of the locals in power,” Libby said, putting her face between Polly’s legs. “I teach some of their kids English. Not only do they pay me well–so I can pay you well–but through their influence I can get protection for you against whoever was after you before.” She began licking Polly’s clit.



Polly closed her eyes and found herself enjoying the licking. She was calming down again, her heart’s pains going away and her breathing back to normal.



Thinking lesbian sex was disgusting, she imagined it was a guy, that Thai man she liked, licking her instead. All the same, Libby was right about her skillful tongue: it, as well as her lips, were giving Polly’s pussy a tingling no man’s mouth had ever given her before! Perhaps she was wrong about lesbians.



Libby’s lips sucked hard on Polly’s little pebble of a clitoris, and buzzed and hummed on it to excite her all the more. Her lips tightly embraced and gently pulled on each of Polly’s swollen labia. Her tongue dove deep inside the hole, reaching for Polly’s G-spot. Then she started licking Polly’s asshole while sliding her finger in and out of Polly’s dripping wet cunt, massaging her G-spot. Polly sighed and squealed louder and louder, with quicker and quicker squeals as she approached orgasm.



After a few more minutes of licking, Polly came, and Libby licked away the ooze dripping from her cunt. She then kissed a trail of kisses from Polly’s cunt up to her belly, then up to her breasts. She sucked on the left one, her tongue flickering against the hardened nipple, then did the same with the right one.



Completely forgetting for the moment the fact that a woman had given her such pleasure, Polly sighed and smiled.



“OK, Polly,” Libby said, getting up and getting ready to unzip her pants. “Now it’s your turn to do me.”



“What?” Polly said, shocked that she’d have to eat pussy. “No, s-sorry, I don’t do that.”

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