Eva's Education

'Stand up!' she suddenly said to me, and I did as she asked, wondering for a moment if I had done something wrong.

'I just want to have a good look at you,' she smiled, reaching for my hand, 'God, you're lovely!'

I felt embarrassed being admired so, but she pulled me closer to her, still standing in front of her, and started to pick at my dress near to my hip. Then I realised – she wanted to unfasten the bow in my panties. I smiled back at her, and tried to help. Eventually we achieved it - flipped open the ribbons of my little panties without removing my dress – and they fell to the floor, so that my naked, shaven mound was now covered only by the transparent black lace. I moved just out of her reach, and slowly lifted the hem of my dress, until she could see right to the tops of my thighs, then to my slit. Still not quite within reach, teasing her, and myself, I ran two fingers through my crack, parting my legs slightly as I did so, so that my labia opened enough for her to glimpse my hidden treasure. I was now starting to get moist, just by the action of exposing myself to this mature, sophisticated woman, and wondered for a moment just what was happening to me – where my sexuality was headed.

Trini would be denied no longer, and reaching out, grabbed me, and pulled me bodily down onto the sofa.

'You're a terrible tease, aren't you, Eva?' she said.

'I'm sorry,' I said, 'but I'm a bit scared…..'

Again she shut me up, and in a whisper of silk, slid her gown swiftly up her long, slender legs to reveal her own naked, neatly-trimmed pussy, with just a tiny triangle of short hair left on her mound. She threw one legs high up the back of the sofa, the other on the floor, so that her fragrant pink cunt gaped wide.

'Now kiss me!' she told me, and I was in no doubt as to her meaning.

I had never before even seen another woman's pussy close up, and it was a totally new experience to plunge my tongue deep into the soaking wet depths of Trini's vagina. I knew she would want me to stimulate her clit, and found that organ there lurking beneath its protecting hood, flicking it with my tongue until I drew great moans from deep in her throat.

Then I returned to her fuckhole, and thrust my tongue hard down into its pulsing, living interior, but as I did so, I felt a tap on my back, which made me jump.

I looked around, and Trini said, 'Oh no, don't stop, please, please!'

It was Jorge – he had returned and handed me a long glass dildo, which I immediately started to introduce into Trini's now-sopping cunt.

'Mmmm!' she murmured, 'but I want it in the other place, darling!'

Jorge was now sat on the arm of the sofa behind me, as I very gently wiggled the very tip of the dildo into Trini's puckered anus.

'Harder!' she ordered, 'give it to me!'

I shoved, then, forcing the implement deep into her velvet tunnel, until she screamed and I feared I had hurt her terribly, and was scarcely aware of Jorge's hand up under my gown, fondling my inner labia. But he shouted out and I felt a warm splash on my leg, and looking around, saw that he had his cock in his other hand, and had just spurted copiously, as his wife had climaxed.

They both rather lost interest as I went to the bathroom and cleaned up, and seemed quite offhand when I asked them if I could summon a taxi. I went home sorely in need of a good fuck, and masturbated myself to sleep.

I awoke next morning, and, as I made my coffee, found myself wondering if sex with another woman was always like that. I decided that it couldn't be – Trini, after all, had cum at least once, and it was only her selfishness which had spoilt my evening. I hadn't been at all revolted by having sex with another woman, however, and thought I might like to try it again. I found myself wondering about my two colleagues, especially Petra, whom I found extremely attractive. The thought was setting something tingling deep down in my belly, and it was an image of her with her waist pinched in by that corset, strutting in those needle heels, that was before me. 'Give up!' I said to myself, and took a long slug of hot coffee.

I loafed around all morning, but my envelope arrived at lunchtime, rather sooner than I expected, a sure sign that I had another assignment coming up. Sure enough, after heaping praise on me for my performance the night before, which had apparently drawn accolades from the client, I was given a lunch appointment for the following day, and told that my client was ' a refined gentleman.' (Aren't they all? - I thought) I went shopping that afternoon, and, on a whim, bought a corset, like Petra's but virginal white, and some stockings to match. I also purchased a pleated white lightweight skirt, mid-thigh length, and a dark blue silk blouse. Then I spent time in my favourite shoe shop, and came out with two pairs, both with very high heels, which I was unable to resist.

Next morning, I dressed carefully for my assignment, admiring my rear view when I looked over my shoulder into the mirror and saw my bare buttocks framed by the arching corset, its long garter straps holding up the lace-topped white stockings I had bought. Above the corset, my breasts perched, pushed up prettily, and the restraint the corset applied to my waist, which almost took my breath away at first, was becoming bearable, and even sensual. The freedom of the pleated skirt and the softness of the silk blouse provided a nice contrast, and I clipped in a pair of outrageously long silver ear-rings as my sole items of jewellery, before brushing my hair to a golden sheen.

My client, this time at the Westin Hotel, was a retired politician of some note, and I wondered, as we ate lunch, if José wasn't just a bit old for what all my clients seemed to have in mind. He liked to talk, and we discussed all manner of things – my Spanish now getting much more fluent – as we ate an excellent lunch, and then retired to the hotel lounge for coffee and liqueurs. Up to this point he hadn't laid a finger on me, and I had started to wonder if he had anything further in mind when he suddenly said, 'I hope you enjoy what I have in mind for you, my dear.'

I looked at him questioningly. He was – or had been – a handsome man, with a strong chin, and a head of wiry hair, now greying. His body looked still to be fit and athletic despite his sixtyish years. He wore an ironic smile. 'Your boss was uncertain about sending you, as he said you hadn't the, experience, but I chose you from your photo. We shall have to see if experience matters, shall we not?'

Without further ado, he led the way to the lift and we ere whisked up to his sixth floor suite. I stood and admired the luxurious surroundings as José took off his jacket and hung it on a coat hanger behind the door. Then he surprised me by saying quietly but firmly, 'Now bend over the table, dear, please!'

I was standing next to a big, ornate, glass-topped dining table, and I hesitatingly approached it, put my clutch-bag down on it, and started to bend over, whereupon I felt the flat of José's hand push gently but insistently against my back, impelling me to bend down as he had instructed. My cheek against the glass, I peered around as he came up behind me and lifted my skirt up around my waist. After stroking my buttocks for a moment or two, and muttering a little, he pushed my feet apart with his own, and I offered no resistance as my legs were forced wider, thus offering my naked pussy up to him. He ran his hand through my crack, which was quite damp by then, and then pushed two fingers deep into my cunt, drawing a little moan from me.

'Like that, then, do you?' he asked, 'and this?' He had stepped around beside me and had his trousers unfastened. In his hand was the granddad of all erections, stiff as a poker, and I wondered if he wanted me to give him a blow-job. But before I had the chance, he was behind me again, and had thrust his cock unerringly, deep into my vagina. I had seldom been so deeply penetrated, or so suddenly. But just as soon as he was into me, he had withdrawn, and a new, unfamiliar sensation was upon me, as moisture – which must have been his spittle – was being worked into the sacred, virgin, inviolate sanctum of my anus. A probing finger followed, and I started to protest, knowing, however that it was useless, that he was going to take my anal virginity – that this was what he had in mind! I tried to relax as another finger followed the first, up, past my sphincter, it hurt terribly, and I felt sure he was going to tear me, do me permanent damage, but then he helped me by easing my arse-cheeks apart, and, before I could do any more than groan, his weapon was deep within my nether sheath. I felt a new sensation then, one of pain and pleasure so intense I thought I should black out, and I called him names in my native language he couldn't possibly understand, then screamed at him to cum inside me, which he obliged me by doing. His hot sperm felt as if it filled my bowels to bursting, and I was stiff as a board from being crushed against the unyielding table.

'My first time,' I said.

'I know,' he replied, 'it won't be your last, though!'

'For a few days it will,' I said ruefully, 'until I recover.' But he was right – my lunchtime had opened a whole new prospect for me, and doubled my repertoire. I imagined he would give me a good report.

That evening, I lazed around, half-watching the television, half day-dreaming. I had been in Madrid only a couple of weeks, but I had learnt more in that time than in my whole life up to that time. I felt like a new woman, with a whole new horizon stretching before me. So I was a slut – so what? It was fun, at least. I slept in late next morning, but woke to the slight sound, as a card was slipped under my door.

It bore the suggestive logo of a near-naked woman brandishing a banner with the word 'Sexcorts' and, when I turned it over, it bore a simple invitation to take a coffee at the cafeteria across the street at eleven.

When I arrived, on time, Olga was already there, dressed, like myself, in a cotton sundress, and sat at a table talking to a young woman with black curly hair, dark penetrating eyes, and a lot of gold jewellery, wearing an expensive leather trouser suit.

She rose when I approached and introduced herself.

'Hi,' she said, 'I'm Marta, Mr Ivanescu's representative here. I'm the one who pushes the envelope under your door. Ah, here comes your partner in crime.' At that, Petra appeared, and was similarly presented, and we all sat down to a frothy coffee.

Marta told us that she wanted to talk to us all together, as we were all due for our 'final trial' and, as a coincidence, we were all required at the same party, tomorrow night, an end-of-fiesta knees-up for everyone involved in the season of corridas for the annual festival of San Isidro. Each of us was assigned to a torero. 'And they are horny bastards,' warned Marta.

'That's good,' said Olga, licking the froth from around her lips.

'What do we wear?' I wanted to know.

'As little as decently possible,' said Marta, 'it's a disco, and hot, in more than one sense of the word!'

She went on to tell us that, so long as we got good reports – and she saw no reason why we shouldn't – we should all be hearing from the company assessor very soon about our contracts. Giving us details as to where we were to meet for the party, and slipping each of us a cheque, she left, and we watched her getting into an illegally-parked BMW outside, and driving off.

'What do you think, then?' said Petra, to no-one in particular.

'I think we'd better go shopping again,' said Olga, and we all set off for the 'boutique zone.'

In the event, I bought a very short, skin-tight, halter-necked, backless dress in a metallic silver material – just about as close to nakedness as the law would allow – and a pair of silver high-heeled sandals to match.

The three of us ate together before the party, as we weren't due to meet our clients until eleven-thirty, and we could easily have passed for three whores as we climbed into a taxi in our skimpy dresses. My matador was called Julio, and was everybody's idea of what a bullfighter should look like, with black wavy hair, flashing white teeth and a cheeky grin – he didn't look a day over twenty, until you looked at his eyes up close and saw the worry-lines at their corners. Marta had said that they were 'horny bastards' and Julio bore this out. Even dancing fast Latin stuff, he pulled me in close, and I felt a huge erection grinding into me.

'Would you like to go somewhere?' I whispered in his ear, then bit his lobe.

Without replying, he took my hand, and led me out into the chill of the car-park, past a doorman, who watched us with that knowing look that doormen seem to wear everywhere. Parked close to the door was a big, special-looking minibus, with blacked-out windows, and Julio's professional name stencilled on the side. He slid open a side door, and motioned me to step in to a perfumed, freshly-cleaned interior. At the rear was a separate compartment, with a double bed. I almost commented on the luxury, but my client was a serious young man, and I sensed it better to let him take the lead, so I stood while he sat down on the bed, and unfastened his trousers, releasing a splendid shaft, and holding it in his hand, looking up at me, almost a if he wanted applause. I dropped to my knees beside the bed, and lubricated his cock with my tongue, letting him feel the benefit of my stud around his circumcised crown, until he groaned with pleasure. Then I took him deep into my throat, letting him pump his whole length into my lips, while I cradled his swollen balls, and massaged them gently with my hands. He was getting a bit too urgent, and I had to grasp the bottom of his shaft hard to stop him from cumming, and then, smiling at him, I climbed onto the bed, hitched my skirt up the tiny distance required, I spread my labia apart with to fingers, and slowly, slowly, lowered myself, impaled myself on his tool, loving the feel as its living length penetrated my hot, wet cunt, filling me with his vibrant flesh. I gripped him with my vaginal muscles, and heard him gap as he felt my power over him, then I released him, and said, 'Fuck me, fuck me hard! Fill me with your cock!'

He obliged, driving deep into me, harder and harder, bringing me ever closer to a mighty climax of my own, until he suddenly shouted, 'Oh, Eva, I'm cumming, I'm cumming, Yeeees!' With that he jerked convulsively, and, just as he stiffened and started to spend his seed deep within me, I shuddered and writhed on top of him as my own spasmic orgasm hit me.

Later, he said, 'You bit me, you know!' as he wiped blood from his shoulder.

'Oh, Julio, I am sorry,' I said.

'Don't be,' he replied, 'I think that was the best fuck I've ever had. Can we do it again?'

An hour later, and we had, though this time much more gently, and with both of us naked, exploring each others' bodies, just like young lovers. I was grateful that he made no move to take me in my sore anus, though had he done so, I knew I should have let him. I half expected him to want me to spend the night with him, but when he eventually sent me home in a taxi, I realised that he probably had a wife to go home to. When we parted, though, he promised to see me again, but I was disappointed when he left me with neither telephone number nor date. He was the first client I had taken a liking to.

I slept in until midday, and judging from the silence which reigned in my block when I got up, the other girls slept even later. Not much happened for the rest of the day, and it wasn't until the day after that Marta again summoned us to meet her at the coffee bar. She was there first, and was toying with a café bonbon when Olga and I crossed the street, Petra just behind us. She smiled a greeting.

'Well done, girls!' she said, 'Señor Aparicio, the assessor, will be here in a few minutes, to take all your details, and start the ball rolling for your contracts. Tomorrow night, we're having a party, at my place, OK?'

I was delighted. At last I was going to be legal. An hour or so later, we went back over to our apartments, cheques and copies of various papers I only vaguely understood in our hands, with invitations to Marta's party – which sounded like fun.

Marta had told us that she would come and collect us for her party, and that we could sleep over afterwards, as she had plenty of room. When I had asked her what to wear, she said, 'something sexy!' - so I took her at her word, and, not really being able to justify buying anything specially, put on the diaphanous long black-lace dress I had worn for the assignment with Jorge and his insatiable wife, Trini. This time, though, as I thought I should not be seen in public, I went naked under it, apart from a heavy gold-plated chain around my waist. I slipped in a pair of long gold-plated ear-rings, and wore a lot of gold bangles on each wrist. I tied my long blonde hair up in a pony-tail with a black velvet bow. When I looked in the mirror, my nipples were plainly visible through the lace, but my lack of any pubic hair meant that the absence of panties wasn't instantly obvious, until I sat or knelt down, when a hint of my pink slit might become visible through the lace of the dress.

When Marta tooted her horn down on the street, we all made our way downstairs, Olga in a transparent peach-coloured harem suit, and, so far as I could see, nothing else, and Petra in her black corset and stockings, with a contrasting white, almost transparent, flared mini-dress over it. Marta, by comparison, was dressed in a grey tracksuit, at the wheel of her BMW, but looked at us approvingly as we got in.

Twenty minutes later, we pulled up outside a big villa in a posh suburb, and Marta showed us into a nice lounge with subdued lighting and a bar in one corner.

'You're the first ones to arrive,' she said, 'help yourselves to drinks while I go and change.' We did just that, standing and admiring the plush decorations, chatting amiably.

After perhaps twenty minutes, a transformed Marta reappeared, framed against the brighter light issuing from a double door. She was wearing a filmy white gown of sheer material which seemed to float around her body, and the light shining behind her silhouetted her slender body in all its detail, naked under the dress. With her was a tall, powerful-looking, bearded man in his forties: I hadn't thought of Marta as being attached, but she introduced him to us as Bruno.

'I see none of the others are here yet,' observed Marta, and when I looked a question at her, she told us that we were to be joined by the girls from two other 'units' working in different areas – five of them in all – and several of our best, most long-standing clients.

'It's full early yet, though,' she said, 'I brought you early on purpose, so that I could show you around. All the others have been before, and know my house.'

At that moment, a slim Chinese girl in a black mini-dress walked in, and Marta said, 'Oh good, Suzy, show our friends around the house, will you, darling?'

We fell in behind the maid, and were shown around the spacious house, which sported an indoor pool, gymnasium, and a bewildering number of rooms. When we returned to the lounge, three more girls had arrived. They seemed a bit older than we were, and more sophisticated, chatting largely to each other, and ignoring us rookies. No sooner had Marta started to introduce us to them, than she was interrupted when the other two turned up, these younger, but dark-skinned – I guessed of Central American or Caribbean origin. All the girls were dressed in very provocative clothes, either transparent or with deep plunging necklines and slits. One black girl had on a white mesh cat-suit with not a stitch underneath, whilst a statuesque blonde wore a black, completely transparent blouse, buttoned up the back, so that it could clearly be seen that she had little silver clamps attached to her nipples, joined by a silver chain. Below this she wore the tightest latex skirt she could have wriggled into. I must have been guilty of staring at her, because she came up to me, and hooked a couple of fingers over my waist-chain, through the lace of my dress.